Page 87 of Love in the Shadows

Fabienne smiled wearily, leaned forwards and kissed her. “Tomorrow, after they’ve gone, we’ll go home and get the girls.”

Home, with the girls. No music had ever sounded sweeter.

Juliette Brun was a Frenchwoman with German roots that with time would become the foundation for new culture and a new history. Her daughter, now Anne Brun, would become the person she was meant to be, and she, Juliette, was the luckiest woman alive. She stroked Fabienne’s cheek. “I would like that very much.”

She lay on the hay bale and held Fabienne’s hand, gazing through the hole in the roof. The smoke eventually thinned enough to see the stars clearly.

“Nanny knows you’re alive,” Fabienne said. “She protected you from Schmidt and told me to take care of you.”

Juliette tightened her grip as the ache in her heart said goodbye to Nanny. Maybe their paths would cross again after the war. At least Nanny had been spared the heartbreak. “I’m glad,” she said.

Fabienne wrapped her arm around Johanna’s shoulder and drew her close, kissed her head. “We still have to make it to the end of the war.”

Juliette lay her head on Fabienne’s chest, breathing in the scent of her, the smell of smoke and a hint of petrol. It wasn’t exactly the soapy aroma of vanilla or rose, but that time would come soon enough. She traced Fabienne’s arm along the line of the scar. She had known she was falling in love with her before she’d tended to those wounds. She was reminded of having saved the children and being stopped by the guards, and yes, it had been worth it, and she would do it all again.

“I’m never letting you go,” she said, and closed her eyes to enjoy the slow steady beat of Fabienne’s heart.

Epilogue

THE GERMANS HAD BEEN retreating for weeks, scampering like frightened dogs with their tails between their legs, and showed no interest in anything other than getting back to their Fatherland before the allies reached them.

On the twentieth of March 1945, it was the French flags that flew in the streets of Erstein, and the drawl of American accents that echoed as soldiers shouted from their vehicles, “Have a great day, ma’am.”

The black cloud that had hovered over the town for six years had finally lifted, and French citizens and American soldiers celebrated together in the bars and on the streets until well past ten p.m. The pop and crack of distant gunfire had been replaced by the dizzying sound of jazz and blues.

People were singing and dancing, and love was in the air.

“Liberated” was the word that had been shouted on the streets of Erstein for the past weeks, and now the war had really come to an end.

Juliette recalled back to the spring of ’44, when it all started between her and Fabienne, finding it hard to believe they were here together at the end of it all. She pinched herself several times a day just to check she wasn’t dreaming.

The first level walls on the house across the yard still cradled the debris from the fire within them. The fire had been assumed an accident, since the kommandant had already left the house in disgrace, and Nanny had given an account that vindicated the Frenchwomen. No German officials had come to clear the place since. They’d been too preoccupied: first with winning, then with running. No one would question what might lay within its ruins by the time they started the clear-up. No one would even remember the death of the kommandant’s wife and child because no one in Erstein could recall who they were.

The citizens of Erstein had come to know the distant cousin of Fabienne though, the Resistance fighter Juliette Brun who had fled from her house outside Tours with her daughter Anne.

The cellar hadn’t been damaged by the fire and had remained accessible via the tunnels. Juliette and Fabienne had continued to rescue escaping prisoners who could not be routed directly through the liberated areas. And now that time had thankfully come to an end.

Spring was late arriving, again, maybe that was the norm in Erstein, and the cold still reached them beneath the snug warmth of success. Juliette poured four glasses of wine while Fabienne stoked the stove. Edith Piaf was singing “C’etait une histoire d’amour” on the gramophone in the living room.

Fabienne raised her glass to the women in the room. “Santé.” Her eyes shone with an excitement they all shared, despite the dark rings beneath them. They were all exhausted, all thrilled, all family.

Mamie and Linette raised their glasses and gave the toast. “To us.”

Juliette clinked her glass to Fabienne’s. “It’s finally over,” she said, and smiled.

At some point, she wouldn’t feel anxious every time she got into the milk van or walked from the tunnel entrance to the cottage through the woods. Eventually, her heart wouldn’t jump at sudden noises, or race at shadows in the dark. For now, just knowing the war had officially ended was good enough.

Fabienne kissed her. “Here’s to the future.”

Nancy came running down the stairs and burst into the kitchen like a thunderbolt. “Fabienne, Juliette, come quickly. Cleo’s having the kittens.” She shot back up the stairs.

Juliette laughed. A gentle warmth expanded in her chest, then filled her completely. She turned to Fabienne and caressed her beautiful face. Time would mend their bodies, but being together had already started to heal the mental scars. Nothing would divide them now. Not even death. They had been made stronger by each other, and together they could tackle anything the future threw at them.

Today though, right now, that was about savouring the unbridled joy in the children’s faces as they watched new life coming into the world. Love had prevailed as Juliette had hoped it would. She indicated to Fabienne, who followed her up the stairs. “How many do you think she’ll have?” she asked.

“We cannot keep them all, you know,” Fabienne said.

Cats were independent by nature, and Juliette was sure they would learn to fend for themselves, while also being part of their family. She smiled at Fabienne. “We’ll see.”

Fabienne stopped her at the top of the stairs. She smiled through her eyes, though she was trying to appear serious. “You have already planned this, haven’t you?”

Juliette tilted her head, raised her eyebrows, feigning innocence, then started to laugh. “Would you still love me if I had?”

“Forever,” Fabienne said and kissed her.

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