Ivy slipped her stethoscope into her medical bag and smiled at Thelma Galais. “You’re as healthy as ever.”
“I keep telling Edna.” Mrs. Galais sent a fond smile to her daughter sitting on the sofa beside her, a smile beautified by lines born of laughter.
Edna Walters gripped her mother’s gnarled hand. “I won’t take any chances.”
“Neither will I.” Which was why Ivy made monthly visits to the cozy home in St. Helier.
Mrs. Galais waved her free hand at her daughter. “I only let you make these appointments so we can see our Ivy.”
“OurDr. Picot, Mum.”
For the sweet woman she’d known all her life, Ivy would gladly make an exception. “You can always call me Ivy.”
Determination pursed Mrs. Galais’s lips. “Edna’s right. You’re a physician and a fine one. Whenever one of my friends tells me to switch doctors, I tell them no. A Dr. Picot brought me into this world, and a Dr. Picot will see me into the next one.”
“Mum, you mustn’t talk that way.”
Mrs. Galais heaved a mock sigh. “Let’s change the subject so we don’t grieve my dear Edna. Do you have a drawing for me, Iv—Dr. Picot?”
“Oh yes.” She pulled out her sketch pad and flipped through. With care, she tore out a drawing and handed it to Mrs. Galais.
She gasped. “Oh, isn’t he precious? Look at that precious rabbit.”
Ivy chuckled. “I doubt Mrs. Nicolle would have called him precious if she spotted him chewing her carrots.”
Edna tapped the drawing. “Nice and plump. He’d make a good stew.”
Another gasp from Mrs. Galais. “How you vex me.”
The doorbell rang.
“Excuse me, please.” Edna left the drawing room.
Mrs. Galais traced the rabbit’s penciled lines with a gleam in her hazel eyes. “Precious. Simply precious.”
Warmth swirled in Ivy’s stomach, empty though it was. She drew because she loved to draw, because her fingers needed to record what her eyes saw. But bringing a bit of joy to her patients brought joy to her heart too.
Out in the hallway, Edna’s voice grew louder, strident and worried, trading sentences with a man’s voice, consoling but firm.
Ivy frowned and met Mrs. Galais’s concerned gaze. What was happening?
In a few minutes, Edna entered the drawing room, staring at a sheet of paper, her face pale. “We—we—Frank and I—we’re being deported to Germany.”
“Deported?” Ivy said, echoed by Mrs. Galais.
Edna fumbled for the chair arm and lowered herself to sitting. “The Germans are deporting all men born in England, not the Channel Islands. Frank—Frank is from London. Wives and children too, even if Jersey-born.”
The warmth in Ivy’s stomach turned to ice. “What? How canthey...” Thousands of Englishmen lived in Jersey, including many of the island’s seventeen physicians.
“I don’t understand.” Mrs. Galais’s voice wavered. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Oh, Mum.” The order shook in Edna’s hands. “What should we do? You—you don’t fall under the order, but you’re allowed to come with us. I can’t bear to leave you alone, but—but they won’t tell us where we’re going, what conditions—they say we’ll be treated well, but I don’t trust—” Her face crumpled, and she lowered her chin.
Ivy pressed her hand over her mouth. Edna didn’t trust the Nazis, and neither did Ivy, especially after she’d seen those slave workers. Surely they wouldn’t send innocent civilians to their horrid concentration camps—but they did. They did send innocent Jewish civilians to those camps. Would they do the same to the English?
Mrs. Galais placed a fluttering hand on her chest. “You’re my only family here.”
Edna gave a jerking nod of her lowered head. Her two sons had evacuated in 1940 to fight with the British, along with Dad and Bill and four of Ivy’s cousins.
