Marcel stood and patted the bench. “You sit here. I’ll pull up a chair.”
Zelie sent him a smile, mouthedThank you, and turned to her mother. “Blaise and I will be back soon.”
“Take your time,” Maman said. “We’ll see that Elise is occupied.”
Blaise didn’t exactly look happy when she told him to put his book away and led him out to her car, but he didn’t argue. Just dragged his feet as if she were taking him back to school already.
As they slid into their seats and she turned the key in the ignition, she couldn’t help the way her heart caught in her throat as she looked at him. He’d had another growth spurt since she’d seen him last. His face had slimmed more. Every time they were together, he was less and less her little boy and more and more a young man.
It wasn’tsodifferent than it would have been regardless—he’d always have gone away to school. They would have had only holidays, the occasional weekend.
Still, that would have been more than this.
He pressed a fist to his leg as she backed up and turned around. “You never even answered my letters.”
At least he was speaking. “I couldn’t.”
The gaze he drilled into her burned with rage. “Youcouldn’t? Why not?”
She’d already decided to tell him. Even so, finding the words was easier decided than done. “Because I can’t risk the Nazis knowing I have children.”
“The...” When he frowned, he looked so much like Jacques. “What do you mean? Why would the Nazis care about us?”
“Because I’m leading a network of spies, Blaise. Do you remember Jean Loustaunau-Lacau?” At his nod, she continued. “He founded it. At first we called ourselves Crusade, but we’re working now with England’s intelligence agency, MI6, so we’ve renamed ourselves Alliance.”
Blaise repositioned himself, back to the door so that he faced her more fully. “You’re making it up. A story to tell me, a reason you’ve left us.”
“I don’twantto leave you.” Her fingers tightened on the wheel. “Jean was arrested. He’s been sentenced to execution, and his wife and children are in hiding. The Germans wanted to detain them too—even though they’d never done anything. They’rehis, and so they’re the enemy in their eyes.”
“No!” Blaise surged toward her. “It’s dangerous, that’s what you’re saying. So why are youdoingit?”
“Because I don’t want you to grow up in a world run by Nazis,mon chou.” She reached over, gripped his knee. “You deserve to live in a free France. You deserve to grow up and chase your dreams, not accept whatever crumbs they hand you. You deserve to be friends with people from other countries, other religions, other races and not be told you can’t because they don’tlookright or believe right.” He’d already lost his two best friends when theirfamilies had to flee—one because they were Jewish, another because they were Slavic.
She lifted her chin. “Your father fought for you, my darling, in the way he could. He fought with his guns and his soldiers and his keen mind for strategy. He’s gone—but I won’t let the fight end just because our military surrendered. I willkeepfighting for you until I have no more breath, no more blood, no more life. No one gets to tell me I can’t. No one gets to say it’s not my place.”
His hand was almost as big as hers now. He covered her fingers with his own. “You’re... you’re really a spy? Like the Scarlet Pimpernel?”
Her lips tugged up. “Notexactlylike him. I’m not usually the one going into dangerous situations myself. I’m the one everyone sends their reports to. I’ve learned how to encode and decode, to make sense of all the information people send me and decide what needs to be passed along to the Allies.”
“How many people work for you?” His voice said the answer mattered—that he was prepared to dismiss her endeavors if her “network” was only five friends.
She chuckled. He always had dreamed big, this boy of hers. “At this point... about a hundred fifty.”
“Oh là là!Maman, that’s not Scarlet Pimpernel, that’s... that’s a spymaster.”
She’d called Navarre that, but somehow she hadn’t paused to consider the title now belonged to her. It didn’t fit quite right, did it? She was nomaster, that masculine word. But spymistressdidn’t sound right either. Perhaps... perhaps she was just the spykeeper. She glanced over at him as they paused where this little rutted lane met up with the bigger road that wound round the château. Gone was the resentment, the gloom. “Which means if they ever find out how I’m involved, they won’t only come after me. They’ll come afteryou. That’s why I can’t write to you. It’s why I can’t visit often. I don’t want to lead my enemies to you.”
He nodded vigorously. “I understand. Wow, Maman. You aresomuch more interesting than François’s mother.”
Laughter filled her throat as she turned toward town. “We are each doing our part. No one would expect that this is mine... but that’s how I can do it.” She flashed him a grin. “In fact, I thought we could do a bit of spying today.”
Blaise’s eyes, hazel like Jacques’s, went wide. “Me too? Where? How? What will we do?”
“You know that Luftwaffe base outside of town? None of Tante Vivi’s friends have been able to get inside. But I betwecan.”
“How?” His fingers dug into hers with excitement.
“Simple. We’re going to pose as a French mother and her son, who is interested in airplanes.” She sent him a wink. “Do you think you can play that role?”
