“It’s hard to accept,” said Rosalyn. “He seemed so alive through all these letters.”
“What in the world’s wrong with you women?” demanded Gaspard as he measured coffee grounds into the cone.
“It’s Émile,” said Blondine in a flat tone. “He died. Émile’s dead.”
“Émile who?” asked Gaspard.
“Émile Legrand.”
“I don’t know an Émile Legrand,” Gaspard said. “Do I know an Émile Legrand?”
“He’s the man who wrote these letters we’ve been reading,” said Emma. “The World War One soldier.”
“Oh. Well, I’ve got news for you,” Gaspard said, china rattling as he prepared two mugs. “He would be long dead by now anyway. He was writing a century ago.”
“Honestly, Papa,” said Blondine.
“It is incredibly sad,” said Emma, ignoring Gaspard. “But what about Lucie’shappynews?”
“That she was pregnant?” asked Rosalyn.
Emma nodded. “That’s something beautiful, at least.”
“But Émile never knew he was going to be a father,” said Blondine. “How sad is that?”
“The child might not have survived,” said Gaspard. “I read it someplace, a while ago. In the caves a lot of the young died of disease and malnutrition, and without a father...”
“Really, Papa.” Blondine shook her head and blew out a long sigh.“Ça suffit, oui?”
“Is there any way we can find out what happened to Lucie and her baby?” Rosalyn wondered.
“André has tracked down every Maréchal he can find, but no luck. Of course, she may have remarried and changed her name,”said Emma. “Or relocated. A lot of people started their lives over elsewhere after the war. Maybe she couldn’t stand the thought of remaining in Reims after everything that happened.”
“At least you could find this Émile fellow,” suggested Gaspard as he set a cup of coffee in front of Emma. “He’snot going anywhere.”
“Oh, Papa...”
“No, your father has a point this time, Blondine,” said Emma, looking thoughtful. “Let’s find Émile’s grave. According to Lucie, he was buried at Châlons-en-Champagne. There are massive cemeteries from World War One, and most of them keep good records. They might even give us a clue as to Lucie’s whereabouts, since she was his widow. Who’s up for a road trip tomorrow?”
“Count me in,” Rosalyn said.
“Me, too,” said Blondine.
“Not me,” Gaspard said. “I have work to do, unlike some people.”
“Youweren’t invited,” said Emma.
?On the way to the cemetery the next day, Emma asked André to take a detour to a town called Haumont-près-Samogneux.
“We forget how ancient these lands are,” said Emma. “This town was founded to celebrate the Gallic sun god. There was an altar here in the first century AD.”
As they approached the outskirts of town, a sign indicated that Haumont-près-Samogneux had been designatedUn village mort pour la France.
“What does that mean—the wholetowndied?” asked Rosalyn.
“It’s been unoccupied since the battle of Verdun, in 1916,” said Blondine. “And it’s not the only one. There’re Bezonvaux and Beaumont-en-Verdunois, and lots more. Several others in the regionof Meuse alone. TheRémoishad a tough go of it, but at least the city didn’t die altogether.”
“Were all the villagers killed?” Rosalyn asked.
