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Andrée stops, crouches so they’re eye to eye.

“I think your Papa knows everything you do. Every note you play on the piano. Every lesson you learn at school. Every moment you’re brave. He knows, Josie. And he’s proud. So proud.”

Josie nods, satisfied with this answer. “Good. I wanted him to know I didn’t forget. I’ll never forget.”

“Never,” Andrée agrees.

They climb the stairs to their apartment. Inside, it’s cold and dark. Louis lights the lamps while Tina stokes the stove, adding two precious pieces of coke to the dying embers. Josie goes straight to the piano, doesn’t ask permission, just sits and begins to play.

Not “Clair de Lune” this time. Something else. Something Andrée doesn’t recognize at first. Then she realizes: It’s the tune from tonight, “Ma’oz Tzur.” Josie is picking it out on the keys, finding the notes, making the melody her own.

Andrée stands in the doorway, watching. This child who has lost everything but refuses to be broken. This child who lights candles in the darkness and plays songs of hope on a piano that doesn’t belong to her but somehow does.

Louis appears beside her. “She’s remarkable,” he says quietly.

“Yes,” Andrée says. “Yes, she is.”

“We’re going to keep her safe, you know. Whatever it takes. However long this war lasts. She’s ours for now.”

“I know, Papa. I know.”

The piano music continues, filling the apartment with an old Jewish melody, with memory, with defiance, with love. Outside, the night is cold and dark and dangerous. But inside, there is light. There is music. There is family.

And that, Andrée thinks, is its own kind of miracle.

ACT II

RESISTANCE

1943–1944

Chapter Eleven

The year 1943 arrives with no fanfare or celebration. No words of hope for the coming year or what lies ahead for the Levallois family residing at 135 rue Blomet, Montparnasse.

Mid-January brings news that spreads through the Resistance network like poison through blood. Colonel Pallas calls an emergency meeting. Not a Thursday this time and not at the Levallois’s apartment, but in their bookshop. Now. Today. Come immediately, says the note brought up by Maurice before the day has even begun.

Louis and Tina leave while Josie is still gathering her books for school. Andrée grows impatient.

“Come on, Josie. It’s time to go.”

Josie appears at last—why has she chosen today of all days to drag her feet? She seems to take a lifetime to put on her coat, hat, and gloves.

Josie is forced to walk quickly to keep up as they cross the park, the street on the other side, and enter the school grounds. Mothers and daughters hug and kiss goodbye. Andrée takes Josie’s face in her hands, smiles, and kisses her lovingly on each cheek.

“Andrée. Hello. How are you?”

Andrée turns to see Monique’s mother quickly kiss her daughter goodbye and head toward her. She doesn’t have time to chat today. She takes a breath. Puts on a warm smile.

“Stéphanie, hello. I’m fine, thank you. And you?”

Stéphanie comes closer to Andrée, too close.

“I’m surviving, like all of us. Josie seems settled and doing well. She’s all Monique talks about when she comes home each day.”

“Stéphanie, I can’t tell you how much Monique’s friendship means to Josie, and to me and my parents. You’re both making a very difficult situation easier to bear.”

Other mothers call out greetings to Stéphanie, some to Andrée. The girls are heading inside, to class, to get out of the cold. Stéphanie stays standing in the playground, forcing Andrée to stay with her. It becomes clear she has something else to say.