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“They tried to make me Christian,” she chokes out. “Mme Durand and the other adults. They said they were saving my soul. They made me read the Bible—the Christian parts. They taught me their prayers. They made me thank Jesus before every meal. Mme Durand started talking about washing away my sins, said I would go to hell unless I was a Christian.”

Rage, pure, white-hot rage, floods through Andrée.

“Did she hurt you?”

“No. But she scared me. She kept saying she was trying to save me. That I couldn’t go to heaven if I stayed Jewish. That my soul was in danger. She said my parents would want this. She said if I loved God, I would accept Jesus.” Josie looks up at Andrée, her face wet with tears. “I told her I am Jewish. My Papa was Jewish. My Maman is Jewish. Léon is Jewish. I am Jewish. And I will always be Jewish. Even if it means I go to hell. Even if it means God doesn’t love me. I will be what my family is.”

Andrée pulls her close. “You were right. You are right. And God does love you. Your God. The God of your parents. You don’t need to be Christian to be loved, Josie. You don’t need to be Christian to be saved. You are perfect exactly as you are.”

“I never want to go back there. I never want to see Mme Durand or Solène again. Or that camp. Or any of those people.”

“You won’t. I promise. You will never have to see them again.”

Andrée leaves Josie with Sophie and goes directly to Colette’s house. She knocks hard on the door. Colette opens the door and pales when she sees Andrée’s face.

“Andrée, I⁠—”

“How dare you.” The words come out quiet. Deadly.

“I was trying to help. To save her soul. She’s living in sin, Andrée. She’s Jewish. She needs⁠—”

“She needs nothing from you. Nothing. Do you understand what you’ve done? Do you understand the trust you violated?”

“I thought you would understand. I thought you would want her to be saved. To be safe. Christians are safe. Jews are hunted. If she converts, she could⁠—”

“She is not converting. She will never convert. Her mother gave her to me as a Jewish girl, and I will return her to her mother as a Jewish girl. That is my promise. That is my duty. You had no right.”

“I was trying to protect her!”

“You tried to erase her. You tried to take away the one thing she has left of her family, her faith, her identity. You tried to baptize a child against her will. That’s not protection. That’s not salvation. That’s violence.”

Colette’s face hardens. “She’s going to hell, Andrée. I tried to save her from hell. If you send her back to her mother as a Jew, you’re condemning her to eternal damnation.”

“Then let her be damned. Let her stand with her family in whatever afterlife awaits them. She would rather go to hell with her people than to heaven as a traitor to them.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“No. You made the mistake. You betrayed my trust. You hurt a child who has already been hurt more than any child should be. And you did it thinking you were doing God’s work. Well, if your God wants Jewish children forcibly converted, then I want nothing to do with him.”

Colette doesn’t answer. Just stands in her doorway, righteousness and hurt etched into her features.

Back at Sophie’s house, after Josie has gone to sleep, worn out by all the emotion, Andrée tells her Tata everything, and the older woman’s face goes white.

“I vouched for her. I told you she was safe. I’m so sorry, Andrée. I had no idea. I know she goes to church, that she seems devout, but I never thought—I never imagined she would do something like this.”

“It’s not your fault. She hid it well. And she thinks she did the right thing. That’s what makes it even worse. She thinks she was saving Josie. But now we must ask ourselves: Will she tell the authorities that we’re hiding a Jewish child?”

Sophie’s face hardens. “You take Josie back to Paris. Leave Colette to me. I don’t think she will say anything, but I’ll make very sure she doesn’t, mark my words.”

The next morning they make hasty goodbyes, Josie managing a watery smile. The magic of the week is undone, Josie’s holiday dream turned to a nightmare.

Back in Paris, Andrée tells Louis and Tina everything. They sit at the table, listening in horror.

“I’ll talk to her,” Tina says.

“Maman, I don’t think⁠—”

“Let me try.”