Jewels (34 page)

But by the following year, even Sarah’s staunch hopes were starting to dim, although she didn’t admit it to anyone, not even Joachim. But William had been gone for so long by then, over a year, and none of the intelligence sources had turned up anything about him. Even Joachim had tried to make discreet inquiries without causing any trouble for either of them. But the general consensus on both sides of the channel seemed to be that William had been killed in March of 1942, when he was parachuted into the Rhineland. She still couldn’t believe it, and yet when she thought of him now, sometimes even their most precious memories seemed dim, and it frightened her to feel that. She hadn’t seen him in almost four years. It was a terribly long time, even for a love so great as theirs, to hold up in the face of so little hope and so much anguish.

She spent Christmas quietly with Joachim that year. He was incredibly sweet and loving to them. It was particularly nice for Phillip, who was growing up without a father, and had no memories whatsoever of William, because he hadn’t been old enough to remember. In his mind, Joachim was a special friend, and in a pure, simple way, he really liked him, just as Sarah liked him. She still hated everything the Germans represented to her, and yet she never hated him. He was such a decent man, and he worked hard with the wounded men who came to the château to recover. Some of them had no hope, no limbs, no future, and no home to return to. And somehow he managed to spend time with everyone, to talk to them for hours on end, to give them hope, to make them want to continue, just as sometimes, he did with Sarah.

“You’re an amazing man,” she said to him quietly, as they sat in her cottage kitchen. Emanuelle was with her family and Henri had been away for the past few weeks, in the Ardennes somewhere, Emanuelle said, and Sarah had learned not to ask any questions. He was sixteen by then, and he led a life filled with passion and danger. Emanuelle’s own life had grown increasingly difficult. The mayor’s son had grown suspicious of her, and eventually there’d been a huge row when she left him. Now she was involved with one of the German officers, and Sarah never said anything, but she suspected that she was getting information from him, too, and feeding it to the Resistance. But Sarah stayed clear of all of it. She did what she could to continue to restore the château in small ways, helped with medical emergencies when she was either demanded or desperately needed, and the rest of the time she took care of her children. Phillip was four and a half, and Elizabeth was a year younger. And they were lovely children. Phillip was turning out to be as hugely tall as he had started out to be, and Elizabeth had surprised her by being delicate, and much more small featured than her mother. She was frail in some ways, just as she was when she was born, and yet she was always full of spunk and mischief. And it was obvious to everyone who saw him with them that Joachim adored them. He had brought beautifully made German toys for them the night before on Christmas Eve, and helped them to decorate a tree, and he had somehow managed to find a doll for Lizzie, who had immediately pounced on her, clutched her in her arms and cradled her “baby.”

But it was Phillip who climbed onto Joachim’s lap and put his arms around his neck, as he snuggled close to him, and Sarah pretended not to see it.

“You won’t leave us, like my papa did, will you?” he asked worriedly, and Sarah felt tears sting her eyes as she heard him. But Joachim was quick to answer.

“Your papa didn’t want to leave you, you know. If he could, I’m sure he’d be right here with you.”

“Then why did he go?”

“He had to. He’s a soldier.”

“But you didn’t go,” the child said logically, not realizing that Joachim had had to leave his own children, his own home, to come here. And then he threw his arms around Joachim’s neck again, and stayed there until Joachim took him up to bed, as Sarah carried the baby. Phillip still had an absolute passion for her, which always delighted Sarah.

“Do you suppose it’ll all finally end this year?” Sarah asked sadly as they each sipped some brandy after the children were in bed. He had brought her the finest Courvoisier, and it was powerful, but pleasant.

“I hope so.” The war seemed as if it would never end. “It seems endless sometimes. When I see those boys they send to us, day after day, week after week, year after year, I wonder if anyone realizes how senseless it is, and that it’s simply not worth it.”

“I think that’s why you’re here and not at the front.” Sarah smiled at him. He hated the war almost as much as she did.

“I’m glad I’ve been here,” he said gently. He hoped he had made it easier for her, and he had in many ways. He reached across the table and touched her hand cautiously then. He had known her for three and a half years, and in some ways it seemed a lifetime. “You’re very important to me,” he said quietly, and then, with the brandy and the sentiments of the day, he could no longer hide his emotions. “Sarah”—his voice was husky and at the same time gentle—“I want you to know how much I love you.” She looked away from him, trying to hide her own feelings from him, and from herself. She knew that no matter what she felt for this man, out of respect for William, she couldn’t

“Joachim, don’t … please….” She looked up at him imploringly and he took her hand in his own and held it.

“Tell me that you don’t love me, that you never could, and I will never say those words again … but I do love you, Sarah, and I think you love me too. What are we doing? Why are we hiding? Why are we merely friends, when we could be so much more?” He wanted more from her now. He had waited for years, and he wanted her so badly.

“I do love you,” she whispered across the table at him, terrified by what she was saying, almost as much as by what she was feeling. But she had felt it for a long time, and she had resisted it … for William “But we can’t do this.”

“Why not? We’re grown people. The world is coming to an end. Aren’t we allowed some happiness? Some joy? Some sunshine … before it’s over?” They had both seen so much death, so much pain, and they were both so tired.

She smiled at what he said. She loved him too, loved the man he was, loved what he did for her children, and for her. “We have each other’s friendship … and our love… we don’t have a right to more, as long as William is alive.”

“And if he isn’t?” He forced her to face the possibility, and she turned away as she always did. It was still too painful.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’d feel then. But I know that right now I’m still his wife, and I probably will be for a long time. Maybe forever.”

“And I?” he said, demanding something from her for the first time. “And I, Sarah? What am I to do now?”

“I don’t know.” She looked at him unhappily and he stood up and walked slowly toward her. He sat down next to her, and looked into her eyes at the sorrow and longing he saw there, and then he gently touched her face with his fingers.

“I will always be here for you. I want you to know that. And when you accept the fact that William is gone, I will still be here. We have time, Sarah… we have a lifetime.” He kissed her gently then, on the lips, with everything he had wanted to tell her for so long, and she didn’t stop him. She couldn’t stop him. She wanted this just as badly as he did. It had been more than four years since she’d seen her husband, and she had lived three and a half years with this man, side by side, day by day, growing to love and respect him. And yet she knew they had no right to what they both thought they wanted. To her, there was more to life than that. There was avow that she had made, and a man that she had loved more than any other.

“I love you,” Joachim whispered to her, as they kissed again.

“I love you too,” she said. But she still loved William, too, and they both knew it.

He left her a little while after that, and went back to the château, respectful of who she was and what she wanted of him. The next day he came back and played with the children and their life continued as before, as if their conversation never took place.

And in the spring, things were not going well with the war for the Germans, and he would come and talk to Sarah about what he thought and what he feared might happen. By April he was sure that they would be pulled back closer to Germany, and he feared he might have to leave Sarah and the children. He promised to come back once the war was won or lost, and he almost didn’t care, as long as they both survived it. He had remained careful with her, and although they kissed now and then, neither of them had allowed it to go any further. It was better that way, and he knew they would have no regrets, and that she needed to move slowly. She still wanted to believe that William was alive, and might return. But he knew that even if he did, it would be painful for her now to give up Joachim. She had come to rely on him, and to need him as much as she respected him. They were more than friends now, no matter how much she still loved William.

But while he was concerned with the news from Berlin, for once Sarah was paying no attention. She was busy with Lizzie, who had had a ferocious cough since March, and was still weak and ill at Easter.

“I don’t know what it is,” Sarah complained to him, one night in her kitchen.

“Some kind of influenza. They had it in the village all winter.” She had taken her up to the doctor at the château, who assured her it wasn’t pneumonia, but the medicine he’d given her had done nothing for her either.

“Do you think it’s tuberculosis?” she asked Joachim worriedly, but he didn’t think so. He had asked the doctor to get more medicine for her, but they hadn’t been able to get anything lately. All their supplies had been cut off, and one of their doctors had already left for the front, the other was leaving in May. But long before that, Lizzie lay in bed again, with a blazing fever. She had lost weight and her eyes were glazed, and she had that terrible look that children get when they’re being beaten by a fever. And little Phillip sat at the foot of her bed day after day, singing to her, and telling her stories.

Emanuelle kept Phillip busy during the day, but he was frantic now about Lizzie. She was still “his” baby and it frightened him to see her so ill, and his mother so worried. He kept asking if she’d be all right, and Sarah promised she would be. Joachim came to sit with them every night. He bathed Lizzie’s head, and tried to make her drink, and when she coughed too hard he rubbed her back, just as he had when she was born to help her breathe and bring her to life. But this time he couldn’t seem to help her. She grew worse day by day, and on the first of May, she lay blazing with fever. Both of their doctors had left, and all of their medical supplies had been sorely depleted. He had no medicine to bring, no suggestions to make, all he could do was sit with the two of them day after day, praying that she would get better.

He thought of taking her to Paris to the doctors there, but she was too sick to make the trip, and things weren’t going well there either. The Americans were advancing on France, and the Germans were beginning to panic. Paris was being stripped, and most of the military personnel were either being sent to the front, or back to Berlin. It was a dismal time for the Reich, but Joachim was far more upset about Lizzie.

In early May, he came back to the cottage one afternoon, and found Sarah sitting beside her, as she had for weeks, holding her hand, and bathing her head, but this time Lizzie wasn’t moving. He sat with her for several hours, but eventually he had to go back to his office. There was too much going on there now for him to be absent without explanation. But he came back again late that night, and Sarah was lying on the child’s bed, holding her in her arms, as she dozed there. He looked down at them, and as he did, Sarah looked up at him, and he saw real agony there, as he sat down gently beside her.

“Any change?” he whispered, and Sarah shook her head. She hadn’t woken up since that morning. But as he stood watching them, Lizzie stirred, and for the first time in days, she opened her eyes, and smiled up at her mother. She looked like a little angel, with curls of blond hair and huge, green eyes like Sarah’s. She was three and a half years old, but now that she was so sick, she looked older, as though the weight of the world had been on her shoulders.

“I love you, Mommy,” she whispered, and closed her eyes as Sarah held her, and suddenly Sarah knew. It was as though she could feel her begin to slip away. She wanted to hold her or pull her back. She wanted to do something desperately, but there was nothing she could do. They had no doctor, no medicine, no nurse, no hospital to give her … only love, and prayers, and then, as Sarah watched her, she sighed again, and Sarah touched the fine curls and whispered to her baby that she loved so desperately.

“I love you, sweet baby. … I love you so much…. Mommy loves you … and God loves you too… You’re safe now….” she whispered over and over as she and Joachim cried, and with a sweet smile, Lizzie looked up at them for the last time, and then drifted away, her little spirit lifted up to heaven.

Sarah felt it when she’d gone, and it took Joachim a moment to understand. He sat down on the bed next to them and sobbed, holding them both in his arms as he rocked them. He remembered how he had brought her to life, and now she was gone… taken so swiftly and so sweetly. Sarah looked up at him with broken eyes, and she held little Lizzie for a long time, and finally, she set her gently down, and Joachim led her downstairs, and went back up to the château with her, to speak to someone about making arrangements for the funeral.

But in the end, Joachim did it all himself. He drove into town to get a tiny coffin for her, and together, crying softly, they put her in it. Sarah had combed her hair, and put on her prettiest dress, and put her favorite doll in with her. It was the most terrible thing that had ever happened to her, and it almost killed her when they lowered her into the ground. All she could do was cling to Joachim and cry, as poor Phillip stood by, clinging to her hand, unable to believe what had happened.

Phillip looked angry and afraid, and as they began shovelling earth into her grave, he leapt forward and tried to stop them. And as Joachim gently held him, he cried, looking furiously at his mother.