Purple Hearts (Front Lines 3)

Marie says, “The coffee is merde. Chicory and roasted grain.”

“It’s hot,” Étienne says. “Coffee is not the highest priority.”

Rainy is not at all certain about that. She’d have paid a month’s salary—a hundred and fifty dollars—for a decent cup. But Étie

nne has been distant and defensive since the incident with his mistress or girlfriend or prostitute, whatever she was—his stories varied—and Rainy does not want to argue with him. He has not yet chosen to share with them the reason Marianne ended up chasing him down the street yelling that he was maquis.

The people who join Resistance groups and risk death are a mixed bag, according to Colonel Herkemeier’s briefing in London. Some are committed Communists. Some are followers of General de Gaulle’s Free French. Most joined the maquis only after the Germans began shipping French citizens off to forced labor camps in Germany. There are dozens of groups under dozens of leaders, some quietly effective, some noisily useless. All are brave, that at least is clear: only a very brave person defies the Nazis.

But as Rainy watches Étienne fuss with the croissant crumbs he’s scattered, she knows that some are also informers working either for the Germans or the collaborationist traitors of the Vichy government.

“We should get going,” Marie says.

“In a minute,” Étienne answers. He has taken to overruling Marie on everything, asserting his now-questionable authority, though he has not yet challenged Rainy, who has carefully avoided antagonizing him. But his continued high-handedness is definitely getting on her nerves.

She tries to imagine a scenario in which Étienne is a traitor. Had he provoked Marianne into giving him up? Was she his contact with the Nazis? Had the two of them cooked up the little demonstration that had resulted in her death?

But why? Why not just walk in and tell the three SS men? Why the subterfuge?

Of course the answer is obvious: Marie. She is his sister, after all, and he might not want her to know that he’s a traitor. He could stand her thinking him a fool, but not a traitor.

You’re talking yourself into it, Rainy, she chides herself, and you have no proof.

They spend the morning driving along a road that is the dividing line between the Limousin forest and farm fields, and again, despite seeing unmistakable evidence of tank tracks on the side of the road, they are not stopped.

“Any other time the Boche would have roadblocks every kilometer,” Étienne grumbles.

“It’s an unusual situation,” Rainy allows. “Driving around and hoping to be—”

They hit a pothole in the road and the truck swerves. When Étienne wrestles the rickety vehicle back on the road, they hear the unmistakable flapping sound of a popped tire. They pull off and sure enough, the right front tire is blown, worn rubber mangled around the rim.

“Do you have a spare?” Rainy asks.

Étienne laughs bitterly. “Spare tire? Why not ask for a golden chariot?”

Rainy suppresses her irritation. Again. “Can you find a spare tire?”

Étienne shrugs. He rolls then lights a cigarette and stands thinking ostentatiously, as Marie and Rainy hike into the woods for a quick bathroom break. When they return Étienne has a map unfolded on the hood of the truck. “Tulle is not far. We have a contact there.”

“Maquis?” Rainy asks.

“Communists.” He spits on the ground. “But they may help us. In any case, we have no choice.”

They drive the truck into the forest, shredding the last of the tire in the process, and cut branches to pile against the sides as camouflage.

“It’s five kilometers,” Étienne says. “You two wait here.”

“I think I’d rather come with you,” Rainy says.

Étienne is quick to understand her motive. “Do you, mademoiselle, propose to distrust me? This is not England, still less America. This is France!”

Marie, Rainy notes, remains silent, watching.

“It’s not a question of trust,” Rainy lies blandly. “I just don’t like waiting in the forest and not knowing.”

In the end the three of them are able to hitch a ride on a trailer being pulled by a tractor. It means sharing a ride with a load of farm implements and sacks of manure, which does nothing to improve Rainy’s mood. They arrive at the outskirts of Tulle, wait until they are well past their destination, then jump off and double back to a small farm.

The farmer is a gnarled, whiskered old man with a total of three teeth. He sees them, says nothing, and jerks his head toward the barn before disappearing into the stone house.