The Last Time I Saw Paris - Lynn Sheene [135]
The next morning Claire woke with the warmth of the sun heating the bandage on her cheek. Stretching stiff muscles, she stood, a hand unconsciously feeling her face. She winced as she touched her cheek. But her nose, at least, felt less swollen.
“Claire?”
Laurent strode toward her, a white band on his arm and a pistol holstered on his hip. He enveloped her in a hug that made her gasp.
He released her, a smile radiating from his stubbled face. “I heard this morning about a wounded fighter and American woman who escaped rue de Saussaies. I had to know if it was you.”
She slid her hands into his. “It’s so good to see you. Your apartment—I didn’t know what had happened to you.”
“I am like a fox, ma chérie. They could not catch me.” His smile faded as he turned to face Jacques. “How is he?”
“He was shot, the wound is infected. The doctors don’t know if—”
“They don’t know him,” Laurent said. “He is too stubborn to die. Not now.”
Her gaze on Laurent’s holstered pistol, Claire spoke. “What is happening out there?”
“War,” he said simply. “War has finally come to Paris. And we fight.”
“Tell me, Laurent. Please.”
“Forces Françaises de l’Intérieur.” He pointed to his white armband with FFI and the blue cross of Lorraine. “The Allies are battling their way toward us. We fight the Nazis and Milice however we can. We are outgunned, but we continue to capture weapons and trucks, and are building barricades across the city. My unit controls the Sorbonne. We will hold out.”
Jacques called out feverishly, then his voice trailed away.
Laurent kneeled, resting a hand above the bandages that swathed Jacques’ side. “I can’t get word to Odette. She and Gerard are hidden in the countryside.”
“Odette is alive?”
He nodded. “The morning Jacques and his group were to attack Grey’s transport, my apartment was raided. I escaped through the window, down a drainpipe. I found Odette and warned her we had been betrayed. She took Gerard and fled. It was too late to contact Jacques. We couldn’t get to you, to warn you.”
“You knew I was not a traitor?” Relief flooded Claire.
His mouth tightened. “Sylvie called me just a few minutes before the raid. My dear wife worked to keep me on the phone as they came inside the building.”
Claire reached for Laurent’s hand. “She’s dead. I shot her.”
His mouth twisted like he wanted to spit. “I would have killed her myself if I got there first. She deserved much worse than a bullet.” A deep breath and his voice softened. “And Grey?”
“They said he was killed with Kinsel.”
His eyes crimped shut. A long moment and he sighed. “I’d heard about Kinsel. But Thomas. Merde. I am sorry. I had hoped for better news.”
Gunfire rumbled in the distance.
Laurent embraced her gently. “I’m sorry I asked you to come to Paris.”
She smiled, though the effort made her eyes tear. “I regret many things. But not coming here. Never that.”
He nodded, his eyes on hers. “If we survive this, my offer still remains, ma chérie.”
A soft kiss on his sculpted face. She shook her head.
Laurent kissed her unbandaged cheek then released her. He lit the stub of a Gauloises. A shrug and he moved toward the door.
“Au revoir, Laurent. Be safe,” Claire said.
“D’accord.” A lopsided smile as he took a drag on his cigarette. “If you change your mind, ma chérie, you have my address. After, of course, we clear out the scum.” He stepped out the door.
Claire watched through the window until Laurent disappeared at the corner. Jacques moaned behind her. She wrung out a wet towel and pressed it against his burning forehead. “Odette and Gerard need you, Jacques. Fight.”
Three nights later, a sliver of a moon hung in the sky over Notre Dame Cathedral. From her seat on the window ledge, Claire could see the outline of the northern tower and a few of the grand dame’s buttresses. The Seine was a shining black ribbon, churning alone in its banks, beyond the deserted cathedral’s square. The flicker of burning cigarettes and the flash of the moonlight on metal on the street corner were the only hints of the armed men guarding