For Such a Time (Women of Valor Book #1)

Elyse Larson

Description

Readers know of the bravery, boldness, and spirit shown by the thousands of soldiers who fought valiantly during World War II. Lesser known, perhaps, but equally dramatic were the roles that women played in the conflict, both as support from home and as part of the fight near the front lines. For Such a Time, the first novel in Elyse Larson's WOMEN OF VALOR series explores the lives of two cousins--one French, the other American--who find the courage to face danger and betrayal in occupied France during at the height of the war.Giselle Munier and Jean Thornton are more like sisters than cousins, having spent many summers together through their parents' travels. But with the outbreak of World War II, both women's lives take a dramatic turn.Jean joins the American Red Cross, assigned to a sprawling military hospital in Wales. Giselle, active in the French Resistance, has been betrayed and arrested by the Nazis. Hearing of her cousin's plight, Jean knows she must try to rescue her cousin, no matter how ill-advised the mission seems. Both women will learn far more than they ever imagined about courage, trust, and forgiveness before their harrowing experience is over.Link to Readers' Discussion Questions

Sujets

• Historical fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 01 juin 2000
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781441233622
• Langue: English

Extrait

Books by Elyse Larson
W OMEN OF V ALOR
For Such a Time
So Shall We Stand
The Hope Before Us
Women of Valor, Book 1
For Such a Time
Elyse Larson
© 2000 by Elyse Larson
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Minneapolis, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Ebook edition created 2012
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means for example, electronic, photocopying, recording without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
War poster images in the cover montage courtesy of the National Archives and Records Administration.
Cover by Dan Thornberg
eISBN 978-1-4412-3362-2
“W E HAVE NOT JOURNEYED
ALL THIS WAY ACROSS THE CENTURIES ,
ACROSS THE OCEANS, ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS ,
ACROSS THE PRAIRIES ,
BECAUSE WE ARE MADE OF SUGAR CANDY.”
W INSTON C HURCHILL , D ECEMBER 1941
Dedication
To my sisters,
Dorothy Kilber, Edith Bates, Alice Parker,
to our mother,
Annabell Wagner Douglas,
1894–1985,
and to all
the strong women before us.
ELYSE LARSON is an author, photographer, and writing instructor. For Such a Time is her third published novel. Elyse and her husband live in Gresham, Oregon. They have three children and eleven grandchildren.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to editor Sharon Asmus, whose expertise made this book so much better than it would have been, to editors David Horton and Sharon Madison, who believed this book should be published, and to editor Lonnie Hull Dupont, who could see potential from the beginning and encouraged me over the long process of development.
Special thanks to my many writer-friends, too numerous to name, who critiqued again and again and never failed to encourage me. This is your book too.
Special thanks to Edetha Keppel, who served at the station hospital in Govilon, Wales, and shared her memories and journals with me. I’m so sorry she didn’t live to see this book published, so I thank her family in memory of her. Thanks to the families of Bruce Keppel, Geoff Keppel, and Steve Keppel.
Special thanks to Lucie Aubrac, a woman of the Resistance in Lyon, France, who courageously wrote a book in defense of all resistants when the work of the Resistance was under attack by collaborators during the trial of Klaus Barbie, “the Butcher of Lyon.” And thanks to the University of Nebraska Press for publishing in 1993 a translation of Aubrac’s book Outwitting the Gestapo .
Contents
Cover
Books by Elyse Larson
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Back Cover
Chapter One
December 1943
Lyon, France
As Giselle Munier led her daughters across the city street, she positioned herself between Jacqueline and the two Nazi soldiers they would soon pass on the corner. Although Jacquie was only eight, Giselle worried about her attracting attention and hated that worrying was necessary. More and more, everything she and Claude did with the girls was overshadowed with fear for them.
The vibrant city of her own happy childhood had grown dismal under the occupation. No one washed the streets or planted flowers, or applied fresh paint to shutters and doors. Streets of Lyon that once had sung with the voices of shoppers and vendors now lay mute. One walked or bicycled and only went out for necessities. The few sputtering civilian automobiles reminded Giselle of mice dodging through the yard of a hungry cat.
Many families had sent their children to live with relatives in the country. Soon Jacquie and Angie would have to go.
Normally Giselle never took the girls along when she acted as a courier for the French Resistance, but today she had found no one to care for them, and the message was too urgent to delay. Having them with her this time had made the delivery easy. Now information for tonight’s changed rendezvous was safely in the hands of Landine, Claude’s contact from Dardilly.
There was no way for her and the children to walk quietly past the soldiers. Their wooden sabots clacked against the pavement. Leather for growing feet had disappeared in the first months of the German occupation back in 1940. The hand-carved clogs, worn with thick socks, were comfortable for the children, who could not remember shoes with flexible soles. Although Giselle still had some good leather dress shoes in her armoire at home, she clopped along in sabots too, as did most people.
As she approached the curb, the two Nazis in their shiny black boots and spotless pressed uniforms glanced at her and turned away, their narrow lips twisted in contempt. Good. She had learned early to darken her glossy blond hair with a tea made from boiled onion skins, nut hulls, or tree bark and to arrange it in a straggling, unattractive bun whenever she went out.
She stepped up onto the sidewalk. The girls, without coaching, had stopped talking, but Giselle could see they were staring at the men in gray-green uniforms. She tightened her grip on six-year-old Angelique’s small hand. Angie glanced up at her and smiled.
Giselle smiled back, then setting her face to a well-rehearsed calm, she avoided eye contact with the soldiers. As one does with vicious dogs, she reminded herself. While her quickening heart urged her feet to hurry, she feigned the innocence of a housewife trudging home from the market with the usual half-empty bag. Should these two SS men stop and search her, they would find nothing to connect her with the Resistance. Still, she didn’t want to attract attention.
Too many times strangers had volunteered comments about Jacquie’s beauty. Without a conscious decision, she had begun months ago to dress the girls to look younger than they were. When she realized what her protective instinct had led her to do, she put careful effort into maintaining the fiction. So far it had been easy, because both girls were small for their age. She kept Jacquie’s hair in a tight, little-girl braid and the hems of her worn dresses shorter than the more dignified length that her age normally deserved.
Last night Claude had affirmed her unvoiced worry. Looking at the girls after they were asleep, he’d whispered, “They are so beautiful. There are men no, beasts who like children. Pray we win this war before our girls invite attention ”
With a shudder, Giselle had interrupted him. “Don’t even say it,” she whispered, pulling him by the hand to the front room. To her shame, she had burst into tears. Claude held her in his arms while she cried against his shirt. “I hate them! I hate them!” His arms tightened around her, but he didn’t speak. When she regained control, he kissed her, and she felt his cheeks as wet as her own.
Regret over her emotional lapse formed a tight lump in her chest. “I’m sorry. You have enough to take care of without having a weeping woman on your hands.”
“Don’t say that! You and the girls are my life. I fight for you. If only I could be sure you will be safe …”
“We will be. If there’s a God in heaven, we will be.”
“Yes. God.”
He sighed, and she knew what he meant. His Jewish parents had been hauled away in a boxcar to only God knew where. And yet she knew he kept praying, hoping they were still alive and safe somewhere.
She prayed for them too. Mother and Father Rose had welcomed her, a Gentile, into their family with kindly affection. When Petain an elderly French general the Nazis had selected to rule under them had announced that all Jews must register, in the same loving way, Father Rose had insisted that Claude take Giselle and the girls to a large city where they could lose their identity, even though it meant they would not see them for the duration of the war. Giselle prayed daily for Claude’s parents and for his young sister. She also prayed that his changed surname from Rose to Munier and his forged papers would continue to protect him. They had moved to Lyon with the falsified documents in time to avoid the registration of Jews. With those papers he had easily acquired his job of repairing the runways of the Bron airport. As everywhere in France, the pay was low, and like everyone else, he worked long hours and took care not to draw attention to himself. With his arms still around her and his chin resting against the top of her head, she couldn’t see Claude’s face when he revealed a growing danger. “I just learned that yesterday five resistants in Avignon were betrayed by one of our own countrymen who collaborated with the Nazis.”
“Oh no!”
“It’s time to send the girls to the Leveques’ farm.” He let go of her and stepped back, keeping his hands firm on her arms. His steady gaze seemed to command her to stay strong. “It’s best for them. They’ll be all right.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
He had turned away then and raked back his thick black hair from his forehead with his fingers as he always did when he was thinking. “With the invasion surely coming soon, the Gestapo and that puppet Petain will work harder than ever to stop us. I hate to think so, but we may already have a traitor in our réseau . Lately a few coincidences have made me uneasy. I’ve asked Martin to go and make sure the Leveques can take Jacquie and Angie.”
Evyette Leveque was her mother