The Winemaker's Wife Read online

  “I don’t think you realize the stakes here,” Edith said, her voice soft with concern. “My dear friend, it won’t happen today or tomorrow, but rest assured, there will be a reckoning. You don’t want to be on the wrong side, do you?”

  Inès felt a surge of fear. Was Edith warning her of something the underground had planned for Antoine? Or was it Antoine himself that Inès should be frightened of? “Yes, I know. I’m trying to make it right.”

  “Then come with me to Reims. Talk to him. Tell him that you cannot do this anymore. I’m sorry, Inès, but he knows you’re my best friend, and I just can’t have someone like him angry with us, not with the work we’re doing. You have to fix this, put it behind all of us. I told him I would do my best to ensure you’d be at the bar tonight.”

  Inès hesitated. “Yes, all right.” She pulled Edith down to the cellars with her, and together they told Michel that Edith had dropped by to surprise Inès and was hoping Inès might be able to come spend an evening with her in town.

  “Of course,” Michel said, and Inès tried not to feel hurt by the relief on his face. “Inès is always so much happier after she returns from a night with you.”

  Edith glanced at Inès. “Wonderful. I’ll drive her back tomorrow myself.”

  “Say hello to Edouard for me,” Michel said cheerfully, and then he resumed his work.

  As Edith and Inès ascended the stone steps and headed for the house, Edith reached for Inès’s hand, and for a moment, it felt just like old times. In the schoolyard in Lille, when they were both little girls, before the Germans had torn the Continent apart for the second time in a century, Edith used to fold her hand around Inès’s to tell her silently that everything would be all right.

  “Do you still love him?” Edith asked a few minutes later as she watched Inès pack a small overnight bag.

  “I don’t think I ever did, Edith. He was a distraction, something to make me forget how useless I am.”

  “You’re not useless. But I wasn’t talking about Antoine. I was talking about Michel.”

  “Oh,” Inès said. “Yes. Of course I love him. But I don’t think it’s the way a wife is supposed to love her husband. And I’m not sure he loves me at all.”

  For once, Edith didn’t try to offer false comfort. “This war has put us all backward,” she said at last. “I think things will be better when the Germans go. I hope so, at least.”

  “But will that ever happen?” Inès asked.

  “For the sake of all that is right in the world,” Edith replied, “we have to believe it will.”

  As they walked out of the house a few minutes later, Inès spotted Céline heading from her cottage toward the cellars. The other woman turned and waved, her growing belly on full display, and Edith gasped. “Inès! You didn’t tell me Céline was expecting a baby!” She didn’t wait for an answer before striding out to meet Céline halfway down the drive.

  Inès had to force a smile as she hurried after Edith. “Yes, yes, we’re very happy for her and Theo.” Of course, the words were true, but she was ashamed to admit that the good news also made her feel a bit envious. Inès and Michel had not yet talked of having children, and though Inès imagined that they would one day, it felt like part of a far-off future she couldn’t imagine.

  “Céline, congratulations!” Edith exclaimed, embracing the other woman as they met in the garden. Edith knew Céline only in passing, through Michel and Inès. “I had no idea!”

  “Thank you,” Céline said, her cheeks turning a bit pink. Céline seemed to glow now, her happiness overriding the despair of the war. She shot Inès a small smile as Edith pulled away.

  “When do you expect the baby to arrive?” Edith asked.

  “Sometime in June, I think,” Céline said, her eyes darting quickly to Inès again.

  “How wonderful,” Edith said softly. “Edouard and I have talked of having a baby, but in these times . . .” She trailed off.

  “To be honest, I’m very afraid,” Céline said. “But if this is what God intended . . .”

  “It’s joyous news,” Edith said firmly. “And you have been well?”

  Céline nodded and smiled slightly. “My biggest problem is that I’m hungry all the time, and there’s never enough food.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about getting you some extra rations.”

  “Oh no, I didn’t mean that!”

  “I know. But let’s make sure this baby is as healthy as possible, shall we? There will be enough challenges awaiting when he or she is out of the womb.”

  Céline hesitated. “Thank you. You are very kind.”

  Inès clapped her hands. “All right, shall we go now to Reims, Edith?”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Edith said. She smiled once more at Céline. “Congratulations again.”

  “Thank you,” Céline said. She turned and continued on toward the entrance to the cellars as Inès and Edith got into Edith’s car.

  “You don’t seem to like her,” Edith said as she pulled the car carefully down the drive, which was slick with ice.

  Why was it that Edith could always see through her? She supposed it was because they’d been like sisters for so long, but she’d never had the same ability to discern what Edith was thinking. Lately, her friend had become even more of a mystery to her. “I do like her,” Inès said. “It is just that she has always seemed to belong here more than I do.”

  “Certainly that’s not true.” Edith gave Inès a look of concern as she pulled to a stop before turning onto the main road.

  “I’ve been married to Michel for three and a half years now, and I still feel like a guest at the Maison Chauveau sometimes. But Céline, well, Céline is at ease here in a way that I am not. And I suppose that bothers me.”

  “Is that why you began your affair?” Edith asked quietly. “Because you feel as if you don’t belong?”

  “I don’t know.” Inès stared out the window at the vineyards that rolled by. The bare vines were like skeletons lined up in formation, a silent army against the gray sky. “I’m ashamed, Edith. I know you’re judging me harshly, and I deserve that. I’ve made a big mistake.”

  Edith didn’t say anything for a moment. “We all make mistakes. But life goes on, and we can always become better. It’s not the decisions in your past that matter, but the choices you make about your future.”

  Inès watched as a convoy of German vehicles passed, one of them skidding slightly on an icy patch before the driver regained control. When the trucks had disappeared behind them, Inès looked at Edith. “Are we still friends? Or have I lost you, too?”

  Edith glanced at Inès and then turned her attention back to the road. “You will never lose me, Inès. I will always be here.”

  • • •

  It was perhaps Edith’s words of solidarity that gave Inès the courage she needed to face Antoine that evening when he appeared at the Brasserie Moulin.

  “Hello, my dear,” he said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek near the front door where she’d been standing, waiting for him to show up. “It has been far too long. I’ve missed you very much.”

  She pulled away. “And I, you.”

  “We should make up for lost time, then.” His hand closed around her forearm like a vice. “Shall we go to my apartment?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I think we should stay here for now. Shall we have a drink?”

  Across the brasserie, Edith was watching her and gave her a slight nod when their eyes met over the crowd of Germans. Antoine looked put out, but he didn’t refuse as Inès led them to two seats at the end of the bar. He pulled her chair out for her and then slid into his own. “You have been absent for a long time,” he said as Inès studied the bottles behind the bartender. “I don’t like having to summon you.”

  “Things at the champagne house have been busy,” she said without meeting his gaze.

  “Is that all it is?”

  She turned to him. “No.” She drew a deep breath, steeling herself
. “Antoine, I can’t do this anymore. I was wrong to betray my husband and I . . .” She hesitated. “I am trying to be a better person.”

  Antoine’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “It’s far too late to change who we are, my dear.”

  Inès blinked a few times. “But I am a good person.”

  “Good people don’t betray those they have made promises to.” He went on before she could protest, leaning closer until he was breathing his words right into her ear. “In any case, you should understand, Inès, that it is not so easy to disentangle oneself from a liaison in the midst of a war.”

  To anyone observing them, they must have looked like two lovers having an intimate conversation, but Inès could feel a chill settling over her. “What are you saying?”

  “Oh, my dear.” His tone was ice-cold as his dry lips brushed her earlobe. “As you know, I have friends in high places. And there’s a cost for betrayal.”

  She blinked a few times, trying to steady herself. “I am not betraying you, Antoine. I—I care for you. It is just that I cannot continue this way.”

  “And you think that it is your decision to make?” His eyes were hard as he leaned back to study her.

  “I do think that if you consider what I’m saying, you will agree.”

  “No, I do not think I agree at all. In fact, I think perhaps I will mention you and your husband to one of my friends. Perhaps Hauptmann Müller over there.” He nodded across the room to a rotund officer with a Hitler-like mustache. “Or the weinführer, Otto Klaebisch. He’s a dear friend. I’d hate to see your husband’s business suffer as a result.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Inès, I’m insulted. I’m a gentleman.” He smiled coldly, and she felt a surge of anger alongside her fear.

  “Yes, well, you’re not the only one with friends,” she snapped back. “Perhaps there are members of the underground who would like to hear about your friendship with the Germans.”

  All at once, Antoine went very still, and Inès knew instantly she’d made a mistake. “Ah, so you know people in the underground?”

  “No, of course not.” She backtracked quickly. “I was just saying that I’m not the only one with much to lose.”

  “It sounds as if you are threatening me.” His calm felt eerie, dangerous to Inès.

  “No, I—”

  “I would hope not,” he interrupted. “It would be foolish. As I have explained to you, I am not ashamed of what I’m doing. I’m merely being practical. And what are the foolish résistants going to do anyhow, Inès? Write my name on a wall? Publish my name in a secret tract that only a dozen people will read? Who cares, Inès? They will all be executed soon enough for their treason.”

  “Antoine—” she began to say, but again, he cut her off.

  “Go home, Inès.” He pushed his chair back abruptly and stood. “Go home and stop playing city girl. I was a fool to become involved with you from the start, to think that you could be anything more than an insignificant whore.” He put a few coins on the bar, gave her one last hard look, and strode away, his posture rigid and angry.

  Inès watched him until he walked out the door and then turned back to the bar slowly, only to realize that there were at least a dozen other patrons, half of them German officers, all of them watching her. She swallowed hard and scanned the room for Edith, but her friend was nowhere to be seen. So she summoned the bartender and ordered a dry martini. She was determined to pretend that nothing was wrong, and to linger here long enough that the men eyeing her would go back to their own conversations, their own lives, and forget all about her.

  It was nearly an hour—and two cocktails—later that Edith reappeared at the back of the restaurant and beckoned to Inès. Inès quickly paid and headed toward Edith, a bit unsteady on her feet. She hadn’t realized she’d had so much to drink, but then she hadn’t eaten yet, either. The gin had gone straight to her head.

  “Oh, Edith, it’s over, I think.” She leaned into her friend, and Edith grasped her upper arms, steadying her.

  “Was he angry?”

  Inès nodded miserably.

  “You did the right thing.” But Edith looked concerned, exhausted. “Listen, something has happened. I know you need to stay with us tonight, but we have other visitors in our apartment, too.”

  “Visitors? But who?”

  “Come,” Edith said, something strange in her tone. “I will introduce you.”

  They ascended the stairs behind the kitchen, and when Edith unlocked the door to the apartment, she didn’t turn on the light. She pulled Inès inside and shut the door. “I’m back,” she said into the room.

  A flame flickered in the darkness, illuminating a man and a woman sitting on the floor. Their clothes were scuffed with dirt, their faces wan and hollowed. “Hello,” said the man. He was, Inès guessed, around her age.

  “Hello,” she replied, and then looked to Edith for an explanation.

  “Inès, I’d like you to meet Samuel Cohn, and his sister, Rachel. Samuel, Rachel, this is my dearest friend, Inès, who will also be staying with us tonight. You can trust her.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, madame,” Samuel Cohn said while his sister continued to study her suspiciously.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” She glanced helplessly at Edith, trying to understand what was going on.

  “Inès,” Edith said slowly. “Samuel and Rachel are traveling and needed a place to stay.”

  Samuel cleared his throat. “To be frank, madame, we are Jews. We had word that the Germans were coming for us tonight, and we didn’t know where else to go.”

  “Inès, we have helped others like the Cohns before,” Edith said. “They were told to come to us, but only in case of an emergency.”

  “I am sorry it has come to this, Madame Thierry,” Samuel said. “You are very generous to take us in.”

  “It is not a problem,” Edith said kindly, though Inès could see the tension creasing her friend’s forehead. “Unfortunately, with Inès staying with us tonight, too, things will be a bit cramped. I think perhaps you two can share the bedroom, and Inès can take the couch, if that’s amenable. It will be safer for them to be behind closed doors,” Edith added.

  “I’m sorry, madame,” Samuel said, looking at Inès. “If there was somewhere else for my sister and me to go, rest assured we would.”

  “No,” Inès said. “Please don’t worry. And call me Inès. If we are sharing quarters tonight, we shouldn’t be so formal.”

  Samuel smiled. “All right. Inès, then.”

  “Inès, may I have a word?” Edith asked, and Inès followed her into the bedroom Edith shared with Edouard, whom Inès hadn’t seen all evening. “I’m very sorry about these circumstances,” Edith whispered once she had closed the door behind them. “Especially because this puts you in some danger.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” Inès said. “I told you I want to help.”

  “I must ask you, is there any chance at all that Antoine will return tonight and try to find you in my apartment? If there is, I must look for some other arrangement for the Cohns.”

  “No,” Inès mumbled. “He’s gone.”

  Edith studied her. “All right. Edouard should be here soon. He is trying to find a place to hide the Cohns tomorrow. Obviously they are not safe here for long with so many Germans walking around beneath our feet.”

  “What about our cellars?” Inès asked suddenly. “We could hide them. It would be perfect, Edith. The Germans would never think to search for them there, and even if they did, they’d never find them. You remember when I first moved to Ville-Dommange and got lost down there myself? It’s a labyrinth.”

  Edith frowned. “No, Inès. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “But I want to help. I want to be a better person.”

  “Inès, your entanglement with Antoine makes you a risk.” Edith softened a bit as she added, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you. But how could anyone in our network
trust you after seeing you with him?”

  Inès felt as if her friend had slapped her across the face. “Do you trust me?”

  Edith hesitated. “Yes, of course.” But she didn’t meet Inès’s gaze, and the real answer to Inès’s question was painfully obvious.

  Inès forced a smile. “I understand.” But she wondered, as Edith walked her back into the parlor with a blanket and a pillow, whether she would be permanently marked by the choice she’d made with Antoine. Was it possible that one sin could stain your soul forever? Or could one do enough good that a mistake of such magnitude could eventually be erased?

  twenty-two

  JANUARY 1943

  CÉLINE

  With Inès in Reims with her friend Edith for the night, Céline waited until Theo was snoring beside her before sliding out of bed, pulling on her coat, and slipping into the darkness outside as a light snow fell.

  Michel was waiting in the cave where they usually met. He opened his arms, and Céline fell into them, wordless, her swollen belly between them.

  “How are you feeling?” Michel asked when she finally pulled away and sat on the stone bench.

  “Better,” Céline said with a small smile. “It is extraordinary to feel the baby beginning to move.”

  Céline had actually felt the baby’s first kick two weeks earlier, but she’d been careful not to say anything, for she had misled Theo about the baby’s expected arrival date. The baby would be born sometime in May if she went full term, but she had told Theo the arrival date was in June, just in case he stopped to do the math. He had been placing his hand on her belly lately, asking when he might be able to feel the baby, and she had just shrugged, keeping the magical moments to herself for now. The whole pregnancy had felt to her like she was in possession of a special secret, something more beautiful than she could have imagined, but also something potentially ruinous.

  Then there was the fact that each time Theo touched her belly, each time he gazed at her with love in his eyes, she felt a surge of guilt so powerful it nearly knocked her off her feet. He was trying to protect her, take care of her, because as far as he knew, she was carrying his child. How would he feel when he found out the truth? His renewed affection made the situation so much worse. He had become again, in many ways, the man she had married nearly eight years earlier, but of course it was too late to turn back the clock.