But if she revealed that, she and the baby would find themselves homeless and starving, like so many women and children in the aftermath of the war. Her only claim on Sauveterre was the fact that the child was assumed to be Didier’s only heir. Despite his shameful actions, he was the ancestral lord of Sauveterre. The baby would inherit the mas one day. Perhaps in time, Sauveterre would be prosperous again, and old hurts would be forgotten.

She hid away her letters to Hank, knowing she had to let go of the dream that they might meet again. She couldn’t bring herself to destroy the letters, for they contained her heart. As she was putting the box high on an attic shelf, she came across Toselli’s camera and several rolls of undeveloped film. Her heart broke all over again, because she knew the pictures documented her time with Hank. She put the rolls away, because the hurt was too raw. One day in the future, she would develop the film. One day, she would show them to her child.

There was still a roll of film in the camera. She’d loaded it the morning of the Allied invasion and had taken a few pictures, never imagining the devastation that would take place that day. She had no heart for taking pictures, not anymore. For the sake of the baby, she tried to find that passion once again. She found Hank’s cloth pathfinder badge—one of the few mementos she’d found in the rubble—and pinned it to the shoulder of her dress, hoping and praying the child was his. Then she studied herself in a mirror and focused her camera. A young woman with a pain as old as time in her eyes, her belly rounded like the cheek of a ripe pear.

The next time I take your picture, little one, she thought, you will be in my arms.

Part 7

Switchback

I suddenly understood that photography can fix eternity in a moment.

—HENRI CARTIER-BRESSON, FRENCH PHOTOGRAPHER

Nineteen

Julie and her friends decided there was only one way to deal with the languid heat of August. They stuffed their totes with towels, sunscreen, and water bottles and headed to the beach. As always, she felt a little fluttery thrill when they met up with André and his brothers at their favorite spot, a white sand crescent bordered by cliffs and outcroppings, perfect for making daring plunges.

The guys had brought a rope to put up a new swing. They chose a flat area shaded by an overhanging tree that seemed to grow straight out of the rock.

“Somebody will have to climb out on the branch and secure the rope,” Martine said.

“I’ll do it,” Julie volunteered.

“What if you fall?”

“Then I’ll land in the water.”

“You’re a lot more brave than I am.”

“I’m not brave,” Julie said. “There’s no point in being scared of something if you know you can do it.” She draped the rope around her shoulder, and André gave her a boost. Shinnying out on the branch, she secured the rope. Okay, now what? She was turned the wrong way. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw the others watching her.