Madeleine took a deep drag on her cigarette, then exhaled. “The Wehrmacht stop here. One of their officers is quite fond of requisitioning my truffles.” She scratched her hog behind the ears. “They’d find you if they searched the barn.”

Ollie took the hammer and pry bar, then hesitated. “If we stay in the barn and we’re caught, you could pretend that you didn’t know we were there.”

“Wouldn’t matter. They’d shoot me either way. When the Germans invaded, there were British soldiers that didn’t make it out of Dunkirk. They hid in basements, attics, and barns. Many were captured. French residents were shot, regardless if they knew the soldiers were there.” Ashes dropped from her cigarette. “The Nazis have no tolerance for those in the company of their enemy.”

Guilt swelled in Ollie’s head. He hated placing this woman at risk. But considering his physical condition, he didn’t have much choice.

She looked at him. Dark bags sagged under her eyes. “The Nazis have pillaged our country. They’ve killed most of our soldiers, and the ones lucky enough to only be captured were sent away to prison camps. We’re starving, waiting in endless lines for morsels of bread while they eat our meat, drink our wine. Even our police have become cowards, preferring to collaborate rather than fight.” She tapped out her cigarette in a clay ashtray and took another from her pocket. “Nazi flags hang from our streets, even our schools.”

Ollie adjusted the sling around his neck. The air turned thick. He couldn’t imagine what Madeleine must be going through. A prisoner in her own country.

Madeleine pulled up the sleeves of her sweater, exposing her bony wrists, and lit her cigarette. “You remind me of my twin boys, Marius and Marcel.”

“How’s that?” Ollie asked.

“Committed to fight for a belief, despite the cost.” Smoke rose from her cigarette and spread over the ceiling. “They were good boys.”

Ollie pushed aside the tools and took a seat next to Madeleine.

“Marius liked to read and dreamed of becoming a professor. Those are his books,” she said, pointing to a bookcase.

Ollie eyed the rows of books, looking out of place in the rustic cottage, like fine china on a picnic table.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Madeleine said.

“I’m not surprised.”

She tapped him lightly on his hand. “Yes, you are.”

“Well, maybe a little.”

The woman smiled. “My family was well educated. But we chose a simpler life.” She stood and retrieved a photo from the bookcase. “Marcel wanted to be a truffle hunter like Guillaume, his father. These were my boys,” she said, handing Ollie the photo.

Ollie looked at the picture of two young boys wearing pressed school uniforms. The identical twins were mirror images of each other. Standing beside the boys, a man and woman. “Is this you, Madeleine?”

“Yes.” She tucked gray hairs behind her ear. “I was once beautiful.”

“You’re still lovely,” Ollie said.