Victor explained that he could not bring Julien back to the farm. Marianne was often gone now, taking as many children across the border as possible, and Victor had plans as well, ones he couldn’t speak about. He drove even faster than usual on the steep and winding roads, on his way to one of the last safe places for Jewish children. Maison d’Izieu, deep in the countryside, more than 50 miles from Lyon, had a beautiful view of the chain of mountains in the Rhône Valley, and it had recently been granted protection by the Vichy government. A huge stone château with an enormous fountain outside the front door, it was a safe haven where children could have a good night’s sleep, see to their studies, and breathe in the clean country air. In the hilly garden there were vegetables and a small orchard. Perhaps those in residence could forget some of what they had seen. Perhaps not. By now, hundreds of children had been in châteaus such as this, and Izieu was one of many OSE sanctuaries that would go on to rescue thousands of Jewish children. OSE schools were allowed by law to keep children of Jewish parents who had been deported. There was a standard of who could be arrested and murdered and who was allowed to stay in France. If you were under sixteen you were allowed to live.

When they arrived, Victor got out of the car to embrace Julien. “Eventually we’ll meet at the farm, but for now, just stay here,” he said. “You’ll be safe.”

“What if I don’t see you again?” Julien wanted to know.

“Then you’ll know you were my favorite brother.” Victor shrugged, a smile on his face. Despite everything that had happened, he still had hope for the future.

“Was I?”

Victor threw him a look. “Were you what?”

“Your favorite?”

“Idiot! Of course. And my only one.”

They clapped each other on the back. “Don’t worry so much,” Victor advised. “You’ll turn out to be older than me if you do.”

Julien watched the car disappear down the mountain road.

I’m still here, he wished he could write to Lea. I don’t understand how or why anymore.

The air was cool and fresh, and there was the scent of lily of the valley. Time was moving so quickly, perhaps all he had to do was hold on and wait and this would all be over and he would have his life back, or whatever was left of it.

If I don’t see you again, I have faith that you knew me.