Free Two Crosses by Elizabeth Musser Page B

bent down and inspected her swollen leg. “Oh, Gabby, I’m sorry. What happened?”
    “I’m just clumsy. I was walking on the ramparts and went into one of those towers over there.” She pointed. “There was a neat little terrace up above, with a beautiful view of the Mediterranean. But the steps are narrow and uneven, and it’s pitch-dark, and coming back down, I tripped and fell. If it hadn’t been for that nice young Frenchman, I don’t think I would have made it back.”
    “A young Frenchman? He was with you?”
    Gabriella laughed. “No. I met him in the tower. Actually I thought he was trying to pick me up. He asked lots of questions. Anyway, I left to walk on the ramparts, and he must have come out there a little later, because he heard me scream and came to see if I was hurt. He brought me here, but I had to assure him I had a friend who would take care of me or he would have carried me off with him, I’m quite sure.”
    “I can imagine.” He didn’t question her further. “Here, let me help you up. You’ll need some ice on that ankle. We’ll just have to enjoy the sandwiches in the car.”
    “I’m so sorry for my bumbling. We can still picnic if you wish.” But she winced as she stood up.
    Impulsively David picked her up in his arms and carried her back to the car, in spite of her embarrassed protest.
    He didn’t talk much on the way home. He thought about the young Frenchman and the pretty redhead and the information tucked in the pocket of his leather jacket. It had turned out to be a very interesting day after all.

    Gabriella sat on her bed, holding a pack of ice on her swollen ankle. Ice on the ankle! How Mme Leclerc had balked at the idea. And where would they get ice in this heat? But she had placed some water in the tiny freezer that hung inside the refrigerator and they had made a pack. Now she stood over Gabriella like a conscientious nursemaid.
    “ Ooh là là. Ma pauvre petite fille! Such a pity, this accident.”
    Gabriella tried to sound cheery. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
    After several more ooh là làs, the landlady left Gabriella alone with her thoughts. And they were black. It did not happen often, but when the dark mood came, she could not push it away.
    She was angry that David had not been more sympathetic. He seemed distant and worried, but not worried for her. She was furious with herself for stumbling down the steps. And she felt uneasy when she thought of the young Frenchman helping her to her feet and whispering that strange comment about Huguenot crosses.
    She missed her family. She longed to talk to her mother. The ice pack fell to the floor and slowly melted on the tiles as Gabriella turned over and cried herself to sleep.

9
    September had closed its door to let October open its own, and with it the weather in Paris grew cooler. Ophélie stared out the window of M. Gady’s apartment. Fall was in the air, and all the other children raced to school, giggling and chasing one another down the narrow streets. But not Ophélie.
    “My dear,” M. Gady had explained several weeks ago, “it isn’t wise right now for you to be at school. Soon things will change. Soon.”
    But Ophélie knew that things would not change. Mama had promised the same, and yet their life had always been one of flight and fear. Mama called it adventure and tried to help Ophélie be brave. But Ophélie had known. It was not a child’s adventure now.
    It wasn’t fair. She was tired of playing alone. School! First grade! She longed to run to class with the other children, to sit in the old wooden desks and learn to read. She knew she could learn fast, if only someone would help her. She had to learn how to read. The blue bag was tucked inside her pillowcase, and the letter in Mama’s handwriting lay there, still a mystery.
    Ophélie turned away from the window with its picture of happy schoolchildren.
    Mama had not let her go to school when they first arrived in France, and the days had