Out of the Shaddows

Cesar tried to close his eyes for the countless time but it was no use. Sleep was eluding him. Try as he might he was unable to ease his mind and felt no closer to slumber. His body was tired and it felt good to rest his muscles and remove his shoes, but his eyes and thoughts were awake, far from rest. He lay on the firm, wide sofa, his arms crossed behind his head, and focused on the ceiling. The paint was cracked and bubbling and there were various dim stains. But in the moonlight creeping through the window, he could tell the house was older. People had been living here for some time.



His mind traveled to his young hostess upstairs. She was an enigma. How did she know he wasn’t dangerous? How is it that she put herself in so much danger simply to “do her part,” as she had put it? Surely there were other ways to fight in the war if one was a woman. But what kind of woman opened her home to wanted men, sheltering them from the perils of the streets? Sabine wasn’t even a woman. She had barely completed childhood. Where in her short life had this courage stemmed from? And how was it, that in such treacherous times, she was living here alone? She had mentioned brothers and a father but was there a mother, a husband? So many pressing questioned were swimming in his mind and he accepted that he would not sleep.



As he focused on the ceiling he heard it creak. There was movement above him which soon developed into footsteps at the top of the staircase. He rolled to his side and watched as the small figure slowly crept down the stairs. She looked angelic as she made her way down, her pale yellow hair falling down her back and hugging her shoulders. She wore a long, full white cotton robe that seemed to dance behind her as if she had wings. She glanced at Cesar as she reached the foot of the stairs, making certain she made no noise. He closed his eyes and stilled his body and so Sabine assumed he was asleep. She walked on her toes around the stairs and into the kitchen. Cesar heard her move about, opening cupboards and the ice box, when he felt a deep rumbling in his stomach. He had not eaten anything since that morning and now his body was demanding nourishment.



As he rose from the sofa, he second guessed himself. What would she say when he walked into the kitchen? Would she scream? She had offered him kindness but it had been with reservation. He recalled her caution and the strict requirement that he not venture upstairs to find her. Did he really want to test her limits? He was about to lay back down when the deep tightening in his stomach pressed again and he accepted that his body wouldn’t ignore its need for food.



He walked down the narrow hallway, watching Sabine’s back as she faced the counter. She was preparing something Cesar couldn’t see but his body silently prayed she would be willing to share with him. He kept thinking this was a mistake. That he should wait until she was done and had returned upstairs before he searched for something to eat. But that would make him a thief. Cesar vowed long ago never to fit the stereotype which people chose to place on the Gypsies. He would always be courteous, he would always be honest, and he would never become a criminal. He would not steal from Sabine. He was hungry and wanted to eat but it was better to ask and be thrown out than to steal and become what everyone thought he was. He wouldn’t let that happen.



Cesar took another step forward and the floor creaked beneath his bare foot. The vibration of sound sent a shudder through his body and he quickly looked to Sabine for her reaction. She turned around instantly with a small gasp, her little hand pressed to her heart. She saw him frozen in the doorway of the kitchen.



“Oh, you scared me Monsieur,” she said once she registered his form. “I was certain you were asleep.”



With her body turned to him, Cesar could see on the counter she had a glass of milk and a few biscuits. The rumble in his stomach was set off once again.



“I was hoping you might wish to share,” he said, indicating with his eyes. Sabine turned to see he meant the food and smiled, brushing her hair from her face.



“Of course, how rude of me. I should have offered earlier. Please sit down and allow me to make you a plate, Monsieur.” She spoke to him as if he were more of a weekend guest in her home rather than a man she was hiding from soldiers. She didn’t know of any other way to speak to him. She had never offered food before and the refugees she had hidden had never asked. But Cesar was different. She felt more like a hostess than a warden and it seemed appropriate to serve him like a lady to a gentleman.



He sat on one of the short wooden stools at the small table in the center of the room and soon Sabine set a plate of cheese and biscuits before him, along with a tall glass of milk. She brought her plate and glass over to the table and sat down in the stool beside him. For a few minutes they ate together in silence, stealing the occasional curious glance at one another, both uncertain of what to say. Finally, after a long while, it was Sabine who decided to speak.



“Have you heard that the Americans have landed in Normandy? They say the war will be over any day now.” For Sabine, this was the new small talk. Everyone knew the Americans were in France, but the silence in the room was unbearable. She didn’t know how much information about himself Cesar would be willing to offer. It was safer to talk about the war. But Cesar was not accustomed to this new small talk of war.



“Then your father will be home soon. Do you miss him?”



Sabine looked at him, her mouth slightly agape. It had been months since anyone besides her neighbors had even mentioned her father and brothers. Now this stranger with no ties to her family was asking about them. Asking if she missed the only family she had left. His eyes were welcoming and she was in such desperate need for a kind ear and no hint of judgement. Cesar’s eyes invited her to say what she felt.



“I miss my father more than I can express in words. My brothers also. I used to get letters from them once or twice a week and it always made the emptiness easier to bare.” She swallowed hard. “But I haven’t received any letters for the past few weeks. Not a single one from any of them. I can’t help but fear the worst.”



“I’m certain they are alright.”



She smiled at him. It was of course a lie. There was no way anyone could know what had happened to the lost voices of war. But it was kind and for that Sabine was grateful. She wished to return the kindness and refrained from inquiring about his family.



“How long have you been alone in this home?” Cesar asked before finishing off his milk.



“My father left a year ago. My brothers, Henri and Bastien, left the following month. I was alone then. My mother died five years ago. With the men gone there was no one left to care for the house but me. My father wrote me and told me to go to my Aunt in Provance, but I refused. It hasn’t been so bad. I work four days a week in a ladies dress shop and the few neighbors left stop by from time to time. And of course, there are people like you.”



He smiled and she marveled at haw it made her cheeks flush. “The ones you hide save you from loneliness?”



“The sense that I’m doing something good for my country saves me from loneliness.”



“What about friends, schoolmates, a man?” Cesar looked down, afraid he had perhaps asked too much.



“My school education ended when the war began. My father refused to send me to a school where I would learn the German language and so I was schooled at home. I had few friends, many of whom left when the war broke.” She looked down at her empty plate, running her finger through the crumbs before continuing.



“I had a husband, Armand. He was the boy who lived across the street from me since the day I was born. We married two years ago. I was barely 18 and felt like a child bride. But I loved him and our family needed some happiness and celebration.”



As Sabine spoke her face remained soft and her voice subtle. But Cesar watched as her face slowly began to change. She looked up and glared in front of her as if looking into the eyes of a ghost sitting in the stool across from her.



“But when the Germans came to France and began filling our ears with their filth, Armand changed. He started going to their rallies and reading their books. He went around the house talking about how the Jews were ruining this country and that the world needed to be cleansed. He was a different man. We’d only been married a few short months but already I had grown to hate him.” Her face had hardened as her eyes slowly began to fill with tears. She kept her intense gaze ahead and Cesar sat and listened, remaining silent. Sabine was answering questions he had not asked but he understood there was some deep need in her to speak. He waited patiently for her to finish.



“He left to join the German army and two months later I received a letter that he had been killed in combat. But to me, he was already dead. I cursed his name and to this day, I have never mourned him.”



Cesar watched her as she stared in silence. A combination of anger and sadness, she was lost in her venomous thoughts as he wondered if she knew he was sill there. He reached out a placed his hand on hers, feeling a need to comfort her. But his touch knocked her out of her trance and instinctively, Sabine pulled her hand out from under his. She stood up so quickly and with such force that she knocked the stool over.



“Oh my goodness, forgive me monsieur. I am so very sorry. I can’t believe I did that. We’ve all had out hardships in this war. I’m certain yours have been worse than mine. I’m sorry for being so selfish.” She was flustered and could not look him in the eye as she returned the stool to its upright position.



Cesar slowly rose from his stool as she leaned against the counter. She was shaking and couldn’t seem to find a place for her hands. She seemed so small and so lost and all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and comfort her, until all the sadness and anger was gone.



“One hardship doesn’t belittle another. You have every right to be angry, as we all do. I am only sorry that your anger has only my ears. I’m afraid I can be of little comfort to you.”



Cesar continued to surprise her. She had been the one to let down her guard, to break down in front of this poor man and expect his pity. And here he was, apologizing for being a stranger. As thin tears ran down her cheeks, he was a pillar of strength, although he must have much to weep for as well.



Sabine walked forward, slowly closing the space between them. Perhaps it was the late hour or her sleeplessness but she felt her inhibition give and without reserve, she was able to bring her hand to Cesar’s face. She gently brushed the skin of his cheek with her small fingers.



“I’m glad I was able to help you Cesar. It is a crime of this world that a man as fine and good as you is not free.” She looked into the darkness of his eyes and could feel them burning into hers, looking into the depths of her soul. He lowered his eyes respectfully and she smiled. He had remained a gentleman throughout.



Sabine crossed him and left the kitchen. She walked to the staircase and turned back to the tall figure still lingering in the dim light, his back to her.



“Cesar?”



He turned to look at her, his frame a large shadow with the light behind him.



“There’s not much I can offer you but my home and protection. Please allow me to repay your kindness and understanding with an invitation to stay as long as you need.”



“Are you certain?”



She smiled. “It’s the least I can do, Monsieur.”



She ran up the stairs and once again disappeared into the darkness above.



As Cesar walked back to the sofa, he was filled with amazement. Did Sabine really think she owed him something? He was grateful for her protection but he felt like in the end, he had stolen from the sweet and caring girl. She had trusted him with her secrets and ha had listened. He had done nothing to earn her trust. He had stolen it. In the end, he had robbed her. It was then that he vowed to find a way to repay her. He refused to be a thief. The war hadn’t made him one and neither would Sabine.