Echoes

office and took Amadea gently in his arms.

“I'm so sorry, Amadea,” he whispered. It was beyond thinking that Beata and Daphne were gone. And given what he had heard of the camps, he thought it unlikely they would survive. But he said nothing to her of that now.

“What will I do?” she said softly to him, as he looked at her. He had forgotten how beautiful she was, and she was more so now. Even in her sadness, there was a luminous look to her, a great depth to her eyes. She seemed to be lit from within, and he could see she was a deeply holy person. It seemed a tragedy for her to come out, and a great loss to her, along with the others she had just sustained. He had no idea how she would adapt to the world after so long. The Mother Superior was worried about that as well. Amadea looked shell-shocked as she looked at him.

“We'll talk about that tonight,” he said quietly. They had much to talk about. They had opened the convent gates for him, and he had driven his car behind the convent walls. He wanted her to lie on the floor of his car, with a blanket over her, so no one would see her leave. No one would suspect that he was leaving the convent with one of the nuns. And if they came for her at some point, the Mother Superior could simply say she was gone. She owed them no more explanation than that, nor would she offer one. By then she herself would have no idea where Amadea was. Although they would keep her constantly in their prayers until she returned.

“You must dress now,” the Mother Superior reminded her. Amadea disappeared into the robing room a moment later. She felt as though she were peeling her skin away as she took her habit off. Each piece of it was like a part of her, and she stood alone in the room, looking at it carefully folded on the table. They had left a coat and shoes and dress for her, a small ugly hat, and some underwear.

None of the clothes fit when she put them on, but it didn't matter to her. Nothing mattered. Her mother and Daphne were gone, in God's hands now, wherever they were, and she was leaving the place where she had sought refuge six years before, where she had lived and worked and grown. It was like leaving the womb, as she buttoned the dress that was too short for her, with the shoes that were too tight. She had worn sandals for six years, and it felt strange to wear shoes again. She was surprised to find how thin she was, as she put on normal clothes again. She had had no sense of it in her habit, and her hair was shorn as it had been for six years. She felt like a monster in the ugly outfit, after the simple beauty of her habit. She longed to put it on again, and wondered how long it would be before she came back to them. She could only pray now it would be soon. She had no desire to go back into the world, in fact, she would have done anything possible to avoid it.

Gerard was waiting for her in the courtyard, standing anxiously beside his car. He wanted to get back to the Schloss as soon as possible. He had already spoken to Veronique about it, and she was in full agreement. It was something they could do for Beata and Antoine who had been good friends to them, although this went beyond the bounds of friendship. But this was about more than that. It was about what was right, and so much these days wasn't. In fact, nothing was.

He was standing talking quietly to the Mother Superior, and the others had gone back to work. No one saw them as Amadea got into the car and lay on the floor in the back, as he put a horse blanket over her, that smelled of the stables, but it was a happy memory for Amadea. Before he covered her, she looked at the Mother Superior for a last time, and the two women's eyes met and held.

“God bless you, my child. Don't worry. You will be home soon. We'll be waiting for you.”

“God bless you, Mother…I love you…”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, as Gerard gently covered her, thanked the somber-looking nun, who stood watching him, as he backed slowly out of the courtyard, and drove to the Schloss without stopping. He drove at normal speed, as though he were doing nothing special, and kept his eye on the rearview mirror. They had given him a large basket of fruit and vegetables, to explain why he had come there. But no one followed him. They were not going to go to great lengths to look for a young nun. And even if the police came to inquire about her, they would soon forget about her. She was no great danger to them, and they knew it. Nor were Beata and Daphne, but once they were denounced, the Gestapo had no choice but to do something about it. In Beata's case, there was money and a house to be taken. Amadea had nothing except the clothes she had on her back, and the rosary beads the Mother Superior had given her as she left the convent.

He drove into the courtyard of the Schloss and around to the back of the house. It was lunchtime, and no one was around. Everyone was either eating or busy, when he escorted Amadea to their bedroom. Veronique was waiting for her there, and as she took the young woman into her arms, they both sobbed for all that had been lost, all the horror that had happened. Gerard quietly locked the bedroom door. He had already told the maids that his wife had a sick headache and no one was to disturb her. They had a lot to talk about. A lot to figure out. But for now, Amadea had to recover from the multiple shocks she had sustained that morning. She had lost everything. Her mother. Her sister. And the convent. She had lost the only way of life she had known for the past six years, and all the familiar people and landmarks of her childhood. She cried as though her heart would break, and had, as Veronique Daubigny held her.

16

GERARD AND VERONIQUE TALKED TO AMADEA LONG INTO the night. They waited until the servants left in the evening and went to their own quarters, and then Veronique went down to the kitchen herself and cooked Amadea dinner. She could barely eat it. She hadn't touched meat in six years, and she felt completely at a loss, staring at the sausages and eggs Veronique had cooked her. More than that, she felt naked without her habit. She was still wearing the ill-fitting clothes they had given her at the convent. But that was the least of her problems. Gerard had been thinking about what to do with her all evening.

He and Veronique were in full agreement. They couldn't keep her forever, but for now at least, for as long as they could, they wanted to hide her. There was a locked storeroom with a small window high up in one of the towers, and Gerard was convinced that no one would find her there. She could come down to their rooms at night, for air and space, and the rest of the time, in the daytime, she could stay there. There was even a tiny bathroom.

“But what will they do to you, if they find me?”

“They won't,” Gerard said simply. For the moment, it was the best plan they could think of, and she was grateful to them.

She had a bath in Veronique's bathroom that night, and afterward she was startled when she saw herself in the mirror. She had not seen herself in six years, and she was surprised to see herself look so much older. In six years she had become a woman. Her pale blond hair was short. She cut it herself each month, without looking, and it looked it, not that it mattered to her. It didn't. It was a travesty for her to be out in the world. She knew with her entire being that she belonged in the convent. But this was her gift to them, to go out into the world so she did not risk them. It was a small price to pay for their safety, a sacrifice she was willingly making. Not to mention the sacrifice the Daubignys were making for her.

Veronique had gone through her closets to find something for her to wear. She had found a long blue skirt, a white blouse, and a sweater. They were almost exactly the same size, and she had put out underwear and a pair of red sandals. Amadea felt sinful wearing it. It all looked much too pretty. But she was fulfilling her vows, she told herself as she put the clothes on. She was being obedient to the Mother Superior. She had told her to go out in the world again until she could come back, without risking her sisters. But her heart felt heavy as Gerard walked her up to the tower. He had pulled a mattress out of another storeroom and laid it on the floor, with a pillow and a stack of blankets.

“See you tomorrow,” he said gently, as he closed and locked the door, and she lay down on the mattress. They were being so kind to her. She lay there awake, praying for her mother and sister for the rest of the night. She spent the next day in prayer, as she would have in the convent. He came once during the day to bring her food and water. At night, he unlocked the door again and led her back down to their bedroom, where she bathed again, and Veronique once more cooked her dinner.

It became a daily ritual for them all through the summer. Her hair had grown down to her shoulders by September. She looked as she had when she went into the convent, only slightly older. There had been no news from her mother or sister. She knew that sometimes they were allowed to send a postcard to reassure their