Introduction

At the dawn of the First World War, the French provincial village of Briecourt is isolated from the battles, but the century-old feud between the Toussaints and the de Colvilles still rages in the streets. When the German army sweeps in to occupy the town, families on both sides of the feud must work together to protect stragglers caught behind enemy lines.
Julitte Toussaint may have been adopted from a faraway island, but she feels the scorn of the de Colvilles as much as anyone born a Toussaint. So when she falls in love with one of the stragglers?a wealthy and handsome Belgian entrepreneur'she knows she's playing with fire. Charles Lassone hides in the cellar of the Briecourt church, safe from the Germans for the moment. But if he's discovered, it will bring danger to the entire village and could cost Charles his life.

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Excerpt

Part I: August 1914

Chapter One Briecourt, Northern France

Julitte Toussaint sucked in her breath and shut her eyes, as if by closing off her own vision she, too, might become invisible. Stuck high above the ground where someone so grown, just turned twenty-and-two, should never be caught, she shot a fervent prayer heavenward. Please let neither one look up! She clutched the book-sized tin to her chest and went death-still in hopes of going unnoticed.

“. . . those days may be behind us, Anton. At least for a while.” She heard his voice for the first time, the man who had come to visit the only château within walking distance of her village. The man whose blond hair had reflected the sun and nearly blinded her to the rest of his beauty. The perfect nose, the proportionate lips, the blue eyes that with one glance had taken her breath away.

Now he was near again, and her lungs froze. She feared the slightest motion might betray her.

“You’ll go back, Charles? Join this insanity, when you could follow me the other way?” She recognized Anton Mantoux’s voice without looking. He was the closest thing to aristocracy the town of Briecourt knew. Though Julitte had never spoken to him, she had heard him speak many times. Whenever the mayor called a village meeting, M. Mantoux always held the floor longest.

Charles . . . so that was his name.

“Who would have thought I had a single noble bone in my body?”

M. Mantoux snorted. “You’ll follow your foolhardy king, will you?”

“Much can be said about a man—a king, no less—who takes for himself the same risks he asks others to bear. I should never have left Belgium. I know my sister never will. How can I do less?”

“Ah, yes, your beautiful and brave little sister Isabelle . . . What is it you call her? Isa?”

“Careful with your thoughts, Anton,” said the man—Charles—whose voice was every bit as lovely as his face. “She’s little more than a child.”

“A child, but not much longer. And then you may have me in the family!”

Feeling a cramp in her leg, Julitte wanted nothing more than to climb down the tree and scurry away. Let them move on! she silently pleaded to God. Send a wind to blow them on their way before—

As if in instant answer to her prayer, a gust tore through the thick leaf cover of the beech tree in which she hid. In horror she watched the tin, dampened by her perspiring hands, slip from her grasp and take the path designed by gravity. She heard a dull thud as it bounced off the perfect forehead of the taller of the two men below, grazing the blond hair that so intrigued her.

A moment later both men looked up, and she might have thought their surprised faces funny had she planned the episode and been a bit younger to get away with such a prank.

“I thank you for the answered prayer of the wind, Lord,” she whispered in annoyed submission, “but not for the result, as You well know.”

“You there.” M. Mantoux’s voice was as commanding as ever, and it set her heart to fear-filled pounding. “Come down at once.”

Giving up any hope of dignity, Julitte shook away the cramp in one leg, then shimmied back along the thick branch until reaching the trunk that was somewhat wider than the span of her arms and legs. Her foot found the knothole she knew so well, and in a moment she stood on the ground, pulling at her skirt to cover pantaloons and the single petticoat she owned, a hand-me-down from her adoptive mother. From the corner of her eye she saw the towering blond man bending to retrieve her tin, a look of curiosity on his handsome face.

M. Mantoux stepped in front of Julitte. “What were you doing up there, girl? Who—”

Enlightenment reached his eyes before his voice faded away. Of course he knew who she was—everyone in and around her village knew she was the étrangère, the outsider. Not only because at least half of the village wouldn’t have welcomed an adopted child of Narcisse Toussaint, but because she had been born far away on the Island of Lepers, off the coast of Greece. Though Julitte had lived among the French villagers for nearly seventeen years, some still whispered of her heritage to this day, to passersby or children too young to already know.

“Come here, Julitte Toussaint.” He pointed to a spot a few feet away. “Stand there, not too close.”

M. Mantoux had an angry look about him, but she knew he always seemed that way from the curve of his nostrils to the arch in his brow. Even when he laughed—and she had seen him do that once—his face held the edge of ire whether with intent or not.

Intent was there now.

She obeyed his order and stopped where he’d told her, at the same time reaching for her property. The man holding the tin started to extend the item but took a moment to study it before completing the motion. His thumb traced the amateurishly tooled design, fashioned by her adoptive brother. Then he shook it and the items inside rattled. But he did not open it, for which she was silently grateful.

Both had to bend forward to pass the tin between them. He placed it, about the size of one of his hands, into both of hers.

“What were you doing on my property and what have you there?” M. Mantoux’s intimidating manner was the same he’d used when her cousin had lost one of his pigs and found it burrowing holes in the Mantoux Château garden. Only behind his intimidation today was a tone familiarly aimed her way—distaste mixed with a hint of the fear common to those who knew only her background and not her. “And why did you accost my guest?”

Julitte wanted to raise her gaze to M. Mantoux, to stare him down as she stared down her brother when he teased her the way brothers could. But M. Mantoux was not her brother. And standing in the handsome stranger’s shadow had stolen her courage.

Gazing downward, she mustered a respectful tone. “I was in the tree to retrieve the tin and decided to stay there until you passed by so to escape notice. The breeze whipped the box from my hold.” A quick glance at the blond cavalier revealed that his eyes stayed on her. Perhaps he was not so gallant, after all. What sort of man stared so boldly? Despite such thoughts, she knew what she must do. Keeping her gaze downcast, she turned to the handsome man she’d unwittingly troubled. “I offer you all my excuses, sir.”

“Accepted.”

The single word was issued softly and with a smile. Julitte let her gaze linger, welcoming his ready forgiveness. Her rapidly beating heart took a new direction.

“My friend is more magnanimous than needs be,” said M. Mantoux. “You are aware, Julitte, that this tree is on my property? If you fell and hurt yourself what should I have done?”

“I expect it would have been entirely my own fault, monsieur, and I would blame neither you nor the tree.”

“In any case, you’re far too old to be climbing like a waif. Narcisse shall hear of this.”

“I’m afraid he sent me on my mission before he left once again for the sea, Monsieur Mantoux.” She held up the tin. “This is my brother’s, you see, and I was told to fetch it and tell him to find another favorite spot to whittle. Closer to home.” She didn’t mention she had been the one to introduce her brother to this particularly dense and knotty tree.

The stranger—Charles—patted M. Mantoux’s shoulder. “There you see, Anton, it’s all perfectly understandable. Why berate the girl?”

Girl. But then, what else should he have called someone dallying about in a tree? Suddenly a vision of having met him under other circumstances filled her head, of her offering a brief and graceful curtsey and extending her hand for him to kiss. They would be formally introduced and have an intelligent conversation, about books and history and faraway places. Oh . . .

Instead M. Mantoux dismissed her as the peasant she was, unworthy to be presented to any guest of his noble household. And the two were already walking away. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

From the author:

1. The villagers of Briecourt are separated by a long-standing feud, the origin of which no one seems to recall. Have you ever known anyone who has held a grudge against someone for so long that they can’t recall what broke the relationship?
2. When Julitte is unable to help Victor, she feels as though she’s failed. She seems angry with God for not giving her a gift that would benefit others. Have you ever felt dissatisfied with the gifts God has given you?
3. Both Ori and Julitte long to get married, but they handle the pursuit of that goal in different ways. What factor do you think played the biggest role in the way each woman allowed herself to fall in love?
4. Though Julitte and Ori have a strong friendship at the beginning of the story, Ori’s actions—specifically her developing relationship with Hauptmann Basedow—build a barrier between the two. How did you feel about the way Julitte handled this? Have you ever witnessed a friend make the wrong decisions? What advice would you have given Julitte?
5. How did you see Charles change as the story progressed? What made him go from self-admitted cowardice during the battle he witnesses to being able to jump from an airplane (albeit terrified to do so)?
6. How did you see Julitte change as a character? Do you think her faith was stronger or weaker by the end of the story?
7. Toward the end of the story Julitte no longer receives her visions of heaven. Like any relationship, things between her and God seem to change. Do you think this was a change for better or for worse? How have you seen your own relationship with God change over time?
8. The villagers were eager to attribute a miracle to Julitte when her brother survived the near-drowning. What about her made it so easy for them to label her a miracle worker?
9. Misplaced faith is one of the themes throughout this story. The villagers placed their faith in Julitte instead of God as the author of miracles. Ori placed her faith in a man’s love to make her happy. And before Charles was tested by this war, he’d placed his faith in himself. How often do you see yourself or others misplacing your faith? What do you place it on instead of God?
10. Read 2 Kings chapter 7. In this passage, you’ll notice the starving lepers were overjoyed to find bread left behind by the soldiers who had deserted the encampment. Has anything in your life reminded you of how God worked in the lives of the people in the Bible? Do you ever see a parallel in Biblical stories to things that happen today?
11. Julitte doesn’t chafe against the poverty of her circumstances, but she does hint at being familiar with the allure of wealth (imagining herself being properly introduced to Charles and conversing as equals in society). However, her upbringing and the examples set by both biological and adoptive parents suggested humble lifestyles were the better choice. Do you believe, as Narcisse reminded Julitte, that it’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to be saved? Why or why not? What struggles do you think Julitte will face because of the life of wealth that’s offered to her through both Charles and her biological grandfather?
12. Waiting is a continual thread in this story. Have you ever felt frustrated by the Lord’s timeline in your life?

Weblinks

»	Publisher's Book Info
»	Author Maureen Lang's web site

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