We moved to France in the spring, with the wind on our heels and war in our path. World War Two was ripping across the globe and my father's job uprooted my family from New York and threw us across the Atlantic to a town on the coast of France.

When my younger sister asked Father why our family had to leave, he said neither the world, nor our family, had the choice to hide from the war that was knocking on our door. So we left the lights of New York behind and settled in a place where droning pastures only ended when they dropped into the ocean. I was fine with leaving the stability of my home, though. I had, for some time, been longing for the tall buildings to crumble and give way to the wind.


"You can start school in the fall and, by then, you will have made friends with all the kids in town. You won't feel lonely in the least," my mother consoled as she, my father, and I unpacked dishes from boxes and placed them in the new kitchen.

"That's right, you can never have too many friends on your first day at a new school," my father's steady voice chimed in.

"I'm sure" I replied absentmindedly. Mother was most excited for the move when it was first discussed. Much more than my father who worried, in my opinion, too much about me and my younger sibling's transition into a new life. He had scolded her for not being the comforting mother that she should be, protecting us from the world that bled hostility. So now, amongst her dreamy visions of a bright future in a new land, lay artificial attempts to alleviate our supposed worries.

Father walked outside to bring in another box of dishes and as soon as he left, Mother turned to me with her natural smile of ambition "I knew it. You're not troubled with our move here at all, are you?"

"I think Father underestimates our ability to dream or, at least, hope for something other than the total destruction he expects. Besides, something about this place feels clearer to me. I can't describe it but I feel like this was the right place to move."

"Exactly," She exclaimed, gaining enthusiasm "I couldn't have said it better!" Her eyes sparkled with the light of tomorrow, but faded as coldhearted reality came flooding back onto her face. "I suppose it's foolish of us to be so blindly optimistic. I think I must have given you my dreamy eyes."

"I have a feeling I didn't get them from Father," I added but she had lapsed into thought. I didn't press, my own mind had been half out the window the entire conversation. We proceeded to unpack, both of our minds far away from the house we tried not to fill too full with foolish optimism.


My mother, younger brother and sister, and I drove into the town that lay ten minutes from the cliff by the sea our house sat on. The town nested between the cliffs in a valley that spilled onto the ocean and consisted mostly of cottages and cobblestone. Several days had passed since we arrived and the smells of summer were beginning to creep in with the changing breeze.

We had been walking through colorful shops and marveling at the new life we had fallen into when we reached a park overlooking the gray shore and ragged cliffs. It was crowded with locals that were enjoying the Sunday morning sun and my mother, seeing the opportunity, hastened to acquaint herself with them. Wind blown trees stood near the cliff edge and in the other direction, pastures stretched, only interrupted by an occasional farmhouse.

"Come over here," Mother beckoned the three of us over to a family of five elegantly dressed locals. "Meet this lovely family. Ruth, Michael, they have two kids you can play with," she called to my brother and sister "And Irene, they have a daughter about your age you should meet."

I walked up to a girl a bit older than I, at first a little put off by her perfectly inviting smile, which made me remember my father speaking of the dictators who hid their savage nature behind a thin layer of rehearsed charisma. She smiled warmly but with an air maturity that made it seem as though she had ample experience with making herself likable. "Hi, I'm Jeannine." Her voice echoed as it escaped her lips, ringing through the air with elegance. "I heard you just moved here,"

"Yeah, from New York" I replied firmly but then forgot about the gloom Father predicted from my generation, speaking now with all the happiness a chance at a new life brought me. "This town really is beautiful. I just can't believe a place like this can exist. It's so open...Have you lived here long?"

She went on to describe how she had grown up on these shores, bathing in the summer sun and running along the cliffs, but I only heard part of this. My mind began to wander away from the excitement, even when I repeatedly brought my thoughts back and tried to focus solely on her words. Clouds crept into my vision, blurring all my senses and flooding me with an impulse to go back into town. Not as much an impulse to leave the park as a feeling that something important lay embedded in the city streets at this moment. I waited for a few more minutes, listening to the wordless hum of instinct over her words until I could no longer ignore it. "Will you excuse me for a moment?" I blurted out. I had no idea whether I had rudely interrupted her and spoiled all my new excitement, but none of that came to mind. I walked out of the park and into town without a word of explanation.

Through the mist in my eyes, I made my way back to our car parked in a quiet part of town. I walked up to it and noticed nothing out of place, - no secret message or important person waiting for my arrival - which made me feel both a sense of relief and disappointment at realizing my instincts had led me to nothing. But at least they had only led me to nothing, not another display of the fall of man or fate laughing cruelly at my optimism. Father always chastised me for following what I could not rationalize in his eyes, for trusting the side of me that stepped blindly but surely through life. But even when I tried to bury this part of me, I always found myself going back to it and trusting it more than my father's warnings.

I rested my hand on the hood of the car and waited for the clouds to disappear from my vision. I was about to leave when the car shuddered. The side door popped open noiselessly, as if it was opening on its own. As it opened wider, I stomped around to the other side of the car. With a swift pull, I yanked open the car door to find a red haired boy tumble headfirst out onto the ground at my feet.

He whipped his head up toward me, with eyes wide and fear falling down his face, but then relaxed seeing that he had only been caught by a girl no older that he was. "Hi," a slight grin surfaced on his lips as he attempted to slip out of my accusing gaze.

"You were stealing from us," I declared, trying to hide my dismay.

"No, I was just admiring your car. It's a 1938 Cadillac and quite a beauty at that. I can't help it, I've been in love with cars since I was four," all his words came tumbling out in a perfectly natural stream and something in me believed in his innocence – or at least wanted to believe in it.

"And now you're lying." I brushed the disappointment from my voice, commanding halfheartedly, "get up and don't do this again."

His face filled back up with the personality he had been trying to hide, "Thanks, doll." I wasn't sure if I should have brought him to the police or at least told Mother, but my letting him go was comforting in a way. If he had been a real thief, I would have turned him in. Even though it was only an absurd excuse, I still felt a flimsy reassurance that my generation hadn't already fallen.

I turned toward him as he walked down the street, leaving behind a pile of my mother's money on the ground, and almost decided whether to be dismayed or angry with him, when he stopped. "Say," he looked back at me "how did you know I was in the car?"

"You made it move while I was standing right next to it,"

He laughed, "No, no, I don't mess up things like that."

"Looks like you did this time,"

He studied me and then lilted as he walked away, "I guess so."

I watched him amble easily down the street, like he had never been caught, and felt a heavy sense of defeat that seeped up into me from the concrete where the thief had lay. It's all right, I consoled myself, I never trusted this town anyway.