An Owl's Whisper (24 page)

After putting the
plaisirs
—several bottles of wine, a long sausage, and two bags—on the table, Crickette sashayed over to Max. She scrunched-up her nose like a bunny, put his hand on her waist, and cooed, “Gone so long, did you think that maybe we were out kissing our other boyfriends? Weren’t you afraid that maybe we don’t ever come back?”

Max pulled her close. “I
was
starting to miss my little
Chérie
.”

She giggled. “We were just saying the girls’ talk.” She plucked the cigarette from Max’s mouth, then inhaled and blew a smoke ring. “It’s OK if I borrow your Camel, Ali Baba?”

Max grinned. “Sure, there’s a million more where it came from.”

Crickette turned and called over her shoulder, “Come see the
plaisirs
. Treats.”

Eva brought
Madame
Ducoisie from the kitchen, and the girls emptied the bags on the dining table: a bottle of brandy, coffee, candles, chocolate, cigarettes, soft cheese from Limburg, ham from the Ardennes, French jam, butter, and country bread. All this plus the wine and sausage.
Madame
could only gasp, “
Mon Dieu!
”

Stan picked up the jam. The label said
Fine Strawberries
in English, French, and German. He marveled, “How the heck did you stuff all this loot into the sidecar of that cycle? And still have room for Crickette?”

“Fitting it in was easy next to finding it,” Max said. “Thank Crickette for that.”

“I found it,” Crickette said, “but Maxie bought it. American boys are not only pretty. They’re rich, too!”

At 8:00 p.m. Stan glanced at his watch. “Hate to toss a monkey wrench into the evening’s partyin’, but I got overnight duty at the depot. I’d better hightail it.”

“What is hightail?” Crickette asked.

“Means skedaddle,
Chérie,
” Max said. “Leave.”

Eva’s eyes lit up. “Ah, depart.” She turned to Madame Ducoisie. “
Partir. Oui
?”

Madame nodded happily, “
Ah, partir
.
En anglais
, Leave.”

“Maxie and I must also
partir
,” Crickette said, “to make our travel back to the inn in Ramioul where we’ll sleep. Right, big boy?” She elbowed Max and giggled.

While Crickette and Madame Ducoisie packed some of the
plaisirs,
Eva, Stan, and Max made small talk in the parlor. Max shook Stan’s hand. “Hope there ain’t hard feelings about me calling ya a REMF. You’re a good egg and I liked shooting the breeze with ya. Hell, if you weren’t here, it would’ve been all French talking and I’da been fried liver in a chocolate sundae.”

Stan replied, “No hard feelings, Sarge. You just worry about gettin’ that wheel of yours healed up. Maybe I’ll see you again over Christmas.”

“Not if I see you first, pally-boy.” Max winked and punched Stan’s bicep.

Crickette came back with a sack of the
plaisirs
and after many good-bye kisses, she and Max took off.

As the motorcycle crackled down the drive, Eva and Stan stood together on the porch in the evening chill, his arm around her waist. Stan said, “Them two! Seem crazy ‘bout each other.”

Eva looked at him and scowled. “She’s using him. It makes me sick.”

“Well if that’s being used, it’s makin’ old pally-boy Max the happiest GI in the army.”

Eva opened her mouth to reply, then stopped. She squeezed his hand. “I won’t say more. Just know that I would
never
use you.”

Stan looked at her quizzically. Then his face tuned serious. “I ain’t worried.”

“Good.” She nestled her cheek to his shoulder. “Tell me about some slang talkings you boys make tonight. I know what’s hightailing, but what is this monkey’s wrench?”

Stan laughed. “Toss a monkey wrench into something means foul it up. Ruin it.”

Eva smiled. “It’s easy to remember by imagining a monkey in a mechanic’s suit making the trouble.” Her smile faded. “And I’ll ask what is REMF. It must be a rough word, no?”

“Aw, Max was just kiddin’ around.”

“But what means REMF?”

“It means, let’s see, rear echelon mother, um, forker. I guess it means a fella that’s back in the rear area, eatin’ his mama’s cookin’.”

Champagne for Christmas

Stan was visiting Eva on a chilly Sunday, December 10, when Henri Messiaen arrived. He was in the Christmas spirit early.

Henri set a box of presents on the table. He removed his hat and gloves and put them, with a shiny black walking cane, next to the box. Without taking off his cape, he handed several gifts to
Madame
Ducoisie. He shook Stan’s hand warmly. “What splendid fortune to find you here, son. I brought you something.” He handed Stan a box of Danish cheroots. “You’ll like these. Your General Patton smokes them. Now I hate to ask, but might an old uncle steal his niece—just for a moment?” He shrugged. “Family matters, you know.”

“OK by me, sir. Thanks a million for the cigars. They look real deluxe.”

Henri turned to Eva. “I’ll talk privately with you, my dear. In the Mercedes. You’ll need your coat.” He helped her slip it on and escorted her by the elbow out the door and to the car. There he told his driver, “Pruvot, go have a cigarette.”

Henri settled into the back seat and pulled a blanket over his legs. He laid the walking stick across his lap, and, his hand trembling, he lit one of his black Sobranie cigarettes. “So much preparation! Compared to this, what we’ve done until now is nothing.” He took a deep drag. “Eva, we peer into the face of history!
Wacht am Rhein
is at hand.”

“
Wacht am Rhein
?” Eva tried to read the words’ significance on her uncle’s face.

Henri held the cigarette up and studied its glowing tip. “
Wacht am Rhein
! Don’t you love its lyrical sound, like a line penned by Goethe? But even better is the magnificent ruthlessness behind it. Our enemy’s heart ripped out. The world set right.” He snuffed the cigarette and turned to Eva. “The Allied nations that assail us are like a gang of pirates. Up to now, they’ve acted in concert, but each member ultimately puts his own interests first. Hit them hard enough—” He snapped his finger. “—and it will be every man for himself.” Henri rolled the walking stick on his lap. “Right now, the Allied lines are extended. Like this stick.” He held the cane by both ends and raised it to eye level. He glanced at Eva to be sure she was watching and thrust it violently onto his knee. It splintered with a crack, and a look of triumph came over his face. “That will be the Allies’ backbone under our panzer thrust to his center. And now just a week away.”

He waved the broken end of the stick before Eva’s face. “Lefebvre’s depot and bridge—” His eyes grew large. “—Eva, we
need
them! Imagine our panzer’s advance fed by the enemy’s own fuel stores. Imagine our intrepid dash over a bridge he thought was his. The giant’s strength turned against him—he’ll topple like a house of cards!” As he rubbed his hands together, Eva hung her head. “Your preparation, especially hooking the American, gives us a golden key. What you do with it will be crucial. As crucial as a general’s mission. Your work will be seen. Look at me, Eva.” He pulled her face to his. “Your work will be seen. Loyalty will be richly rewarded.”

Eva was looking into Henri’s eyes when she heard the snap of his switchblade. “I trust you remember my friend,” he said, “
Monsieur
Knife.” She felt the stiletto point press the soft spot beneath her chin. Press so hard she thought it had pierced her skin.

Neither of them breathed. It was as if neither knew what would happen next.

Finally Henri pulled the blade from Eva’s throat. Before she could relax, he’d thrust it in front of her face, its point pressing just below her eye. “Be assured, my little bitch, should you fail me, you’ll have a rendezvous with
Monsieur
Knife.” His look was cold as the blade’s steel.

Eva slowly pushed the knife away with the back of her hand. “You may trust my loyalty, uncle—” She swallowed. “—as I trust you.”

Henri beamed and nodded. “Good.” He put the blade away and sketched a map on a sheet of paper. He drew arrows and made notations. He smiled at the intensity in Eva’s face as she studied his sketch. They talked in the car for five minutes more. As they walked back to the house, Henri lit the paper and held it in his gloved fingers as it burned down to a tiny corner. “Very well, then.”

Back inside, Henri set a bottle of Haig & Haig Scotch whisky on the table and shooed Eva into the kitchen with a chuckle. “The men must have their talking time, too, you know.”

Stan figured,
Here it comes, the third degree about my intentions toward Eva.

“Have a Scottish whisky with me!” Henri said it like an order. He poured two fingers of liquor into each of two glasses. He handed one to Stan and raised his own. “
A votre santé
.” The men tapped glasses and sipped. Henri smiled. “You like it?”

“Mighty smooth.” Stan swirled the liquid in his glass.

“Son—May I call you son?—I feel such debt to you and your fellows. You rescued my country. With the holidays coming, I have a chance to show some speck of my esteem for you American heroes. You’ll be having Christmas celebrations, yes? I happen to know a man who lives in Reims. His access to champagne is practically limitless. I want to provide some for the parties you and your comrades will have. You’ll let me do that, won’t you?”

“Oh, Mister Messiaen, don’t reckon you need to do that. We were just doing our job.”

Henri put his hand on the GI’s shoulder. “Stanley…my son…I do it for my pleasure, not for obligation. It would be you who indulges me.”

“Well, I’m sure it would be appreciated. Just so you don’t feel obliged.”

“Oh, thank you. Now, I must get plenty. For how many men might I be providing?”

“Well, guess you could figure probably three dozen. Could be some of them colored truckers bunkin’ with us that night, too.”

“Coloreds?” Henri winced. “But yes…oh, and certainly we mustn’t forget the security people. For after their hours of duty, of course. We don’t want them tipsy with champagne when they walk their watch, now do we?”

Stan laughed politely. “Er, ’spose four dozen covers the MPs, too.”

“Ah ha. Just what I need to know. Now, don’t tell your comrades of our little surprise, eh?” Henri winked. “I’ll bring the wine here for you—shall we say in two weeks—so you’ll have it for your Christmas festivities.” He squeezed Stan’s hand. “You can’t imagine my pleasure thinking of the big surprise in store for your comrades! Thank you.”

Henri swallowed the last gulp of whisky. “And now I must depart. So much to do!” He opened the kitchen door and called the women. They came out, and he apologized for having to run off. He kissed Madame goodbye and bade Stan, “
Bonsoir
.” Finally, Henri looked at Eva and stiffened. His eyes turned icy, and they bore deep into her. He nodded her a slow, steely nod—it reminded Stan of duelist taking a pistol shot. Then, instantly Henri rewarmed. He turned his head to the side and playfully tapped his cheek with his index finger. Eva scowled and gave him a quick peck where he’d pointed. Henri seated his bowler and with a cheery “
au revoirs
,” he left.

Stan was walloped by the changes he’d just seen in Henri. He glanced at Eva—she looked like she’d been walloped, too. He went to her side and put his arm around her. She pressed close to him. Stan whispered, “You OK, honey?”

She looked up at Stan with frightened, wild eyes, brimming with tears. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.

“You OK?” Stan repeated.

After a moment Eva said, “No. So tired—” She shook her head. “—of it.”

Stan demanded, “What did he say to you outside?”

“He spoke of the future.”

“He don’t approve of me, does he? Thinks you shouldn’t be seein’ a GI.…Right?”

Eva closed her eyes. “If only it were that simple.”

Stan turned to
Madame
Ducoisie for help understanding what was going on, but she only smiled as if all were right with the world. With her cigarette hanging blissfully from her lip, she picked up the whisky bottle and the glasses and shuffled back to the kitchen.

Stan moved Eva toward the front door. “Come on, let’s get us some air.”

The sky streamed cold mist. Even on the covered porch, dampness permeated the air. Eva shivered. Stan wrapped her in his arms and nestled her head to his chest. He whispered, “Don’t let the future scare you. Don’t have to face it by your lonesome, you know. I could be there for you, if you’d let me. Will you let me?”

Eva said nothing. She just nestled closer to Stan.

They stood for a few moments, just holding each other. “I’m better now,” Eva said. She brought her face to Stan’s and kissed him. She looked into his eyes and asked playfully, “If you die of pneumonia, how will you keep your pledge to be with me always?”

“Is it cold out here? Hadn’t noticed.”