An Owl's Whisper (29 page)

Obligations

The afternoon of December 17, when it stopped snowing, Eva rode her bicycle to Lefebvre to hear news of the fighting. From a corner of the café she listened to Micheaux at the bar, drinking with some old men. “Oh there’s new fighting in the Ardennes all right. Big fighting. I see many trucks hauling GIs down there. Today when I tried to deliver beer to the American depot, they turned me away. Told me most of the men were sent off—wouldn’t say why—and they wouldn’t be needing beer.” Micheaux pulled out a large, rusty revolver and hoisted it over his head. “Well, the
Boche
better not show their fat asses in Lefebvre. I’ll fill ’em with lead!” The old timers laughed and cheered as he spun the pistol’s cylinder.

Eva’s worst fear had been a reversal in the tide of the war. Now she also faced the fact that the melee could consume her Stanley. Taking it as reprisal for her sins, she ran from the café, sick to her core. Ran, gasping the frosty air. Ran, shaking with sobs.

She had been outside in the square for only a moment when she stopped shuddering. She looked around. The square was silent, empty, but she didn’t feel alone. A sense of serenity, like warm water, enveloped her. Only then did she realize she was standing on the spot where Mother Catherine died. Astonished, Eva remained a minute, then jumped on her bicycle and set off, pedaling for home with the passion and purpose of one given new hope.

That evening Eva watched as light snow fell, lovely and graceful as moon-lit mist. It seemed impossible that havoc enveloped the Ardennes not far away. She lit a votive candle under the crucifix. Its flickering glow brought the space around her to life. She knelt beside her bed, and the cold air made her whispered prayers visible. “Mother Catherine, I know I’m not worthy to ask anything for myself, but I take the warmth of your touch today to hope I might plead at your feet for another. I beg you to keep him safe. Watch over my Stanley, whose heart is pure and worthy like yours. Protect him from those who hurt you. If you would, make me your instrument in that work. Or take my life in trade for his. In the end, should you deign to return Stanley to me, to give us more time together, I’ll count each minute as your grace. I’ll take no second for granted. And when you say our time is up, I won’t argue—I’ll only thank you as I go for any hours you’ve given us.” She blew out the candle and slipped into bed.

At two a.m. pounding on the barn door jarred her from fitful sleep. She lit the lantern, threw on her coat and climbed down the ladder to the ground floor. “Who is it?”

“It’s Pruvot.
Monsieur
Henri sent me. Open up—it’s cold out here.”

Eva unlatched the door, and Pruvot pulled it open. He looked over his shoulder and rushed inside. She was surprised to see him wearing civilian clothes rather than his usual blue chauffeur’s uniform. Surprised at his stubble of beard.

He stomped snow off his boots and rubbed his hands together. “Get dressed. Warmly. We have work to do. For
Monsieur
. I’ll tell you about it on the way.” It was the first time he’d spoken to her in German.

Pruvot had a gray Renault panel truck with
Pharmacie Belieu
stenciled on the side. On the front fender he’d fixed a white flag made from a linen napkin and a cut-off broomstick.

They rolled down the drive to the clatter of tire chains and the squeak of crunching snow. Once they’d turned onto the road, Pruvot said, “In the glove box. A pack of
Monsieur’s
smokes. Light me one.”

Eva took one of Henri’s black cigarettes and looked questioningly at Pruvot.

He growled, “He’s not here to guard his precious Black Russians, now is he? Just light the damn thing.” She did that and handed it to him. He inhaled deeply. “
Monsieur
is busy east of Liege. He needs us for an important job. He’s told you the essentials of the
Wacht am Rhein
plan. There are two linchpins that must be secured—the Allies’ fuel depots and the rail lines coming up through St. Vith and Trois Ponts to the Meuse bridge at Lefebvre. We need the gas for our panzers and the rails for heavy resupply. When we’ve seized the fuel stores, the rail lines, and the bridges, we’ll be unstoppable.”

He glanced at Eva when she said nothing. Her face was blanched with fear. Pruvot flicked the cigarette out the window. “Don’t worry, we’ll pull it off. And for once you can
do
something, not just watch. Exciting, eh?” He bumped her with his elbow.

Eva turned to him, her eyes suddenly full of passion. “Do something? Yes! I’d thought there was nothing I could do, but perhaps I was wrong. My prayers are answered.”

“Have your prayers. I’ll take steel. Right now, Battlegroup Peiper of the Fifth Panzers is striking at St. Vith. A big worry is Allied reinforcements pouring down from Aachen. We need to seal off the north with a paratroop drop. It’s just that with this damn weather, there’s concern that the jumpers might miss their mark. In the back I have amber searchlights I’ll use to tag the drop zone, a farm field three kilometers west of Malmedy. Hell with the fog, if lights guide the planes in. The problem is getting the lights there, with Americans crawling all over the place. That’s where you come in.
Monsieur
thought you’d be of use, charming us through if we get stopped.” He flicked his front teeth with his thumbnail. “I’ll be honest with you, cutie. You’ve been a worry to
Monsieur.
He says you give him gray hair. He doesn’t like it. Do a good job tonight and your future is secure. Screw up and—” He looked at her. “—I think you know.”

“Fear has no grip on me. I’ll do whatever I can. Count on it.”

Pruvot looked at her fists, clenched so tight the knuckles were white. “Good girl.” He let off on the gas and the truck slowed. “We’ll change places. You drive. I’ll lie on the cot in back. From now on, I’m your father, sick with pneumonia. You’re taking me to the clinic in Trois Ponts. Got it? And no more German-speaking. Understood?”

“What if we’re stopped at a checkpoint?”

“Stick to the story, Eva. You do the talking. As a last resort, try bawling. To help bring on the tears,
Monsieur
suggested you recall that stupid nun of yours, dangling from the rope.”

“She had a name. Mother Catherine. And she was anything but stupid.”

“That’s rich. Got herself hanged for a trifle, didn’t she?” Pruvot smirked. “Probably shouldn’t tell you, but after her puppet show,
Monsieur
took to calling her Saint Shit-For-Brains.” He saw Eva’s lip quiver. “Oh, come on. It was just a joke. Don’t be so serious.”

“I will be serious. Resolved.” Eva crossed her arms tightly. “Tonight I must be so.”

He chuckled. “OK, OK, little tiger. By the way, in case your tears don’t work, I’ve got this.” He raised his pant leg. Taped to his shin was a shiny, double-bladed knife, ten inches long counting its rawhide-covered handle. “And this.” He reached under the seat and pulled out a large, black Luger. “I’ll keep it handy back there. You’ve only to distract them.”

Eva got behind the wheel and Pruvot climbed onto the cot in back. She eased out on the clutch and the vehicle jerked ahead. She turned her head and said, “You must be patient. I haven’t driven since you showed me how last summer.”

“You’ll be fine if you take it slow.” Pruvot was up on his elbow, looking to the road ahead. “Just keep us out of the ditch.”

They had only been going ten minutes when Eva saw a light ahead. As they got closer, she could see a GI standing at the approach to a bridge. He’d built a fire and was warming his hands. There was a bright lantern on the bridge railing. When they were twenty meters off, he stepped into the road and waved his hands.

“Pruvot!” Eva said.

“I see him. Looks like he’s alone. Just pull up slowly and tell him the story.”

Eva stopped and the heavy GI, Pvt. Parker, walked to her window. “Sorry, girlie, you can’t proceed. No civvies allowed ahead.” He peered in at Eva. “What you doing out so late at night?”

Eva answered in English. “My father, he needs the hospital.” She tapped her nose and looked pleadingly at the soldier.

The GI didn’t catch on. He only sighed and said, “Look, lady, I got orders. There’s some kind of action up ahead. Save us both the trouble and just turn around.”

From the rear, Pruvot called in a weak voice, “What’s the matter, little one?”

“A soldier says we may not pass.”

Pruvot called, stronger this time, “Sir, I am a sick man. Come back to see for yourself. I need the hospital.”

As the GI walked to the back of the vehicle, Eva heard the sound of tape ripping. The soldier opened the rear door. “Sorry mister, but I got my orders. I—”

Pruvot sprang at the man like a snake at a mouse. The knife sunk deep into the soldier’s chest and he was dead in seconds. Pruvot jumped out. He put his foot on the GI’s chest. “Come here, Eva.” He pulled out the knife. “While I drag him away, you clean the blade. Careful, it’s sharp. I’ll be right back.”

While Pruvot struggled to pull the heavy body down through the weeds and snow to the riverbank under the bridge, Eva scribbled something on a sheet of paper she’d found next to Henri’s cigarettes in the glove box. Pruvot was climbing back up the slippery hill, when he spied her leaning into the back of the truck. “What are you doing back there? Get your ass up front. We have only two hours to get those lights in place.”

“I was just putting away the knife. I wrapped it in newspaper for safety and put it by the pillow.” Eva took her place behind the wheel and Pruvot climbed onto the cot in back.

As she let the clutch out, Eva shuddered, trying to shake the image of the GI, one minute living, breathing, talking to her at the truck window in a uniform identical to Stan’s, and the next, a corpse being dragged into the weeds. Only when she reached into her pocket and felt the sharp tip of Stan’s arrowhead did resolve take over: She’d had a chance to subvert Pruvot’s mission and she’d failed. Failed Stanley, Mother Catherine, herself. Pressing her finger onto the arrow point, Eva swore, if she got another chance, she wouldn’t fail again.

The going was slow and it took fifty minutes to go the fifteen kilometers to the outskirts of Werbomont. It was the last town before the turn-off for the drop zone where they would set the searchlights. Dawn was still hours away.

In the distance Eva saw a flashing red light. She said nothing, but Pruvot had seen it, too. “Another checkpoint ahead, Eva. Must be the crossroads with the highway to Liege. Just relax. Everything’s fine. We’ll handle it like before.”

They were thirty meters from the checkpoint when Pruvot shouted, “What’s going on with the damn headlights?”

“They’re flickering,” Eva said. “I’m trying to steady them.”

“Leave them alone, fool. They’ll suspect something.”

As the truck eased to a halt at the checkpoint, Eva could see three soldiers there. They wore white helmets and armbands that said MP. One of them ran toward her, waving his arms. Another was back at their jeep, talking on the radio. She knew if she was going to act, this might be her last chance. She wasn’t about to let Stan down. Or Mother Catherine.

Eva jumped from the truck with her hands held high. She yelled in English, “Danger! A bad man hides in the back. Be careful, he has a gun for shooting.”

Buck Sergeant Jenks, the closest MP, trained his carbine on the truck. The two other MPs ran up, one on each side of the vehicle. Jenks shouted, “Whoever’s in there, come on out and reach for the sky.”

Pruvot climbed from the truck with hands up. “I am a sick man, needing the hospital.” He glared at Eva, disbelief in his eyes.

Jenks poked his carbine in Eva’s ribs. “What’s going on here, Sister? What’s this lights flashing stuff and who’s got a gun? You keep them arms raised.”

Eva looked into Pruvot’s eyes for a moment and calmly turned back to the MP. “That man is a German agent, coming here to be the monkey’s wrench for you. He has a gun.” She pointed to Pruvot. “I hear him talking to a man he calls Mr. Knife outside a café in my village of Lefebvre. They speak in the German. I learned it as a girl so I can understand they are
Boche
saboteurs. This man discovers I hear him, so he makes me go along. He will place lights to guide parachute soldiers landing west of Malmedy. If you don’t believe me, see in the car for those lights. And a bloody knife. He is using it to kill one of your comrades back at the Ourthe bridge. He hides the body at the riverbank. You can find him there. He keeps writings in German under the pillow in the rear, too.”

“Lies,” Pruvot screeched. “I do have a knife in the car, but it is an old one for the hunting. And German papers? Certainly not. The girl is crazy.”

Jenks looked at Eva “You best not be funning me, toots.” He yelled, “Dawson, see what that yahoo’s got in the back there. Anders, keep him covered.”

Dawson searched and yelled back, “Found a knife, Sarge, wrapped in newspaper. It’s covered in fresh blood, and it ain’t no hunting knife neither. More like some commando job. And there’s three high-power searchlights stowed back here, too.” He ducked back into the vehicle and came out waving a sheet of paper. “Look what I found under the pillow, Sarge. Got a bunch of Kraut writing on it, just like honey-buns claimed. Don’t know what it says.”