Saving the Rifleman (6 page)

“Of course.” He hid a smile, secretly happy to have put some starch into her spine. “When will we leave?”

“Tonight.”

“I expect you to get some more sleep, then.” He knew his order would finish wiping her troubles from her mind. At least for now.

And he was right.

Her cheeks flushed and she sucked in a quick breath to deliver what was sure to be a sharp retort, but he spoke first. “I’ve deferred to you until now, because you know this hospital and wound care far better than I. But once we’re out there—” he pointed at the window, “—you’ll need to follow my directions and sometimes my orders without hesitation.” He waited a second then added, “Yes?”

She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “Will you continue to defer to me in regard to your wound?”

“To do anything else would be stupid.”

His admission seemed to please her—her shoulders and face relaxed, and a smile came and went before she responded. “Yes.”

Squeaking floorboards in the hall killed her good humour, and she leapt to her feet, scurrying to the closet.

He lay down and feigned sleep, but kept his eyes open enough to see who might come in the door.

A moment later, Rose entered the room with a bundle of clothing. As soon as she closed the door, he nodded at her.

She nodded back, but said nothing, going instead to the closet. “Maria?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

He could hear Maria’s voice shaking and frowned.

“The German soldiers have finally left. There are two stationed across the street watching the door, but I think that’s all.”

Maria inched her way into the room. “What about the German officer? What happened with him?”

“He insisted there was a British soldier hidden here, but of course, they didn’t find one. The officer was escorted away, but swears he’ll be back to prove we’re harbouring the enemy. I think we would have been in trouble if Dr. Geoff hadn’t been here to support us. I believe he’s called in every favour anyone ever owed him.”

“Thank God.”

“Rest now. You can leave after dark.” Rose turned to look at him. “How are you?”

“Fine. I slept well and my leg hardly hurts at all.”

“Good. You should rest as much as possible as well.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Now he knew where Maria had learned her habit of issuing orders.

Rose left them alone, and John turned to look at Maria. “That German officer, had you met him before?”

She ducked her head and plucked at the hem of her cloak. “Yes. He’d inspected the hospital before.”

Her fingers kept tugging at the fabric.

“Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No, he didn’t get the chance. I spilled a pot of hot water on him before he could…hurt me.”

“So, he was looking for you in particular?”

“That’s certainly the impression I got.”

“Have you had to fend off…horrible acts before?”

She laughed, but there was little humour in it. “I’ve been subjected to unwanted advances from all kinds of men, yes. But I learned how to rebuff them in short order long ago.”

Maria gave him a look that made him feel as though he knew nothing of the world. John found himself speechless. He’d thought his uncle’s kind a rare beast, but now… How did she put up with it?

“How do you rebuff them?”

She sighed. “A knee to the genitals usually does the trick. Although, I’ve also had to poke a couple of men in the eye. Then I get as far away from them as I can.”

Horrible was the perfect word to describe the lengths she had to take to protect herself. “I’m sorry…”

“No need to apologize. You’ve done everything you could to keep me safe.” She gazed at him with trust shining in her eyes. “We should rest.”

“Yes, of course. My apologies for bringing up such an unwelcome subject.”

“Thank you,” she said as she closed the closet door, “for saving me from such an unwelcome creature.”

John stared at the door for a moment before settling on his back and attempting sleep.

No wonder she assumed the worst of people in high positions. But he was determined to show her that true gentlemen did, in fact, exist.

Chapter Six

Hours later, Maria and John followed Rose through the hospital, into the kitchen. Though voices echoed through the deserted halls like ghosts searching for their long misplaced corpses, no one came within sight.

“Head northeast out of the city,” Rose whispered as they approached the back door. “This is a map of the route to the Netherlands. There are two safe places to stay marked.” She gave Maria a small bundle in addition to the bag stuffed with bread, apples and a milk bottle full of water. “There’s some money in case you need to buy food. It’s not much, but better than nothing.”

“Thank you doesn’t really say enough.” Maria ignored the tears running down her face and smiled at her teacher, mentor and friend.

“Nonsense. Now be off with you. You should make it to the border in two or three days if you hurry. Godspeed.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Rose gave John her best matron stare. “Take good care of my nurse.”

“That I can promise,” he said, capturing Maria’s hand.

His palm and fingers were warm and strong. But that didn’t make it any easier to leave the place she’d called home and the people she called family for the last several months.

He scanned the yard then nodded at her and saluted Rose.

“Good-bye,” Maria whispered.

“Good-bye and good luck.” Rose closed the door behind them.

John tugged and Maria found herself halfway down the garden path before she could catch her breath. The fence loomed large before them, and she pointed out the gate.

The back lane was as empty as a cemetery at midnight, but far off gunfire and explosions filled the air, making for a macabre symphony. They hastened their steps.

The hospital had its share of horrors—amputated limbs, the smell of decomposing flesh and groans of men in pain—but at least it was shelter. Out here, in the dark, with the howl of war all around, she felt exposed and vulnerable. Death only a bullet or a breath away.

“Northeast is this way.” John gestured to the right, down the alley’s gaping maw of darkness.

“How do you know what direction it is?”

He looked up at the stars. “My father was something of an astronomer. He taught my brothers and me how to read the constellations when I was a boy. He used to say he was a pirate in his younger days.” John pointed at a bright star near the horizon. “That’s the North Star.”

“Well, it’s good to know my aunt Ida was wrong to say it’s bad to have a pirate in the family.”

His chuckle made her feel light and happy for a moment. But only a moment. Desperation was too close to allow her to feel anything else for long.

They came to the end of the lane and John slowed to a stop. She hovered behind his left shoulder, prepared to support him if his leg gave out.

He crouched behind a stone wall. She bent, putting her hand on it, surprised to find it smooth and well-shaped. She examined it and realized the wall was the remains of a home.

A gasp of dismay escaped her. Several feet away lay the body of a dead man. She could see the bones of his hands, where the flesh had rotted away or been chewed off by small animals.

John sought her out in the dark. “What is it?”

“There’s a body over there.”

“Yes, I saw him.” For a still, silent moment he said nothing. “Not many stood firm against the Germans when they invaded Belgium. Those who did were dispatched in quick order as an example.”

“But he’s not wearing a uniform.” Knowing about the casual regard men had for death in a time of war was one thing. Seeing it was quite another. “He’s a
civilian.
”

“War is a bloody business, but you’re right. This war is different. Nothing is sacred anymore. No one is safe—women and children, wounded, or even clergy.”

“No one even buried him.”

“There was probably no one left to do it.” John squeezed her hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

She clung to him as he led her across the street and into the darkness of another back lane. No lights shone from the windows of any of the homes as far as she could see. The only light was a fire in the distance, dancing to the tune set by artillery guns.

“Is the entire world at war?”

“It seems that way, doesn’t it?” John replied. “Most of Europe is supporting one side or the other. Only a few countries are remaining neutral. Canada and Australia have sent men despite the distance.”

“It’s all so useless,” she said. “What can any country hope to gain from all this senseless destruction?”

His sigh was swallowed by the breeze. “Revenge and control over more territory. At least, as far as I can tell, but then I’m not a politician. I’m a soldier.”

“Revenge and control,” Maria muttered, not caring if she sounded bitter. “Mirages. They can’t exist outside of one’s perception, and everyone’s perception is different.”

“You should have been a philosopher.”

“I’m a woman,” she replied. “Same thing.”

He squeezed her hand.

She squeezed back. It was the middle of the night, and she was walking hand in hand with a man she’d met the day before. Inside a closet.

If she wasn’t so scared, so worried about his wound or about getting out of Belgium safely, she’d laugh. Probably call herself a whole slew of names for doing something so reckless and stupid as sneaking out with a strange man.

A man who was no stranger to violence.

A man who’d already saved her honour and her life.

The echo of many booted feet marching had them both freezing in place. She peered around John into the darkness.

He pulled her close, one arm going around her shoulders, and put his lips next to her ear. “There’s a German patrol at the end of this lane.”

Even wounded his strength and poise made her shiver with both fear and admiration.

“Don’t be afraid.” He stepped backward as he kept her close. “We’ll blend into the buildings and darkness.”

She nodded.

They came up against the side of a house and huddled in the shadows as the sound of marching grew louder. A voice fractured the quiet, giving orders in German.

“They’re going to search the alley,” she whispered to John.

“We need to get inside this house.”

He slid down the side of it, his unencumbered hand hunting. He stopped, twisting something, his muscles working. Then they were falling through into the house.

He shut the door. She’d thought it had been dark outside, but the blackness inside was infinite. His hand was hunting again. “Damn, no lock.”

Keeping his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her through the room.

“Can you see?”

“No.” He didn’t say more.

They walked into a wall then followed it until they found a doorway. They inched through it then moved through the room until they found another wall and got it between them and the door.

Seconds later, a door opened and light illuminated the interior of the house. There wasn’t much in it. A few pieces of broken furniture and a couple of books lying askew in a corner.

Maria didn’t dare breathe.

A voice called out in German, “
The house is clear
.“ The light disappeared and the door closed.

Her lungs protested the lack of oxygen and she took in a breath that shook her entire body.

“Shh,” John whispered, bringing her closer to him, pressing her to his left side. “They’re gone, we’re safe.”

He was wrong.

A light flared in the other room and footsteps rapidly approached.

They weren’t alone
. Panic froze her in place, but not John.

He moved in front of her and as the German soldier with the light marched through the doorway, John threw a ferocious punch into the other man’s face.

The soldier staggered backward, his rifle clattering on the floor, the lantern swung wildly and kerosene splashed out over him. He cried out.

John hit him in the midsection with another punch, knocking the German the down and smashing the lantern. There was a flash and fire blazed through the room like whirlwind.

John grabbed Maria by the hand and ran for another exit.

The soldier screamed as he was engulfed in flames. The walls quickly followed suit.

Smoke clouded the room, filling her nose and clogging her lungs. Heat flowed over her as they found the front door. John turned the knob, but it wouldn’t open. He took a step back and kicked the door. Once. Twice.

Flames and smoke crawled along the ceiling.

With his third kick the door flew open. They staggered out of the house. John stumbled and fell to the ground coughing.

People ran toward them. Soldiers. Townsfolk.

It was her turn to act.

Maria rushed toward the nearest soldier. “Help us please! My brother is still inside.”

The German looked at the house and shook his head.

She wailed and covered her face with her hands.

Another soldier arrived, an officer. The first man repeated her words to his superior.

“I’m sorry. No one could survive that,” the officer said to her. “We thought the house was deserted.”

“Not entirely. We were leaving to live with our relatives in the country in the morning. To help work the farm.” She opened the door to all the terror and distress she’d felt in the last days and weeks. Let her emotions free to rain tears down her face. In order to fool the German soldiers she had to look like she was grieving. “My husband is lame and we barely made it out.”

He glanced at John who was standing now, but favouring his injured leg even more than before. “Wait here. We will find somewhere for you and your husband to sleep.”

She nodded and returned to John’s side. “Are you all right? Any burns?” She asked him in German, well aware they had an audience.

He shook his head and continued to cough.

Clever man.

“Madam, take him across the street to sit down,” the German officer ordered. “A fire brigade will be here soon.”

She nodded, wrapped her arm around John’s waist and helped him walk. When the officer’s attention went back to the fire, John began to back away, pulling her with him. Everyone was crowding toward the fire, some with buckets, most with expressions of worry or fear.

They slipped behind the house across the street and headed down the lane.

“You’re very brave and very, very smart.”

She almost laughed at the absurdity of his claim. “I’m one giant mass of terror.”

He brought her closer and pressed a warm kiss to her temple. “That’s what a brave person is,” he said, his lips brushing her ear. “Someone who’s afraid and does what they need to anyway.”

In some ways, he was more dangerous than the Germans.

The panic she’d stomped on rose again and she found herself talking to keep from crying. “My mother called people like that idiots.”

His whole body started to shake and Maria was alarmed for a moment. Then she realized he was laughing. They’d just escaped a burning home in the middle of the night, after hiding from a German patrol, and he was laughing so hard he was shaking her too.

“Now I know who you got your habit of plain speaking from.”

“My mother thinks wars should be fought by no one but generals. She believes that if they were the only ones who would be hurt, a war wouldn’t last longer than a few minutes.”

“Your mother should be teaching at Oxford.”

“My mother had no education whatsoever.”

“None?”

“My parents are poor and their parents were poor. No money for school or tutors.”

He was silent for several moments. “Then how did you end up as a nurse?”

“My father is a farm labourer for a large landowner. I was helping him foal one of his lordship’s horses. The lord’s son was at the age where this was interesting—both of us were about eight years old. The boy had been learning French and wanted to practice his lessons. By the time the mare had foaled I had the beginnings of a simple French vocabulary and we were talking in a mixture of French and English.”

She waited for his reaction, but all he said was, “And?”

“And…I’d never had lessons in French.”

“No? Then how did you…”

“I don’t know, I guess I have a talent for languages.”

He was silent for a moment. “How many languages do you speak?”

“French and German, but I also pick up local accents and dialects quickly too. So I often sound like I’ve been in an area all my life when in fact I’ve only been there a few weeks.”

“How did you get into nursing?”

“Oh. Well, his lordship seemed impressed with my language ability and brought me to the house to work alongside his son—who had a much more difficult time of it. As I understand it, one particular gentleman made some sort of bet that I couldn’t learn German as fast as French. The lord took him up it, promising that if he won, not only would he receive money, but the gentleman would pay for my education as a nurse.”

“He lost the bet,” John said. “You learned German as fast.”

“Faster. I was motivated. Getting an education, becoming a nurse, was my escape from the poverty and misery my parents had to endure. For a while, I made enough money to send some home to them.”

“For a while?”

“I haven’t been paid since the war started.”

“Ah, of course.” He glanced behind them, but no one appeared to be following. “Was nursing what you wanted to do?”

“Oh yes. My father was very good with animals.” Maria smiled at the memory. “As a child I helped him with cows and horses at birthing time and went with him when he assisted the neighbours with their livestock.”

“Your family must be worried about you.”

“I imagine they are. I sent letters at the outbreak of the war, but I don’t know if they arrived or not.”

He took her hand in his and squeezed. “We’ll get word to them as soon as possible.”

When he looked at her with such steady eyes, she believed they could do anything. “Thank you. What about your family?”

“I’ve had no contact with anyone since the first battle. My unit ended up strung out behind enemy lines. My family have no doubt been told I’m a casualty.”

“They’ll be overjoyed then, when you arrive home alive and well.”

“That’s the spirit.” He brought her hand up to his face as if to kiss it, but rubbed his cheek against it instead. The small caress warmed her from within. “With such positive thinking we can’t possibly fail.”