The Hesitant Hero (17 page)

The day after they passed by Chartres, Rochelle and Damien were walking alongside the wagon. Rochelle looked at Crazy and said, “That horse is the funniest-looking thing I’ve ever seen. He’s ridiculous, that one!”

“He doesn’t even look like a horse, does he?” Damien agreed. “He looks like the quilt that Tyler said he reminded him of.”

“But I sure am glad we have him. We’d have a hard time carrying all of our things.”

The two walked on, and Damien picked up a rock and threw it at a rabbit that darted across the road. “I wish I could have hit him,” he said. “We could have made a stew out of him. That would have tasted good. Maybe I’ll see another one.”

“Don’t be silly, Damien. You couldn’t hit a rabbit with a rock. Nobody could.”

“I bet I could if he was close enough,” he argued.

“You think you can do anything, and furthermore, you’d argue with a tree.”

“Argue with a tree? Why would I want to do that?” He picked up another rock. “Girls say the silliest things.”

The two wandered along, and finally Damien gave up throwing stones long enough to say, “When we get to America, I’m gonna become a race car driver.”

“A race car driver? Why, you’ve never even seen a race.”

“I don’t have to see one. I know what they’re like. You get in a car, and you go around in circles, and the one that comes in first wins. I know I can do it, and that’s what I’m going to be.”

Rochelle smiled, for she was becoming accustomed to the boy’s fantasies. “I know what I’m going to do when we get there. I’m going to go to college and become a doctor like Mademoiselle Vernay.”

“You mean and cut people open and things like that? I wouldn’t want to do that!”

“There’s more to it than cutting people open, but I’d like
to be able to help people. I talked to Jolie about it, and she said she’d help me.”

The two continued to walk along sharing their dreams for a new world, but then Rochelle fell silent. She said nothing for so long that Damien finally gave her a curious look and asked, “What’s the matter with you?”

“You’re not going to become a race car driver and I’m not going to become a doctor. It’s all nice to think about, but none of it’s going to happen.”

“Sure it will!”

“No it won’t. Things won’t turn out right. They never do.”

Damien stared at her with disbelief. “I don’t know why you have to talk like that. It’ll turn out fine. We’ll have Monsieur Winslow and Mademoiselle Vernay to look after us.”

“She’s not going to America, silly. Didn’t you hear what she said? She’s just going as far as the coast.”

“Well, anyhow, Monsieur Winslow said he would give us to an orphanage.”

“And you know what will happen? If we get adopted at all, it’ll be to three different families. We’ll lose each other.”

Damien lifted his chin. “No, God’s going to make it come out all right.”

“He won’t. I prayed to God,” Rochelle muttered, “but my mother died, and then I prayed again, and my father died too. I’m not sure I believe in God anymore.”

“Why, you gotta believe in God, Rochelle!”

“I’m just not so sure.”

Damien was shocked by her statement and said no more, but he kept casting sidelong glances at her. Rochelle paid him no attention. She kept her head down now, paying no heed to the countryside or the clouds, and finally Damien muttered, “Well, I believe in God, and nothin’s gonna change my mind! And you better think so too!”

****

They moved steadily ahead all day, and early in the
afternoon they stopped just outside of a small village that Jolie identified as Bernay. As was now their routine, Damien and Rochelle gathered firewood, and Tyler made the fire while Jolie searched through their stores and made up a stew using a live chicken she had bought from a farmer that morning. She’d had to wring the chicken’s neck, and Yolande had watched with wide eyes.

“I don’t like to see that. Do you have to do that?” she asked.

“Yes, if you want anything to eat.”

“We could eat bread, couldn’t we? You wouldn’t have to kill anything for that.”

Tyler, who had been observing this, laughed. “I can see you’re going to be a vegetarian.”

“No, I’m going to be an American. That’s not the same thing, is it?”

“Not always,” Tyler said with a grin.

Once the chicken was plucked and cut up and cooked with the vegetables, Yolande lost some of her squeamishness, deciding that chicken stew smelled awfully good to her. After they’d all had their fill, they sat around the fire talking, and then Yolande asked if Jolie would tell her a story. Jolie read a story about Moses from her Bible, and then she asked Rochelle to read from her Hebrew Bible.

“I don’t want to,” Rochelle said.

“She doesn’t believe in God anymore,” Damien piped up. “I told her that was dumb.”

At once Jolie went over and sat down beside Rochelle. “What’s the matter, Rochelle?”

“If God wanted to, He could have made my mama and my papa live, but He didn’t.”

“That doesn’t mean He didn’t love them.”

“How could He love them if He let them die?”

“It’s hard for healthy people to understand that sometimes living is worse than dying.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I know you don’t now, but you will when you’re a little
older. When I worked in the hospital I saw some people who had a lot of pain. They couldn’t wait to get rid of it and go home to be with the Lord. It was a blessing for them to go.”

“But my mama and papa weren’t sick.”

“No, but God knows what’s ahead, and He might have looked ahead and seen that something very difficult was ahead of them, so He didn’t want them to go through that.”

Tyler was only half listening when he thought he saw something move in a nearby bush. At first he assumed it was a squirrel, but he grew curious when he saw the movement again. He very quietly crept, inches at a time, closer to the bushes. Then with a sudden burst of speed he made a dive. He heard Jolie cry out but paid no heed.

Jolie leaped to her feet, calling, “Children, get back here!” and gathered those she could reach close to her.

But Damien did not obey. He ran to the bush but quickly stopped when Tyler emerged holding a boy tightly by the arm.

“Let me go!” the boy cried in French.

Tyler kept a firm grip on him. “Come over to the fire and let us get a look at you.”

“I wasn’t doin’ nothing to you!”

Everyone was standing now, and they came over to look at the boy. He was thin but rather tall and had a mop of black hair and dark eyes. His clothes were ragged, and he stared around defiantly but said nothing.

“What were you doing?” Tyler asked. “Were you spying on us?”

Jolie moved closer. “You don’t have to be afraid. What’s your name?”

The boy looked at her sullenly and then muttered, “Antoine Carrière.”

“Why didn’t you let us know you were there? Are you hungry?” she asked.

The boy named Antoine simply stared without speaking.

“We’ve got plenty to eat. Here. Turn him loose, Tyler. Rochelle, get Antoine a bowl for some stew.”

The boy’s eyes darted from person to person. When Tyler released him, however, he made no attempt to run away.

Damien approached the boy. “My name’s Damien, and this is Rochelle and that’s Yolande. We’re orphans.”

“I ain’t no orphan,” the boy said.

“Where is your family, son?” Tyler asked.

“They’re in England.”

Rochelle handed him a bowl of stew and a chunk of bread. “Here, Antoine, you can have this.”

He took the bowl and bread, but he looked doubtful and suspicious.

“Come on and sit down,” Rochelle said.

The boy finally sat down and began to eat ravenously.

“You don’t have to choke yourself,” Rochelle told him. “You can have some more.”

The only sound was the crackling of the fire and the tree leaves rustling overhead in the breeze. Antoine ate two bowls of the stew and then begrudgingly said, “That was good.”

“Why are you all alone, Antoine?” Jolie asked gently. “How old are you? Where are your parents?” She could hardly stop the questions from coming.

“I’m thirteen. My ma and pa went to England two months ago and left me with my uncle and aunt. My ma’s parents live in London, and we’re gonna move there. They wanted to go alone first so they could find a place to live. They was gonna come back and get me, but then the war got worse.”

Jolie waited for him to say more, and when he did not, she said, “What about your uncle and aunt?”

“They’re dead.” Anger flared in his dark eyes. “The Germans killed them.”

“Oh, Antoine, I’m so sorry,” Jolie said.

“When did this happen, son?” Tyler asked.

“A week ago. I saw the Germans coming, and I hid. They said my aunt and uncle were spies, and they shot them just like they were dogs or something.”

Jolie felt a great pity for the boy. “I’m so sorry, Antoine.”

“I stayed after the Germans left. They didn’t even bury them,” he said bitterly. “I dug the graves and buried them myself.” He looked up then, anger in his eyes. “But I’ll get them! I’m gonna kill as many Germans as I can!”

“I wouldn’t worry about that right now,” Tyler said quietly. “What do your parents do?”

“My dad’s a blacksmith. We’re gypsies.”

“Really?” Rochelle said. “I never knew a real gypsy.”

“Well, you know one now.”

“Why don’t you stay here with us tonight,” Jolie said. “Then you can decide where you want to go tomorrow morning.”

“I know where I’m going. I’m going to England to find my ma and pa, but I’ll stay here tonight, I guess.”

“That’s where we’re going too,” Rochelle exclaimed. “You can come with us.”

“Wait just a minute, Rochelle,” Tyler said. “I’m afraid I’ve got my hands full with the four of you.”

The boy had looked hopeful for a moment, but now he looked at the ground.

“We’re all tired,” Jolie said. “Let’s get settled in for the night and we can discuss this tomorrow.” Jolie found a blanket for Antoine and he went off a short distance away from the rest of the group and quickly went to sleep.

The children were too excited to sleep, but they did get settled in the wagon and then stayed awake whispering for a long time. Tyler and Jolie stayed by the fire, discussing Antoine as they poked at the fire with long sticks. Before long Damien climbed out of the wagon and approached the two.

“We’ve got to take Antoine with us. We’re going to England anyway. It wouldn’t hurt for him to join us.”

“We can’t do that,” Tyler said.

“Why not?”

“We can’t be responsible for him.”

“You’re responsible for me, and for Rochelle and Yolande—and for Marie too.”

“Go to sleep, Damien,” Jolie said.

“It wouldn’t hurt anything,” Damien argued, but grumbling as he went, he returned to the wagon.

“I just don’t think it would be a good idea for us to take the boy with us,” Tyler said.

“Everything’s so hard,” Jolie said. “It was hard enough before, and now this comes up.”

Tyler was surprised. She was usually so upbeat that it was odd to hear her sounding defeated. “Well, we’ll see tomorrow. I’m going to go to sleep. You’d better see if you can get some sleep yourself. You look tired.”

“I guess we’re all tired. Not as tired as we will be, though. We still have a ways to go. Good night, Tyler.”

Tyler watched as she picked a grassy spot and rolled up in her blanket. He continued poking idly at the fire, thinking about Antoine’s predicament. Finally he sighed deeply and tried to get comfortable on the ground. It wasn’t easy to calm his thoughts, though, and it was a long while before he dropped off into a fitful sleep.

****

By the time breakfast was prepared and consumed the next morning, Damien, Rochelle, and Yolande had all made a plea to take Antoine along with them. Antoine himself said nothing but watched carefully. Finally it was Jolie who called Tyler aside and said, “What do you think? Have you changed your mind?”

“I feel sorry for the boy, but we’ve got too much on our plate.”

Jolie bit her lip, then said, “Whatever you think, Tyler.”

Tyler turned and walked over to where Antoine was standing. He saw that the boy was looking at him with anxiety and knew that he wasn’t going to take it well. “Son, I’m sorry, but we just can’t take you with us.”

“Why not? I won’t be any trouble.”

Tyler saw that there was no way to reason with the boy,
so he said firmly, “It sounds hard to you maybe, but I just can’t take on the responsibility of another child. I’m sorry.”

At once Rochelle said, “Please, Monsieur Winslow—let him go!”

Damien added, “He won’t be any trouble. Please let him go with us!”

“There’s no use arguing,” Tyler said. “It’s going to be hard enough without taking someone else. You can stay with us today, Antoine, but you can’t go with us all the way to the coast.”

Antoine’s face reddened but he said nothing. Tyler saw that the other youngsters were looking at him with expressions that left no doubt as to their feelings. “Come on, let’s get going,” he said roughly.

****

Antoine did not speak to Tyler or Jolie all day, and that evening he suddenly trotted down the road and then disappeared in the distance.

“He’s a strange boy, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is. Have you ever known a gypsy before?”

“No. I’ve seen them, of course, but I’ve never known any personally. Have you?”

“No. They’ve got a pretty bad reputation.”

“Hitler hates them. He’s had them killed in every country he’s taken over, along with Jews and others.”

They continued in silence for a good distance.

“We’re going to have to stop soon for the night,” Tyler said. “I don’t know where that boy has gotten to. Maybe he’s decided he doesn’t want to go with us after all.”

But this proved not to be the case, for not ten minutes after they had stopped, Damien cried out, “Look, here comes Antoine!”

“What’s that he’s got in his hand?” Jolie asked, shading her eyes against the setting sun.

“It’s chickens,” Damien said. “He’s got two chickens.”

They watched as Antoine approached carrying a dead chicken in each hand. “I brought supper,” he said tonelessly.