The Hesitant Hero (8 page)

“That is exactly right,” Marvel said with great determination. “I advise you to throw yourself into painting. Forget about that art instructor.”

Tyler laughed. “I see where Jolie gets her direct ways.”

“It’s always best to be direct.” Marvel smiled and added, “I don’t have a great deal of tact, and I’m afraid my daughter is the same way.”

“I believe you’re right—I mean about letting someone else’s opinion determine my future—but on the other hand, some people who think they have talent are mistaken.” He herded some peas onto his fork. “What I had on my mind in coming here, aside from seeing you again, Jolie, was to rent a little place and try to see if I have any talent at all—and the determination to make it as an artist.”

“Why, that’s a fine idea,” Jolie said, leaning forward, her eyes fixed on Tyler. “I had the impression your life was . . . shall I say
cluttered
in New York?”

“You’re right about that.
Cluttered
about describes it. I thought it might help me to come here and do nothing but
paint. Perhaps you could advise me about a place to live. It doesn’t have to be much. Just a place to sleep.”

“I’m sure we can find something. But tonight you must stay here in the guest room.”

Tyler shook his head. “I won’t argue with you, but tomorrow I’ll make a new start.”

“I think it would be good for you,” Marvel said. “I know little about painting, but Jolie here, she loves it. She can tell you when your work is good or bad.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that, Maman,” Jolie protested.

“Why, of course you could.”

Jolie laughed. “I think Tyler knows enough about my
directness
to believe that I’d be willing to do that. But this is a bad time of the year for painters. Many come here, but most come in the springtime.”

“Well, I expected to be painting inside at the art institute, but now maybe I’ll learn to paint winter things.”

“It’s very beautiful here, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. The mountains are beautiful in every season, and the river sometimes freezes over,” Jolie told him. “You should have plenty of subjects for your paintings.”

The conversation flowed easily as they finished their meal, and afterward Jolie took Tyler into the parlor. Marvel joined them after the dishes were done and they talked for some time.

Naturally the discussion turned to the war, and Tyler repeated the words of the old soldier he had encountered on the train. “He seemed very positive that the Germans would come, but I’m not sure,” Tyler said.

“The journalists are calling it the Phony War,” Marvel said, “but they are wrong. The Germans are just waiting until spring. Then they will come.”

“And what will you do then, Madame Vernay?”

“I will survive.”

“Yes, I believe you will.”

“Long ago I put my life in God’s hands. Now whatever happens, it will be the will of God.”

“You sound like my parents. They believe the same thing—and I wish I’d listened to them more while I was at home.”

“You’re not too old,” Marvel said with a smile. “God is always faithful, and you need to learn that lesson well.”

Tyler admired the woman’s determination. He saw the same beauty in Jolie’s mother that he found in her and the same strength and determination. “I don’t know much about politics,” he said finally.

“I expect all of us will learn about life whether we know politics or not. I remember how hard it was in the Great War.” Marvel was silent for a moment and then said, “Well, it’s in God’s hands. You must be tired. I will prepare your room.”

As soon as Marvel left the room, Jolie’s eyes sparkled. “You’re being told to go to bed, Tyler. Maman’s like that. Very firm.”

“I see she is,” he said. “I like her. She’s very much like you—very attractive and very strong.”

“Thank you, Tyler. That’s a nice thing to say.”

Marvel came back and announced that his room was ready, and Tyler left at once. As soon as he was gone, Marvel looked at her daughter with a question in her eye. “Well, what are you thinking?”

“About what?”

“About what! About your guest.”

“He’s
our
guest, Maman.”

“Don’t be foolish! He didn’t come to see me. You know he is a good-looking man.”

“Yes, but he’s weak.”

“How can you know that?”

“You’ll find it out soon enough. He has a charm about him that most Americans don’t have. He’s witty, and physically he’s strong and attractive, I’ll admit. But he doesn’t have whatever it is that makes people survive.”

“It sounds like he’s never known a hard time.”

“I think you’re right. He’s always had someone to take care of him.”

“Well, sooner or later, times will be hard for him, as they eventually are for all of us.” Marvel nodded, as if agreeing with herself. “Then will be the time to say whether he’s weak or strong.”

****

To Tyler’s surprise, his life became vastly different. Jolie’s mother found him an upstairs room to rent in the home of one of her friends. It had a skylight, which made it much easier for him to paint indoors. Jolie set aside one day and took him on a tour along the Allier River and up to the Puy de Sancy, the highest mountain in the area, both of which were close enough to Ambert to make the trip in one day. While they were on the mountain, a flock of geese flew overhead. He looked up in wonder until they were out of sight and then set up his easel and tried to capture the moment with paints.

In this environment, he found himself able to paint freely, with none of the strain or fear he had sometimes experienced. Puzzling over this, he decided it was because no one would be judging his work. After his day at the Puy de Sancy, Tyler worked for hours at a time on the painting he had started there. There was a simplicity and a cleanness to it that his earlier paintings had lacked, and he found inordinate pleasure in looking at it. Usually when he finished a painting, he found himself wanting to alter it in endless ways. But he was satisfied with this one, which he called
Geese Against the Sky.
He liked it just as it was.

****

One day about a week after he and Jolie had taken their day trip, they crossed paths in the village. She invited him to come to a birthday party the following day at the orphanage where she worked, and he readily agreed.

“You don’t need to bring any presents,” she told him. “The children are always glad to have visitors. Anybody, really, who will give them a little attention. Some of them get very lonely.”

“Is it just one birthday or several?”

“It’s a party for everyone who will have a birthday in February. We’ll have a cake and play games. It means so much to them. They have so little.”

Tyler thought it sounded like fun, as it had been a very long time since he’d been around any children at all.

The next day Jolie met Tyler at the door of the orphanage. “I saw you coming,” she said. “You’re a bit early, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Who are these children, Jolie?” he asked. He noted that the hall they were going through was whitewashed and clean, and the floors were polished. Children were passing and greeting Jolie. “How many do you have?”

“We have only fifty-two now. The orphanage is sponsored by a church. A wealthy man left an endowment, and the church administers it. As for the children, it’s difficult to say. Some of them come from other countries. We have four from Poland. Their parents were all killed in the German invasion. They’re new, of course, and having a rather hard time of it.”

“Does anyone here speak Polish?”

“Not really.” Jolie shook her head. “And that’s a problem. They’re quickly learning French, though, and we try to make them feel loved.”

They turned down a hall and then entered a large room. Three children were already chatting around a table. They all came running toward Jolie, greeting her with hugs.

“Madame Lambert said we could come down here early,” the older girl said. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is, Rochelle,” Jolie said. “I brought a special guest today. This is Monsieur Tyler Winslow. He comes from America, and he very much wanted to come and help us celebrate the birthdays. You must speak slowly so he can understand you.”

The smallest of the children, a darling girl with blond hair, stood in front of him. “Hello, my name is Yolande Marcil,”
she said slowly and correctly. “I’ll be six years old in two days. How old are you?”

Tyler grinned. “I’m twenty-two.”

“That’s old! Do you like little girls?”

Tyler winked at Jolie, who was smiling at him. “I like them very much,” he said, pronouncing his words carefully.

“This is Damien Rivard,” Jolie said, putting her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Damien is nine years old.”

“How do you do?” The boy bowed slightly from the waist. He had bright red hair and brown eyes. “We are happy to have you at our party.”

“Thank you, Damien. Perhaps when I have a party, you’ll come to mine.”

“And this is Rochelle Cohen. Rochelle, Monsieur Winslow.”

Rochelle seemed to be somewhere between twelve and fourteen. She was a beautiful girl with curly black hair and dark eyes. She smiled shyly and asked very softly, “How do you do, sir?”

“I am fine, Rochelle. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Did you bring any presents, monsieur?” Yolande asked, looking up at him seriously.

“Yolande, that’s not polite,” Rochelle said.

“I don’t see why,” Yolande retorted.

“I don’t see either,” Tyler said quickly. “But you see, I didn’t know how many would be at the party and who would be celebrating a birthday. So I’ll make a list right now, and if Mademoiselle Vernay will allow me to come back, I will come loaded down with presents.”

Damien grinned broadly. “Good,” he said. “I would like to have a toy airplane.”

“You shall have it.”

The other children started to arrive as Tyler made his list, and before long the room was filled with children of every age.

“And what would you like, Rochelle?” Tyler asked over the increasing chatter.

“Just anything,” she said shyly.

Tyler went over to the table and picked up a piece of paper and a pencil. “ ‘Just anything,’“ he said as he wrote it down. “That will be easy.”

“And you, Mademoiselle Marcil. What can I bring you?”

“Lots of chocolates.”

“Lots of chocolates. You know, I eat lots of chocolates myself. That’s why I’m so pretty.”

“You’re not pretty,” the girl exclaimed.

“Well, my mother thinks I am. And I’m sure that Rochelle does. Don’t you, Rochelle?”

She giggled. “Men aren’t pretty. They’re handsome.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true,” Tyler said, winking at Damien. “Maybe if you eat enough chocolates, you’ll be handsome like me.”

Jolie had been observing from a distance, surprised at how easily Tyler made friends with the children. When everyone had arrived, she got the group started on a simple game and was pleased at Tyler’s willingness to join right in.

After the games the children ate cake and drank lemonade, and then each of the three children who had birthdays that month received presents from the orphanage staff.

After all the sticky fingers were washed, Jolie had the children sit with her on the floor and they all sang “Frère Jacques.” When it was time to sing it in rounds, Yolande crawled into Tyler’s lap and they sang together.

“You don’t sing very well,” Yolande said seriously.

“No, I don’t, but you sing beautifully.”

“Well, if you don’t sing so loud, maybe no one will hear how bad you are.”

“That’s a good idea, Yolande,” Tyler said. “I think I’d better do that.”

The party lasted about an hour, and after the children left the room, Tyler said, “Let me help you clean up.”

“There’s really not much cleaning up to do,” she said as she started wiping the tables down with a sponge.

Tyler found another sponge and started on another table.
“Is something wrong?” he asked when he noticed that she was looking sober.

“Oh, I’m just worried.”

Quickly Tyler thought, then said, “Because of the Germans?”

“Yes.”

“They probably won’t come. Hitler’s being very quiet right now.”

“He’s always quiet just before he strikes. Most Americans don’t know a great deal about the history of this conflict.”

“That’s me, I guess.”

“If you go back in history even ten years, you can see what’s happening.”

“Ten years. What happened then?”

“In 1931 Japan attacked Manchuria. It would have been easy for the League of Nations to stop them, but they did nothing. Then in 1934 Italy attacked Ethiopia. The same thing. The League did absolutely nothing.”

Tyler listened as she went over history and was ashamed of his own lack of knowledge. She spoke about how Hitler took the Saar in 1935 and Franco took Spain with German help that same year. And the next year Japan attacked China, and the year after that Hitler seized Austria. “Since then he’s taken the Sudetenland and Czechoslovakia, and he’s made a nonaggression treaty with Russia so he doesn’t have to worry about them.”

“And now he’s taken Poland.”

“Yes, and divided it up with Russia. You know, Tyler, millions of people have been killed in these wars, but I’m afraid Hitler and Japan are just beginning.”

“Russia too, I suppose,” he said. “I was angry when they invaded Finland.” Indeed, when Russia invaded Finland in 1939, it angered the world. But again, no one moved to stop the aggressor.

Jolie took Tyler’s sponge and put the two away. “It was kind of you to come, and the children loved it.” She hesitated, then
said, “The three children you met before the party started . . . it’s children like these I worry about—when the Germans come.”

“Why do you worry about them in particular?”

“Because they’re Jews.”

“Oh, I guess I didn’t realize . . .”

“Hitler despises Jews. In every conquest he’s picked out what he calls the ‘undesirables.’ I shudder to think what he’s done to them.”

Suddenly she shook her shoulders and pasted on a smile. “Let’s talk about something else. How’s your painting going?”

“You know, Jolie, it’s strange, but I think I just painted the best picture of my life.”