The Major's Daughter (37 page)

She slept and woke. Slept again. When next she woke Gerhard was out of his sleeping den. He stretched and tried to get his muscles loose. She crawled out of her hollow. The skin around her eyes felt swollen from insect bites. Thirst pulled at her belly and veins. She didn't know, honestly, if she could go on. It felt too mechanical, as if they were toys someone had wound tightly and abandoned to spin on a dining room table. When August came out of his chamber, he conferred only with Gerhard. He seemed uncomfortable with her, and that was by far the most extraordinary thing of all.

“We walk,” Gerhard said in German. “Single file, silence.”

Now the going was harder, Collie discovered. The path brought them to a swampy mess, and though they searched for trails around it, they failed to find one. They had to wade in up to their waists, and beneath the surface of the water her feet found snags and horrible roots that tried to trip her. The insects relished their proximity to the water. They roared in her ears, and when she slapped at them her hand came away bloody.

They stopped near midnight again. The sky emitted no light. Whatever the stage of the moon, it provided nothing. It made their passing more secretive, she understood, but it also made it difficult to walk without tripping and falling. She grew increasingly conscious of August's indifference to her; he did not turn and help her, nor did he seem to care that she had joined them. If anything, Gerhard was more solicitous than August. Collie felt hatred for August building in her. Had she left everything, everything behind to be treated like a minor third party? She did not need to escape to Canada, after all. She could have traveled by train and waited for them there, exactly as they had discussed. It was only out of concern for him and for the possibility that they would become separated that she had struck out with them on the escape.

Near daybreak they began looking for another hill. Gerhard found one slightly to the east, not exactly the direction they wanted to go, but it didn't matter. The air was better on top of the hill. Collie felt exhausted and welcomed the chance to stop. Her feet hurt and her clothing hung in wet, heavy cords against her skin. Her hair, her skin, everything about her seemed primitive and unraveled. Whatever dreams she had possessed, whatever thoughts she had toward August, seemed even more foolhardy as she climbed into the depression and waited for Gerhard to cover her. She was shocked when August suddenly fell into the hole beside her and waited while Gerhard covered them both.

“I'll come for you,” Gerhard said. “Stay where you are. Don't startle at anything. Today they may be nearer. They could come with dogs, but don't flee or respond. Stay where you are. The wind should cover us.”

Collie had no idea whether his plan made sense. Frankly she was too intent on August stretched beside her to give anything else a thought. He lay with his face toward her. She looked at him, and, little by little, the light brought his features to her.

Then he pulled her to him and he held her.

 • • • 

Major Brennan woke to the sound of the siren. It came as a rude shock; he had slept too long, had slept, in fact, through the night. He felt slightly annoyed at the sound of the siren. Why were they running it with its horrible voice? No answer came to mind. He doubted that anyone would try to escape. The men were due to be shipped out at the end of the month, three weeks away. In two weeks' time they would be back in Fort Devens awaiting transport.

Then it came to him, half mixed in sleep, half in a painful consciousness.

His daughter had left. Or if not left, she had facilitated the escape of her young German. He could not know it for certain, obviously, but the fear of it, the shame of it, entered him and made him wish to remain in bed rather than answer the demand of the siren.

A few minutes later, as he pulled on his trousers, someone knocked on the door.

“A minute,” he said, but his voice had not warmed enough to speak, and his words came out choked and incomprehensible. He repeated them. He heard the driver stand away from the door. Major Brennan finished dressing hastily, then went out into the hallway.

“Meet me at the car, Private,” he said. “I'll be just a moment.”

The private nodded and turned smartly around. Major Brennan went to use the water closet. Afterward he splashed water on his face. He flicked the water free from his skin, then went down the hallway and followed the stairs to the second landing. He stopped at Collie's door and knocked. He waited a moment, then knocked again. When she did not wake to let him inside, he pushed open the door. The bedcover had not been pulled down. A pale light floated into the room. He stood for a moment, his mind not caught up to his physical presence in the doorway. What did it mean? He had difficulty grasping the import of the empty bed. Had she gone?

At the same time, he grew aware of the sense of familiarity of this moment. How many times had he checked on his daughter at night, making sure she was safe and warm, the covers up, the sweet, soft sound of her breathing the only noise for blocks. For years she had slept with Puzzle, her striped, six-toed tabby, a valiant, trusting cat that had traveled with them through their postings. Yes, he remembered Puzzle. He remembered the sense of communion he had felt with the cat, both of them protecting her, the light catching the cat's eyes and reflecting it. How long ago had that been? he wondered now. And where had she gone?

But he knew the answer. Not the precise answer, naturally, but the general outline of what she attempted. He wanted to kill young Henry Heights for telling her about the men being shipped to England. She would not accept such a turn of events quietly. It played against her sense of justice. Added to that was the love she felt for the German boy, August. It made for an irresistible combination of emotions.

Halfway down the stairs he heard Mrs. Hammond in the kitchen, starting breakfast. That good woman, he thought. He wanted to go in and ask if she knew anything about Collie, but by doing so he might as well take out a billboard and broadcast the news across the hamlet. No, he made his step lighter and hurried toward the door. He stepped out on the porch and closed the door softly behind him.

“How many?” he asked the private as he climbed into the jeep.

“Two, sir.”

“Morning roll?”

“Yes, sir.”

The private would not know about Collie.

“Pretty late in the game for this,” Major Brennan said.

“Yes, sir.”

The private started the jeep and put it into gear. Major Brennan watched the light on the river as they drove toward the camp. A few fish poked rings in the still surface. He watched a kingfisher glide down and scrape at something in the water, its claws coming up with a bracelet of wiggling fish. He wondered, absently, who would be the first to call. Colonel Cook, he imagined. Cook would call and get to the bottom of things, as he liked to say
. Funny business
, Cook would say.
Your own daughter, eh?

Chapter Twenty-eight

C
ollie woke in his arms.

Even now, even with her own filthiness, with the incessant whine of insects, the fear that any moment, any sound might be the beginning of their capture, she could not wish herself to be anywhere else. His body fit hers; she fit her body to him, and now, in the first strings of evening air, she knew that she had made the right choice. He had whispered that he had been nervous around her at first; he had said the enormity of what they had undertaken, what he had asked of her, had struck him nearly dumb. He wondered several times aloud if he had had the right to ask her, to encourage her, because look where they were, in a dirty hole covered by branches. That had been the source of his distance. He had felt guilty and ashamed, unsure that he had the right to have her beside him. But their long day in the tiny bunker had changed all that. When Gerhard came to retrieve them, she felt they had become a gnarled root, forever grown together and divisible only by fire.

“We should go now,” Gerhard said.

His face looked swollen from insects. He looked thin, too, and disgustingly dirty. But he also looked—as August did—freer. That was an abstract notion, she knew, but it fit nonetheless. Despite their fatigue and hunger, they moved with greater certitude. They had a goal at last and it was a simple one:
walk to Canada.
Nothing else mattered for the time being.

“Are you starving?” August whispered to her as they began.

“I'm hungry,” she answered, “but I'll be all right.”

“If they are coming for us, they can catch up to us today,” Gerhard said. “We should be particularly careful.”

“They will be watching the border,” Collie said. “You can count on that.”

Gerhard nodded. She took the middle position. They walked into the darkness. Her body had difficulty moving after being constricted in the foxhole for so long. In time it loosened, however, and gave way to the grinding hunger she felt in her belly. She had never known hunger like this. It did not hurt, or call attention to itself; it grew and spread, taking more of her body as the hours passed, reminding her that she was merely an animal in the end.

After an hour or two they came to a small collection of houses. It was difficult, from a rise above it, to determine how many dwellings it contained. A few dogs barked, but whether the dogs had picked up their scent, or barked at other animals moving through the woods, proved impossible to tell. Collie stared down at the few lights that marked civilization. Now she keenly felt the foreignness of her existence. She was no longer welcome below. She was a traitor, an escaped prisoner every bit as much as the two Germans, and she felt uncomfortable at that knowledge. But it was a simple fact and she accepted it.

“How do we know where we are?” she whispered.

“We hope,” Gerhard said. “We hope we have followed the correct course.”

“There is a river below,” August said. “Is it the river we need?”

“I don't know,” Gerhard said. “It might be. We can't very well go in and ask for directions.

“If we keep going north it has to be right,” Gerhard continued. “We can count on that.”

“That makes sense,” Collie said.

“But we want to get to the border as soon as possible. The sooner we cross, the better.”

Collie felt August take her hand. The closeness she had felt for him through the long day in the trench remained with her. She kissed him.

“North,” she whispered.

In the small hours they came to a cabin. Collie smelled smoke long before they struck the cabin. She smelled water, too, and in time realized they walked close to a large lake. The cabin sat on the western shore of the lake. The cabin was dark, but the smoke suggested someone inhabited it. For a long time they stayed in the woods and watched. It was possible whoever had used the cabin had departed, leaving the fire to burn itself out. They could not see a vehicle. It was likely the visitors had come by boat. From what they could see, which was not much, the cabin sat amid a well-forested bank. No one had cleared out behind the building. Although it was too dark to say for certain, they could not see any power lines. It was a primitive cabin, a fishing cabin away from everything.

“We'll stay here until morning,” Gerhard said. “We might learn something. It won't be long.”

Collie knew without discussion what they intended. They intended to capture the people inside the cabin. If the cabin proved unoccupied, they would raid it for food. The isolation of the cabin made it an ideal target. Once captured, the inhabitants could do nothing to alert the authorities. They had never planned to walk all the way to Canada without food. This had been their plan. They meant to find opportunities and exploit them.

It made her feel uncomfortable, but she understood the tactical necessity. They needed supplies and they needed information. The cabin potentially held both things.

When light began growing in the east, Gerhard spoke rapidly to August. She understood a few words, but not all. Then Gerhard circled away. He meant to come at the cabin from the other side. It chilled her to observe them behaving as soldiers, but she could not blame them. It was a question of survival.

“There,” August whispered, nodding toward the cabin. “A light.”

“Someone is making coffee.”

“Yes, and more smoke. They're bringing the fire up.”

Someone opened the door and stepped out. It was a man, she could see. An old man with gray hair. He walked to what appeared to be an outhouse and entered. He came out a few moments later. He walked down to the lake and squatted beside it while he washed his face. She heard the water trickling between his fingers and splashing back into the lake. It gave her an odd feeling to spy on a person. It was interesting as much as it was repellent.

“He has a canoe,” August said. “See?”

It was like a puzzle of some sort that came to life as the light grew. Yes, she saw the canoe. It was dragged high on the bank and tilted over onto a rock to keep the rain out.

“Now we wait to see if he is alone,” August said, his eyes fixed on the cabin. “But it looks like someone is still moving in the cabin, so I doubt he is by himself. Maybe his friend, maybe his wife.”

“What will Gerhard do?”

“He will approach from the north.”

“How will you know when to start?”

“When we are certain about how many are down there. We'll wait until they are out of the cabin so that they can't get to any weapons. Then we will advance.”

“Were you a good soldier, August?”

He nodded.

“Yes,” he said, “very good. I am patient. Patience is a soldier's best weapon.”

“And Gerhard?”

“Excellent.”

She didn't ask anything else. She wasn't certain she wanted to know anything else. Soon, she hoped, that part of their lives would be behind them. The war would be behind them.

A woman exited the cabin next. The man's wife, Collie imagined. The woman also had gray hair. She went to the lake and washed. Then she sat on the overturned canoe and watched the water. She took out a cigarette and lighted it. The man, her husband, came out of the door carrying two cups of coffee. Each motion—the door closing, the whine of the screen door—made a distinct sound that carried out onto the lake. The morning was very still.

August began moving before Collie could do anything. Immediately she spotted Gerhard approaching from the other direction. They closed down on the cabin and she hurried behind. They would terrify the couple, she understood. She watched as Gerhard and August angled toward the cabin, cutting off the couple's retreat. It was not difficult. The couple sat and drank their coffee, unaware of the soldiers closing on them.

Gerhard arrived first. She saw the couple rise, wave, though their body posture demonstrated hesitancy an instant later. Who was this man? they seemed to ask. Then August reached his position and the couple became more animated. The man began walking briskly back toward the cabin, but Gerhard cut him off and held up his hand. August joined him. By the time Collie reached them the couple had begun to piece things together. She saw it in their faces.

“Don't worry,” she said to them, “I'm an American. We don't mean you any harm.”

“Go back and finish your coffee,” August said to them. “Is there food inside?”

“Yes,” the woman answered.

“Is there anyone else here? Are you expecting anyone?”

“Our son and his wife later today,” the man said.

“We'll be gone by then, don't worry,” August said.

Then he translated the couple's answers for Gerhard.

“Collie, sit with them,” Gerhard said in German. “Find out where we are. Find out how we get to Canada. Explain that they will not be hurt if they cooperate.”

“Is there a weapon in the house?” August asked.

“A shotgun,” the man said.

“Is that all?”

The man nodded.

“Is there a road or did you come by boat?” August asked.

“By boat.”

“Any other means to get here?”

The man shook his head.

“We won't hurt you,” Collie said, “come back and finish your coffee.”

The man took his wife's arm and led her back toward the lake. Collie followed them. The sun had risen above the horizon and began to skid light across the water.