The mother then produced a bottle of brandy from a cleverly disguised cupboard to one side of the fireplace and poured them all a drink — even the German officer, although she supplied his brandy in a mismatched glass with an extra measure of frosty attitude. It was clear that she was no fan of the German, but having gotten over her initial dismay at having their hiding place discovered, she appeared delighted to have encountered two American soldiers and a British officer. In her view, they were the good guys.
Cole picked up on one word that she kept repeating, “Libérateurs! Libérateurs!”
Cole hoped she wasn’t just being polite on account of them being the ones with the guns.
Finally, she settled into a massive upholstered armchair, looked around like a queen holding court, and began to tell their story. Around the fire, the story of Château Jouret and the family who lived there began to unfold. Lieutenant Rupert and the girl took turns translating whenever she paused.
“We have been waiting a long time for the Americans to arrive,” she said through her daughter. “It is so exciting to see what you look like! We have tried to keep the house looking empty to avoid attracting attention. If there is a fire in the chimney, there is someone home, and where there is someone home, there is food, and where there is food, you will have foragers. When I glanced out the window, we saw the German officer’s uniform and feared the worst and fled with my daughter to the attic.”
She explained that they had taken a chance and come downstairs for blankets and a jug of water they had left in one of the bedrooms. That foray had turned out to be a mistake because the creaky floor had given them away.
Her name was Madame Jouret. She had been a widow since before the war. The house had been in her husband’s family for many years. She had a son who had gone off to join the fighting back in 1941, opposing the flow of the Nazi tide that had seemed unstoppable then, and had not been heard from again. After so many years, it was assumed that he was dead, one of the legions of young men who had stood up to the Germans and whose fate might never really be known, other than that he had been swallowed up by the war.
Rupert turned to the girl. “Your mother says that you are Carolina. It is very nice to meet you, Miss Carolina.”
“Lena,” the girl announced.
He took her hand in greeting, Lena took his, and to the onlookers, it was as if Lieutenant Rupert and Lena had wrapped themselves in a bubble to become the only two people in the room, or possibly the universe. Cole didn’t believe in love at first sight, or love in general, but the lieutenant and the girl sure seemed to.
Seeing what was going on, Cole and Vaccaro exchanged a look. “The girls always go for the officers,” Vaccaro muttered. “That’s the way of the world. But at least there’s brandy.”
“Amen to that,” Cole said, raising his glass in a toast to Vaccaro. He’d had a sufficient amount of the strong brandy so that he could feel its warmth down to his toes, which he hadn’t been sure would ever feel warm again.
He felt relaxed enough that he took off his boots and set them by the fire to dry, just like he’d done as a boy back home — but not so close to the heat that the leather would crack. Gratefully, he wiggled his toes and warmed them in the heat cast by the fireplace.
Cole glanced at Bauer, who, from his expression, also had not failed to notice the chemistry between Rupert and the girl. Cole might have expected another one of Bauer’s cynical smirks but was surprised to see that the German’s expression was wistful, as if remembering someone or something — perhaps even a German girl he had once looked at in much the same way. Or perhaps he was thinking of the many young German men who were now in the dirt, or frozen corpses buried face down in the snow, never to know love again.
Madame Jouret continued to hold court, but it was getting hard for the men to keep their eyes open. It had been a long day in the cold, compounded by several preceding days in bitter temperatures, plus biting wind and snow. He felt the sleepy tug of the brandy. Cole didn’t do much to stifle a yawn.
The fire began to die down, and they had burned through much of the wood from the small pile stacked near the hearth. Lena offered to fetch more wood, and Lieutenant Rupert jumped up and volunteered to go with her. Cole recalled that there was a woodshed not far from the kitchen door.
The two disappeared and the minutes stretched on.
“I’ll bet she found some wood, all right,” Vaccaro said, smiling knowingly. “The lieutenant is probably giving her all the wood she wants right about now.”
The mother began to look anxious and stood up as if to go after them.
Bauer said something gently to her in French and she sat back down, poured herself more brandy, and seemed to wrap herself in dignity as if putting on a shawl.
“What was that all about?” Cole wondered.
