Clash by Night (52 page)

“Will the limp go too?” she said.

“Doctors won’t say,” he replied. “They tell me the weak muscle in the bad leg causes me to put more weight on the good leg, and that results in the uneven gait.” He felt around on the floor for his pants. “Supposedly if I can build up the muscle again the walk will straighten out.” He shrugged and pulled a pack of Luckies out of his pocket. “Who knows?” he said. “Would you mind being married to a gimp?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Laura said. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all.”

“I’m very comfortable,” he replied, running his free hand down her naked back. “I like this pillow,” he added, resting his head briefly against her breast.

“You can have it forever,” she said.
 

He pulled a cigarette out of the pack and lit up, inhaling. He made a face. “These things are terrible,” he said.

“Not yours?” she said.

He shook his head. “I bummed them off of your friend Foley.”

She looked blank. “Who?”
 

“Carter Foley. He dropped me off here, didn’t you see him?”

“I didn’t see anyone but you,” she replied tenderly, sifting a strand of his chestnut brown hair through her fingers. “And I don’t know anyone by that name.”
 

“He’s the sergeant in charge of the motor pool in Bar-le-Duc. I gather you spoke to him one day when he was fixing a jeep.”

“Oh,” she said, smiling. “Kansas.”

“That’s right. You made quite an impression on him.”

“Did I? I just asked him about the marines. I was trying to get information about you.”

“I think that was the source of his memorable frustration,” Harris replied dryly.

“He was kind of cute, as I recall,” Laura said thoughtfully.

“If you like the type, I guess.”

“Oh, what type is that?” she asked, interested.

“Big, blond, and handsome. It’s been my experience that women generally flee from them in droves.” He exhaled a stream of smoke.

Laura broke down laughing, falling against his chest. “Oh, very true. That type drives them away, all right.” She wound her arms around his waist. “I prefer the darker, more mysterious type myself.”

He snorted. “The only mystery in our relationship is why it took you so long to realize I was crazy about you.”

Laura pushed herself up on her elbows. “I beg your pardon,” she said indignantly. “As I recall the night before you blew up the factory I threw myself into your arms.”

“You have a short memory,” he said archly. “About who threw what at whom, that is.”

“May I have that again, please?” she said, grinning.

“You know what I mean. I had made up my mind not leave this house without doing something about the way I felt, but I was so nervous I let it go until the last minute. My recollection is that I grabbed you as I was running out the door.” He crushed his cigarette out on the heel of his shoe.

“Well, almost,” she said, sighing. “I guess it was mutual.”

 
“And then there was London,” he said.

 
“Oh, yes,” she murmured.

“We’ll have to get back there,” he went on. He turned on his side to face her. “You know, going through a ceremony now will just be a formality. I’ve felt married to you since then.”

 
Moved into silence, she twined her fingers with his.
 

“Speaking of ceremonies, do you think that priest who married Brigitte can marry us?” he asked. “I’d have to get permission but I think I can handle it through the 1st Army installation in Bar-le-Duc.”

Laura didn’t answer.

“What’s the matter?” he said, looking at her. “Changed your mind?”

“Dan, I have a favor to ask,” she said sweetly, holding his hand to her cheek.

“Oh, boy,” he said in a martyred tone. “Here it comes.”
 

“I’d like to get married at home with my parents there.” She released his hand. “They missed the first one because I got married here, and because...my father was against it. They were very hurt. I don’t want to do that to them again.”

“Do you think your father will be against me?” Harris asked.

“Are you kidding?” Laura said. “A decorated marine cap...major, an all-American boy from good old Evanston, Illinois, the heartland of the nation? He may marry you himself.”

Harris laughed. “I’ll settle for his daughter, if you don’t mind.” He sat up. “Laura, if you want to wait until we get back to get married that’s fine with me. There’s a chapel on the base, you can invite your family and anybody else you want. Or I’ll get a pass to go up to Boston.” He looked away from her. “It’s just that it’s taken so long for us to get to this point,” he said. “I’m guess I’m afraid to tempt fate any longer.”
 

“The worst is over for us. I can feel it,” Laura said.

He nodded. “I think you’re right.” He stretched. “Well, so what do we do? I’ll apply for permission to marry when I get back and see how soon I can book passage for you to come home. The military’s been using steamers out of Le Havre for dependent personnel, I think a fiancée would qualify. The trip to New York takes about two weeks. I’ll meet you there and bring you back to Lejeune. How does that sound?”

“Can you arrange that?” she asked, impressed.
 

“You’d be surprised how far a Silver Star and a game leg will take you in the Corps,” he said flatly.

“Dan, how did you get the leg? The wound, I mean. I’ll understand if you don’t want to tell me,” she finished hastily.

“There’s not much to tell,” he replied. “I don’t remember a whole lot. I was shot down over Okinawa and wound up in the hospital with a leg full of shrapnel.”

“When?”

“June.”

“And how long were you in the hospital?”

“A couple of months.”

“‘Not much to tell,’ huh?” Laura said skeptically. “Enough to keep you laid up for eight weeks, though.”

“It’s over, Laura,” he said shortly. “I just want to forget it.” He reached for another cigarette.

“I’ll bet I can make you forget about that smoke,” she said quietly, dropping her hand below his waist.

He closed his eyes. “I’ll bet you can too,” he murmured. The cigarette fell to the floor.

“Still hungry?” she whispered, moving on top of him.

“Not for food,” he answered, and enfolded her in his arms.

They spent the rest of Dan’s leave together getting ready for Laura’s departure, which would follow his. They prepared to close up the Duclos house, sheeting furniture and storing household items in boxes in the cellar. Laura gave her notice at the school. A replacement was found among the returning occupation refugees flooding back into France, and Laura packed her desk, taking Lysette’s things as well and transferring them to her cottage. She doubted if Lysette would ever return. But she felt better putting the personal belongings where the other woman could find them, rather than leaving them among strangers.

Harris became a popular guest in Fains-les-Sources once the story of his role in the factory explosion was revealed. The rest of his time there was a pleasant round of dinners with old friends and new, Curel, Langtot and the Thibeau boys among them, punctuated by nights spent in Laura’s arms.

Every morning when she woke and found him with her, it was like a miracle.

Harris arranged her passage out of Le Havre for the beginning of November. He threw his weight around and called in favors, but a month’s delay was the best he could do. Laura wished she could fly home with him and he was worried about the dangers of an ocean crossing in wartime, but they agreed to take the chance. Their time of separation was at an end.

He refused to let her go to the airfield with him, concerned about her return trip through the newly liberated areas, and she had to admit she didn’t want to say goodbye among strangers. Carter Foley, who had since enjoyed their hospitality on a number of occasions, had arranged transportation to Carpiquet for Harris. On the morning he was to leave they waited at the Duclos front window for the car to arrive.
 

“This reminds me of the time in London, at the hotel during the blitz,” Laura said softly. “It was so hard to say goodbye to you that day.”

He turned and touched her cheek. “It’s not the same,” he said gently. “Then we didn’t know if we’d ever see each other again.”

“We should have gotten married here,” she said suddenly. “I don’t know why I was so selfish about it.”

“Take it easy,” he said soothingly. “A month isn’t long to wait. We’ll be together again.”
 

A jeep pulled to a stop in the road fronting the house.

“There’s my ride,” Harris said, and hoisted his duffel bag.

“You’ll be careful?” Laura whispered, embracing him.

“I’m always careful.” When he saw her worried look he added, “Honey, if they haven’t been able to kill me so far I must be immortal.”

“November 18th,” she said to him.

“Do you think I’m going to forget?” he asked, kissing her cheek.

“Kiss me for real,” she said desperately.

 
He put down his bag and took her in his arms, kissing her tenderly. When he released her, as he turned he saw the moisture clinging to her lashes.

“I’ll see you in a month,” he said casually, as if going away to camp. He opened the door and ran lightly down the steps, his bad leg causing a slight catch on each one. She watched as he flung his bag into the jeep and then she looked away, listening for the sound of his departure. It came and then faded as the silence of the house closed in around her, more oppressive than ever.

Laura spent the long weeks saying goodbye to everything and everybody, promising herself that someday she would return. She visited the churchyard one last time. She remembered those who lay there and thought of all the others, just as fragile, just as loved, now sleeping in the soil of Normandy. There were no flowers left so she made wreaths of ash leaves entwined with tricolor ribbons and set them at the base of the stones.

 
The people with whom she had shared the life and death struggle of the Résistance all came, one by one, to bid her farewell. Although she looked forward with great anticipation to her new life with Harris, the old one clung with the tenacity of first love, rendering her speechless with emotion as she parted with comrades she might never see again.

Curel was the hardest to leave. The crusty old war horse, who had always seemed capable of loving only his dead wife and his country, gave Laura a tiny fleur-de-lis studded with marcasites that had been in his family a long time. He said since he had no children he wanted her to keep it, to remember him.

Laura didn’t need a token to recall his courage and his honor, which would be a part of her always, like Alain’s. But she accepted the pendant and hung it on the chain around her neck with Harris’ silver wings.

Finally it was time to set out for Le Havre. Aware of the condition of the transportation system she allocated plenty of time for the trip, taking with her only a single bag. She didn’t want to be weighted down with luggage; this was one boat she was not going to miss.

The journey did not disappoint her. Trains ran erratically if they ran at all, and she and what seemed like the rest of the planet sat around in terminals, waiting for one to pull up that wasn’t full and was going in the right direction. France that autumn was the way station for the world; after four years of occupation everyone was trying to get in or get out.

Armed civilians were all over, men and women dressed in loose shirts and jackboots with rifles on their shoulders, prowling the depots like cats. Laura saw them arrest several people, obviously collaborators attempting to flee the country. She tried not to think of their fate.
 

By the time she reached the port city of Le Havre she was filthy and exhausted but she had a day to spare. The only hotel room she could get was a sectioned off portion of a walk out basement with a tiny, grimy window, both of which she shared with another female traveler. She fell onto the cot provided and awoke at evening, listening to the harbor sounds of wheeling sea birds and fog horns and vehicles on the streets. She was hungry but still too tired to go in search of food, so she settled for an apple she’d brought with her and fell asleep again.

When she awoke once more it was morning. She washed her face and hands in a cracked basin with the tin of tepid water provided by the management, straightened her clothes, and went out to face the day.

It was glorious, a bright fall morning, cool and brisk, freshened with a salt breeze. Laura bought a sweet roll from a stand and walked down to the docks, getting in one of the passenger lines and munching her breakfast as she waited.

It was noon before she was cleared to board. De Gaulle’s new government was attempting to cope with the mob, but apparently everyone not on a train was trying to get on a boat. Laura’s feet ached from standing in the queue, and her head ached from the endless questions and forms, but her outlook improved dramatically as soon as she walked up the gangplank.

The ship was stately and well appointed. Harris had booked her a single cabin with a sitting room on an upper deck. She glanced out the porthole at the mass of humanity eddying below on the quay, and then lay down on the bunk, ready for another nap.