Remembering You (12 page)

“Things have changed. War is fought differently now, but stepping along this journey with my grandpa and his best friend of sixty-seven years takes me back to how things used to be. I’ve always loved my grandfather; he’s an amazing man. But…today I got to know a part of him I’ve never known before.” Ava felt her voice choking up. “Join me every day as I share the story of a couple of guys who headed to Europe in 1944. It’s a story of a war…and a journey of discovery.”

Ava lifted the remote control from under the table and stood. She spread wide her arms and looked at the waitress.

“What do you think?” Ava wrinkled her nose.

“Oscar! Oscar!” The woman laughed and then rattled off something Ava couldn’t understand.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Ava packed up her camera. “See you in the morning.”

“Pardon?” the waitress asked.

“I’ll see you at breakfast?” Ava patted the table.

“No mur food.” The woman smiled.

“Yes, I know. Tomorrow.” Ava gathered her equipment and moved to the foyer, forcing herself up the tiled stairs. She liked what she had said for an introduction, but she wondered if it would embarrass her grandfather. Or anger him. In her own way, she was inserting him into the videos he wanted no part of.

As she neared their room, Ava dug out her key from her pocket—the real, metal kind, not the electronic card-keys that she was used to at hotels. Inside, she turned on her computer and connected the video camera and started the last transfer. It was 10:00 p.m. here, which meant it was 1:00 p.m. in Seattle. She tried to imagine what everyone was doing right now.

The day’s show would be done, and if she were in Seattle, her whole team would be in her office, staring at her large whiteboard, going over the rundown of the next day’s show. She smiled as she thought about how she liked organizing each day’s segment information—the guests, props, and B-roll that were needed, but even those moments couldn’t compare to this day. Even though she felt stretched—like Silly Putty getting pulled out of shape—Ava felt a sense of purpose she hadn’t felt in a while. She could be brave, not get the material she needed, and still figure out a way to make it work. She could live a story, and not just capture someone else’s. She could survive by sharing from her heart, and not just from a script.

Ava set everything up and connected to the Internet. Her in-box was filled with messages, and she quickly scanned them. It was mostly junk mail, but one stopped her from looking further. It was from Jay. With a trembling hand she opened it, and then sat back as if the words would jump off the page. She held her breath as she read.

Ava wow. Can’t believe you e-mailed. I was worried you wouldn’t. I’d like to talk. Know you’re in Europe but wondering if you could call. Call collect if you have to. Jay

She read the e-mail twice. It was exactly something he’d write. He hadn’t given away what he wanted to talk about. She assumed it was their relationship. The text he’d sent previously said he’d made a mistake and missed her, but he said nothing of that here.

Ava pressed her hand against her forehead. Most of her friends had fallen in love and had gotten married without the drama and the heartbreak she had to go through. She hoped that Jay was sorry and wanted to make things right, but she also doubted she could trust him. Why would she?

Dennis’s face came to mind, and she shook her head, trying to clear it. The man she thought she had loved—whom she’d imagined marrying—wanted to talk. The guy she could very easily fall in love with—whom she now traveled with—disapproved of nearly every goal she had for this trip. She closed the e-mail and shut off the light. She’d e-mail Jay, but not now. In her weariness—her heart heavy—she longed to reach out for the line he was tossing to her, but her heart had betrayed her before. She had reasons to believe love would bring only pain.

The room was dim, and Ava watched as the bar indicated that the video was nearly done transferring. Behind her, Grandpa Jack snored.

Her new laptop seemed out of place on the antique desk. The desk was made of solid wood, with layers of peeling paint on the surface. She wondered how many people had sat here over the years. Maybe some wrote with quill pens and ink and others with pencils and pens. Now, here she was creating a video that would be sent halfway around the world and be shown to millions of viewers in less than twenty-four hours.

Thankfully, the small hotel had high-speed Internet. That’s one thing she’d checked when confirming the reservations.
Hot showers, optional. High-speed Internet, a must.

Pulling her spiral-bound notebook from her suitcase, she noticed something on the ground. A manila envelope that looked as if it had fallen out of her grandfather’s suitcase. Her mother had written “Don’t forget to pack” on the envelope.

Ava turned it over in her hand, wondering what was inside. On the back side of the envelope, her grandfather had written Ava’s cell number. Was this something he’d meant to give to her? She looked at her grandfather, who was still snoring, and slumped into the chair.

A smile curved her lips. The envelope made her think about the notes her mom used to pack in her things when she went to summer camp. One note for every day she was gone. Most of the time she didn’t open the notes until the bus ride home. Still, she’d open them and read every one, just so her mom wouldn’t feel bad.

Ava unclasped the small hook and tipped the envelope upside down. It wasn’t notes that first slipped out of the envelope. Photographs.

“Oh.” She breathed out. Tears sprang to Ava’s eyes. She picked up the photo from the top of the stack. It was a black-and-white photo of her grandfather in his military uniform. He was sitting in a rowboat. Behind him were water and a distant shore. The wind ruffled his hair, and his smile was wide. No, it was more than a smile. It was laughter. He was laughing at someone—most likely the photographer. She recognized the crinkle of his eyes.

In the next photo, he posed with another soldier. She recognized the second man, even though the man’s eyes were closed in the shot.
Paul.
They were both smiling, and sun was on their faces. She turned the photo over. It read: “Attersee, AT after V-E day during occupation of AT.”

AT…Austria.

Ava shuffled through more photos and then paused. Behind the photos was a stack of letters, bound together by a red ribbon that was now faded and tattered at the edges, tied into a small bow. She smiled, realizing her mother had gotten the message to her grandfather to bring his letters from World War II. Ava wondered why her grandfather hadn’t given them to her sooner.

She turned them over in her hand, immediately recognizing her grandfather’s handwriting. The first one had a postmark from Camp Cooke, California, where he had gone for basic training. Ava started to open it and then glanced at the time on her cell phone. She had only two hours to edit the video and send it on. Back in her college days, she could create a video in less than half that time, but to say she was rusty was an understatement.

Maybe she had enough time to read one letter.

March 13, 1944

Friday

Dear Mom and Dad,

The Army is doing a good job training me. I’ve been washing dishes all week and may have a shot at getting a job at a restaurant when I get home! That’s just a joke, you know.

I keep thinking about back home, wondering if the spring flowers are coming up. Nothing but dust storms here. Every crack is filled with sand. It even gets into my teeth when I sleep.

No time for much sleep, though. When I’m not washing pots, there are the drills, calisthenics, hand-to-hand combat, and obstacle courses. We went on a compass course over rough terrain and a bunch of the guys found a patch of thistles. Thankfully, I steered clear of that. The sand is bad enough.

Lots of the guys from B Company head to Los Angeles on the weekends. I did last weekend, but I’m running out of dough so I thought I’d stick around. To answer Mom’s question, I didn’t go to church last week, but I plan to tomorrow.

I do enjoy cutting a rug at the Paladium or guzzling a Coke at Dave’s Jukebox Joint. Last week I went to Pismo Beach. The water was cold, but we jumped in anyway. At first I forgot it was saltwater and that took me by surprise. I never thought I’d do a back float on the ocean. I can check that off my list. More later.

Monday

Dear Mom and Dad
,

We had a gun drill. Guys are learning how to set up and fire the big guns on level ground. We can unload, set up, and fire in less than 30 seconds. It’s amazing how things work when everyone knows how to do their part. I’ve been selected to be part of the 21st Armored Infantry Battalion. The infantry part means we’ll be trained to fight on the ground. The armored part means that the tanks and big guns will destroy everything in our way to make it easier for us.

We’re still having crew drills, and I got to fire the gun. I’m happy with this outfit and I know I’ll be content overseas with them.

Around Christmas I sent a letter to Patty Long, but I haven’t heard back. I’m guessing she hitched up with Roland Simpson as soon as I left town. What a thug.

Friday

Dear Mom and Dad,

We went out on the village fighting course to practice in street fighting and the taking of houses. I was in the cleanup squad and had to set off booby traps or neutralize them. They don’t use full charges. Yesterday, we had a full inspection with the squads lined up in front of the half tracks. I can’t write more as there is a bull session going on around me.

Oh yes, tell Mom I went to church. That should make her happy
.

Give everyone back home all my love
,

Jack

Ava smiled as she folded the letter, trying to picture her grandpa as that young man. She glanced over at him and realized he wasn’t snoring as loudly as he usually did. She wondered if he was lost in a sweet dream. She also wondered if he’d snored back in the war. She guessed not. That would have alerted the Germans, for sure.

There were at least two dozen more envelopes, but she wouldn’t read them all tonight. Her eyes burned and her mind was starting to dull from lack of sleep, and she still had a video to edit.

She placed the envelope beside her computer, telling herself to thank her grandfather for bringing them in the morning.

Ava started the edits for the segment, jotting down notes for her voice-over, while she waited for the various changes to load. She replayed her favorite quotes that she got from Grand-Paul and wrote them out on note cards. It was a trick that one of her old teachers had taught her. The note cards made it easier to move the quotes around to make the most powerful story.

She especially liked the quote, “We were just kids. We had no idea what we’d see. No idea.” She wrote that down.

After she got the audio lined up, she worked on the cover shots and cut-ins. Her tired mind worked hard to figure out how to include her intro with the stories in a segment that was less than two minutes. As she worked, she remembered how much she liked the challenge of it. It was like putting together the pieces of a puzzle, with two other puzzles mixed in and no box for a reference. The tired, fuzzy-headed feeling she’d had after dinner was gone.

She rose and stretched and felt something under her foot. She thought it was a note card until she bent over and picked it up. It was a small slip of paper that she guessed had fallen out of her grandfather’s envelope. On it was written only three words.

Find Angeline. Bastogne?

Chapter Thirteen

Ava rested the strap of her computer bag over her shoulder and attempted to rub the sleep out of her eyes. She’d been up late finishing the video. She’d been up even later wondering who Angeline was and why her grandfather wanted to find her.

When she’d awoken at eight o’clock, Grandpa was already gone, no doubt eating breakfast downstairs. They were in Bastogne, and she knew they wanted to get started on the day, but she didn’t want to look frumpy.

She’d showered, quickly applied her makeup, and then blow-dried her hair into long, soft waves. Finally, she’d put on some lip gloss as she gathered her laptop.

She checked for her room key and hurried out the door. Downstairs, she found the three guys sitting at the same table where she had videotaped the night before.

Dennis lifted his eyes as she entered, and she couldn’t help but notice his face brighten. His eyes rested on her hair. He’d always liked it when it was down. She smiled, glad he noticed.

The grandpas turned. A smile filled Grand-Paul’s face.

“Look at you, sunshine,” Grand-Paul said.

“Bright enough to light a cloudy day.”

Ava paused in front of him and set a hand on her hip. “You know I’m going to have to take you all home with me, right? I never get such a welcome.”

Her eyes moved to her grandfather, but he was not smiling. Even as she looked into his face, he seemed to be looking past her. His lower lip was turned down.
Is he still angry about the videos? Or is it something else?

“It’s a shame you aren’t welcomed like this every morning.” Dennis took a sip from his coffee. “Need to find a way to change that.”

Ava felt heat rising to her cheeks, and she noticed the grandpas exchanging glances. She broke the silence as she pulled her notebook from her computer case. “I have something to show you.”

“Is it the video?” Grand-Paul asked.

“I stayed up to the wee hours. Your encouragement really… encouraged me. I felt top of my class as I worked on it. Ready to watch?”