Remembering You (13 page)

“Of course.” Grand-Paul leaned closer, but both Grandpa Jack and Dennis had reserved expressions on their faces.
So much for the warm welcome.

Ava started the program and then clicked play.

Music started, followed by images of Ava and Grandpa Jack. There was one of him teaching her to walk, holding her hands. And one of them fishing. And one of her and Grandpa with Grand-Paul and Dennis hiking around Castle Lake.

“These were on my computer… ,” she said and then quieted.

“What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think about your grandparents? I always thought about my grandma’s homemade lemon meringue pie and the summer days my grandfather took me fishing. I never thought of Grandpa Jack as young. Not until this week. The last few days changed all that.”

The picture switched from her to Grandpa Jack as he stood by the hill. Underneath, the caption read, “Jack Andrews, near Chenogne, Belgium.” From the corner of her eye she saw her grandfather bristle over being taped unaware.

“We received desert training at boot camp. That’s where I met Jack.” Grand-Paul glanced at the camera and then he looked away, focusing on Grandpa Jack. “We knew what we’d been told to do, but we’d never tried it. And we were far, far from the desert—going up against an experienced enemy.”

“We’d never faced the actual enemy before that,” Paul said in the video. As she watched, Ava realized again how pale Paul looked. How sickly.
Must be from the lighting.
She’d have to watch that. “I knew things were kicking off when I heard a sharp crack from a thirty-seven-millimeter tank cannon.”

There was an image of the hills and trees, but Ava had filtered it to look black and white, as if it was a movie from back then. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw the effect. The grandpas smiled, looked at each other, nodded.

“We were just kids. We had no idea what we’d see. No idea,” Grand-Paul said in the video.

More music played, more scenery, and then close-ups of the men. “Paul Prichard, Company B, Twenty-first Armored Infantry Battalion of the Eleventh.”

“Jackson Andrews, Company B, Twenty-first Armored Infantry Battalion, Eleventh Armored Division.”

Then there came the shot of them walking across the field. Finally, it moved back to her.

“Even though his hair is gray and his steps are slow and deliberate, I can see something else when I look into my grandfather’s eyes,” Ava said in the video. “I can see who he was in 1944—a nineteen-yearold kid from Kansas who found himself in the middle of a big war.”

Finally, the video switched to a still of Grandpa Jack and Grand-Paul staring at the hill where they had first fought, and in the voice-over Ava added, “Join me every day as I share the story of a war… and a journey of discovery.”

The video stopped and Ava closed her screen. She scanned the faces. “Well?”

“I’m impressed.” Grand-Paul cocked his chin. “I like how it turned out, but I sure do look old.” Grand-Paul gave a half smile that also hinted of sadness.

“That’s because you
are
old.” Grandpa Jack nudged his friend with his elbow, but he didn’t comment on the video. At least he didn’t get mad at her for including him in it.

Ava swallowed as she looked at Dennis, waiting for his reaction. He was looking at her, and she couldn’t read his expression.

He finally nodded. “Well, I think you won my grandpa over. Did you already e-mail it off?”

“I e-mailed it before I went to bed.” Ava bit her lip. “I haven’t heard back yet. I hope it’s what they were looking for.”

“I bet it is, and I’m sure a lot of people will tune in and watch. It’s amazing how you put it together like that. It’s all you ever wanted.” Dennis leaned forward.

She cocked her head. She still couldn’t tell whether Dennis was pleased. It seemed that he did like it, but there was something in his gaze that she didn’t understand, couldn’t read. The joy that had been there a moment before fizzled out, like a soda going flat.

“I bet you’re hungry.” Grandpa Jack looked around, seeking out the waitress.

“I’ll probably just grab one of the granola bars that I packed. If you can give me five minutes to take my computer upstairs and grab my camera, I’ll be ready to go.”

Ava hurried up to pack, and as she got all of her things loaded, she remembered the envelope of letters. She looked in her computer bag, in her suitcase—even in her camera bag—but they were nowhere to be found.

A knock sounded at the door. Ava assumed it was housekeeping. “I’m almost done,” she called and then wondered if the person could even understand her.

“One minute,” she said, looking under the bed to make sure the envelope hadn’t slid underneath it.

“Ava, it’s me.” It was Grandpa Jack’s voice. “I was just checking to see if you needed help.”

She smiled, thinking of how sad it was that he really couldn’t help her, but sweet that he would ask. She rose and hurried to the door, opening it.

He stood, hat in hand. “Need me to carry something?”

“Sure.” She handed him her purse, the smallest of her items. “Thank you so much. I also had a question for you.” She scratched her forehead. “Did you happen to see that envelope with the letters? I found it last night but didn’t see it this morning.”

He placed his ball cap back on his head and his eyes narrowed with the same disappointed look as when she had been a sophomore and skipped school. “I saw it on your desk and I took it. I was hoping you didn’t look inside.”

“I thought you left it out for me. I’d asked my mom to tell you to bring your letters—”

“Those are my private things.” His hand trembled beyond its natural quiver.

“There was a note that you wanted to find Angeline. I assumed you wanted my help.”

Her purse slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, and Grandpa Jack bent over to retrieve it. “That note wasn’t for you.” He turned away and walked down the hall to the elevator, moving with slow steps.

A part of Ava told her to let him go. Not to bring it up again. Not to bother him. But another part of her wouldn’t let it drop so easily. The note had also mentioned Bastogne, and they were here. If she didn’t ask today, it could be too late.

“Was she a girlfriend? Or someone you rescued from the camp?” Her voice followed him down the hall.

Her grandfather kept walking. “No, no, she was not.”

“So you’re not going to tell me?” she called.

Her grandfather paused and turned. He still looked angry, but from the droop of his eyes and the curve of his lower lip, he mostly just looked tired.

Ava stood in the doorway and waited. She didn’t argue. She didn’t beg. Instead, she did what she often did when she was working with a guest whose story was hard to tell. She waited. Waited for his words to work past the emotions welling up inside.

“No. I don’t think I will.”

“But the note said you want to find her.”

He shook his head. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Why?”

He looked away, gazing at the carpet in front of him. His eyes were wide, as if he could see a ghost from the past lying there.

* * * * *

Ava hurried through the lobby, balancing her camera bag, tripod, and sweater in her arms. Seeing her, Dennis took her camera equipment from her hands and carried it to the trunk and placed it inside.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” He took her sweater and helped her find the armholes. He seemed more concerned about getting on the road than wanting to help her, but it was still a nice gesture.

She wanted to know if he knew anything about Angeline. He seemed to know a lot about their grandfathers’ war experiences. If her grandpa wasn’t going to tell her anything, maybe Dennis would.

She glanced at her watch. It was nine o’clock. People strolled up and down the sidewalks around them. Young women pushed strollers and older women walked side by side talking, laughing. A few tourists wandered the streets, their cameras in hand. A businessman walked by with a briefcase. It was something she saw often at home, but here—in this village—it seemed out of place.

The clock in the nearby clock tower chimed, and Ava lifted her head to listen. As it continued to play she realized it wasn’t a typical chime at all, but rather the first six notes of the United States national anthem. She turned to her grandpa, who was right behind her.

“Did you hear that?” The clock continued chiming the half-hour, echoing from the nearest bell tower. “It’s the ‘Star-Spangled Banner.’”

Tears rimmed his eyes. He nodded, but he didn’t speak. She didn’t know if it was her questions or the song that were making him tear up. She assumed it was a little of both.

Ava wondered whether she could capture the chimes on video. Maybe she’d try before they headed out.

“I’ll get in the back this time.” Ava got into the backseat next to Grandpa Jack, offering him an apologetic smile, hoping they’d have a chance later to talk things through. She still hadn’t apologized for the confrontation they’d had months ago, and now she was adding yet another thing to the list of things she needed to apologize for. His eyebrows lifted, and then he quickly looked away.

After they were settled, Dennis drove toward their first destination. The town was plain, simple. Nearly every building was a dingy tan color, which made it appear even drearier against the gray, cloudy sky.

The thing that surprised Ava the most were the US flags and other American symbols everywhere. “Are all the flags because of the war? Because of you guys?”

“Belgium wouldn’t be free without them,” Dennis said.

Ava wanted to ask Dennis to stop so she could get a better look around, but she could tell he was on a mission. She’d head out later, on her own, with her video camera. Capturing the streets, the American flags, and the countryside would be a great addition to her video.

“It’s not just us,” Grand-Paul commented from the front seat. “Our part was small. There were many who deserve the credit more, like the guys from Easy Company.”

“Too bad everyone who fought couldn’t be here to see how things turned out.” Grandpa Jack shook his head. “It’s good to see the place rebuilt.”

“So it looks a lot different now?”

“Very different.” Grandpa Jack’s eyes widened as he looked around. “There wasn’t much of a town when we arrived. Every home had been hit. Some had bullet holes, most much more. Many of the buildings down the main street were just rubble. The trees were blackened sticks”—he paused and closed his eyes—“like thin arms reaching into the sky.”

Ava imagined tanks in the streets. The German snipers waiting for American troops. The guns. The citizens running, hiding, and crying. Goose bumps rose on her arms.

A few minutes later, they parked in a large parking lot, and in the distance, Ava saw a tall concrete monument that looked like a wagon wheel on its side with tall pillars joined at the top by an open ceiling. It seemed strange to see something like this in the middle of the countryside. It looked like something she’d expect to see in Washington, DC, not here. The people looked small standing next to it, and the blue-gray sky made a striking backdrop. Dennis got out of the car and opened Ava’s door for her without making eye contact.

He pointed to two large buildings beyond the monument. “That’s Bastogne’s official war museum. There’s a screening room and a thirty-minute documentary recounting the defense of Bastogne.”

“Hope they got it right,” Grand-Paul piped up. “I’ve watched some of those documentaries and they don’t always get everything right.”

“Well, you have to think of it this way.” Dennis walked around the car and extended a hand, helping his grandfather to stand. “There was a lot going on in the fighting and much confusion. I’m sure if you interviewed one hundred vets, you’d get one hundred different stories—everyone sees things through his own eyes, his own prejudices, his own fears.”

“Humph.” Grand-Paul grunted.

Grandpa Jack climbed from the car, reaching out to Ava for help.

“Could you imagine if things had gone differently?” Ava looked beyond the monument to the countryside. “If the right decisions hadn’t been made at the right time, the people here could be speaking German. And the monuments could have been erected in honor of their great leader, Hitler.”

“Ah, nuts!” Grand-Paul said, pointing his finger into the air. Laughter burst from Grandpa Jack’s lips. Another group of people walking through the parking lot laughed too, but Ava didn’t understand.

Dennis leaned close to her ear. His breath was warm. “It’s a reference from the war. During the Battle of the Bulge, the Germans demanded surrender and that was General McAuliffe’s response.”

“‘To the German Commander: Nuts! The American Commander.’” Grandpa Jack slapped his knee as he said it.

“The Germans responded with bombs. They held on, though, until we—Patton’s troops—arrived from the south,” Grand-Paul said. “They said a prayer for help. A change in the weather allowed air reinforcements the following day. But if it had taken any longer to get reinforcements…”

“A prayer?” She looked at her grandfather.

“They prayed to God for the rain to stop, and it did the trick. The Allies were able to drop supplies,” Grandpa Jack said.

“Wow, that really is amazing.”

“Yes, it was amazing, but it shouldn’t come as a surprise.” Grandpa Jack jutted out his chin. “It’s a good reminder, but it’s no different today. I talk to God now, just like I did back then, and He answers. Maybe not so dramatically, but He answers just the same.”

“You talk to God, and that’s good.” Grand-Paul swayed slightly as he leaned against his cane. “But how do you know that what happens wasn’t going to happen anyway?”

“Because I can see Him at work. Things change. People change.”

Grand-Paul didn’t argue, but Ava could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t completely agree. The conversation seemed to pique Dennis’s interest, brightening his eyes as he waited to see how this was going to play out.

They continued their slow walk to the memorial. “Don’t get me wrong, I believe there’s a God. I’m just not a fan of prayer,” Grand-Paul stated.

“What do you mean?” Dennis asked, scratching his head.