Remembering You (15 page)

“No, there were even more Germans killed or injured.”

Ava looked around. This place seemed so peaceful now. She looked up at the American flag flapping in the breeze.
The people here choose to remember
.
They don’t hide the pain, but they also remember to celebrate the victory.

Dennis looked over his shoulder, back toward the museum door. “I better go check on our grandpas. Just a few minutes ago, Jack was outraged at the price of souvenirs.” He moved to the door.

“Wait,” she called after him, hurrying to catch up. “Can I ask you something first? Something important.”

He turned back to her, concern filling his gaze. “Yes, of course.”

“I know you’ve been a much better grandson than I’ve been as a granddaughter. I haven’t always listened. …” She glanced up at him, remembering again how handsome Dennis’s gaze was when he focused on her. “I was wondering if my grandpa…or if your grandpa ever mentioned someone named Angeline? Maybe someone they met during the war.”

“Angeline?” Dennis looked up into the sky as if replaying old conversations. “I don’t think so.”

Ava folded her arms over her chest. “That’s not what I needed to hear.”

Dennis leaned back against the brick wall and cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I wasn’t trying to pry, but I found a slip of paper in my grandfather’s things. It said, ‘Find Angeline.’ And then it said ‘Bastogne.’ I asked him about it, and he got upset.”

Dennis shook his head. “You’re two for two.”

“Yes, I know.” Ava didn’t tell him she actually was three for three.

“At the museum, I asked one of the curators about women who had lived here back then, and there were some Angelines. There was one woman who I thought might have been someone he met, maybe even someone Grandpa Jack cared about.” She opened her satchel. “I have a photo—”

“I don’t think it was a romance.”

She glanced back up at him. “Excuse me?”

Dennis ran his fingers through his hair. “I, uh, I can’t believe no one’s told you.”

Ava’s stomach clenched. The wind blew again, but this time it caused goose bumps to rise on her arms. “What are you talking about?”

“Years ago, I overheard a conversation between our grandpas.”

“Was it about Angeline?”

“No. Well, maybe. I can’t be sure. They were talking about a girl.”

“A girl?”

“Your grandpa was crying, and he said he thought of her every day and wondered how she was. My grandpa was demanding they travel here—back to Bastogne—to find her. He offered to pay, but your grandfather refused. Grandpa Jack said he had to focus on his family and not chase ghosts of the past.”

Ava’s knees softened.
A girl. He was looking for a girl. Could it have been the one who disappeared or
—She reached for the wall, needing something strong to hold on to. Dennis grabbed her arm, steadying her.

“Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at the window. Her wide-eyed expression reflected back. Then she dared to ask the question she hadn’t wanted to consider. “Do you think my grandpa has a child over here? Maybe the baby’s name is Angeline.” She looked at Dennis, her gaze most likely pleading with him to come up with a better answer.

“That’s what I assumed, but it was years ago. Maybe I’m not remembering correctly.”

“What if you are? What if my grandpa met someone and this woman had a baby? It happened a lot during the war. I just never figured it would happen to my grandpa. No wonder he doesn’t want to talk about it. He basically abandoned his child. And her mother.”

“It was a different world back then. It’s not like he could have just hopped a plane and returned at the end of the war. And he couldn’t just Google her name in nineteen forty-six.”

“What should we do about it?” Ava looked around, taking in the town. The flat-topped, narrow buildings of various heights reminded her of scenes from
Mary Poppins
. The large square in the center of the town was lined with trees and filled in with parking lots. She tried to imagine a relative growing up in a place like this.

“What do you mean what should we do?” Dennis’s gaze narrowed.

“How amazing would that be to find her—to find Angeline.”

“That’s not for you to decide. He wanted to come to Bastogne. Now we’re here. If your grandpa wants to find her, it’s up to him.”

“You think I should drop it? Just like that?”

“Yes, Ava. As much as you’re trying to make it your trip, it’s about him.”

Movement caught her eye, and Ava turned to see her grandpa and Grand-Paul exiting the museum—supporting each other—and she swallowed hard.

“Shouldn’t I at least ask? She could be here,” she whispered.

“It’s not your choice, Ava.”

Both men looked sober as they approached. Ava looked at Dennis, as if wondering what to say, what to do.

“It’s been a long, hard morning. Lots to take in.” Dennis took his grandfather’s arm. “Why don’t we get some lunch?”

“Yes, that’s a good idea.” Her mind couldn’t comprehend that perhaps her grandfather could have another child. Ava glanced at a couple coming toward them down the street. The woman’s hair was blond like hers. Could she really have cousins here?

Chapter Fifteen

For the second night in a row, Ava found herself at the table in the corner with her video camera set up and the waitress as her audience. This time, all three guys joined her. In addition to her script about the Battle of the Bulge and the coldest winter in fifty years, she had something else she needed to ask. Something that could put her back on shaky ground with her grandfather. She should be thankful he was willing to be videotaped at all, but she also needed to add another element to these videos, because what she had now wasn’t going to be strong enough.

“Grandpa, can I talk to you alone for a minute?” She pointed to the patio outside.

“Sure.” He rose with slow movements. His hand trembled more than it had any other time on this trip, and she told herself he was tired from their travels.

They walked out into the cool air, and her eyes focused on his cowboy boots. “I know you didn’t intend for me to find those letters, and I’m sorry. I should have asked. I—I just haven’t been handling things as I should on this trip.”

She was afraid to look at him. Afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes. “But the truth is, I’m going to need more for this video.” She paused, thinking of how to say it. How to tell him there was nothing heart-tugging about what they shared today. “Could we do more taping? Maybe if you could share a few personal stories?” Her finger followed the grain on the wood of the patio deck. “Or, if you thought there was a letter that was meaningful…” She let her voice trail off and waited for her grandfather to respond, but the only sound was Paul and Dennis’s laughter coming from the dining room. Their laughter didn’t help the tension building within Ava. She recalled Dennis’s words.
Would you walk away if he asked you to?
Her heart ached, knowing he had asked—not directly, but by his rebuff—and now she was wanting even more from him.

Finally, she dared to lift her head, looking into his face. The single light on the patio did little to penetrate the darkness. Yet, even though the night was dim, the rays from the moon lit her grandfather’s worried gaze.

He shrugged. “The letters aren’t any good. I was no Ernie Pyle or Ernest Hemingway.”

“I know you don’t think they’re very good. But they’ll give viewers an inside look at your experiences—a glimpse into your heart.” She noticed he didn’t offer to share any stories. Maybe sharing the letters seemed the less threatening of the options.

“If you think people are interested, I can pick out a few. There are others…well…I’ll pick the ones you can look at.”

Pain shot through Ava’s heart. What could be so horrible that he would keep it from her? She was his granddaughter, and before last year’s incident, they’d had a close relationship. She attempted to look into his eyes—to get a glimpse of what was going on in his mind, but he quickly looked away. It made her want to read the other letters even more.

“I understand there are some you don’t want me to read.” She swallowed her emotion. “And I’m okay with that. If there are some I could look at, well…I’m sure I can find something interesting. I think our viewers will enjoy the fact they’re from World War II.”

He nodded and turned back to the doorway leading inside. His shoulders slumped. It was as if he had gotten tired of fighting and was choosing the path of least resistance.

“I was thinking maybe you could read the letters for the camera.” The words spilled out, and she hoped she wasn’t pushing too far.

He tilted his head, unsure.

“Don’t worry about the camera. I’m just using the voice track.” She stepped forward and hurried to his side. “I won’t even set the focus on your handsome mug if it makes you feel better.” She offered a soft laugh, hoping he couldn’t sense how hurt she was that he didn’t trust her with the truth of what was in the rest of those letters.

Her grandfather nodded. “Do I have a choice?”

“Of course, Grandpa.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

He thought about it for a moment. “Fine. I do know how to read,” he said, and then instead of returning to the dining room where Paul and Dennis sat, he went through the other door into the lobby. Ava assumed he was going to the room to get some letters, and she hoped there would be something she could use for the video. Ten minutes later, he returned with a half-dozen letters.

It took a few minutes for Ava to go through the letters, picking her favorite parts. There was nothing spectacular, but she could work with them. She got the camera set up and without putting up a fuss, her grandfather sat down—much to the amazement of Grand-Paul and Dennis.

“Okay, good. We’re all set.” She glanced up at him and then pushed the button on her remote. “Go ahead and start.”

Grandpa Jack glanced over the sections she’d put sticky notes on.

“So these are the interesting parts?” Grandpa Jack shook his head.

“I think so.”

“Here goes nothing.” Grandpa Jack readjusted his glasses on his nose. He didn’t seem excited, but at least he wasn’t fighting her. Her grandpa cleared his throat and began.

“‘December 19, 1944. Dear Mom and Dad, I got my baptism of rain and mud, sleeping outside for the last few nights. As I laid in my pup tent, I heard your voice, Mom: “Jackson, you’re going to catch your death of cold.” I haven’t got even a sniffle yet. We bivouacked in a quagmire of mud and water. Four of us pitch our tents together, Paul, Henry, David, and I.

“‘I haven’t washed in a week. Another week might pass before I can. I’ve always wanted to try growing a beard. Now’s my chance. Love, Jack.’”

Grandpa Jack set the letter on the table, and then he looked at the next one. He cleared his throat and then started.

“‘December 24, 1944. Dear Mom and Dad, There’s going to be a Christmas service tonight here. Not that I know where “here” is. We’ve been on the move quite a bit. It’s hard to believe in Christmas over here. It’s sometimes hard to believe in the Christ child too. Even my memories of home seem like a made-up story.

“‘The other day we rolled through the city of Reims, in France. It was amusing to see people walking through the streets with long, thin loaves of bread. I thought they were baseball bats at first. The women of France are lookers. They really know how to use makeup and fix their hair. The buildings all around them may be crumbled down, but the ladies are fixed up. My buddy Paul says he likes it that way. He says ladies are more interesting to look at than buildings anyways.’”

Grand-Paul gave a low chuckle, and Ava glanced his direction. Dennis appeared equally amused.

“‘More than anything, I wished we could have gone to Paris so I could climb the steps to the top of the Eiffel Tower,’” Grandpa Jack continued. “‘General Patton said it was impossible to make a tourist stop. We were needed in Belgium.

“‘That’s where we are—somewhere in Belgium. Over the last few days we went through a lot of towns, and the destruction of war was clear. In some villages there wasn’t a house intact. There are many German vehicles wrecked on the sides of the roads, and some of ours.

“‘I know you worry, Mother, but don’t worry too much yet. I’m a little cold and a little hungry, but otherwise in great shape. Keep praying and maybe God will listen to you. It will be a good thing if He does. Love, Jack.’”

“It doesn’t work.” Grand-Paul lifted his chin. “Jackson’s voice sounds too old. The letters were written by a young man.”

“I know, but the viewers will understand. They know that he’s…” Then Ava paused as a new idea filled her head. She turned to Dennis. “You.” She pointed.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the tabletop. “What are you talking about?”

“I think you should be the one to read the letters.” She rose and removed her sweater and placed it on the back of the chair. Excitement caused the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. For the first time that day a smile bubbled out from inside.

“Yes, that’ll work!” Grand-Paul gripped Dennis’s shoulder.

“What is this, video by committee?” Dennis shook his head, and he didn’t seem amused.

“No, really. We should try.” Grand-Paul scooted the letters across the table to Dennis.

“Grandpa, are you okay with it?” Ava searched his face for any sign of disappointment.

His smile brightened. “Fine by me. Maybe Dennis will breathe some life into those old words.”

Ava turned the camera and focused in on Dennis. He glanced up at her and then let out a sigh.

“Ready?”

“Well, ma’am, don’t really think I have a choice, do I?” He winked and then held them up to read. It surprised her, first his going along and then his playful attitude. What had changed?

He looked over the letters at her, and her stomach grew warm, as if she’d just downed a hot cup of coffee. She studied his face and was reminded again how handsome he was. She also wondered why she’d been so adamant about following her own plans so long ago. How could she have turned her back on him?