It was later explained that the dirty marks came from the mother rubbing the daughter’s face with the burned end of a wine cork. It was a strategy to make her less attractive to the male soldiers who had invaded their home.
This tactic had been around as long as there had been pretty daughters and invading armies. The girl didn’t have a mirror, so the mother took the cloth and dabbed at a few spots that her daughter had missed.
Although she had been pretty enough to start with, the girl’s freshly scrubbed face now looked radiant in the firelight and candlelight, bringing a flush to her cheeks. One person who noticed the transformation was definitely Lieutenant Rupert, who stared as if transfixed. The girl saw him staring and blushed.
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.
“I reminded her that love is life,” the German explained. “I have seen so many young men dead before their time in this war. Young women as well. Why not let the lieutenant and the girl have a few minutes to themselves?”
Another five minutes went by before the couple returned, carrying armloads of wood. Both looked rather flushed, Cole thought.
“I reckon someone’s been dancin’ the blanket hornpipe,” Cole said quietly to Vaccaro.
“You and your hillbilly sayings. Back home we call it playing hide the sausage.”
“Whatever you call it, they were doing it, though they really weren’t gone that long. Lieutenant Rupert must be quick as a jackrabbit.”
“Rupert is a lucky bastard,” Vaccaro said.
“No argument from me.”
More logs were put on the fire, and Rupert expertly banked the coals for the night. Not long after that, the women left to go upstairs to bed. First, Madame Jouret took a few of the coals and put them into an old-fashioned bed warmer to help heat the cold bed upstairs. Not even Cole had seen anything like that in years.
Finally, Madame Jouret asked for her shotgun back. Cole thought it over and then agreed. He supposed that the lady of the house had a right to feel as if she could defend herself.
Once the women had gone, Cole told Bauer to hold out his hands.
The German sighed. “Are you really going to tie me up again?”
“I don’t want you to steal my rifle and shoot me during the night,” Cole said. “Or hit me over the head with a chunk of firewood.”
“Do you really think I would shoot you?”
“I would sure as hell shoot you if I had to. Now put out your hands,” Cole ordered. “Or I can hog-tie you if you prefer.”
Bauer did as he was told, and Cole once again tied him up. If the German thought this business of being tied up was getting old, then so did Cole. He was tired of feeling like a nursemaid to their prisoner. He hoped that they would be able to drop Herr Barnstormer at HQ tomorrow and be done with him. The German would be someone else’s problem.