Remembering You (23 page)

“Yes, it is.” She lifted the camera and looked into the viewfinder.

“It seems like we are the last ones.” He smiled slightly as she captured the shot.

Ava’s stomach fell, and her grip tightened on his camera. She glanced around, looking for Dennis. “No, we’re not the only ones. I’m with someone. He’s still around. In fact, he should be here any second.”

She snapped another shot and then held it out to the guy.

“I feel criminal having my photo taken here. It’s not a happy place. I mean, the music of Wagner was beautiful, but I canna think of it without considering Hitler.”

“I know what you mean. I had the same thought.” Her shoulders relaxed slightly, realizing he only wanted to talk.

They stood in silence for a few moments looking at the opera house. From the corner of her eye she noticed his hand cover his heart, as if overcome with emotion.

“I wish more had been done to stop Hitler sooner,” the man said.

She thought about telling him about her grandfather but changed her mind. Those stories seemed easy to share on video—to thousands of viewers—but not so easy to talk about one-on-one. She wouldn’t know where to start.

He turned, catching her looking at him, and smiled. “Will you be here long? In the area?”

“No, we’re heading out in the morning.”

“Do you have dinner plans? I—”

“Yes, she does, actually.”

Ava jumped at the voice. It was Dennis. She turned and her face grew warm. Though Dennis spoke to the man, his eyes were on her. “We have dinner reservations. Just the two of us.”

She felt his hand on the small of her back. She’d enjoyed their other dinner, but she didn’t know it would be repeated.
This must be the surprise.

“Someplace really nice too.” Dennis glanced at his watch. “And we should get going.”

The man looked from Dennis to her, as if hoping Ava would offer a different story.

“I do have plans, like my friend said. But it was nice to meet you.”

Dennis’s hand stayed on her back as they walked away. The guy stayed behind, snapping photos.

When they approached the car, Ava looked up into his face. “So where are we going to dinner?”

Dennis paused. “I had to find a way to get you out of there.”

“Excuse me?” Ava turned to him.

“You’re not in Kansas anymore, Ava.” His tone softened. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I don’t live in Kansas. I live in Seattle. I work downtown. I deal with people far scarier than that guy nearly every day.”

Dennis refused to meet her gaze. “That’s the problem. It’s the safe-looking guys you need to watch out for.”

Ava’s stomach knotted, and she imagined the waist belt being snapped over her lap as she prepared for the roller-coaster ride again. An older woman—hunched over with a scarf around her hair—walked past, toward the opera house. She looked at them curiously.

Ava didn’t know what to think. Mostly she was frustrated by the fact that he’d lied about dinner, and she was a little perturbed at the old guys for setting her up for a surprise that wasn’t going to happen.

He blow out a soft breath. “What if I
were
trying to rescue you?” Dennis’s voice faltered. He ran a hand through his short-cropped hair.

Ava tried to hide her smile. It wasn’t just that he’d admitted that, it was the sweet, shy way he said it. “You were?”

“You were standing sort of close, and it’s not the first time I rescued you. Remember Tom Stein when he was teaching you to foxtrot?”

Laughter burst from Ava’s lips. “Tom was like ninety years old!”

“Yes, but you never thanked me for cutting in.”

In the graying sky above, the sun was starting to dip behind the horizon. A cold breeze picked up, and Ava pulled her arms tight to her.

“Your mom sent my grandpa a copy of that video. She caught it on tape. Tom was not letting you leave the dance floor, and you were relieved when I cut in. I must have watched it over fifty times.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what you do when it’s the only video you have of the girl you always thought you’d marry.”

The smile on her face faded. “What?”

He stepped back from her and walked around to the car. “Never mind. Forget it.”

“You can’t do that.” She waited for him to unlock the car, and then she got inside. “You can’t just say something like that without clarifying it.”

“This really isn’t the best time to talk about it, Ava. Not when you’re angry.”

Ava took in a deep breath and then released it slowly. The headache that had been building all day now pounded, knocking at her temples with force. She placed two fingers to her forehead. “You know, you’re right. This isn’t the best time to talk about it. Besides, what does it matter now?”

“You’re right. It doesn’t matter.” Dennis looked away. “I don’t know why I thought it would.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

When they got back to the hotel, they discovered the grandpas had found a place for dinner.

“We went for a walk and saw a nice restaurant down the street. Are you ready?” Grand-Paul asked.

Dennis looked to Ava. “Is that okay?” His voice was tight. “We wouldn’t want you to miss a deadline.” It was more of an accusation than a statement.

She forced a grin. “There’s more to life than work, right?” She looked at Dennis to see his response. He didn’t give her a chance to gauge his reaction; instead he walked to the door.

It was only a short walk down the block to a large structure that looked like an old hunting lodge. The lights were low when they entered, and laughter met them as they stepped inside. Ava felt as if she’d stepped into a medieval hunting lodge, with animal mounts, heavy wooden tables, and buxom waitresses in peasant blouses carrying large trays.

A waiter noticed them enter and approached. “
Ja
, my friends are back. Come, I have saved the best table for you.” The waiter hurried forward with quick steps and led them to a large round table in the center of the room. Ava wasn’t surprised to see that other people were already sitting there.

Grand-Paul sat first, taking the seat closer to an older gentleman. Two other German men were seated next to the older man. Paul sat next to them, then Ava, then Grandpa Jack. There were two empty chairs between Grandpa Jack and the Germans, and Ava wondered if those seats would also be filled. Ava’s chest was tense as she sat. Whether she turned to her left or her right she’d need to figure out how to hide her true emotions.

The chairs were thick, heavy, and wood. And tall too. Her toes barely touched the floor. It took an extra boost from the waiter for Ava to push in her seat.

“You Americans?” The elderly man sitting next to Grand-Paul asked. He was hard to hear over the noise of the other diners in the room, and Ava leaned closer to Dennis so she could hear him better.

“Yes, have you been to the States?” Grand-Paul asked.

“Many times. My son lives there. He marries American woman. I visit winters in Florida.”

They talked for a while about Florida, the sun, and long plane rides, and then Ava noticed the man’s gaze focus across the table at Grandpa Jack’s hat.

“What part you fight here?” the German asked.

Ava waited, but her grandfather didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at her with a furrowed brow. “What did he say?” Grandpa Jack asked.

“He wanted to know where you fought in the war. He saw your hat.”

Grandpa Jack locked eyes with the man. He leaned forward and spoke loudly. “In the Bulge, near Bastogne. Was the coldest winter I ever faced.”

“Yes, ja
,
” the German man answered. “De tanks.” The man’s eyes narrowed slightly as if he was remembering something. His lips pressed together, and he nodded. “I was there too.”

Ava’s fork paused midway to her mouth.

Grandpa Jack didn’t seem surprised. He looked at Paul, and Paul turned, meeting his gaze. What emotions were going through them? She studied her grandfather’s face—curiosity, sadness, a hint of shame. Then they both looked at the man with worry. Was he angry at them? Would he make a big deal out of this?

The man’s face relaxed and he smiled. “I hope you enjoy Germany more dis trip.”

“I would say so.” Grandpa Jack chuckled. “Better food. Better accommodations.”

The German laughed, and Grandpa Jack and Grand-Paul joined in.

For the rest of the dinner they talked about the winter weather of ’45, tanks, and the horrible food they had lived on. Dennis joined in, asking questions about German airplanes, but Ava remained silent, listening, amazed. It seemed strange they were able to talk like this. This morning, before they headed out, Grandpa Jack and Grand-Paul had told her a few stories about the concentration camps. She saw the monuments that listed American losses. She knew without a doubt that if they’d faced each other in the war they wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot. Guilt pinpricked her heart.

Ava glanced first at Grandpa Jack and then at Dennis. Neither had set out to hurt her. Neither could be considered her enemy, still she held tightly to their faults.

She thought about how stressful it was trying to do everything right, make everyone happy, keep the show—and her life—on schedule. She got exhausted trying to keep up. Now, she was placing the same unrealistic expectations on those she cared about. Her hands played with the napkin on her lap, and the discomfort from a moment before faded.

If old enemies can forgive, how could I do any less?

She placed a hand on Dennis’s arm. Feeling the touch, he glanced at her, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“These are my brothers,” the older German man continued, pointing to the men sitting with him. “They did not fight in war. Hitler Youth. Their hatred is greater. Never come to America.”

Ava thought it was a strange thing for the man to say. She didn’t know much about Hitler Youth, but she didn’t understand how they could have more hatred than those who actually fought on the battlefield. Perhaps on the battlefield your own humanity helped you to understand the enemy better?

She studied the German brothers as they ate, and the more she watched them, the more she felt their tension over sharing a table with Americans. The two men’s gazes were on their plates. They ate quickly without talking, without emotion.

After dinner everyone was too full for dessert, so the waiter brought the two groups the check. Ava paid for her and her grandfather with her credit card, tucking the receipt inside her purse, reminding herself she needed to make sure to separate the expenses.

“Your son and his wife?” the German man asked Grand-Paul, pointing to Dennis and Ava.

“I’m his grandson,” Dennis answered for his grandfather. Dennis wiped his face with his napkin and then leaned forward, resting his forearm on the table. “And this beautiful woman is Jack’s granddaughter.” He gestured toward Jack. “She’s a friend, not my wife. Although…”

Ava ribbed him. “It’s not fair bringing that up here.” She wiped her face with her cloth napkin to hide her grin. “Especially since you said we had to wait to talk about it.”

Ava couldn’t help but notice Grand-Paul’s face light up. “Yes, well now, there’s a good topic to talk about,” he said as he rose.

As they walked back to the hotel, Grand-Paul and Dennis walked in front, and Ava stayed back with her grandfather. She was surprised by the number of people on the streets, but her mind was still on the dinner, or rather their company. From the look on his face, Ava could tell her grandfather was thinking about it too.

“How did you feel about our dinner companion?” she asked. “Was it hard, sharing a table with someone, you know—someone you likely fought at the Bulge? Or maybe even Chenogne?”

At the mention of that name, something flashed in his eyes. Sadness? Or maybe regret?

“The German wasn’t at Chenogne.” Grandpa Jack’s jaw twitched. “Is that what you have questions about, Ava? About the POWs?”

“How did you know I knew?”

Grandpa Jack paused, looking at her. Then he lowered his gaze in sadness. “Sweetheart, I can see it in your eyes.”

Ava bit her lip and realized that the secret was out—or at least
that
secret.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said, taking his arm and leading him. “If you ever are.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

The moonlight gave the room a soft glow. There were only a few more nights until she was back at home, in her own apartment, and in her own life.

Her life seemed so far away. It was amazing how quickly this had become the norm—living out of a suitcase, sharing a room with her grandfather, waking to the sounds of a different world filtering through the window, listening to stories, trying to capture the most meaningful parts in video, spending time with Dennis.

She slid underneath the down comforter and let her head rest on the soft pillow. She should get some bedding like this when she returned home.

Ava felt sad as she considered her life going back to normal. She wondered if Dennis would write or visit. She wondered if they’d ever get around to talking about his hopes that he’d marry her someday. She turned to her side and pressed her fingers to her temple. He’d lied about the surprise—about going someplace special. His mind changed with his moods. It was better, she decided, not to trust Dennis. She could forgive him concerning everything in the past, but she would be cautious about the future.

Ava also wished she’d hear more from Jill. Jill never did let her know if that second contact had any information. Even though it had only been a day, she’d hoped to hear something. Maybe she could just face the fact that most likely nothing would come out of their wild-goose chase. Her grandfather’s experience with Angeline had happened over a half century ago. The world had been in an upheaval during the war and afterward. Families had lost touch. Some never went home or went back to the place where there were so many memories.

Maybe, even if they didn’t find the girl, Ava could tell the story in a follow-up video. Just knowing that her grandpa remembered and cared all these years was a wonderful story in itself. Then again, she couldn’t tell the story without relating that he’d been the one who’d fired the shots and that an innocent woman had died. Her stomach ached thinking of it.