The liberation of France could not have come soon enough. One morning's quiet had been interrupted by mortar fire in the distance, ever-increasing frequency and proximity errupted throughout the day and well into the night only to grow silent at last. The following daybreak, where Mama and I had huddled - within a small hillside shelter that was part of our family's lands. Before Mama had awakened I cautiously opened the door and sliped out to possibly find something for breakfast in the nearby wood. The air was heavy with smoke and I could see the Chateau of M. de Villiars having been reduced to nothing more than three stone spires that outstretched like the agonized fingers of a great slain giant in the distance.
I had no basket but clutched my shawl to me and tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. If by chance I found more than I could amply carry, I could tie my shawl to make a sack and get to our shelter.
That morning I could not believe my luck. I was able to bargain for a few eggs and a baggette and some cheese. I was just about to turn a corner around a wall when I ran nearly headlong into a group of soldiers. At first my heart panicked thinking I had run straight into the arms of the Nazis, but I noted their uniforms as being American. I ignored the gafaws and wolfcalls and went on my way, but it was hard to ignore the one that reached out to touch my hair, yanking so hard that I dropped my precious cargo with a yelp. I was about to let loose a stream of frustratoin at the offender when a hand grabbed the one that had grabbed me.
"Let her be," a voice of an officer ordered. His voice was decidedly not American.
I spun around to look at my rescuer and my eyes caught and held the bluest eyes I had ever seen other than those of my godfather, Hsu. I don't remember smiling at him, I think that I must have, for he had the most beautiful and magical smile. "I am sorry, Madamoiselle," he said in heavily accented French. He went on to offer to replace the food that had been spoiled, but in spite of all of his kindness, I politely refused. I returned to the shelter just in time to find my mother awake, fixing a bit of rolled oats that we had stored away. We wouldnt go hungry, but the fare was definitely disappointing in comparison to what had been lost at the roadside.
Later that night my mother responded to a knock at the door, a basket of eggs, a bagette, a round of cheese and many other things had been stuffed neatly within a large basket outside of our door. There was no note and no one in sight. We ate well but sparringly that night. I could not help but wonder if the officer that I had seen near the village had somehow found where Mama and I were.
As I was getting ready to turn in for the night, watching myself in the glass of the window pane as I shook out the curls of my hair, I thought I saw his face once again in the window - and th the light reflected a magical smile.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2008-05-16 10:26 pm (UTC)I had no basket but clutched my shawl to me and tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. If by chance I found more than I could amply carry, I could tie my shawl to make a sack and get to our shelter.
That morning I could not believe my luck. I was able to bargain for a few eggs and a baggette and some cheese. I was just about to turn a corner around a wall when I ran nearly headlong into a group of soldiers. At first my heart panicked thinking I had run straight into the arms of the Nazis, but I noted their uniforms as being American. I ignored the gafaws and wolfcalls and went on my way, but it was hard to ignore the one that reached out to touch my hair, yanking so hard that I dropped my precious cargo with a yelp. I was about to let loose a stream of frustratoin at the offender when a hand grabbed the one that had grabbed me.
"Let her be," a voice of an officer ordered. His voice was decidedly not American.
I spun around to look at my rescuer and my eyes caught and held the bluest eyes I had ever seen other than those of my godfather, Hsu. I don't remember smiling at him, I think that I must have, for he had the most beautiful and magical smile. "I am sorry, Madamoiselle," he said in heavily accented French. He went on to offer to replace the food that had been spoiled, but in spite of all of his kindness, I politely refused. I returned to the shelter just in time to find my mother awake, fixing a bit of rolled oats that we had stored away. We wouldnt go hungry, but the fare was definitely disappointing in comparison to what had been lost at the roadside.
Later that night my mother responded to a knock at the door, a basket of eggs, a bagette, a round of cheese and many other things had been stuffed neatly within a large basket outside of our door. There was no note and no one in sight. We ate well but sparringly that night. I could not help but wonder if the officer that I had seen near the village had somehow found where Mama and I were.
As I was getting ready to turn in for the night, watching myself in the glass of the window pane as I shook out the curls of my hair, I thought I saw his face once again in the window - and th the light reflected a magical smile.