Just Another Girl on the Road

by S. Kensington

  “He cares for you a great deal.”

  She shifted restlessly on the hard wood. “We’ve only just met. Maybe he likes sleeping with me.”

  “I think it’s a bit more than that for him. Is that all it is for you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is he just someone to sleep with.”

  “Why should you worry about Wolfe and me?”

  He took a deep breath. “Like I’ve said, he’s a good man. I don’t want to see him hurt. You can be a bit reckless with other people’s feelings.”

  “Feelings? Those feelings come with rules, Wills. Do you think I am this way to be cruel?” Her words tumbled out in frustration. “Listen to yourself—so sanctimonious, so righteous. Yes, I want love. Everyone tells you how wonderful love is, but they never tell you what you must give up.”

  “You can explain yourself quite well. But how would you feel if Farr behaved as you do?”

  “He has every right to. Don’t you see? If he truly loves me like he says he does, he would come back.”

  “Like your mother and Amparo.”

  “Yes. They understood one another. If Wolfe loves me, no one could ever take my place in his heart. And if he found someone else, well, maybe he wasn’t so much in love after all. Or maybe it just changed, dried up, or died. I can’t explain it clearly. All I know is that your idea of love is as wrong to me as my idea is to you.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “You know I do. But I love him, knowing that I will probably lose him. Someday, he’ll give up trying to change me and leave. But I’ll go on loving him until the day I die.”

  He spoke more sharply than he intended. “Then act like it, Katrinka; that’s all I’m saying.”

  “Act like it? I don’t have to act, Wills. It is there in my eyes for the whole world to see. It is in the way I talk to him, smile at him, and make love to him.” She paused. “You are such the hypocrite. You think a woman should pledge fidelity to a man just because he sleeps with her. I don’t think you were looking for fidelity when you slept with my mother!”

  He recoiled. “How did you know that?”

  “I didn’t.”

  He caught his breath.

  “So, it is true.”

  “Sweet Jesus.”

  “Is it true?”

  Nye was quiet for some moments, staring out into the darkening field. A distant planet glimmered above the horizon, like a small diamond. There was the smell of rain in the air.

  His thoughts shifted back to a night in Almeria. Yujana had found the letters. She and Amparo were not speaking to one another, and she was spending nights with Emerson. The drinking and arguments had started early, and by evening there had been an explosive confrontation. Weapons were drawn. Yujana stood between the two men, her arms outstretched with a knife in each hand. She shouted to them, hurling out a challenge that made both men blush. Then she’d turned and gone down into the cabin. Emerson was the first to drop his knife arm, then Amparo. Both men retreated, following her. A few nights later, she’d appeared in his cabin. She hadn’t been wearing anything at all. He was a virgin then, just seventeen years old.

  He looked down at Katrinka’s intent face. Finally, he spoke. “Yes, it’s true.”

  “How—”

  “She was wild after the confrontation with your father. It was like the ship couldn’t contain her. She came to my cabin one night. She’d always known how I felt about her. I was young. I suppose I didn’t hide my feelings well. We made love. It was just that once. We never spoke of it again.”

  “I’m not condemning you.”

  “But it was different between us—”

  “No!” she stormed. “I will not let you say that. You lusted after her, you wanted her, and you got her. And she wanted you.”

  His voice was cold. “Katrinka, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to dictate to you how you should live your life. I only know how men are, right or wrongly.”

  “Maybe Wolfe is different. Maybe he’ll accept me the way I am.”

  Nye’s mouth turned down as he stepped away. “I shouldn’t depend on it.”

  * * *

  A few nights later, Katrinka sought Farr out. He’d just come back from the village and entered the darkened hut to see her sitting on his bedroll.

  “Hi.” Her smile was strained.

  “Hey,” he replied.

  “May I speak with you?”

  He stood before her, hands shoved into his pockets. “Sure. What about.”

  “I didn’t get it right the other day.”

  He sat down next to her, their shoulders touching. “Didn’t get what right.”

  “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “OK.” He was trembling.

  “I want to make it work between us. Give me time, Wolfe. That’s all I’m asking. Give me time to learn how to make this all work.”

  He pulled her into his lap. “C’mere, baby, I’ll teach you.”

  Katrinka pushed him away. “No, Wolfe. Stop!”

  He drew back, startled. “Trink? What’s wrong?”

  “You don’t listen. You’re not listening to me.”

  He dropped his arms, speaking quietly, “OK. I’m listening now.”

  “You know I love you, but you want a wife who will stay home and have your children. I’m not ready for that. I—I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that. There are so many things I want to do.”

  His voice was rough. “Are they more important than having a home, a family together?”

  She raised her head. If it had to end here, then it would end. Her heart would collapse into a pile of dust, and she would give up on men entirely. Before they broke her.

  “Yes.”

  Farr dropped his eyes. He stared at his hands.

  There was a long silence. Katrinka watched, waiting. Moonlight came through the open door, turning his hair into strands of silver. She wondered how she would ever be able to go on without him. Without his love. She should get up and walk out, while she could still move. It seemed forever before he spoke.

  He raised his head, his gray eyes staring at her in the dim light. “So that’s the way it is?”

  She forced herself to reply. “That’s the way it is. I can’t lead you on with those expectations.”

  Farr was not an eloquent man. She could see him struggle for his next words.

  “OK, you’ve had your say. Now listen to me. I love you, and you love me. That’s enough for now. We’ll enjoy what we have here, right now.”

  “You mean it?”

  “I’ll be looking ahead all right, but I won’t badger you about it.”

  Katrinka flung her arms around his neck, pushing him back onto his bedroll. She climbed on top of him, rubbing her cheek against his rough skin, smelling his dusty sweat.

  “I love you, Wolfe. I love you so much.”

  His voice was muffled against her shoulder. “That’s all I wanted to hear, Trink.”

  Chapter 8

  France, 1944

  It was a sunny autumn day the following week, when Farr and Katrinka were returning to camp after retrieving broken radio equipment. Farr’s bike had sustained a puncture, and they were sharing hers. Katrinka perched on the crossbar in front of him, sitting sideways, inside the circle of his arms. Farr was in uniform. With the liberation of Trois Cloches and the surrounding villages, whatever Germans remained had gone into strongholds along the coast, or retreated to the battles in the north and east.

  With a light heart, he peddled through the swathes of sunlight. The smell of old trees and the closeness of her, filled the man with a deep sense of happiness, making him less cautious and alert than he should have been.

  “Want to just keep goin’?” His grin spread wide, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

  Katrinka turned
and smiled up at him, the wind lifting her hair. “Yes, please! Straight down through France and over the mountains to Spain.”

  He smiled again, listening to her chatter. The sunlight flashed and sparked on her hair, turning it the color of leaves.

  Farr saw the flash of wire a split second before they hit it. The bike buckled and twisted, throwing Katrinka into the road. He fell off the seat, skidding along the ground. Dazed, he scrambled to his feet, grabbing for his pistol and Katrinka’s hand.

  “Run!” he yelled, but it was too late. The bushes exploded, and a young man blocked their way, pointing his weapon at them.

  “Arrêtez! Drop your gun and place your hands on your head,” the young man commanded.

  They did as they were told. Farr eyed the boy. He was dressed in rough-looking blue trousers, and a stained shirt. He looked vaguely familiar.

  “What is it you want?” Farr asked in French.

  The boy approached with caution, stopping a pace or two away. “I want the one who killed my father.”

  “What?”

  “You do not recognize me then? I am Paul, the son of Bouchard. The man you murdered.” He turned on Katrinka. “Or perhaps it was you? It is like a woman to stab a man from behind. Or perhaps you are the collaborateur. One who fucks the Boche.”

  Flushing a deep red, Katrinka jerked out her knife, just as Farr lunged. Paul swung his rifle, hitting Farr in the face and knocking him to the ground. Farr swore, as blood spurted from his nose. The boy kicked him hard and then stood back, facing Katrinka.

  “Drop the knife or he dies now.”

  Katrinka dropped her knife.

  The boy turned back to Farr. “Get up.”

  Farr rose to his feet, and the boy patted him down with one hand. Finding a knife, he jammed it into his belt. He turned to Katrinka and searched her, keeping his eyes on them both.

  A thin trickle of blood coursed down Farr’s chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. “Paul, your father was an informant. He was killed.”

  The boy spat. “I know what he was.”

  “Then what the hell is—”

  “You stupid American. You do not know what it is like to have your country taken and your parents threatened. You come here and blow up the bridges with your plastique. You send messages to direct bombs. And for every act of terror you commit, another Frenchman dies.

  “The Germans came. They took my mother to a prison camp. They told my father to cooperate, or she would be tortured and killed. At first, he refused. A week later they brought photographs.”

  His voice was savage. “Shall I tell you what they did to her? A woman? My mother? My father asked what he should do. They said she would be safe if he cooperated.”

  He turned again to Katrinka. “Then you came, with your plastique. My father was stabbed in the back. They made me continue his job. Later, I was told my mother was dead. We were no longer needed.”

  There was a long silence, then Farr asked, “So, what do you intend to do?”

  “I took a vow. There would come a time for revenge. It is now.”

  Farr’s mind raced. “Think this out. If you kill us, they’ll come after you.”

  “There is already a price on my head. I am a dead man. Enough talk.”

  Swinging the rifle strap over his shoulder, Paul grabbed Katrinka from behind. He pulled his knife, resting the blade under her breast. He twisted her in front of him, to face Farr. “Shall I show you what they did to my mother?”

  Katrinka screamed, kicking him in the shin as Farr surged forward, slamming the boy to the ground. Paul thrust out his knife as he fell, stabbing Farr deeply in his side. Farr shouted in pain and grasped Paul’s knife hand. For a few moments, it seemed as if Paul would stab again, but Farr twisted the blade around and plunged it into the man’s stomach with a powerful downward thrust. The man stilled. A moment later, Farr collapsed on top of him.

  “Wolfe!” Katrinka struggled to her feet, watching in horror as blood gushed from the wound in his side.

  “Oh Wolfe!” She stumbled over to the bike, fumbling in his rucksack, and grabbed the small medical kit. Running back, she tore it open and poured sulfa onto his wound. She ripped off a strip of her under slip and wadded it tightly against his side.

  His eyes clouded in pain. “You must get help,” he gasped.

  “No, I won’t leave you.”

  He attempted to sit up. “Katrinka, listen to me. Get the bike—”

  “No,” she sobbed, clinging to him.

  “Trink, you’ve got to go for help.”

  He fell back onto the ground panting. More blood was seeping through the cloth. She fumbled with it, uselessly.

  “You must find help. Go. Please hurry.”

  She stood up. Retrieving her knife from the dead man, she ran to the bike. With a last despairing look back, she slung her knapsack over her shoulder, turned, and wheeled away.

  Katrinka hadn’t gone more than a kilometer down the road when she heard a roar of motors. She turned and saw a small convoy rolling toward her. Her heart pounded as she recognized the markings of the lead jeep. It was a mobile SAS patrol. Leaping from her bike, she ran into the road, waving her arms. The two soldiers in the lead jeep stopped, their expressions shocked.

  Following their gaze, Katrinka looked down at herself. She was covered in blood. Farr’s blood. She began to shake.

  The officer questioned in passable French. “What has occurred?”

  She gave a short version of what had happened, trying to control her trembling. “Please, please come. He may be dying.”

  The officer waved to the jeep behind. “Medic, go with this lass. She needs help.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The officer turned to his driver. “Sergeant Roland, you’d best go with them. We’ll meet up with you at the field hospital.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sergeant Roland and Katrinka joined the medic in the other jeep. Roland climbed into the driver’s seat, slammed the gears into reverse, and pulled a sharp U-turn.

  In a few minutes, she spotted Wolfe. He’d managed to drag himself to the side of the road. He was not moving. The medic and Katrinka jumped out, while Sergeant Roland went over to examine Paul’s body.

  Katrinka stood by as the medic frowned, sizing up the grim situation. Farr was barely conscious and bleeding heavily. He checked Farr’s pulse and wound, then reached into his medical kit. A few minutes later, he’d wrapped Farr’s side tightly with bandages and given him an injection.

  Her mouth could barely form the words. “Will he live?”

  “We have a French surgeon at the field hospital. We’ll take him there,” explained the medic.

  They got him into the back of the jeep, and Katrinka squatted on the floor beside him. Sergeant Roland had finished his inspection of the body and took a few papers from Paul’s pocket. He put them in his jacket and hauled himself into the driver’s seat.

  “Do you know who your attacker was?” he asked Katrinka.

  “He said he was Paul, the son of Bouchard, an informant in the village of Ange de Feu.”

  The man nodded. “We have been on his tail for quite a while. It was lucky we came upon you.” He frowned, looking down at her. “Have you anywhere to go, miss? We’ll take this man to our field hospital. It’s some kilometers down the road.”

  Katrinka gave a fleeting thought to Wills and Val back at their camp. “Please take me with you.”

  Sergeant Roland nodded, swinging the jeep around.

  “Wait,” she cried. Scrambling from her seat she ran to the bike, retrieving the radio parts from the handlebars, and jammed them into her pocket. Then she returned to the vehicle and her position on the floor, next to Wolfe.

  Roland trod on the accelerator and they hurtled down the road, with Katrinka sitting in the back, cradling Wolfe’
s head in her arms.

  * * *

  After the operation, the surgeon came into the small, partitioned waiting room where Katrinka was sitting. Farr had been lucky. He’d lost quite a bit of blood. They’d stopped the bleeding, searched for any internal damage, then stitched him up. He was fortunate that the knife had missed any major organs.

  Katrinka could not stop trembling. She gave her statement to the one they called Captain Burke, trying to remember everything she could. It seemed like a bad dream. Surely, she would wake from it.

  Burke closed his notebook and stood up. “What about you?”

  She faltered. “I’m not sure. I had a… a delivery to make. They must be wondering what has happened.”

  The officer nodded. You say you’re with Major Nye’s Team EDMOND? Over near Trois Cloches?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to send out a message to them as well as a brief of events. Spend tonight here. We can set up a cot for you, next to him. The partition will give you privacy. There is a small washroom down the hall for the nurses. You may use that. We’ll take you where you need to go tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Katrinka whispered.

  The doctor spoke up, “If he wakes for anything, you may give him water. Nothing else. He’ll need assistance to… the bedpan is under the cot.”

  “Of course. I will help him.”

  “Good girl. The nurse will bring in something for you later. We don’t have much, but it will be hot.”

  “Thank you,” Katrinka whispered again.

  Burke left, and Katrinka slipped down the narrow corridor to another partitioned area, that was Farr’s room.

  He was lying on a hospital cot, the entire left side of his body swathed in bandages. His eyes were closed, and his pale face dotted with beads of sweat. She carried a small folding stool from the corner to his bedside and sat down, reaching for his hand. She sat for a long time, watching as the sunlight faded from the room. Presently his eyes flickered and opened, slightly out of focus. They settled on her, widening.

  “Katrinka? Are you OK?” His voice was raspy.

  “Yes.”

  “Where am I?”