by Soren Petrek
Madeleine was peeling potatoes and enjoying the feel of the simple task that she had taken for granted day in and day out before the war. The smells of the kitchen and the lightness in her parent’s voices pushed the pain and memory of loss away. When she wasn’t basking in the joy of her return to life, she thought of Jack. The British were still fighting, and he was as British as they came. She had patience and from the letters she sent and received from John Trunce, she knew the war was coming to an end. She had managed to get a pair of wool socks to him, just in time for spring, his faithful return letter had lightheartedly told her. She smiled at the thought as she froze, slowly raising her eyes up to the window. My instincts never fail me, she thought, and then she saw Jack. He was impossibly tall, trim and fit. His dress uniform strained to hold in his wide shoulders and broad back.
“Mon dieu” she whispered to herself as the memories of his physical being rolled through her. She dropped her paring knife and sped past her parents, setting up place settings in the dining room. They cried out in alarm as she ran past and rushed into the street.
Teach saw Madeleine and swept her up into his arms. Madeleine grabbed the back of his head and pulled him to her mouth. Neither said a word as they urgently kissed, passion slowly giving way to tenderness.
“You have a priest in this town, Madeleine Toche?” Teach said the first to speak.
“Wherever he is, I am confident that you and I could find him, Jack Teach.”
“We had best find him right now, or I fear the honeymoon will start here in the street.”
Madeleine laughed and they embraced again. Jack whispered into her ear, “There are two people watching us from the doorway. Your parents, I hope.”
“Oh yes,” Madeleine said turning. “Jack Teach, these are my parents Jean-Pierre and Claire Toche.”
Jack walked forward and embraced them both. “You have a remarkable daughter. We plan to marry immediately.”
To Jean-Pierre’s surprise, Claire spoke first.
“Madeleine has told us so much about you. The church is this way.” Madeleine and her mother each took one of Jack’s arms as Jean-Pierre stopped only to duck back inside to collect the two servers that were on for the night.
“Madeleine is getting married. We need witnesses,” He said with glee, taking in their shocked expressions.
The little group stood in the coolness of the nave as the afternoon sun filtered in through the stained glass, filling the altar with a magical glow. Madeleine looked down and noticed a potato peeling stuck to her shoe and wished briefly for a chance to change into some clothing more befitting the day of her marriage. Jack insisted that he had waited long enough.
Madeleine looked at Jack and the joyous expressions on the faces of her parents. The three people she loved most in the world were together and happy. The joy she felt filled her completely, pushing deep inside the last vestiges of her anger and her hate, its power absolute and cleansing. The same way the venom of her anger and malice had permeated her being after Yves’ death and her rape, love burned it all away. She now understood why good triumphs over evil. Love cannot be denied.
Teach was looking into Madeleine’s eyes, feeling the glow radiate from them. He was beyond joy with the knowledge that the adventure of their life had only just begun.
After the brief ceremony the family sat around outside in the shade on the steps of the church.
“I must be getting back. We’ll have guests soon,” Jean-Pierre said.
“Anything I can do to help?” Teach asked.
“I knew he was a good man,” Jean-Pierre said, reaching up and clasping him on the shoulder.
“Where will you go for a honeymoon?” Claire asked. “We haven’t thought of that,” Madeleine said.
“I have,” Jack said. “Do you sail?”
“I was born on the water,” Madeleine said teasingly.
“It’s true, Jack,” Jean-Pierre said. We were out on the sea, hoping the rocking of the boat would move matters along, and out came Madeleine and Yves.”
“How about you, Jack?”
“Sail and plunder. Did you not catch the last name? One of my ancestors was a famous pirate. Perhaps you know him by his pirate name.”
“Mon dieu, it’s Blackbeard!” Jean-Pierre whistled.
“Righty-O matey! Blackbeard, Edward Teach, the scourge of the seven seas. Jack laughed slipping his hand around Madeleine as the others broke into laughter.
Madeleine winked at her mother “Toche women never marry boring men,” she said.
Author's Note:
The characters in this novel are largely fictitious, except for those of historical significance. The Das Reich Division of the SS perpetrated the massacre at Oradour sur Glane. The reasons behind the actions of the Nazis and their destruction of Oradour are clouded. There is no definitive answer. I chose to incorporate the theory put forth by Robin Mackness in his nonfiction book, “Massacre and Aftermath” (c) 1988, concerning a possible explanation. That information is referenced on an Ouradour sur Glane website, http:www.mikekemble.com/ww2/oradour.html Regardless of the reason behind their actions, the Nazi SS Das Reich Division perpetrated an unconscionable act upon the men, women and children of Oradour. It is my fervent hope that the punishment for their crimes is perpetual.
I would like to thank my friends, family and parents for their encouragement and support during the long process of bringing Cold Lonely Courage to print. I would like to specifically thank, Ben Oney, my first editor, for his help and direction and Judy Bridges, Redbird Studio, for her critique, and Annie Chase for her editing.
