Drowsiness overtook her as blood loss became more acute. She found herself remembering, in a state of pleasant lassitude, her time with Becker. She saw him during his first visit to the library, so stiff and proper, yet smiling at her in a way that gave her hope he might return. And then when he did there was his invitation to dinner and the revelation of the man inside the German uniform. All over now, she thought, all gone. And soon I will be too.
Her eyes closed and she drifted into unconsciousness.
* * *
Laura waited until ten o’clock before she decided that Lysette had forgotten their meeting. There was nothing to do at the school with the summer session ending, and little to do in Bar-le-Duc except watch soldiers loading trucks, so she decided to take her bike back to Fains and see what had kept Lysette. Oversleeping, no doubt. It was a fine day for cycling and Laura noted the profusion of vehicle traffic she passed. It was all German and it was all going the right way—out of town.
Laura turned down the lane to Lysette’s cottage, which was quiet. Laura stood her bike against the garden wall and knocked at the door. There was no answer, and she pushed the door open just a little to see inside.
Laura gasped and grabbed the doorjamb, stunned into weakness at the sight. Lysette was sprawled on the sofa, her hands submerged in small pools of blood, her pallor contrasting vividly with the river of life flowing from her veins. The sweetish, sickly smell in the tiny house was overpowering.
Laura dashed to Lysette’s side and ignored her gory wrists to search for a pulse at the base of her throat. It was there, faint but discernible. Lysette was still alive.
Laura bolted from the cottage and dashed for the main road she had just left, dodging obstacles and vaulting hedges like an Olympic hurdler. She didn’t have time to wonder why Lysette had planned to kill herself. She was too busy trying to save her.
Laura ran into the path of a German staff car in the slow procession heading out of Bar-le-Duc. She brought it to a halt, her hands flat against the front fender. All the vehicles behind it ground to a stop. The lieutenant at the wheel started barking at her in German and she replied in the same language.
“Please!” she said, raising her voice over his. “This is an emergency. My friend is hurt and needs to get to the hospital. Can you take her?”
The officer eyed her warily, obviously suspecting a partisan ploy. Ruses of this kind were a part of the Résistance repertoire.
“I beg of you, this is not a trick,” Laura pleaded, feeling like the boy who cried wolf. “I’m alone. She may be dying. She’s in a cottage just a few doors from here and she needs help right now. Won’t you please come and get her?”
The officer obviously decided that she looked harmless enough and curtly ordered two of his men in the rear of the car to go with Laura. She began to run back the way she had come and they followed, weapons at the ready, while the car waited for them on the road.
Once they saw the scene inside the house they knew Laura had been telling the truth. The younger man, a corporal, gave his gun to his comrade and slung Lysette over his shoulder in a body carry, trotting out of the house with her. Laura and the other soldier trailed behind, reaching the car as the corporal set Lysette’s limp form on the back seat.
“What is this?” the lieutenant said to Laura as he caught sight of Lysette’s wounds. “This woman was not in an accident. You didn’t tell me it was an attempted suicide.”
“Does that make a difference?” Laura replied. “She still needs help. Will you take her to the hospital?”
The lieutenant thought a moment and then said, “Get in.”
Laura climbed into the back seat with Lysette and the soldier who had carried her. The officer told the other man to get in the truck behind them and explain the situation. Then he yanked on the wheel and pulled out of the file of vehicles, turning back for Bar-le-Duc.
It was a fast ride as they sped to the hospital, passing the outgoing traffic all the way. Once there Laura directed the lieutenant to the emergency entrance, where Lysette was put on a stretcher and taken inside for immediate treatment.
“Thank you,” Laura said as she got out of the car. “You may have saved her life.”
The lieutenant’s frosty gray eyes examined her. “Perhaps your last memory of my country’s occupation force will be a charitable one,” he said briefly, shifting the car into reverse.
“Perhaps,” she agreed.
“Auf Wiedersehen, Fräulein,” he said.
“Goodbye, lieutenant,” she replied, and smiled at the corporal in farewell.
The officer backed out of the ambulance bay and turned left for the road.
Laura hurried inside to the emergency room where she was pushed aside by an orderly and told to wait. Lysette was not to be seen. Laura rushed around frantically, asking questions but making little progress. She finally determined that Lysette was being treated behind one of the folding screens which sectioned off the receiving area, but the available staff were all working on her and too busy for comment. She decided on a more direct approach and went in search of Brigitte.
She noticed as she passed through the lobby that it was much changed. The red Nazi banner had been taken down, the German signs were gone, and the armed guards which had flanked the entrance constantly had disappeared. Everywhere the signs of the German departure were evident. The remaining soldiers were few in number and obviously a cleanup crew, and the door of Becker’s office stood open, his files and papers transferred to boxes on the floor.
Brigitte was on a surgical ward and gestured for Laura to wait when she saw her standing by the nurse’s station. She finished talking to another nurse and then came over to Laura.
“Well, hello,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see you here in the middle of my shift.”
“I just brought Lysette Remy in to the emergency room,” Laura said without preliminary.
Brigitte’s eyes widened. “Was she in an accident?”
Laura shook her head. “No. She tried to kill herself.”
Brigitte stared. Then, after a moment, “How?”
“She slit her wrists.”
Brigitte winced. “My God. Why?”
“I don’t know. That’s almost the worst part of it. I don’t even know. And now they won’t tell me anything down in the emergency room and I’m just about frantic.”
Brigitte held up her hand. “I’ll call. Just wait a minute. I’ll get them on the phone and find out what’s going on, all right?”
Laura nodded. “Thank you.”
Laura paced while Brigitte made the call on the inter-office telephone at the nurse’s station. When she replaced the receiver on its stand Laura was already hovering, waiting for the report.
“Well?” she said.
Brigitte sighed. “She’s alive.”
“Thank God,” Laura breathed.
“But just barely. She’s being transfused with whole blood and the next few hours should tell the story.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means it might already be too late. The cells can only survive a certain amount of time without oxygen, nourishment, and she was partially exsanguinated when you found her.”
“Exsanguinated? What the hell is that?”
“Bled out. Blood is mostly water and iron and a few chemicals, and the dehydration that sets in can’t be reversed past a certain point. The electrolyte balance...”
“Please, Brigitte, no biology lectures now,” Laura said irritably. “From what they told you do you think she’s going to make it, or not?”
“I can’t say,” Brigitte replied maddeningly. “We’ll have to wait and see.”
“You’ve been hanging around doctors so long you’re starting to sound like them,” Laura observed nastily.
Brigitte put her hand on Laura’s shoulder. “Why don’t you come over here and sit down?” she said, steering her toward the staff lounge.
Laura shrugged her off. “I don’t need to sit down. I need to
see Lysette. I’m going back to the emergency room.”
“Don’t make a nuisance of yourself there, Laura. You won’t be helping her that way.”
Laura exhaled sharply and pushed her hair back from her face. “Brigitte, I’m sorry. I do appreciate your calling for me and I promise I’ll behave. It’s just that this has been such a shock. I never guessed she was so unhappy; in fact, she seemed just the opposite the last couple of years. Quiet as always, but content. I can’t understand this.”
Brigitte shrugged. “Who really knows what’s going on in another person’s mind?” she asked softly.
Laura nodded slowly, lost in thought. Then looked around her alertly, as if coming back to reality. “Thanks again,” she said. “I’ll be in touch.” She hurried off down the corridor as Brigitte looked after her.
An hour later Kurt Hesse found an excuse to visit Brigitte’s ward as she was taking lunch alone. He slipped into the lounge and said, embracing her quickly, “What’s the matter with your sister-in-law? I just saw her in the hall and she looked terrible.”
“Oh, a friend of hers was brought into the emergency room this morning. She tried to kill herself and Laura found her.”
“Jesus,” Hesse said. “Is she all right?”
“It’s touch and go right now. Laura was pretty upset. They worked together a long while at the school and she’s fond of her.”
“At the school?” Hesse said sharply.
“Yes,” Brigitte said, looking at him. “Why?”
“Another teacher?”
“The librarian, Lysette Remy.”
Hesse looked away from her, his brow furrowed.
“Kurt, what’s wrong? Tell me.”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing. When do you get off today?”
“At three, same as always. When are you leaving?” Brigitte asked.
“Not until tomorrow. I’m needed at the office. I’m putting together a final work detail for Colonel Becker.”
“Work detail?” she said carefully.
“Yes,” he said shortly. He looked past her through the glass top of the door into the hall. Another soldier named Kessel, whom Brigitte knew slightly from his acquaintance with Kurt, was walking by them.
“I have to talk to him,” Kurt told Brigitte. He pulled open the door and called after Kessel to wait. Kessel halted, turning.
“I’ll see you later,” Kurt said, looking back at her, and left quickly.
“All right,” she replied. She noted the urgency of his manner and after a moment she decided to follow him.
He and Kessel had ducked into a small office once used by the Colonel’s supply officer, now empty. She paused outside it, listening. The German was rapid and colloquial but she had become very fluent.
“We have to blow the bridges on our way out to slow the Allied advance,” Kurt was telling Kessel. “I’m putting together the demolition squads right now. I want you to take care of Chaumont. I’m assigning Brecht to Vitry and Hauptmann to Saint-Dizier. I’ll be with Becker until we pull out tomorrow so if there is any problem you can reach me in his office.”
Brigitte repeated the locations to herself, registering with relief that Kurt was not going on the named expeditions. He went on to outline the procedures and the men involved to Kessel, but Brigitte turned away.
She had to relay the information so that Vipère could be waiting for the detachments when they arrived. She had to see Curel.
* * *
Hesse tried to think of how to tell Becker about the Remy woman as he walked back to the Colonel’s office, but there was no way to break such news gently. It was better that the Commandant find out from his aide than in some other fashion. Or worse, leave France without discovering his lover’s fate at all. Hesse was aware enough of his superior’s relationship with the Frenchwoman to be sure that Becker would want to know.
The Colonel was on the telephone to Gestapo headquarters in Lyons when Hesse arrived. Becker gestured through the partially open door for Hesse to enter and then said into the receiver, “So what time may I expect Standartenführer Kleinschmitt to arrive?”
He listened for a moment and then said, “Very good.” He made a note on a pad in front of him as he hung up and said to Hesse, “The Standartenführer will be with us tomorrow morning. Faithful to the end, Hesse, just like my shepherd back home in Carlsbad.” He sat back in his chair and toyed with his latest communiqué, indicating it to Hesse. “This says that de Gaulle is back in France and getting ready to form a new government to take over as soon as we leave,” he announced. “The Gestapo have Pétain under house arrest in Vichy. ‘Sic semper tyrannis’, Hesse.”
“Yes, sir,” said Hesse, who didn’t know what the Latin meant. Becker wasn’t being a snob; he frequently talked to himself under the guise of addressing his aide. “Why is Standartenführer Kleinschmitt coming here now?”
“Overseeing the departure, I suppose. He’s stopping off on his way to Lyons. Who really knows? I have given up trying to fathom the mysterious motives of the SS.”
Hesse shifted his feet and looked at a point on the wall behind Becker’s head. He waited.
“What is on your mind, boy?” Becker asked, raising his brows.
“Sir,” Hesse said hesitantly. “There’s something you should know.”
Becker sighed. “Something else?” he said wearily, glancing around the room. “Some other piece of bad news I have not already heard?”
“Yes, sir. It concerns Madame Remy.”
Becker’s eyes flashed to his face. “What about her?” he demanded sharply.
“She is here in the hospital,” Hesse said painfully.
Becker sat up. “What?” he said softly.
“She was brought in this morning. She...”
“Tell me,” Becker said.
“She tried to kill herself.”
Becker’s olive skin went white. He dropped his eyes from Hesse’s face and stared at his desk. His only other reaction was a tightening of the fingers around the pen he still held.
“She is alive?” he said huskily.
“Yes, sir. But I think very ill. Madame Duclos found her and brought her in to the emergency room.”
“Laura Duclos?”
“Yes, sir.”
Becker nodded and stood, having recovered his powers of locomotion. “Was it poison?” he asked. “What?”
“She cut her wrists.”
Becker closed his eyes. “How very odd,” he whispered, opening them again. “She’s so neat. She hates a mess.” He put his hand out to grasp the edge of his desk and Hesse rushed to his side.
“Can I help you, sir?” he asked anxiously.
Becker straightened purposefully. “No, I’m all right. It’s just that I can’t stand to think of her that way... all that blood... She would hate for anyone to see her in such a condition.”
Hesse waited tensely for Becker to stop rambling; it wasn’t until that moment that he really understood how much the little librarian meant to his commander.
Becker blinked. “The emergency room, you said.”
“Yes, sir. I imagine she’s been taken to a ward by now.”
“I’ll go and see her,” Becker said, heading for the door. “Stay here while I’m gone.”
“Yes, sir.” Hesse watched the distracted Colonel go through the door, wondering what else could happen before they finally, blessedly, left France forever.
Becker found Lysette on the first floor female ward with Laura seated next to her. Laura jumped up when she spotted him, wondering what was coming, but her alarmed expression changed when he brushed past her and stood immobile at Lysette’s bedside, looking down at the unconscious woman. Everything he felt was written on his face, and recent events fell into place in Laura’s mind like the locking teeth of intermeshing gears. My God, she thought, realization washing over her like a wave. He’s the reason Lysette did this. He’s the reason for her changed nature, her unexplained absences, her perplexing behavior when we discussed
the end of the occupation. She’s in love with him. He was leaving without her and she simply couldn’t bear it.
Laura took a step closer to the bed. Lysette was lying on her back with her arms at her sides, her eyes closed, the sheet pulled up to her chin. Blood ran through a tube into her concealed arm from a glass bottle suspended on a stand. Her skin was so pale it appeared almost translucent. Her blonde hair was in a tangled spill on the pillow, her lips dry and chalky. She was so still it was hard to detect the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.
Becker turned abruptly and strode into the hall.
“I want this woman removed to a private room,” Laura heard him say to an orderly. “And send the admitting doctor to me immediately.”
The attendant, who seemed a little unsure about obeying a man who would be gone and no longer in charge the next day, nevertheless decided to err on the side of caution and do as he was told. Becker looked like he would turn violent if he refused.
Becker returned to Lysette’s bedside and said to Laura, “I understand that you found her and brought her here.”
“That’s right,” she answered.
“Then you saved her life.” Before Laura grasped what he was doing he had taken her hand and held it to his lips. He bowed from the waist and clicked his heels.
“I am forever in your debt, Madame Duclos,” he said, as Laura watched him, taken aback. For a moment she saw him through Lysette’s eyes. Laura realized that, under circumstances other than those she had been forced to share with him, he could be a very attractive man.
“I didn’t do it by myself,” Laura replied, withdrawing her hand. “Some of your men helped me.”
But Becker was not listening. His obligation discharged, he turned from her, his attention once again focused on Lysette.
“Would you like to be alone with her?” Laura asked gently. She would not have thought it possible an hour ago but she felt sorry for him.
“Please,” he answered, his dark gaze flickering to her briefly, then back to Lysette.
Clash by Night (A World War II Romantic Drama) Page 31
