“You want to continue your government work?”
“I want us to include it on the Sentinels’ agenda. After all, it’s just another piece of the same problem.”
“Well, you’ll have to ask the others, but as always, Cecelia, you’ve got my support.”
“And you’ve got mine,” she said, gently pushing him toward the house. “Now, go in and ask Tony what you came all this way to ask.”
______
Jacques’ and Ian’s inquiries along the docks of the Côte d’Azur, at the train stations, in the bus depots, and on the frontiers into Italy and Spain failed to yield any useful information about Claudine’s whereabouts. They went up into the small hillside villages behind Cannes and Nice and began asking around there, with similar results.
During one such outing, Ian turned toward Jacques, walking beside him, and asked, “When you find her, are you finally going to stop looking?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, when you find Claudine, are you finally going to admit you love her and stop looking around at other girls?”
“Ian, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why are you asking me that, anyway?”
“Because that’s what I’m going to do… with Emily,” Ian said. “After the war, I think I’ll return to London, get a job with one of the art auction houses, and be with her. That is, if she’ll still have me.”
“I’m sure she will, Ian. From what I know of her—and of you—she must be a very patient lady.”
“There’s just one problem,” Ian said, stopping short. “Emily will never understand our ‘side work’ or live with all the secrecy involved. I must make a decision: either give up active participation with the Sentinels or give up Emily. Don’t get me wrong, Jacques… I’m very proud of all that we’ve accomplished. It’s just that I think it’s time for me to settle down and enjoy a simpler kind of life.”
“I understand completely. That’s the kind of decision that sooner or later, all of us are going to have to make.”
“I’m fortunate in that I found the right girl to help me make it. So what about Claudine?”
Jacques started walking up the hill toward the next town. “Let’s just find her first. Then I’ll worry about finding out if she’s the right girl.”
______
By the end of October, their search had extended well up into the Alps, as far north as Grenoble. They had by then already completed their search of the French and Italian rivieras, Genoa, and the Lake Como area. They had explored all the small villages westward as far as Marseille before turning their attention northward to Avignon and on to Lyon. Finally, they headed southwest, crossing the Spanish frontier into Barcelona. Weeks of searching and waiting had failed to turn up even the smallest hint of where Claudine was hiding.
One afternoon, returning to their hotel, tired, disappointed, and depressed, Ian said, “Well, I guess if she didn’t want the Germans to locate her, what made us think we’d be able to?”
Jacques didn’t have an answer for his friend. He only knew that if he didn’t find Claudine, nothing else would matter.
Chapter 38
RETURN TO CHAMONIX
It was a chilly day in the late fall when Ian and Jacques finally returned, frustrated and in despair, to the Demaureux chalet in Chamonix. They sat on the veranda with Henri, trying to figure out a way to explain their lack of success in finding Claudine, when they heard the sound of gravel scrunching beneath the wheels of a car. The sound drew them to the front of the chalet.
“My God,” Ian said, watching a woman get out of the taxi. “It’s Claudine.”
She looked so different. It was more than her hair being darker and cut very short; she looked tired, dirty, and much thinner. She had deep circles under her eyes. Gone was her eternal sense of well-being. She seemed sad and scared.
Jacques was the first to move. He strode toward her, looking into her eyes for a long time before pulling her to him so closely that he could feel her heart beating.
“Hey, you two, can’t an old man give his daughter a kiss?” Henri said, holding out his arms as he came toward her.
After Claudine gave them all a proper greeting, Jacques took her arm and slowly escorted her through the chalet, out to the warm, sun-filled veranda. Facing her chair toward her beloved Mont Blanc, he slowly lowered her into it and held her hand as she focused on the beauty and comfort of being home, surrounded by her father and friends.
All three men were sitting quietly near her, watching her closely and refraining from any conversation that would interrupt whatever monologue was going on in her mind. After about ten minutes of silence, she said, “What’s the matter with all of you? Is this any way to welcome a girl home?”
Henri went inside the chalet with the stated purpose of returning with a good deal of champagne. After assuring her that the six of them were all safe now, Jacques and Ian slowly started to ask her questions.
After about half an hour, she said, “Enough of my stories. I would think you would grow tired of hearing about German generals. With one exception, they all seemed human, just like everyone else.” She rose to go to her room when her father stopped her with a gentle touch of his hand.
“Just one more thing,” Henri said. “Where the hell have you been hiding since you left La Garoupe, young lady? These two young men have spent the last few months combing the countryside of the Riviera looking for you. We’ve been so worried—then, without warning, you step out of a cab.”
Claudine smiled. “Put yourselves in my place. What’s a girl without papers supposed to do when a German general breaks into her room? What if they all started asking questions? Who could I trust to help me? Denise and her mother would have been the first people they would have interrogated. So, with very few choices, where could I go without leaving a trail, jeopardizing my friends, or having to answer too many questions?”
Leaning forward, she helped herself to another glass of champagne and watched, with some amusement, as the three of them searched for a reply.
“Come on,” she said, “I don’t understand how three such intelligent men can’t solve the dilemma that I was forced to solve for myself.”
Their looks of confusion were entertaining her. “Take your time,” she said, pouring another drink. “I think there’s still enough for one more glass.”
Having finished the last of the champagne and no longer able to stand the suspense, she said, “Okay, I’ll give you a clue. Say hello to Sister Claudine.”
When the men’s jaws dropped, she continued. “I’ve been in a convent, you dummies! And, by the way, I think we need to open another bottle of champagne. This one seems to be empty.”
______
It was a different Claudine, clean and well scrubbed, with some of the dark dye washed out of her hair, who came skipping down the stairs a few hours later.
“Okay, that’s enough talk for one day,” she announced. “I have done nothing for the last few months but serve dinners, clean dishes, and make beds for German officers and Catholic nuns. I don’t suppose I could interest you in a night out on the town with three of my favorite men? Father, is that little restaurant that serves pommes soufflé still there? You may not believe this, but convent food leaves something to be desired.”
“I’ll call and make the reservations,” Henri said, going toward the phone.
She turned to Jacques. “If you don’t mind, let’s take two cars so I can spend the ride convincing my father that I’m all right.” When Henri returned, she said, “Father, can we take the Mercedes?”
______
A bit later, as Henri pulled out of the driveway, Claudine put her hand on his arm.
“Father, you would have been proud of me. At one time or another, I thought about everything you taught me, including how to build a snow cave. How did you know that would ever become useful? There I was, near the top of Mont Cenis, hidden in a snow fort. I was all alone, very tired, and scared to death.”
&nb
sp; Henri glanced over at her. “Well, you’re here now. You are safe, and all that is behind you.”
“No, it isn’t. For months, I have been going to sleep at night and waking up in the morning with the same two fears. One was being caught and the other was the fear of never seeing Jacques again. Here I am, a mature woman with a schoolgirl crush on an old friend, a professional colleague… and a world-class womanizer! Oh, Father, I tried not to fall in love with him. You don’t know how hard I tried, but I’m afraid I’ve failed miserably. All those lonely nights at La Garoupe, I couldn’t get him out of my mind. I don’t know what I should do about it.”
Henri smiled at her. “I am certain he is very fond of you, too. Why else would he drag Ian all over the south of Europe searching for you? Have you ever considered the possibility that both of you have been so afraid of losing each other as friends that you haven’t been willing to express your true feelings to each other? Claudine, my love, you need to realize that you are in charge of the situation. Women are always in control—they just don’t always know it.”
______
Over dinner, more of the old Claudine began to reappear. Four bawdy jokes that she had learned from the nuns, three orders of pommes soufflé, and two bottles of wine later, Henri and Ian, feigning fatigue, asked to be excused. “You two stay,” Henri said as they got up from the table. “Take your time. We’ll even leave you the Mercedes.”
How could I have ever lived without being able to look into these eyes? Jacques thought as they slowly polished off the last bottle of wine. A bit later, Claudine suggested, “Let’s pay the bill and go outside for some air.”
They donned their coats and left the restaurant. Claudine headed away from where the Mercedes was parked. “How would you like to take an old friend for a moonlight walk?”
“Sure thing, Sister Claudine.”
“You can cut out all that sister stuff,” she said. “In case you were worried, I wasn’t there long enough to make it official.”
She smiled and led him down a well-marked path, easy to see in the brightness of the full moon. It wasn’t until they crossed the lower meadows of Mont Blanc and were heading up through the steeper, forested terrain that Jacques thought to ask, “Where are we going?”
“I have something special I want to show you.”
By this time, he was having some difficulty keeping up with her. They emerged from the trees into a meadow; the moonlight was so bright that the winter-browned meadow grass was bathed in intense shades of silver, swaying in the breeze like ocean waves. Claudine didn’t stop long enough for Jacques to enjoy the view—or to catch his breath. Passing through the meadow, she began to work her way through a steep rock field. Halfway up, he watched her disappear over the crest.
Damn, she’s in good shape! I, on the other hand, am about to have a heart attack.
Even in daylight, ascending the upper portion of that part of the mountain would have been difficult for him. At night, it was even harder. He had to slow down and carefully pick his way through the rocks. Tired, slightly chilled, and panting, he finally reached the crest.
Pausing to regain his breath, bent over with his hands on his knees, he was sucking in deep, full gulps of the high mountain air. As his heart rate slowed down, he stood up and surveyed the scene. In front of him lay a small, snow-fed lake. On the far side, he could see a cabin for hikers and mountain climbers. To his right, Claudine was taking a trail that wound along the lake’s edge, toward the cabin. She was looking back at him, urging him to follow.
Walking along the edge of the lake, with her heavy wool coat and scarf wrapped tight about her, she appeared to him like some trick of the moonlight and the mountain air—like an apparition, a vision. With nothing but the sound of his breathing to accompany his thoughts, he realized that he could not allow her to walk away from him anymore, even if just toward an isolated cabin on a lake.
Claudine, it’s you. It’s always been you.
He started jogging down the sloping meadow to catch up with her. The cold air punished his throat and chest, but he didn’t care. She was almost halfway around the small lake when he caught up with her. She looked over her shoulder as he approached, and then turned to receive him. He held her to him, his chest heaving in and out.
“Claudine, I—”
She put a hand on his mouth. “Shut up, you. You don’t have any breath to waste on something as useless as talking.”
She took his face in her hands and kissed him. To Jacques, it was like the first drink of cool water after walking through five miles of desert.
As he caught his breath, they continued around the lake to the cabin. They went inside and Jacques laid a fire.
“Whose place are we invading?” he asked her.
“Actually, this is my father’s cabin. He hasn’t used it much these last few years, but he used to come here on weekends, with my mother.” When the fire was blazing, Claudine brought some heavy blankets from the beds.
“I think we should get out of these clothes, don’t you?”
Jacques nodded, his heart beginning to pound—but not because of exertion.
______
The next morning, he awoke to the warmth of a roaring fire and the smell of fresh, hot coffee brewing atop the wood-burning stove. He could hear Claudine moving around in the makeshift kitchen. Fully wrapped in the heavy blanket, Jacques raised himself up on one elbow.
He watched her preparing something with the emergency supplies that were always left in the cabin. “What are you making?” he asked, walking up behind her and kissing her neck.
Still wrapped in the blanket, he stood and watched while Claudine mixed flour, water, yeast, salt, and pepper into a sticky mass. She then used the mixture to line the inside of an old, cast-iron Dutch oven. After placing the heavy cover on the pot, she used the large, metal handle to pick it up and place it on the hook that extended into the fireplace, over the glowing coals. Next, she placed hot coals on top of the lid, stepped back, and said, “Give it a few minutes. You’re in for a real treat.”
She smiled at him. “Your clothes are over there on the chair. Why don’t you put them on and pour yourself a cup of coffee? Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”
While he got dressed, he watched Claudine set the table, then sniff the steam coming out of the cast-iron pot. Using an old set of gloves that had been left on top of the mantle, she lifted the heavy pot off the hook and carried it to the table. After lifting off the cover, she picked up a narrow knife and ran it around the inside edge of the pot, to separate the bread from its surface.
“Sheepherders’ bread au Claudine is about to be served.”
The bread smelled delicious and the coffee was doing its magic. But Jacques was still uncertain about what to say.
This is Claudine. The lines you’ve used on a hundred other girls will bounce off her like popcorn.
It was too important and, Jacques realized, he had too little experience at actually making himself vulnerable to a woman—especially one he couldn’t afford to lose.
As he was playing with the bread she’d put on his plate, he felt her hand touch his arm.
“Maybe you should let me do the talking, Jacques.”
Is she reading my mind?
“You have no idea how hard I’ve tried to ignore my feelings for you,” she said. “During all those nights on the ski trail and at La Garoupe, all I could think about was you. Even when I felt trapped on Mont Cenis, I would find myself asking, ‘What would Jacques do if he were here?’ Jacques, I know that I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. The question is, now that I have seduced you in my father’s mountain shack, how do you feel about me? Are you willing to let me share in your life?”
He stared at her, hardly able to breathe. Of all the words she might have said, he would never have expected her to speak aloud the very idea he dreamed about, night and day.
Jacques, old boy, you need to think very carefully about what you are going to s
ay next.
“Claudine, I…” Silence.
Come on, man! Don’t seize up now!
“I guess I’m not too good at this,” he said with a weak grin.
“Good at what?”
He reached across and took her hand. “Good at telling a woman I love her, without sounding like I’m just trying to get her in bed. Good at hanging on to someone, whatever it takes. Even before Ian and I started to try to find you, I knew that I had fallen in love with you—I just didn’t know how bad it was.”
“Bad?” She gave him a look of mock horror.
“You know what I mean. Every day Ian and I came home with no word of you, I became more certain of how I really felt. You have no idea how many times I promised myself that if I was fortunate enough to get you back, I would never let you go.”
“Jacques, that’s beautiful, but you still haven’t answered my second question.”
He stared at her blankly. “What’s your second question?”
“Let me explain. Do you remember how hard I worked to help Tony with his vineyard research when we were at Berkeley? His dreams became my dreams. Did you ever realize how happy I was to share his work and support his dreams? If he had asked me to marry him, stay in California, and share his life, I probably would have done so.”
Jacques stared at the tabletop. “Yeah. When we were in Napa last year, he couldn’t stop talking about the way you looked, trekking up and down the hills with the equipment. I loved hearing it, and hated it at the same time. I loved thinking about you happy, but I hated thinking about how close I’d been to losing you—without even knowing how much I needed you.”
She looked at him for a time. He wished he could read which way her thoughts were running.
“It was only when I realized that there wasn’t enough room in his life for me and his dreams that I packed my bags and returned home,” she said, finally. “Now do you understand my question?”
“Are you saying… asking if there’s room in my life… my career, for you?” And then, the question was burning in his brain: “Are you… willing to come back to New York… with me?”
The Sentinels: Fortunes of War Page 24
