Remembering You

by Tricia Goyer

  “No. I don’t think that’s it. We weren’t that close to a village,” Grandpa Jack countered. Ava heard the rustling of paper behind her and guessed he was opening one of his maps to look.

  “See,” Grandpa Jack said to Paul. Then he called from the backseat, “It’s a little bit farther up the way.”

  They drove a mile more, and then Grandpa Jack patted Dennis’s shoulder as if signaling him to slow. Both older men sat forward in their seats, studying the terrain. Ava shook her head. She couldn’t remember a shopping list of more than four items. How could they remember one hillside after sixty-five years?

  “That’s it.” Grand-Paul pointed to a tree-lined field with a rising hill.

  “Yes,” Grandpa Jack agreed. “Do you think it’ll be okay to walk over there? It might be someone’s property.”

  “Of course it’s okay,” Grand-Paul spouted. “We liberated that hill. Who’s going to stop us?”

  Dennis pulled to the side of the road. He and Ava helped their grandfathers out of the car. Grandpa Jack removed his Eleventh Armored Division cap and held it to his chest. Grand-Paul took two steps forward and then paused as he stared at the hill to the left of the roadway. To everyone else passing along this road, it was just another hill, but not to the men who had traveled thousands of miles to see it.

  Ava approached the two older men. “Before we head over there, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  “Is it about the videos?” Grandpa Jack scowled. Dennis stood next to him, frowning too.

  “Yes.” She turned to Grand-Paul, hoping for an ally. “They’re for my job. My boss wants me to do short news features about our journey across Europe. They’re going to show them on-air. I thought it would be a nice way for you and my grandpa to share your stories. For the younger generations to hear your experiences firsthand.”

  Grand-Paul turned to Grandpa Jack, scratching his head. “Let me guess, you’re giving your sweet granddaughter a hard time about this.”

  “I don’t like the idea of a camera in my face…” He trailed off, but she could see there was more to it. Something he wasn’t saying.

  “You should be honored.” Grand-Paul elbowed Grandpa Jack. “It’s not like you’re Clint Eastwood. You should be thrilled someone wants to look at your ugly mug.”

  Grandpa Jack turned away, looking back to the hill. Then he shrugged. “Paul can be your star, Ava. I’ll watch.”

  Ava didn’t want to argue. “Can you pop the trunk?” she asked Dennis, disappointed. “I need to get my video stuff out.”

  He nodded but didn’t comment. She hurried past Dennis, afraid to look into his face to see if he still agreed with Grandpa Jack. She hoped that once they got going, Dennis would warm up to the idea. Maybe, if she prayed hard enough, Grandpa Jack would too.

  A minute later, she had her video camera case, mic, and tripod in her hands, and she looked at the horizon, hoping it would stay light long enough for her to finish.

  Since her hands were full, Dennis walked between the two older men, a steadying hand on each arm.

  The grass was dry and high, but when she pushed it down with each step, she saw new green blades sprouting from the moist soil.

  As they walked toward the hill, she remembered that officially Grand-Paul should sign a release before she taped them, but she decided not to bring it up. Not yet. It wasn’t like she was taping strangers. She’d get to that minor detail later. She was just happy that Grand-Paul had knocked some of the fight out of the other two.

  “We’re really going to be on television?” Grand-Paul slowed his pace, as if the idea was just sinking in. Then he looked at Grandpa Jack as if saying, “How come you didn’t tell me about this?”

  “Three million viewers!” Ava exclaimed. Why couldn’t Grandpa Jack and Dennis appreciate how exciting this was?

  “Maybe there will be some pretty white-hairs watching.” Grand-Paul chuckled. “I better start practicing my autograph and jitterbug. Both are getting a little shaky these days.”

  “Well, if we get fan mail I’ll be sure to pass it your way.” She loved seeing that Grand-Paul was enjoying this. Loved to see she was proving Dennis wrong.

  “I can set the equipment up over here, where you won’t be able to see it.” Ava moved the tripod far enough away for them not to feel as if she was in their faces, but close enough to get a good shot.

  Grandpa Jack eyed her and then turned his back to her, studying the hill.

  Paul steadied himself with his cane and then ran his fingers through his hair. He turned and faced Ava with the hill behind him. “Do I look okay?”

  “Perfectly handsome.” Ava set up the camera. “This is set to auto-focus, so let me figure out the view for the shot.”

  Grand-Paul leaned forward on his cane, looking directly into the camera as if he was the president preparing to give an address. Despite his enthusiasm, his whole body sagged, as if he had a hard time carrying his own weight. She set the shot so it showed him midchest up, with the hill in the background. As she stepped back, he looked up at her and winked.

  Ava laughed. It was Grand-Paul’s eyes that she loved the most. Lively and light blue. That was the first thing she noticed that summer evening when he and Dennis had shown up at Grandma and Grandpa’s place. Her grandparents had received Christmas cards from Paul and his wife for years, but Paul decided to visit after his wife passed away. At first Ava had been upset she had to share her summer with her grandfather’s old war buddy, but as they sat on the porch sipping lemonade, Paul had asked Ava about her life, her hobbies, her dreams for the future. She felt like an adult. She also felt special because Dennis was constantly averting his gaze when she glanced his way.

  Standing in front of that hill, Grand-Paul’s eyes seemed bluer than she remembered. Maybe his beard—neatly trimmed and gray—had something to do with that. His beard had been dark before, but his smile was just as wide.

  Yet now, in front of this camera, Ava got a glimpse of the serious businessperson he was. She could almost see the script of what he wanted to say running through his head.

  “Watch out, Robert Redford.” He winked.

  Ava put down her notebook and picked up the remote for the video camera. “Okay, Grand-Paul.” She focused on his face. “Can you start by telling me why you ended up here?”

  He nodded and cleared his throat. “The Germans weren’t ready to give up, and they attacked the Americans, who were set up near Bastogne. We came in to help and to win back Belgium for the Allied forces.”

  From the corner of her eye, Ava notice Grandpa Jack pause and turn. He tilted his head and then tentatively stepped closer to listen.

  “We’d never faced the actual enemy before that,” Grand-Paul said. “All at once everything started. Shouts came from the sergeants. Tanks and the first wave of men crested the hill. Then they disappeared on the other side.”

  Grand-Paul continued, describing how the fifteen tanks in their unit were knocked out, and how he and the other infantrymen ran over the hill to find a wall of German weapons focused on them. “It was a miracle any of us made it out alive.”

  Ava glanced at Dennis for a brief moment and couldn’t help but notice his pride. And sadness. She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling them in, as if that would hold her emotions in too.

  “It must have been hard, losing those men.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Ava felt foolish. Of course it was hard.

  “Yes, but what we did made a difference. That first battle was hard—nearly a failure—but we kept at it. We slowly pushed them back. Inch by inch, we took the countryside and the towns. Why, I’d never seen such a celebration as when we kicked the last German soldier out of Bastogne.”

  Her grandfather didn’t say anything but took more steps toward Paul. Ava widened the angle to get him in the shot. He looked so small. He glanced at her with a look of uncertainty, as if he was wondering if she still approved of him even if he refused to tell his stories.

 
; “We were just kids. We had no idea what we’d see. No idea,” Paul said, looking into the camera.

  Ava took the remote from her pocket and turned the camera off. She wanted to go to her grandfather, to tell him it was okay if he didn’t share, but inside she knew that wasn’t the truth. She wanted him to share his stories—needed him to. She just hoped he’d change his mind now that he saw how simple it was.

  “See, the camera doesn’t bite,” she called to Paul, trying to act as if everything was normal.

  “Are we finished?” Dennis approached.

  “Almost. I need to get a few more shots.” She glanced around, noting the sun fading into the horizon, and realized that she was running out of time.

  Dennis guided the grandpas gingerly across the field, back to the car. Emotion again overcame her. It was hard to see their health fail. It was harder to know they still held so much pain inside.

  She stood there for a moment longer. She didn’t want to leave, not yet. She wanted to remember this place. Remember the hill where her grandfather had fought—even if he wasn’t willing to share his memories.

  Dennis got the old men settled into the backseat and then returned.

  As she packed up, Ava jotted down the information she needed on her video log sheet, including the order of her shots, the description of the shots, the take number, and the location of the counter.

  “I was thinking we should get dinner tonight and then do some touring around Bastogne tomorrow,” Dennis said. “There’s some cool museums and stuff.”

  She paused and placed a hand on his arm. “What about Chenogne? We’re so close. Should we at least drive in and look around?” She thought again about her grandfather’s reaction and couldn’t help but wonder what it was about.

  “No.” Dennis picked up her camera bag. “I asked my grandfather about that. He said no.”

  “But don’t you think—”

  “Listen, Ava, this is their trip. It’s not about you or your videos. It’s about them.”

  “Yes, it’s about them, but my grandpa was so excited about Belgium. His first question when he heard the tour was cancelled was, ‘What about Belgium?’” She placed a hand on her hip, the frustration of the moment mounting. “So we’re here, and now he’s not going to do anything?”

  Dennis took a step back, holding up his palms as if to protect himself from the onslaught of her words. “Listen, we are going to see things.” He motioned toward the field. “But this is their trip and their memories. I’m letting them call the shots whether you like it or not. There are other places your grandpa wants to see, but not Chenogne.”

  “Do you know something about Chenogne you’re not telling me?” She narrowed her gaze at him.

  Dennis’s eyes met hers for the briefest second, and then he looked away and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not at liberty to tell.”

  A harsh laugh broke through her lips. “Are you kidding me?”

  He looked down at her camera bag. “I might have considered it before you told me about your work.” He spread his arms wide. “But this isn’t just a lead, Ava. This is their lives. Their memories. If your grandpa wants to tell you, he will. You’ve got to take time to understand him. You’ve got to trust him.” Dennis took the tripod from her, easing her load. Then he looked at her, his eyes gentle. “And you’ve got to earn his trust,” he said in no more than a whisper.

  Ava wanted to argue, but she knew she was standing on shaky ground. Lash out at Dennis, and she could lose Paul’s goodwill.

  “Besides,” he said, “we don’t need to go there for the story. Your grandpa carries it with him. He always has.”

  They walked quietly side by side as they approached the car where the men were looking around. They looked so frail, tired. Ava lowered her head. Guilt ricocheted through her. This was hard enough for them—physically, emotionally—and here she was placing more demands on them. Still, she had no choice.

  “Can I get one more thing before we leave?” Ava pushed the thought of Chenogne out of her mind. “Grand-Paul, can you state your name and unit into the camera?” Ava knew Dennis was right. Pushing her grandfather too hard wouldn’t help anything. So she tried to push softly. “Grandpa, can you do just this one thing for me too? It’ll be painless, I promise.”

  Her grandfather didn’t respond, and if she didn’t know better, she would have thought he had not heard her.

  She got out the camera again and focused on Paul. She turned it to the low-light setting and hoped that the high-tech camera would make up for the dimming sunlight. “Okay, go ahead.”

  Grand-Paul straightened and stuck out his chest. “Paul Prichard, Company B, Twenty-first Armored Infantry Battalion of the Eleventh.”

  “Great.”

  Then she turned to her grandpa. He narrowed his gaze, obviously still uncomfortable.

  “I’m not going to ask you to tell any stories, but can you just state your name and unit for me?” she asked again.

  He looked weary, and then he straightened. She turned the camera on him.

  “Jackson Andrews, Company B, Twenty-first Armored Infantry Battalion, Eleventh Armored Division.” Then he narrowed his gaze. “That’s all you’re going to get.”

  A lump formed in Ava’s throat. She cleared it. “Okay, if that’s how you want it.” She quickly put away her camera, wondering why she’d ever pushed for this. Everything in my life has to be so hard these days.

  It was quiet as the car pulled out and they headed into town. The guys’ eyes were intent on the views around them, and Ava wondered what they were thinking, what they weren’t saying.

  Then, as they neared Bastogne, Grand-Paul started in singing “Auld Lang Syne.” After the first verse, Grandpa Jack joined in. Ava tried not to let her frustration ruin the trip, and as softly as possible she hummed along. She was pleasantly surprised to discover that Dennis knew the words as he joined in with the guys.

  As they approached the outskirts of Bastogne, Ava spotted large gun turrets on either side of the road. She sat straighter in her seat.

  “Would you look at that,” Dennis said. “Those are ours.”

  “They sure are,” Paul said.

  “I never would have thought…,” Grandpa Jack mumbled.

  “That’s amazing—that the town still remembers and honors the liberators,” Ava said, trying to show the guys she could still be pleasant even if she didn’t get her way.

  Ava pulled her digital camera out of her bag, but instead of taking a photo of the turrets, she turned and took a photo of the men.

  Turning back around, she clicked the button to view the photo. The men’s faces were solemn, but their eyes held a special sparkle. The expression on their faces spoke what they didn’t say.

  We’re back.

  They still care.

  They remember…

  Chapter Twelve

  Blue curtains with bright pink flowers fluttered in the open windows as Ava, Dennis, and their grandfathers sat in the hotel dining room enjoying dinner that night. The white floor was spotless, the chairs had comfortable blue cushions, and a painting of a medieval village hung near their table. Other tourists sat around the room, enjoying quiet conversation.

  Grandpa Jack leaned forward, arms on the table, telling them how—after weeks of fighting—the people from Bastogne had been so thankful that the Americans had finally pushed the Germans out.

  “The women brought us flowers. The men had tears in their eyes. We passed out chocolate to the children.”

  Grandpa Jack spoke a little too loudly compared to the others at neighboring tables. Other customers looked over, and Ava shrank down a little bit in her seat. She didn’t want to interrupt to tell him that he was talking too loudly or that he had bread crumbs making indentions in his lower arm where his sleeve was rolled up. She couldn’t remember the last time he had told a story with such enthusiasm. Part of her was happy. The other part was frustrated. Why can’t he share his stories with this much enthusiasm in fron
t of a camera?

  “Could you imagine the lives of those kids? All they knew was war,” Dennis said.

  “Worse yet were the ones who didn’t make it. The bodies…” Grand-Paul lowered his head.

  “Let’s not talk about that, Paul.” Grandpa Jack’s voice quavered. His face looked pained, as if a clear memory had surfaced.

  Ava looked at him and noticed tears. Her own eyes misted. She looked at Dennis and saw him looking at her—watching her as she watched Grandpa Jack. Heat rose to her cheeks, which made her even more frustrated. He’d been rude to her on much of this trip, so why did she still blush under his gaze? Part of her wanted to ignore his attention. After all, he knew about Chenogne and refused to tell her what had happened. Yet another part of her wondered if they could ever have the type of friendship they had after high school. Could they pick up where they had left off? Was that possible? The idea both excited and frightened her.

  Cigarette smoke filled the room, giving it a dim and hazy feeling. She leaned closer to the open window, appreciating the nosmoking policy in restaurants back home.

  They finished their simple meal of goulash, frites, and vegetables, and Grandpa Jack seemed more solemn than he had at the beginning of the meal. Grand-Paul pushed back his chair. Without a moment’s pause, Dennis rose and helped him.

  “So are you going to have a long night working on that video?” Grand-Paul asked.

  “I hope not. I need to work on it, but I’m really tired.” She stood and stretched. “The jet lag’s finally hitting me.”

  “Maybe you should get some rest. This is just the beginning of the trip. You don’t want to make yourself sick.” Her grandfather talked to her with the same tone as when she was five and wanted to eat a whole package of Oreos by herself. But this time he wasn’t just being grandfatherly. He just wants me to rest because he hates that I’m doing the videos. She squared her shoulders and tried not to let his comment pull her down.

  “I wish I could rest, but I have no choice. Todd made it clear the video needs to be there three hours before the show so they can review it.” She wrinkled her nose, imagining the team assembled in Todd’s office, viewing her work. She knew she could make something decent, but could she, in this amount of time, meet their high standards?