An Owl's Whisper (12 page)

The hint of a smile on Eva’s lips indicated she understood. She snapped her fingers. “Heel, Caspie.” And she was off with the dog.

The next day Eva walked the same route, and just as before, in just the same place, Caspar ran ahead, barking excitedly. And same as before, Krebs was there, waiting to pat his head.

Eva came up to the soldier and smiled.

Krebs said, “Good morning,
Mademoiselle
Messiaen.” He bowed without taking his eyes off her. “Your dog found me again.”

“Or perhaps it’s me that’s found you.”

“What a pleasant possibility! So, may I join you on your wander?

Eva pictured Henri, frowning. She smiled. “You may.” She lowered her gaze. “For a while, anyway.”

They walked along the road in snow turned to diamonds by the sunshine. When they came to a footpath leading into the woods, Eva said, “We should walk there, off the road.”

A minute into the trees, they were safely obscured. Johannes sighed. “I feel better now, screened from prying eyes. Honestly,
Mademoiselle
, I’ve had the fright that being at your side might menace you. Everyone knows local girls take big risks being seen with us. Just yesterday, I heard some hotheads jumped two sisters who’d but spent an evening with German soldiers in a Liege café. They blindfolded them, shaved their heads, and left them without a centime on some dark country road. The sisters walked to a nearby hamlet and had to beg the conductor of an early morning local train to let them freeload to Liege. I don’t want to make hardness for you.”

Eva replied, “Nor I for you.”

“Oh, there’s no risking for me. Officially, we’re not to fraternize, but it’s not enforced unless we behave improperly. We must demonstrate the high moral standards of the German people, you know.” Krebs winked.

“It seems high
personal
standards are emphasized over, let’s say,
national
standards.”

Krebs flinched. “You must remember it
was
the French and British that declared war on us. Still, I’ll grant that some in neutral countries like yours might feel abused.”

“Mr. Krebs, if we are to enjoy walking together, we should agree to keep off both popular thoroughfares and the subject of politics.”

Krebs bowed. “A sound proposal,
Mademoiselle
.”

Eva imagined Henri’s glare again. “Should we walk again, and, mind you, I’m not saying we will, let’s not meet at the gate. There’s a large oak tree beyond the orchard. It’s private from the school and away from roads. Come, I’ll show you the place.”

Eva led Krebs by the hand along the wooded path to the oak tree. With his cap, Johannes swatted the snow off a log lying nearby, and they sat on it. Caspar lay at their feet with his head on his paws. Krebs produced a chocolate bar to share.

Eva watched Caspie, content on his bed of soft snow. “Johannes, you have a way with dogs. With Caspie, at least.” She looked at Krebs. “They say dogs are good judges of character.”

“I think so,” Krebs chuckled. “We have an understanding, your Caspie and me.”

They got up and walked a bit. “Tell me,
Mademoiselle
Messiaen, how come you to so like the wandering? I think you may be part Bavarian.”

“Must one be Bavarian to enjoy the fresh air? The crisp of winter? The rebirth of spring, or the flowers of summer, or the colors of autumn? I like to be out. To be out with my dog. Being out is enough.”

“For me, being out with you is enough,” Krebs said.

Eva laughed. “Only enough?”

Over the next month Eva and Johannes met to walk together a couple of times a week. As Eva came more and more to look forward to walking with Krebs, she worried less that someone would find out about their rendezvous.

Poisoned Cheese

On the first day of April, the weather was decidedly spring-like. Eva had seen Johannes on Monday, and she walked alone with Caspar on Tuesday. She was leaving early Wednesday—excited at the prospect of meeting Krebs—when Sister Arnaude caught her at the door.

“Eva, you are to report to Mother’s office.” Her tone was stern.

Eva groaned. “Oh Sister, can’t it wait? I was just leaving for a walk before class.”

The nun arched her eyebrows. “No! You must go to the office
immediately
.”

As she walked down the dark corridor toward the office, Eva’s brain churned.
I suppose now she wants to make peace. Well, this wasn’t my fault. She was the one snooping in my notebook. Sure, I don’t like our little war, but what about her—how much is it bothering her? Enough to call me in this morning to apologize? Enough to swallow her pride?
Eva grinned.
If not, let her squirm some more.

When she arrived at the door to Mother’s office, Eva banished her smile and knocked. She waited a moment, opened the door, and entered. Mother sat behind her desk, directly ahead.

“Young lady, how can you
possibly
be so stupid?”

The sound bewildered Eva. The voice seemed unnatural. Like something dreamed. The words themselves slipped elusively by her, like silvery fish flitting below a pond’s surface—barely perceived and certainly not grasped. It took a moment for Eva’s vague inkling to become clear realization: Mother’s was not the voice she had heard. Eva turned to face the person she suddenly knew was there on the side, crouching in ambush.

“Uncle Henri?” Eva’s eyes were wide.

Henri sat on the edge of his chair, a compressed spring. His eyes were embers, glowing darkness, and his expression, lemon sour. “It’s come to my attention that you have been trysting with one of the occupiers.” He jumped up. Moving close to her, he growled, “Can you appreciate what you are risking? What trust you’re betraying?” Glancing at Mother, he caught himself. “Have you anything to say for yourself?”

Eva felt like she’d fallen in a pit. She looked pleadingly at Mother, who first opened her mouth to speak, but kept quiet.

Eva knew an explanation would change nothing. Still, there is the truth of the situation. “Uncle, I
have
several times walked with one of the German boys—the one who saved me after I’d fallen. But we do no more than walk and talk together. Nothing else at all. I didn’t think—”

“Finally some truth!” The vein at Henri’s temple bulged purple. “You
didn’t think
.”

Mother could no longer stay herself. “
Monsieur
Messiaen, young Krebs does seem a good boy.” She raised her index finger. “Now, I don’t for a minute—”

Without looking at the nun, Henri showed her his palm. “Thank you, Mother Catherine, but I’ll handle this.”

Mother tilted her head and raised her hands. “I was just going to say that youth—”

Henri shot her an electric look. “Thank you, Mother.” He turned back to Eva, now small as a mouse in the center of the room, and glared. “Because of your antics, I have instructed Mother Catherine that you are to be confined to the convent buildings through Tuesday next.” He snapped his fingers. “You will not see this Krebs again.”

Eva looked at the floor. “As you wish, Uncle.”

Henri’s lips pursed in a frown. Or was it a smile suppressed? “Not just my wish, young lady. A statement of fact.” He slapped his palms to his thighs, a signal that the session was over. He turned to Mother. “Now I must be going.”

Mother’s face was wan. “I’ll have Sister fetch your wraps.” She spoke to Sister Arnaude in the hallway and returned. “Thank you again for provisions you brought. We were completely out of flour, and I didn’t know what we would do, what with the rationing and the paucity of other sources. God bless you,
Monsieur
Messiaen.”

He shrugged. “I do what I can. My business takes me away so often, it’s not as much as I might like. Now remember, Eva is to be kept in
through Tuesday
.” Henri turned to Eva and shook his finger. “You, child, no more monkey business. Mark this—” His glare was razor-sharp. “—you no longer have the luxury of leeway.”

“Yes, Uncle, you are right.”

Henri nodded. “Always so.”

He turned on his heel with military precision. Sister Arnaude was waiting in the hall with his hat and overcoat. Henri took them without breaking stride, and tossing coat over arm, he stepped outside. He raised his face to the warmth of the springtime sun and inhaled deeply, proudly, as if the air’s fairness was of his making. He had his chauffeur Pruvot lower the phaeton’s top while he sat on the maroon velvet rear seat paging through the magazine,
Le Temps
. When the top was down, Pruvot started the powerful engine and, with Henri still reading, the large tan automobile roared away.

Inside, Mother gazed at Eva with affection. “There will be many boys to walk with, Eva. You’re just eighteen.” With her fingertips, she raised Eva’s chin to bring the girl’s eyes up to meet her own. “Such a pretty face! You’ll have every boy asking to stroll with you.”

Eva stared coldly ahead. Then she turned and left the room.

The week passed quickly. Early the next Wednesday morning Eva bolted through the door, dashing to the barn to get Caspar. Then the two of them were off, running in the morning mist, elated at being outdoors. Eva wondered if Johannes would be waiting there at the oak.
Probably shouldn’t go at all. But I could just explain what happened and say goodbye.
She found herself walking straight there, quickly. Camille’s Rule #1 came to mind—
If you’re going to sin, best to do it quickly, before your conscience trips you.
Eva felt a thrill on spying the huge tree beyond the fence line of the still-sleeping orchard. “Our oak!” A step or two later, it struck her. She’d said
ours.
Just saying it seemed to Eva like surrendering her heart. Not really surrendering, she allowed, because in the end, walks with Johannes will be a thing of the past. But at least it’s not complete surrender to Uncle, either.

Thirty meters from the tree, Caspar ran ahead, barking. Eva’s heart was pounding. But before the dog got to the tree, he turned and scampered back to her. His look was complete disappointment.
So Krebs isn’t here.
Eva’s shoulders sagged.

When she got to the oak, Eva walked around its broad, rough trunk. Behind the tree she saw it, stuck to the bark with a penknife. Until that moment, she’d held a shred of hope that Krebs might be hiding. Seeing the envelope, touching it, reading the
Mlle E. M.
address on it, Eva knew she’d not see him that day. She opened the envelope carefully.
I’ll write a reply on his note and leave it the same way for him—like something in a romantic film
. She fumbled in her pocket for a pencil.

Eva unfolded the one-page note. The writing was done in a careful hand.

Eva lowered the note and put fingertips to quivering lips. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and raised Krebs’ note again.

The color was gone from Eva’s cheeks. She sat on the log next to the oak. Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered Krebs dusting it of snow with his cap. She held out her arms and called Caspar, and he jumped into her lap.

Eva held the dog’s face and peered into his eyes. “You see everything, too, don’t you, Caspie? I feel so guilty. Sure, when a mouse eats poisoned cheese, it’s the poison that kills. Yet he wouldn’t eat but for the cheese, would he? Though she’s an unwitting accomplice,
Mademoiselle
Cheese can’t be excused. I should have known better.” Eva put her arms around the dog and nestled her cheek to his ear. “At least Johannes doesn’t see the treachery. Only you and I do.” She looked into the distance, tears glistening in her eyes. “When I came to St. Sébastien, I was happy thinking I’d be out of uncle’s clutches, finally my own person. Doing important work. But now I’ve come to see its poisonous side, too.” She kissed the dog’s head. “Caspie, you’re my only confidant. I’d be lost without you.”