Remembering You (31 page)
The studio lights dimmed and an image flashed on the large video screen behind them. It was a picture of her and Dennis when they were eighteen. Ava’s heart pounded, and she wrung her hands on her lap.
What in the world?
The photo disappeared, and then Dennis’s face filled the screen as a video played.
“Hey, Ava, this is Dennis. Hanging around with you over the past week has inspired me. And when I happened to meet up with Rick and Clark here—” The camera turned around to Clark and Rick’s faces. Then it turned back to Dennis. “Well, I asked them to help me make a video of my own.”
Dennis looked up into the sky, as if he was trying to find the right words, and then he looked back into the camera.
“First, I need to apologize for my outburst today. I was wrong. I didn’t give you the chance to explain. I’m thankful that Clark here explained what had happened. He had wrongly assumed Chenogne was the name of the town where your grandfather found Angeline. Can you forgive me? I acted pretty lousy today.”
Tears pooled on her lower lids, and even though she knew he couldn’t see her or hear her, she nodded.
“Now, my grandpa packed this ring when he heard you were coming, just in case. I’d hate to disappoint him. I’d hate to have my heart broken, and I’d hate to be standing in this hall all night. I’m going to head to your room, sweep you off your feet, and ask you the question I’ve waited fifteen years to ask. You see, Ava, I have to tell you that I’m completely in love. For the last fifteen years I’ve carried a secret love around for the girl I knew. Now I’m even more deeply in love with the woman you’ve become.”
The camera scanned back, and Ava could see that Dennis was standing at the bottom of the stairs in the foyer of the hotel in Linz. In the background she could make out the media forming outside the hotel, but Dennis didn’t seem to notice.
Dennis smiled at the camera one last time, and then the video ended. The screen behind Laurie went black, the lights came back on, and Ava glanced around the set. It seemed foreign, and she had a feeling this wasn’t where she wanted to spend the rest of her days. She also felt alone.
Ava placed a hand over her heart. Tension built inside as she wondered what happened when Dennis realized that she wasn’t in her room—wasn’t there to watch the video. That she was already heading back to the States.
She focused on Laurie.
“Ava, do you want to tell us what happened?” Laurie asked.
“I left. I wasn’t in my room. I was already headed back to Seattle.”
Laurie smiled and then nodded. Then she looked at someone over Ava’s shoulder.
“You may have left, Ava Ellington, but this time I knew what to do. I knew to follow.” It was Dennis’s voice, and it wasn’t coming from the video.
Ava stood and turned. In the dimness off the stage, she could make out his handsome features. She could see the love in his blue eyes. “Dennis.”
Dennis strode up to the studio stage, and she rose and folded into his arms. He held her close. Held her tightly.
“You weren’t easy to catch, you know. Good thing my grandpa has good connections and we found a plane just as fast as yours.”
She snuggled her face into his neck. “I don’t want to let go. I don’t ever want to let go.”
“Are you sure?” Dennis chuckled in her ear. “If you don’t let go, you won’t get to see what I have in this box.”
She watched as he pulled a small box from his pocket.
Ava released him and stepped back. At the same moment, Dennis sank onto one knee. He opened the box and held up the ring. It had an antique setting that held a small diamond.
“Ava Ellington, I want to trek through life with you. I want our journey to last to the end of our days. Will you marry me?”
Ava covered her mouth with her hands. She nodded.
“Is that a yes?”
She lowered her hands.
“Yes, Dennis, over a million miles and through ten thousand days, yes.”
Cheers arose from the studio room around them, and Dennis placed the ring on her finger. Then he stood and gave her the most gentle of kisses.
“Looks like my prayers were answered!” It was Grand-Paul’s voice. Ava turned, and her heart leapt to see him. And by his side Grandpa Jack stood.
“You two were in on this? Grandpa, how did you pull that off? I just left you back at home not an hour ago.” Ava laughed.
“Of course we’re here. We were trained to be wherever we’re needed most.” Grand-Paul winked. “I have to say, after the long journey, this victory at the end of the trip makes it worthwhile.”
Ava looked down at the ring on her finger and then back to Dennis. “I love you. And I forgive you.” She smiled.
“Can you forgive me a thousand times more?” His eyes were focused on hers. “Because I’m sure I’m going to mess up many times, Ava.”
She winked. “I think I can schedule that in.”
He chuckled. “Good, but don’t get too caught up in those plans. Right now all I want to think about is you and me. Together for life.”
“Sounds perfect,” Ava whispered. “Like a journey to look forward to. To remember.”
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
In 2000 I was on vacation with friends when I heard a heartbreaking story. Fifty-five years prior, in a small northern Austrian village called Mauthausen, white flakes fell from the sky. The month was May. It wasn’t snow that tumbled down, but ash. I first heard the story of the tens of thousands of people killed, of the ash that poured from the crematorium, from a historian who gave us a tour of the concentration camp. My heart broke as I tried to imagine the horror.
Among those familiar with World War II history, Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen are commonly discussed. But there are many lesser-known concentration camps. One of them is Mauthausen, named after the nearby village.
Mauthausen
As early as 1939, prisoners began arriving at the small train station at Mauthausen. A full two years before the bombing of Pearl Harbor, this once peaceful community was already experiencing the horrors of war. And by January 1941, the Mauthausen-Gusen camp was the only “category three” camp in Third Reich history, meaning it was a camp of no return. To be sent there was to be given a death sentence. Men, women, and children were either killed soon after their arrival or else worked to death in quarries and munitions factories.
Historians estimate that between 120,000 and 300,000 people perished in the Mauthausen camp system. Most who entered the large gates never exited, but in May 1945 everything changed. American troops had fought through France, Belgium, and Germany and finally crossed the Austrian border. The first American GIs to arrive at the camp were from the 41st Cavalry Recon Squadron, Eleventh Armored Division, Patton’s Third US Army. The men opened the gates and brought the prisoners what they never expected—freedom—followed by food, clothes, and the care of medics.
When the camp’s historian, Martha, told me about these men, I knew I wanted to meet them and to hear their stories. What was it like to grant these prisoners their freedom? How had it affected them? When I arrived home, I researched their experiences and contacted their division’s veteran organization to ask if it would be possible to interview any of the men. I was overwhelmed by the response. The men invited me to their annual reunion in Kalamazoo, Michigan.
Men of the Forty-first Cavalry on an M8 tank
A friend traveled to the reunion with me, and as we entered through the hotel doors, I saw gray-haired men with their Eleventh Armored Division caps sitting in small groups and sharing old war stories. We’d just finished checking in to the hotel when a younger man approached. “Are you the author?” he asked. “I’ve had men lined up all day waiting to meet you.”
Sure enough, those I’d connected with through letters were waiting with their photos, their stories, and their tears. After all these years they had not forgotten. I talked to Arthur and Charlie first. They’d been best friends during the war, and fifty-five years later they still finished each other’s sentences. Thomas, LeRoy, and Tarmo were next…each one telling me his story. Many more men, each with his own personal experiences, poured out their hearts to me. During the week they held a special ceremony to honor their friends who’d died and to remember the people they’d liberated. After all these years they knew that what they’d done mattered.
Eleventh Armored Division patch
I attended two more reunions over the years, one in Buffalo and the other in St. Louis, and interviewed hundreds of veterans. I wrote two historical novels about their experiences,
From Dust and Ashes
and
Night Song
, but it was the relationship with the men that forever changed my life.
You see, my grandfather was also a World War II veteran, but I’d never taken time to sit down with him and hear his stories. I was afraid the stories would upset him. I didn’t want him to have to think about those times any more. It was hard for me to connect my sweet grandfather with someone who fought in war so long ago. What I forgot was that he had been young once, and his fight helped secure my freedom. What I didn’t remember is that the memories were always with him, daily, even if he never talked about them. After Grandpa Fred passed away in 1999, I wished I’d taken the time to listen.
Veteran of the Eleventh Armored Division
Meeting the men of the Eleventh Armored Division gave me a second chance to listen. I saw their tears and quivering chins as they told me the stories of battles in Bastogne and the Siegfried Line. I saw their drooped shoulders and heavy hearts as they explained what they lived through when they liberated Mauthausen and its subcamps. I’d lost my grandfather, but God gave me a hundred more grandpas. What a gift.
One of my most amazing experiences was to receive an e-mail from a woman named Hana. She’d heard of my book and knew I’d interviewed some of the veterans. She asked if I’d interviewed any medics. Then she told me an amazing story. Hana was born on a cart just outside of Mauthausen. Her mother had survived a prison term at another camp and was transported to Mauthausen at the end of the war.
Hana was just three weeks old when the Americans arrived, and she was very ill. The filthy conditions had given her a skin infection, and sores covered her tiny body. No one expected her to live. Yet one of the medics saw the small baby and knew he had to do something. Even though it took most of the day, he lanced and cleaned all of Hana’s sores, saving her life. Over the years she’d wanted to find the medic but didn’t know where to start.
