Sins of the Flesh (43 page)

“Do you have anything else to say,
Mrs.
Tarz?” she asked coldly.

Nellie shook her head. “Just that Philippe wouldn't go along with this. And I can't go along, either.” She sobbed then into a dainty handkerchief.

“Obviously, your vote is a no. All right, let's get on with it,” Bebe announced to the table at large. “I want to remind you one last time, this is what Reuben wants. Now, let's see a show of hands for Reuben's side. Your vote represents me.”

Jane walked behind each chair, calling out a yes or no vote, which Tillie recorded in her dictation notebook. “One abstaining vote, Daniel Bishop,” she said with a catch in her voice.

Both Bebe and Nellie stared at Daniel. “You must vote, Daniel,” Bebe said coolly.

Daniel could feel his daughter's tear-filled eyes boring into him. As if in a trance, he stared at Bebe, recalling her singsong words years before after he'd signed his name to the hateful contract in front of him. “You owe me, Daniel. I'll call this in sometime in the future, and you have to honor it. You owe me, Daniel, and don't you ever forget it!”

“We're waiting, Daniel,” Bebe said again. After a mo-ment he inclined his head slightly.

“Is that a yes or a no, Daniel?” Bebe demanded.

“It's a goddamn yes, all right?”

Bebe smiled and reached for the old contract. “Thank you, Daniel.”

“Fifty-one percent in our favor,” Jane said happily.

Nellie scrambled from the table and ran to her father. Sobbing and choking, she lashed out at him. “How could you, my very own father! You know this isn't what Philippe wanted. I hate you for this, Daddy, and I will never forgive you! Never! You just pretended to be my father all these years. You never really cared about me. My father would never do what you just did! You betrayed me! I hate you!” she shouted as she ran from the office.

Bebe kept her eyes averted during Nellie's outburst, as did the others. Jane busied herself at the coffee table stacking cups and saucers. Once things had quieted down, she looked up and around the table, smiling her appreciation at them all.

“This meeting is adjourned,” she said. “Thank you all for your vote of confidence. When Reuben returns he will thank you himself. Now, if you'll excuse me…” With a brief nod to Jane, she was out of the room and headed for her car.

In the parking lot Nellie blocked her way. “That was a bitchy thing you did in there,” Nellie shrilled. “Somehow you tricked my father, I know you did. You haven't heard the last of this.”

“I think I have,” Bebe said calmly. “There are no more tricks in your bag, Nellie. This is the way things are until Philippe and Reuben return. Now, get out of my way!”

“You're wrong,” Nellie called after her, and then headed for her car. From behind her she heard Daniel calling her name, but she didn't turn around.

“Nellie, wait, we have to talk. Nellie, please wait.”

Nellie turned then, her eyes cold and hard. “I don't have a father. You had your chance back there to act like one and you didn't. I don't ever want to see you again.” At the last moment, before she pulled away, she said, “I'm glad my name is Bouchet. I'd be ashamed to call myself Nellie Bishop.” With that, she yanked open her car door, got in, and drove off in a spurt of gravel.

“I'm so sorry, Daniel. I wish there were something I could do or say,” Jane said, coming up behind him. “I think you know now that what we're doing is the right thing. Bebe and I both want you to be a part of the project for Reuben's sake. He will return, Daniel, I know he will. And if he doesn't…for whatever his reasons, it will still be right. Look, come with me back to my office. We have to get our ball rolling here. We don't have to talk about Nellie or even about you…. I've missed you, Daniel—No, don't say anything,” she broke in as he opened his mouth to speak. “You're raw and bleeding right now. Just let me be your friend. Later, if there is a later, we'll deal with it. No confidences, Daniel, I can't handle them now. Come along, Counselor, we have work to do.” Her smile was so genuine, so warm and inviting, Daniel found himself falling into step with her.

“Yes, work,” he said numbly. “Everyone's answer to problems they can't handle.”

He'd failed, first with Rajean and now with Nellie. But he couldn't fail Reuben, never Reuben. Doing what Reuben wanted would mean his mental survival. His stride firmed and quickened until he was walking just as purposefully as Jane. Thank God, he hadn't been wrong about her. He'd trusted his instincts the way Reuben had taught him to do.

“We'll make it work, Reuben,” he muttered.

“Did you say something, Daniel?”

“I was just telling Reuben we'd make it work,” Daniel said sheepishly.

Jane smiled again. “He already knows that. He trusts us, and that says it all.” She reached her hand down for Daniel's. It took a moment for him to grasp it in his own. Peace flooded through him.

“Yes, that says it all,” he said quietly.

Miramar Air Station! Finally. Philippe was almost delirious with joy that things had gone so smoothly. It had been nerve-racking to stand by, sweating silently, while his papers were examined. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of waiting, the captain rose, shook his hand, and said, “Welcome aboard, Reuben.” Philippe knew in his gut that although his grades were top-notch, it was the creative letter from Rear Admiral William F. Halsey that had gotten him into flight school.

He was safe. Everyone thought he was at Fort Dix in New Jersey. It would be hard as hell to track him down, and who among those he'd left behind would even think he'd join the navy, much less become an aviator under an assumed name.

For the first time since arriving in the United States, he was actually happy, he decided. There was no longer any pressure to live up to his father's name and reputation. He was his own man now, and would be judged on his own merit. Nellie was already a dim, distant memory, the nightmare of their marriage shelved far back into the recesses of his mind. His mother was going to take care of things, but that didn't include the annulment he planned to file as soon as he could. There was no room in this new life of his for Nellie Bishop, his biological parents, or any of the people who'd been part of his life during his short stay in Hollywood.

Philippe turned in time to see fellow trainee Mike Almeda bearing down on him. Mike was as tall as Philippe and just as broad-shouldered. But there the resemblance ended. Mike had sandy hair, greenish-blue eyes, and ten million freckles splattered over his entire body. He had a pug nose that he hated and the whitest teeth Philippe had ever seen, and he saw them a lot because Mike wore a perpetual grin. The young recruit hailed from Sacramento, where he lived in a white-shingled bungalow with his parents and twin sister named Elizabeth. “I'm the only one she lets call her Lizzie,” Mike had told Philippe when they'd first met. “She prefers Beth or Elizabeth. She's going to Berkeley. She thinks she's smart enough to be a vet—you know what, Phil? She is,” he'd added proudly.

“Jesus, I can't believe we're really here,” Mike called in a voice loud enough to be heard all over the field. “It's awesome, do you agree?”

“Hell, yes. Look at those trainers,” Philippe said gleefully. “It's hard to believe we're going to be sitting in them, and did you see the
real
ones on the runway?”

“I not only saw them, I
touched
them! When we get our own planes we get to name them.” His freckled face scrunched up into a solid mass. “I gotta give it a lot of thought. It's like naming a baby, you have to make the right choice. By the way,” he said slyly, “I found that picture of my sister I was telling you about. Wanna see it?”

“You're dying to show it to me, so hand it over.” Philippe laughed. “She can't look any worse than you do.”

Mike handed over the black-and-white photo. “I don't know how the hell it happened, but she doesn't have one freckle,” he grumbled.

Philippe stared at the small snapshot. The girl in the picture looked as if she had the same laughing eyes as Mike and the same infectious grin. Her hair was long, curling around her shoulders, and she was tussling on the front lawn with two collies.

“The dogs are hers,” Mike explained. “She loves all kinds of animals. Those are called Frick and Frack. When we were kids she was always dragging some stray home and wrapping it in bandages whether they needed it or not. One time she put this cat in a sling and he almost scratched her eyes out. Another time she had two hamsters she thought were males. Two months later she had sixty-seven of the little buggers, and boy did they smell!”

Philippe smiled. “You love her, don't you.”

Mike looked embarrassed, but only for a second. “You have to love your twin, you dumb shit. We're a close family,” he said defensively. “You want to carry it next to your heart. And if you ever meet her and tell her I said that, I'll deny it.” He laughed.

“Naturally. What's wrong with her?” Philippe asked suspiciously, staring at the photo.

“Not a damn thing,” Mike sputtered. “She's a dreamboat and can get any guy she wants just by crooking her finger.”

“I'll bet,” Philippe said. “Most guys don't go around trying to palm off their sisters on unsuspecting guys. What's she got, a club foot or something?”

“Actually, she's about as perfect as I am. Sometimes she talks too much and she's kind of bossy. But you should see her smack a ball and take three bases, and she's as pretty as my mom. You don't want the damn picture, give it back!”

“Ah, shit, you'd just wrinkle it up.” Philippe grinned. “I've known you for only two days, but I can see you're a slob,” he added, eyeing Mike's wrinkled pants and shirt.

“Enough of this bullshit, let's go see those planes again. I felt like I was touching a naked woman,” Mike confessed.

Philippe decided that he could love planes and flying and Mike Almeda's twin sister, Lizzie. Carefully he buttoned the flap on his shirt pocket, the picture safe inside.

It was snowing harder now, thick, fat flakes that covered Reuben in minutes. Every so often he stopped to shake snow from his body, and he was constantly brushing at his eyelashes. Trudging up the steep incline was hard enough without adding to his burden. As it was, he had to stop every five minutes to catch his breath. The wind, vicious now, howled and roared in his ears. Christ, he was tired. If he could just sleep for a few minutes…But he couldn't, he'd freeze to death in the high altitude. He had to keep going. One step, another, three, atta boy, now two more. Keep going, don't look down, don't think, just keep moving. Don't stop. One time he fell, sliding backward and losing all the ground he'd gained in the past thirty minutes. He rested a moment, struggling to take deep gasping breaths. When at last he was on his feet, ready to move again, he heard voices. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, giving his tired legs the impetus they needed to reach the thin row of pines.

“Gut!…Schon!…Um so besser!…Abfahren…des Alter…er Apparat…beeilen…der Berg…bergauf! Beeilen!…Beeilen!…Der Bericht!…Die Bewegung…Beeilen!…Beeilen! Gut! Gut!”

Reuben struggled with the smattering of German he'd learned years earlier under Mickey's tutelage. These were German soldiers, and they were in a hurry because they suspected…something…the mountain and going uphill…One of them wanted a report because they had…what? What the hell did
die Bewegung
mean? Reuben fought to remember…. Jesus Christ, movement! That's what it meant. They suspect movement…Mickey and the children up the mountain. They didn't know about him, were unaware that he was on the incline right below them. Thank God he'd slipped and fallen when he had. The voices were closer now, and crystal clear, carrying down the mountain. Would Mickey and the children hear them? Would these same voices carry up the mountain?

“Erloschen…Fahrplan…Fehler…Feind…Feind…Fliehen…Beeilen…Gleichgültig…Gewehr…Kinder…Gräbe…gehen zu Fuss.”

Reuben's blood ran cold. They knew about the children, and the climbers had rifles…. Someone had been careless…and they were…were…going to dig graves…or one grave…something about a timetable and the enemy…

“Jagd…Jagd…Frau…Kinder…”

The soldier in command was ordering his men to hunt for the women and children. Reuben's heart lurched in his chest. Exhausted or not, he had to climb after the soldiers. If only he knew how many there were, he might feel a little braver. His fear almost overpowered him as he started his climb. He estimated he was no more than a tenth of a mile behind the Germans and thanked God for the snow.

At least he had the advantage now; he knew about them, but they were unaware of him. Everything that was happening to him was happening to the soldiers. Snow squalled at his eyes, blinding him. His footing was unsure, his legs shaking with exhaustion. Snow stung harder, beating at him like a thousand whips, and still he kept going, German words ringing in his ears.

By now he was shivering…in fear. Ahead he could still hear the Germans moving, their feet stomping into the thick snow. With grim determination he forced himself to move more rapidly, hoping the exertion would warm him. Suddenly his knee struck a huge rock and he barreled over it. Stifling a curse of pain, he bit down on his lip and tasted his own blood. His eyes smarted as he forced his numb hands to massage his knee, and then he hurried on. Moments later he halted under a feathery, snow-laden pine branch when he became aware of the silence around him. The Germans had stopped, and he saw a wink of light through the pines. He must have made a sound! Although he tried to breathe normally, the thin air and his fear forced him to take deep gulps of air. Quickly he covered his mouth with his hand, but he couldn't take in enough air through his nose. Suddenly he felt a cough in his throat about to erupt, and without thinking he buried his head in the snow. When he came up for air he was forced to struggle even harder for breath. His vision clouded as he strained to listen for a sound from the Germans above him. The winking light was to the right now. At last he heard them talking again:

“Darf ich rauchen, Kapitan?”

Reuben almost fainted with relief. They wanted permission to smoke! Fighting his light-headedness, he skittered to the left, a crab in flight, his numb hands and feet moving on his mind's command. The smoke carried on the wind to his nostrils, and a wave of dizziness attacked him. He, too, would give anything for a cigarette, but he knew his tortured lungs wouldn't be able to absorb the smoke. He'd probably die of asphyxiation. Desperately he forced the desire from his mind and concentrated on making his exhausted limbs move. It was better on all fours; he could feel for the jutting boulders and rocks and not slip and slide. The bastards to his right must be part mountain goat.

Now that he was hunkered down into the snow, his movements grew even more frenzied. If he could get ahead of the soldiers, he might somehow be able to divert them from their objective. Instantly he realized that it was a ridiculous idea; staying behind them or at least even with them would give him a greater advantage. Mickey and Yvette would have weapons.

Eventually Reuben heard other sounds, the slight shuffles and whispers of children being hushed into silence. The Germans stopped, as did he. His heart pumping madly in his chest, Reuben sidled to the right, his eyes strained upward. The Germans were concentrating on the voices from above. One of them muttered,
“Schlachten.”
Slaughter…They were going to ramrod their way upward and gun the women and children down without a second thought!

He could see their boots now, perhaps thirty yards ahead of him. There were four of them. Certainly he could take out two of them, but the other two…If he shouted, gave a warning, Mickey and Yvette would be alerted and have the advantage of shooting downward.

Now. He had to decide now. This instant. Her name birthed in his belly, raged through his chest, and roared out his mouth. “Mickeeeeee!” Instantly he fired two shots in rapid succession; the first struck one soldier in the neck, the second in the center of his back. The third shot missed its mark by a foot. Moving instinctively, Reuben dropped to his knees and rolled to the left, then fired off a fourth, this one blind. He hit something, he knew by the sound of the grunt. From above he heard wild, ricocheting shots. Jesus, what if they hit him!

“Mickeeeeee!”
he bellowed a second time as he rolled to the right. A branch fell over him, pelting him with wet snow. Furious with himself, he moved on, this time scrambling upward.

The goose-stepping son of a bitch in his knee-high boots would never march again. He heard Yvette curse as she smashed the barrel of her gun onto the man's head again and again. Pulpy flesh splattered the ground all about him.

“What took you so long, Monsieur Reuben?” Yvette chuckled. “Did we get them all?”

“Four…there were four of them,” Reuben gasped.

Yvette chuckled again. “All accounted for. It's good to see you again, Reuben,” she said, throwing her arms around him.

His breathing was easier now. “I guess I am a little late, twenty-one years to be exact, but I made it. Jesus, you don't know what I've been through….”

“Yes, Reuben, I do know. We have been through the same thing. I've lost track of the Germans I've killed. Go, straight up. I'll cover these swine and try to feather our trail. There will be more, many more. You will have only time for a hello and we must move again. Reuben…”

“Yes?”

“Be kind. Like any woman, in a moment like this, she is thinking of her appearance and remembering how you last saw her. We have been through so much, endured…more than you know. In her heart she is the same person she was back then.”

“You are a foolish woman, Yvette,” Reuben said, not unkindly. “Do you think I look any better? I'm still the man who walked away. I'm hoping she will forgive me.”

“She forgave you the moment you walked away. She's loved you all these years. Go now, don't keep her waiting.”

Reuben grinned. “Still as bossy as ever.”

“We have a German prisoner. Actually, he's our pack horse. So be alert.”

“Jesus. Is there anything else I should know?”

“There are nine children,…and one dog.” Yvette smiled.

“It figures.”

Reuben grinned as he made his way through the thick stand of evergreens. He was here at last. He would see her in another minute. Sixty seconds. The years were wiped away as he straightened his shoulders.

“Mickeeeeee!…”