Chapter Five
It took a lot to make James Butler look at anything from someone else's point of view. He'd always been the leader, the natural 'head' of any group. Sometimes it came across as boastful, snide... or even 'full of himself,' but it NEVER failed him. He'd always come out on top, smelling like a rose. That sure wasn't the case now. He rounded the last corner heading down the road to the safe house. The road was patterned like a crazy quilt, more dips and holes than actual road. He'd been on the road for the better part of the day and he knew that he wasn't the freshest fig in the basket. Each bump and swerve ground his teeth together and James worried that he would snap his tongue off if he wasn't careful. He pulled to a stop before the little wooden cottage, his senses on full alert. The place seemed deserted. The engine sputtered and died as he set the kickstand in the soft packed dirt. "Phillip? Marianne? This isn't very funny... come on out!" Nervous laughter fell from his lips, only to sweep away with the wind. Jimmy reached into one of his saddle bags and pulled out his Colt. The older design of the weapon seemed out of place with his surroundings, but the pearl grips, cool against his skin, were comforting. His ears suddenly tuned to every nuance of sound in the area, every bird on limb or creature in the brush. In the more rural areas outside of Paris, James felt out of his element. A soft snap behind him sounded and he whirled around, his finger on the hammer of the six-shooter. Phillipe Renee appeared from the trees, a grouse thrown over his shoulder. "James?" He broke into a run, "Please... excuse me.. I did not realize the time." His relief gave way to irritation, "I was gonna shoot you.. you should be more careful." Taking it in stride, Phillipe walked up to James and threw his arm around the young man's shoulders, "Marianne is inside sleeping; I was hunting and only heard you when you rode up." James shrugged of the constricting arm, "You need to be more careful... you should-" He stomped off to the side, "I could've been a German soldier! Doesn't that scare you?" Phillipe nodded, "Oui, very much, but we'll not let it rule us. Marianne and I know the dangers, our 'neighbors' have all left France, but it is our home; we will fight for it." James nodded and reached into the inside pocket of his woolen coat. Several thick envelopes were bound together with twine. He shoved them into Phillipe's waiting hands, "Here is the latest dispatch. Is there anything I need to take back?" Shaking his head, Phillipe patted his pockets, "No news, eh... how does that phrase go... "No news is ..." James stalked over to his bike and settled into the seat, "I've got to get back." "You could stay here and change clothes, even take a warm bath. Marianne could heat some water for you." "No, I've got to get back, you see-" "There is a woman - est-ce que c'est exact? Did I guess right?" Jimmy shoved his helmet on his head, "That isn't any of your business." Standing, Jimmy stepped on the throttle and the bike roared to life. Without a backwards glance, he zoomed off into the approaching darkness. All the way to the home station, James went over Phillipe's words in his head, "but it is our home; we will fight for it." It was a broken record inside his head, playing again and again. 'He was right. He was working to help his people, his country... why am I here?' James' mother was British and had sent him to College in England, hoping the traditions and the staid atmosphere would prompt him to 'settle down.' He'd been a spitfire hellion in High School, making quite a name for himself with the ladies. There had even been a few near 'confrontations' with jealous boyfriends and brothers... even a father or two. As for becoming a pilot; he'd taken to flying like a duck to water, flying crop dusters became his first priority. Soaring above the mundane little towns gave him a touch of power he'd never felt before. It wasn't much of a shock to anyone in Troy Grove when he left to join the Royal Air Force. James wasn't one to sit back and wait for anything and the Royal Air Force was actively involved in the fighting. James looked at the houses that he passed by, then the buildings and tiring streets... he knew none of these people, but here he was aiding in their defense. There was a satisfaction in that knowledge, but there was something missing. He still saw himself as an outsider... and that wasn't likely to change. **************** Louise had long since given up cleaning, her dust rag lay abandoned on the table in front of her. She pillowed her head on her folded hands, listening to the band rehearse. Elias had just started 'Swingin' at the Savoy for the fourth time, and a few of the band had rolled their eyes at Louise. She was enjoying every minute, of it. Rachelle sat down next to the young woman and caught her eye. "Louise?" "Hhmmmmmmmm?" Louise wasn't thrilled with the look in her eyes. Rachel set Louise's bag on the table between them. "What are you doing with these?" "Oh?" Louise swallowed hard, she'd done her level best to forget her awful experience at school. "I just carry those... I mean- I can't work here and..." "Well young lady, I have a rule." Now it was Louise's turn to roll her eyes. "You need to finish school-" "But- how can I?" Louise laughed as some of the band turned at her protest. "Besides, I only have a year left.. I'll finish it later." Even as she said it... Louise had a rock in her stomach. "Later?" Louise stood quickly, picking up her bag, "Look... it's not that I don't want to finish. I just didn't understand what the teachers were saying... They don't have classes taught in English." Louise moved through the tables, "It's getting late anyway... I really should be going home." "Louise? Wait-" "I'm not giving up... it's just not practical. What difference does it make anyway?" There was a catch in her voice, one that caught Rachelle by surprise. "I just wanted to help." Louise sighed, aware that the band had stopped playing, all their eyes were averted; staring down at their music. "I know... and you HAVE helped, but I just don't see how you can help with this." Rachelle started forward and Louise darted through the door. "Louise-!" The door swung half way shut and Rachelle thought she was coming back in. Kid ducked in the door. "Rachelle? What's wrong with Louise?" Picking up the abandoned dust rag, Rachelle wiped at one of the tables half-heartedly. "Kid?" "Yeah? He shrugged out of his coat and set it on a hook, "What is it?" "I need a favor." "Anything. Just ask." "I need some books... American High School Books." Kid cocked his head to the side, a curious look on his face. "What do you need those for?" "Louise." |