“Are you a doctor?” he asked, intrigued by her. She had told him before but he’d forgotten.
“No, I’m a nurse, with a special unit.” He didn’t ask which unit, and they both knew it was better if he didn’t know.
“Were you assigned to this mission?” She nodded.
“Yes.”
He smiled and looked very handsome when he did. She could see that when he wasn’t injured, dirty, and sick, he was probably a good-looking man, and younger than he appeared. He seemed ten or twenty years older than he was.
“What’s your name?” He could know that at least.
“Louise. Louise Jackson.”
“You’re American?” She nodded. “You must be stationed in England. They came then.” He looked pleased, and then focused on her again. “I will find you one day, Louise Jackson, and come to thank you myself. If you save me now, you will save my country. What you’re doing is important to many people, and to France. There are many of us left, not so many as before, but France will rise again. I will come to you after that.” It sounded grandiose to her and she thought he was delusional from the pain and infection. He didn’t say it, but he thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and the gentlest. “You’re in the army?” he asked, still curious, and lucid enough to ask questions. He was a strong man, even though seriously wounded.
“Air Forces,” she conceded.
“You don’t look like a soldier.”
“Looks can be deceiving.” She smiled at him. “Do you think you can stand up?” She wanted to get him as steady on his feet as she could before he left. It might save his life when they moved on. She helped him to his feet and he nearly fell. He was weak from loss of blood and his injuries. She made him walk across the room with her help. “This isn’t my usual nursing protocol in a case like this,” she apologized, “but we need to get you mobile fast, Gonzague.”
“No one has called me that in years.” He smiled at her. “Count Gonzague Antoine de Lafayette.” He attempted to bow and nearly fell over.
“Stop showing off. We have work to do. I’d rather you be a walking peasant than a falling count when you leave here.” She was unimpressed by the title he claimed he had, but she was intrigued by him. She walked him back and forth across the room several times and then let him sit down. “I’ll give you a shot of morphine before you go. It will help.”
“You are an angel, aren’t you?” She let him lie down again then. It was nearly dawn, although they couldn’t see it from underground.
“Close your eyes and rest. Don’t talk. Save your strength. You’re going to need it.” His survival was going to depend on it. She leaned her back against the damp well as she sat with him. One of his men came to check on him and saw that they were both asleep. He was satisfied that their leader was doing better. He had heard Gonzague talking to the nurse for hours, and one of the others had seen him on his feet and walking with her help.
They came to warn Louise that he’d be leaving in an hour. She nodded, got up, and checked Gonzague’s dressings and his leg wound again while he slept. Half an hour later, when she woke him, she gave him a shot of morphine and a shot of a local anesthetic for the leg.
“You’ll be able to walk better with that. You won’t look so suspicious. They’ll be looking for someone who is having trouble walking. Try to look strong and confident. You can lean on one of your men,” she said.
“I wish I could take you with me,” he said, and looked as though he meant it. She would have liked that too. He was the most interesting man she had ever met, and he had eyes that mesmerized her. They were piercing and bright blue. “You think that you won’t see me again, Louise. But I promise you that you will. I’ll find you. If I’m alive at the end of this nightmare, I’ll find you wherever you are. And whether I live or die, I owe you a debt. I won’t forget it, if they don’t kill me.”
“Don’t let them kill you,” she said softly. “Many people depend on you.” She could tell that from the way his men looked out for him, and what the British were doing for him. “I want to see you again,” she said, and meant every word. It had been the strangest night of her life, trying to save him so he could escape. He leaned forward then, and his hands were strong but gentle as he pulled her toward him and kissed her in a way she knew she would never forget if she lived a hundred years. Her eyes were full of tears when he stopped. She wanted him to live so she could see him again. Or maybe he would just be a fantasy forever. She was a young Black air forces nurse from Raleigh, North Carolina. If what he said was true, he was a French count. She guessed him to be about ten years older than she was. He was a white French nobleman, a powerful agent of the Resistance whom every German in the area wanted to put in front of a firing squad. The chances of her ever seeing him again were slim to none. In her mind, she knew it, but in her heart she wished it could be otherwise. There was a fairy-tale quality to meeting him that she wanted to remember in every detail.
One of his men came to walk him into the next room when it was time to leave. They cheered when they saw him on his feet, and the shots Louise had given him helped him to move more freely than he should. He might pay for it in pain later, but for now, he looked like a healthy man again, which might save his life. She quietly joined her team and watched him from across the room. He and his men and the two women went up the ladder. Louise and her team were to wait an hour, and then two members of the Resistance would lead them back the way they’d come. They would be picked up that night at a designated location by a British transport plane. And Gonzague would be on his way over the mountains by then, in a truck headed north to the Swiss border.
He was the last one of his group to leave the subterranean room, and he turned with one hand on the ladder. His piercing sky-blue eyes found her again. He said nothing, but she remembered his lips on hers. He nodded, thinking the same thing, silently reminding her of his promise to find her, and then he was gone.
Chapter 14
Louise’s team returned safely to the base after an arduous journey. The plane picking them up had trouble landing and there were German fighter planes in the area, but they eventually were picked up after the pilot made several passes at it and then flew them home.
Five days later, Paris was liberated. Five hundred Resistance fighters were killed in the fight for Paris. Louise and her crew had saved nine of them, one of them being the most important Resistance leader of the war.
Even after the liberation of Paris, which was a jubilant event, people’s nerves were frayed. They were tired of the war. It had gone on for too long. Five years since it all started in Europe. And three for the Americans, who were fighting alongside their Allies in Europe and the Pacific, even if not on home turf, as the Europeans were. They kept hearing promises that it would be over soon, but it never was. Another devastating battle would happen, another border would be crossed, and for every victory there were costly defeats and heavy losses.