“American or English?” asked the farmer.
“Foreigner, like you said. That’s good enough. And you won’t have any trouble with the Resistance as long as you don’t make any trouble with the Resistance.”
“Ha! He’s got balls, your boyfriend,” the farmer told Hanna.
“All we’re asking is for you to let us stay a few hours,” she said. “Pretend you didn’t see us. Is that so much to ask?”
“Listen. I’m the one holding the gun, so I’ll call the shots. First, no one’s going to come threaten me on my own land. If you wanted something to eat or drink, all you had to do was ask. Politely.” The farmer lowered his weapon and sized the two up for a moment. “You don’t look too dangerous. My wife’s prepared lunch and you can join us. But first, go and wash at the well. You’re both a total mess.”
The water at the pump was so frigid that it stung Robert’s wounds and even reopened the gash on his chin. Hanna took a rag from her pocket and put pressure on the cut to stop the bleeding. Robert winced as she pressed on it. “Come on, toughen up,” she said.
The farmer and his wife offered both of them clean clothes. Hanna looked like a perfect tomboy in a pair of baggy trousers and a man’s shirt. The farmers acted friendly and cordial as the four ate lunch, watching as Robert swallowed down all his stew without any prompting, but noticing Hanna had hardly touched her plate.
“Eat!” the farmer insisted. “Even if you’re not hungry, you’ve got to eat. Where are you two headed anyway?”
“For the Spanish border,” replied Robert.
“Well, you won’t get far on that silly bicycle.”
“What’s it like on the roads around here?”
“Quite busy as of late. Between the ones who’re fleeing east, those heading northwest to fight with the Allied Forces, and people like you heading due south . . . a whole lot of folks, you see.”
“Wait . . . what’s this about the Allied Forces?” asked Robert, stunned.
“Well, I’ll be damned, have you been living under a rock? Four days ago, they started landing in droves on the beaches of Normandy. It’s all over the radio. The Germans aren’t giving in, but with the English already at Bayeux and Canadian troops advancing toward Caen, some say this infernal war will soon come to an end.”
Upon hearing the news, Robert leapt straight out of his chair and hugged the farmer. Hanna, meanwhile, remained planted in her seat, her eyes welling up with tears. Robert knelt before her and took her hand.
“They were so close to the end, only to die,” she lamented. “Papa will never get to see France liberated.”
“I’m here for you, Hanna,” Robert said softly. “You’re going to be all right. I’m taking you home with me.”
The farmer’s wife motioned to the man to fetch drinks, and he went to the liquor cabinet, coming back with a bottle and glasses.
“So sorry for your trouble, my dear,” he grunted. “Drink up. Some pear brandy will do you a world of good.”
Hanna helped clear the table after the meal, while Robert was asked to lend the farmer a hand baling hay outside. Robert spent the whole afternoon out in the fields. It was a bit awkward at first, but he quickly got the hang of it, even eliciting a compliment from the gruff farmer. “Not bad for a Yankee!” the man snorted.
Robert recounted the events of the previous day to the farmer out in the fields, describing Hanna’s situation and the promise he had made to Sam. At the end of the story, the farmer sighed, eyes full of compassion, and offered his help.
“I’ll take you two as far as I can. We’ll leave tonight. We’ll stow your bike under straw in the back of my truck. Given the time it will take to drive there and back, I’d say I could get you as far as Aurignac, which would put you roughly sixty-five kilometers from the border. But be careful, crossing the Pyrenees is no walk in the park, even at this time of year. In any event, I’ll have done my part, and the rest is your problem.”
Between the news of the landing and this new development, Robert had been given two glimmers of hope on the same day, at a time when hope was what he needed most. He went back to the farm, washed his face at the well, and ran inside to tell Hanna the news. He found her standing alone in the kitchen.
“I thought you were with the farmer’s wife.”
“Her name is Germaine and his name is Germain, isn’t that completely ridiculous?”
Robert tried to find an American equivalent, but his mind was far too scattered, and Hanna quickly beat him to it.
“Can you imagine a couple named Jess and Jessie?” she mused.
“Why not? If they love each other, who cares?”
“I’m not sensing all that much love in this house.”
“I think you’re mistaken.”
“All I know is they’re sure going to love being rid of us. Germaine seemed irritated that I was here. She left without even trying to make conversation.”