The Last of the Stanfields(78)
“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.”
“Well, maybe she’s perceptive and was following your lead. You have to admit you’re not the world’s most talkative woman.”
“I make up for it with other things. Although I don’t see what’s so special about being a blabbermouth anyway. What time do we leave? This place gives me the creeps.”
“As soon as the sun goes down. Germain offered to give us a ride to Aurignac in his truck. It’ll save us an entire night on that bicycle.”
After coming down with a serious migraine, Germaine didn’t reemerge to say goodbye. Her husband apologized on her behalf, saying that she was furious at him for taking such risks for total strangers.
They loaded the tandem into the back of the truck and climbed into the cabin. The lidded headlights weren’t especially bright, but they did keep the vehicle discreet at night. The Berliet rattled and jerked its way down the road. With both hands on the wheel, the farmer began to whistle as he drove.
“Your wife is right to be upset,” said Hanna. “It must be dangerous on the road these days. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“It’s more than dangerous; it’s strictly forbidden. Lucky for you, the Germans and the militiamen like to stuff their faces with only the best. They expect to have their milk and eggs delivered, poultry too. So, if you’re a good farmer, you get an Ausweis and can move about as you like. Rest assured, my papers are in order. If we get stopped, pretend you’re asleep and everything will be fine.”
“Be sure to thank your wife for us,” Robert insisted.
“Of course, of course, no problem.”
The engine made an infernal racket as they drove onward. By L’Isle-Jourdain, Hanna had fallen asleep. They passed Saint-Lys, Sainte-Foy-de-Peyrolières, and Rieumes without the slightest hint of trouble. Robert dozed off as well, lulled by the movement of the truck. Near Savères, the loud sound of shifting gears woke him up with a jolt. The farmer was slowing down in a hurry.
“What’s wrong?” Robert asked.
“I think there may be a patrol at the next crossroads. We’re still a way off, but I saw some lights on the horizon, and at this time of night, farms would be shuttered up and pitch-black. Just stick with the plan, and everything will be fine. Let the little lady sleep, it’s better that way.”
Robert glanced over at Hanna, her head resting against the window with her eyes closed and still. And yet Robert could feel her hand slide down his back, closing around his gun and pulling it right out of his belt. As Germain reached for the gearshift, Hanna sat bolt upright and pointed the gun at him.
“Turn off the headlights and pull over!” she ordered in a steely tone that left Robert dumbstruck.
“What is this? Some sort of hustle?” the farmer balked.
“I was about to ask you the same thing. How much were you going to make by turning us in, huh? Twenty francs? Fifty? What’s the going price for an American these days? Maybe you could even get a hundred!” Hanna snarled, jabbing the barrel of the gun into the man’s cheek.