Flying Angels(57)

“You’re not afraid?” He was intrigued by her as he lay on the mattress and looked up at her. She was very beautiful, and exotic-looking. She shook her head in answer to his question and he could see that she wasn’t afraid. She was very calm as she watched him. She checked his bandages and took his pulse from time to time. “They’ll kill you if they find you with me. You must be very careful when you leave here. You came alone?” She shook her head.

“There are five of us. The others are taking care of your men, and one of the women.” The young boy had been moved to the other room hours before, and he was doing better. The corpsman who came to check on her said that he was eating a meal, which was a good sign.

“How will you leave here?” He was concerned about her, and restless, as she sat beside him and gave him another drink.

   “The same way we came. You don’t need to worry about it.”

He smiled as he looked at her. “You’re an angel, dropped from the skies to help us.”

“You have friends far away.” He nodded. He knew who they were. He had done many things for the British intelligence services, not just for those who remained faithful to France. He was a legend in the Resistance.

He slept again for a while, and she could see that he was better when he woke again. The fever was gone, and he sat up on the mattress and looked at her intently. She hadn’t eaten a meal all day because she hadn’t wanted to leave him for an instant, in case he took a turn for the worse. Some of the French boys had brought a crust of bread, some grapes, and a peach, and she had eaten them gratefully and nothing else.

“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.”