Remembering You (17 page)

“You sound like a saint. Like Mother Teresa. I really didn’t think there were people out there like that anymore.”

“Like what?”

“Willing to put their life on hold to help others.”

“It’s not like I had a life to put on hold. It’s not mine. I surrendered my life to God.”

“Right, of course. I mean, as a Christian, that makes sense.” Heat rose to her cheeks. She should have expected this conversation, but it caught her off guard.

It’s not like she didn’t believe in God too. It’s just that people who took their faith so seriously made her see all the ways she was falling short. She bit her lip, remembering that it was a conversation almost like this that had started the argument with her grandfather.

“If you love God, maybe you should make sure you’re living for Him, Ava. Is getting married to this person God’s plan for you… or your own idea?” her grandfather had asked.

Her grandfather’s questions had bothered her as much as Dennis’s statement did now. Wasn’t it enough just to love God in whatever you did?

“It sounds like you’re really doing great things.” She smiled, not knowing what else to say.

From the corner of her eye Ava saw her grandpa rising from his seat, but she wasn’t about to end the conversation with this awkwardness. She didn’t want to go through another day with this much tension between them. “So how did you end up back in the States? Or are you?” she pressed.

“Do you want the long story or short version?”

Ava shrugged. “Is there something in the middle?”

“Sure.” He looked at his grandfather briefly. Seeing he was okay, Dennis turned back to her.

“Let me see. Three years ago I was headed to Uganda to help this young woman who was caring for thirty orphans in a small two-bedroom shack. I got into a conversation at the Amsterdam airport with an American businesswoman. She was interested in helping, and she asked if there was a website so she could check it out further. I didn’t have one. These kids were sleeping on a few blankets on the ground, and the woman wondered if they had a website!”

Ava laughed. “I suppose that’s a good point, but I have to admit it’s a question I’d probably ask.”

“Yeah, well, I gave the woman my business card and she said she’d keep in touch. I honestly doubted she would. I mean, she didn’t know me from Adam.” His eyes brightened as he spoke, and as Ava watched, she saw a different man—one of passion and intensity—reveal himself before her.

“I was bothered by her question, but not because she asked it,” he continued. “It was mostly because I figured there had to be a way to bring the needs of people around the world to the attention of those who have the means to help. As I was thinking about this, I happened to look around the airport. It was a small waiting area, and there were twenty people on computers. Others had cell phones and iPods. I’m not really in love with technology. Sometimes machines get more attention than people, but as I looked around, it was as if a light switched on in my mind. Those computers were tools to connect needs with supplies.”

Ava nodded. She knew how technology brought people together. Her job, after all, was sharing people’s stories with a wider audience. But she wasn’t going to bring that up. Just when things were improving between them, she didn’t want to throw an I-told-you-so in his face.

“That was my last trip…until now. At twenty-nine, I went back to college and learned web design and marketing. It was harder than I thought—at least to turn out something good. I’m heading to the Czech Republic after we finish up in Austria. There’s a group doing career training for Roma people who have a hard time finding work. I’m going to get a website set up for them, to connect them with supporters in the States.”

Ava couldn’t help but smile.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just think it’s amazing.”

The waitress came and refilled her coffee and she took a sip. “It’s funny where your life took you, that’s all. We were eighteen when we met. You’re so grown up now. So grounded. And it’s cool to see your heart. Back then, all you ever talked about was playing college basketball. Whatever happened to that?”

Their grandpas left the dining room, and Dennis scooted back his chair, ready to follow. “I tore my ACL in my knee during a street ball game a week before college. I was able to have surgery, but it took six months before I could play again. It was one of those freak things. I just landed wrong after a jump shot and
poof
, there went my dreams, my scholarship, everything.”

“It sounds like God gave you different dreams.”

Dennis’s eyes brightened. “Yes, I suppose He did.”

In the back of her mind, Ava thought about what a wonderful guest Dennis would make on the show. Three million viewers meant more people would be aware of his work—potential donors for the causes he cared about.

She bit her lip, not wanting to bring it up. She didn’t want Dennis to think that
everything
centered on her work. There’d be time later when they could discuss the possibility.

He looked like he was about to stand but didn’t. Instead he leaned forward, as if wanting to confess a secret.

“It was actually a memory of one of our times together that helped with that transition. My willingness to try a new step started with a memory of you,” he finally said.

“Me?”

“Yes.” His blue eyes sparkled. “Remember how our grandpas taught us to jitterbug in your grandparents’ living room? At first I was so embarrassed, but then I saw you trying. You weren’t a pro, but at least you tried. After that, I decided to just learn the steps the best I could. I tell myself now to at least try something
.
”

“I wish I was like that now.” She lightly tapped her fork on the side of her plate. “I’ve swung too far in the opposite direction. I like to have a plan and stick to it. I like to think I’m still adventurous, but I haven’t tried new things in a long time. That’s why this trip has been so challenging.”

A long silence stretched out, and then Dennis’s eyes locked on hers.

“You look so different.”

“What?” Ava interrupted. “Thanks a lot.” She faked a pout.

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way. You didn’t let me finish.” He reached over and placed his hand on hers. The tapping of her fork stopped. “I was going to say that I always thought you were pretty, but now you’re downright beautiful. No wonder you’re working on television.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. “I work behind the scenes, mostly. Except for this week. But really, I don’t feel beautiful. I—”

Dennis shook his head. “Ava, honestly, after all these years I’d thought you would have learned—when someone gives you a compliment, all you have to say is thank you
.
”

She looked at him, surprised. Partly because they’d made it through a whole conversation without fighting. And also because he seemed to mean it.

“Thank you,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say.

* * * * *

Ava rode along in silence, flipping through the other letters her grandpa had given her to read. For some reason, the letters jumped from December 24 to April 7. From the Belgian battlefield to somewhere in Germany. She knew better than to ask her grandpa about the missing letters. As much as she didn’t like it, Dennis was right—he’d share when he wanted to.

From the front seat, Grand-Paul was directing Dennis to their “side trip,” she supposed. They’d gotten off the main road, and she guessed they were visiting yet another battle spot. They drove on a country road with vast fields on either side. Small farmhouses popped up here and there. As pretty as it was, Ava returned her attention to the letters, trying to figure out a plan for this night’s video.

April 7, Germany

Dear Mom and Dad,

Looks like I’m getting lax in writing, but if you could have been with me the last few days, you’d know the reason why. Let me just say, I’d like to settle down in some quiet place, eat a good meal, not C or K rations or something
we’ve cooked ourselves, and sleep for forty-eight hours
.
Some out-of-the-way place where there are no tanks
,
trucks, tracks, airplanes, or uniforms
.

Our outfit liberated some American and English POWs, and that was a wonderful feeling—seeing them as they were freed and rejoicing with them. One of the prisoners was a chaplain from Mississippi. He told us we were an answer to many prayers. I’d like to think that was true, but what about those who weren’t rescued? Didn’t they pray?

Love
,

Jack

Ava paused, amazed that her grandfather had been so open with his thoughts. The pain of his last few sentences countered the joy just a few sentences higher: “Our outfit liberated some American and English POWs
.”

She closed her eyes and tried to picture the scene. Rejoicing. Freedom. She wondered if those prisoners of war had questioned whether they’d ever be free. She wondered if they truly believed it when help finally came.

April 21, Germany

Dear Mom and Dad
,

The apple trees are budding here in Germany. It would be pretty if there wasn’t a war going on. Last night, we were supposed to sleep in two rooms of a house, but a drunken lieutenant came in and said we were fraternizing. We had to move out into the yard.

I read in the
Stars and Stripes
that Ernie Pyle wa
s
killed in an ambush in the Pacific. We were all sorry t
o
hear of his death, for he was the only civilian who kne
w
exactly what we go through in the infantry
.

Yet, it’s hard to be sad for one man when there are so many to be sad for. I feel numb sometimes. Maybe because what happened in Belgium haunts me in my sleep.

Keep on writing. I’ll get your letters sometime next September. I need news of home. I need to remember it’s still there.

Love,

Jack

Ava paused, again wondering about the trouble in Belgium. Even though she’d decided not to ask her grandfather again until he was ready, she’d still keep looking to see if she could find more on the Internet any chance she got.

May 7, Somewhere in Austria

This makes the sixth foreign country I’ve traveled in, and the fourth I’ve fought in. I’ve seen enough now to last a long, long time. I’m ready to see the USA. Because of security regulations, I cannot tell you just where I’ve been, but I can say it’s been a long and tough drive. I don’t think I could put to words what’s been going on even if the censors would let me. Pray for me. I’m not only haunted by all I’ve done, but what I refused to do.

Love,

Jack

May 9, 1945, Austria

We’ve heard the news that we (and the world) have been awaiting for so long. The news came to us in a small Austrian village north of Linz. The war in Europe is over!

Even today, I find it hard to believe that this phase of the war is done. There were no celebrations or parties where we were. Instead, we’re wondering what the next move will be. I hope that our last drive is history and that we can settle down to somewhat of a normal life, but no one knows.

I’ll write more later. I’m thinking about too many things. I’m also seeing what no one ever thought we’d see. I’ll tell you someday about how Austria welcomed us.

Love
,

Jack

Ava tucked the letter into the envelope.

The guys up front were quiet now. It looked as if Grand-Paul was taking a nap.

Quaint countryside passed outside the window. Dennis’s window was rolled down slightly, letting in a cool breeze that ruffled Ava’s hair.

“Grandpa?”

“Hmm?”

Her grandfather had his favorite map opened on his lap, and she wondered if he thought Dennis needed a second navigator. She didn’t want to ask, though. She was more concerned with his stories—his words.

“Did you see a lot going through Germany?” she asked, realizing they’d be there today.

“Yes, but our goal was to take over as much of the country as possible. We weren’t there as tourists. When we made it to Austria, I was more than ready to see home. But we had to go through the last gate before that was possible. That’s when we came to the concentration camps. I know now what the Bible means when it talks about the valley of the shadow of death.”

As he said the words, Ava thought again about the letters she’d just read, and she realized that although he had talked about many things, the letters had a common thread. The battle was more than just a physical fight. There was a fight in his heart too. A fight over his faith.

How did someone experience so much and still believe in God? It was a question she wanted to ask but didn’t. Maybe because, unlike her grandfather and Dennis, she still struggled with the faith they seemed to grasp so easily.

Chapter Seventeen

When Ava opened her eyes, they were no longer on the paved country road. Instead, they were on a dirt and gravel one. She looked around, sure they were lost. She was also certain they were traveling down a path most American tourists had never stumbled upon.

“What’s going on?” Her voice sounded like she’d swallowed gravel, and from the heaviness in her head, she’d been sleeping deeply. She rubbed her eyes and then yawned wide.

“There’s a place your grandpa wants to see,” Dennis answered. “A farmhouse he remembers.”

Ava glanced at her watch.
He didn’t want to go to Chenogne but wants to visit a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere?