Chapter One

It was a rainy day, the sky darkened with clouds. Usually she loved these kinds of days, for she loved rain and the ability it had of making things grow, but this day had a particularly sinister quality to it, something that made her tremble slightly as she slowly pedaled her bike along the wide, tree-bordered road. It was slightly muddy, for in spots there were large puddles of mud, and every once in a while she had to swerve to avoid these.

She had in her basket a meager amount of fruits and vegetables, freshly picked from her garden. She was heading towards the whorehouse, a large and slightly run-down building in the middle of nowhere, for it was common knowledge that they considered themselves "too good" for gardening and always welcomed with open arms those who came to sell them food. It was the only place she could still sell her vegetables, for no one in town had the money to buy other peoples' food, and tried to make do with what they grew in their own gardens.

She leaned her bike against the wall of the building and took the small package of vegetables that she had placed in the basket. She held it gently, cradling it almost as one would cradle a baby. Slowly she walked up to the door and tentatively pushed it open- there was never anyone free to open doors. Every time she came here she felt the guilt welling up inside of her, felt dirty and low. But she kept coming back, pushed to it by her need for money.

There was no one in sight, and she slowly made her way towards the back of the house, knowing that was where Clarisse, the owner of the establishment, kept her office.

The office was empty. She sighed, not knowing what to do, but tentatively sat down on the sofa, gently placing her package of vegetables, neatly wrapped in an embroidered piece of cloth, on the table.

She waited for a few minutes, but found that she couldn't stand to wait in such an establishment for too long. She simply wanted to sell her vegetables and get out, especially before anyone saw her. She stood up and went to the door, slowly poking her head out and peering around.

A man stood at one end of the hall. He noticed her, and before she could pull her head back into the room and close the door, thus putting a stop to any possible conversation, he was standing in front of her.

He had a gentle face, slightly hardened by what she couldn't even hazard a guess at. He wore an army uniform though, and he had sandy blond hair that was swept out of his face. He was tall and well-muscled, with a gentle mouth, which she imagined smiled often. But what she noticed most were his eyes- those kind, gentle eyes that seemed to reassure her and soften the uncomfortable knot in her stomach.

"You're new here, aren't you?" he asked in English. She shook her head slowly, unable to tear her gaze away. He smiled. "You understand English?"

"Yes," she whispered, incapable of lying to him. She couldn't lie to him, not after the way he was treating her.

"What's your name?"

"Sophie," she whispered. She couldn't lie, but at least she wouldn't give out her last name. He smiled and put a hand on the door, gently pushing it open. She made no move to resist.

"Are you busy?" he asked, but they both knew that she wasn't.

"A little, yes," she said, her voice slightly stern for the first time. She would allow him to mistake her for a whore, which was understandable given her situation. But she refused to allow him to use her as one too.

He was taken aback by the harshness in her voice, but he recovered quickly. He smiled and nodded.

"I understand," he said. "My name is Blaine Rawlings. I'm in the Lafayette Escadrille, if you ever want to look me up."

She forced a smile as he turned to go. As he passed through the door Clarisse came in, looking slightly surprised to see Sophie in her office. She closed the door and came over, her face composed now, ready to talk business.

There was a knock on the door, and Clarisse looked up from a stack of papers. She had her spectacles on, and through these she peered at Rawlings. He looked slightly uneasy, but he hid it well, and only the attentive eyes of Clarisse could see the hints of it.

"Tell me about her, please," Rawlings said quietly. Clarisse sighed and took her spectacles off.

"She doesn't work for me," she said. Something similar to relief passed over Rawlings' face. She was smiling slightly, a knowing smile that revealed nothing. "Her name is Sophie Forestier. She lives in the next town over with her aunt and uncle. She comes to me every once in a while with fruits and vegetables that she sells to me when she's hard up for money."

"Why does she speak English so well?" he asked. Clarisse shrugged, beginning to get annoyed by his persistent questions. She wished he would just let her get back to her work.

"How should I know? I buy her vegetables, I don't socialize with her," Clarisse shot back.

Rawlings understood that the harshness in her voice was a command to leave, and so he respectfully bowed and left, closing the door quietly behind himself. Once he was gone Clarisse allowed herself to grin broadly for a few moments, savoring the thought of young romance, before she sobered up and got back to work, poring over huge ledgers filled with numbers, expenses and income.