Chapter Two
She leaned her bicycle against the wall of the building and took the vegetables out of the basket. It was sunny today, a perfectly cloudless sky, and she savored the warmth, a welcome change after a particularly dismal fortnight. She walked up to the door, much more confidently than she had in the past, and she opened it without knocking, just as she usually did.
Girls were running around laughing, obviously preparing themselves to go out for a walk. They smiled and said hello as they saw her, for everyone loved Sophie. She might not approve of their occupation, but she was at least civil to them, unlike many of the other women in the neighborhood.
"Clarisse is in her office," one of the girls said with a smile. "The gentleman you met the other day is in her office with her," she added with a wink. Sophie felt her stomach doing flip-flops, and she felt at once self-conscious, fearing that she might be a little obvious. But it was too late for that now.
Clarisse's door flew open just as she lifted her hand to knock on it. Clarisse was smiling sternly at her, the smile of a benevolent mother who wants nothing but the best for her child.
"Having some financial troubles?" she asked, opening the door a little wider so that she could enter the room. She thus revealed the form of Blaine Rawlings sitting on the sofa, a cup of tea in his hand. He started at once, quickly putting the cup of tea down with a clatter and standing up, rushing to smooth his uniform. Sophie held back a giggle with some difficulty.
"I'm sorry to come back so soon," she said quietly, tightly clutching her bundle of vegetables to her chest. "My uncle hasn't been doing so well- no one has much money to spend on furniture these days. I would appreciate it if you didn't mention to him that I was here. I don't want him to know that I'm worried about our financial situation. He fancies himself the head of the household and wants to support his family appropriately, and just doesn't understand that everyone needs a little help now and then."
Clarisse didn't seem very interested by her little story. Rawlings stared at them, appearing slightly confused though he was doing his best to follow the conversation. They were speaking in French, but only because Sophie had begun speaking in French, so that he wouldn't understand about her problems and her pathetic excuse for returning so soon.
"I don't have any extra money to pay you," Clarisse said in English, her voice thickly accented. "The best I can do is trade rations."
"That's fine," Sophie said, giving in and speaking in English.
"I'll see what we have," Clarisse said, leaving the room. Subtly, she closed the door behind herself, locking Rawlings and Sophie in together.
Sophie set her vegetables down on the table and shuffled her feet uncomfortably, staring at the floor.
"How is it that you speak English so well?" he asked suddenly. She jerked her head up suddenly, startled by the question. She frowned. "I mean, you haven't even got an accent. You speak English just like the rest of us in the Escadrille."
She smiled slightly, blushing a little. She lowered her gaze.
"My mother was American and my parents met in New York. I was born there, but we moved back here by the time my brother was born. I've lived in France ever since."
She spoke much more readily now, and she met his eyes as she spoke. He smiled at her, and she blushed and looked away.
"You know, you owe me an apology for letting me think that you worked here," he said, a small smile flashing across his face. She refused to meet his gaze, and stared obstinately at the floor. He walked over to her and put a hand under her chin and lifted her face so that she was looking at him. She started at his touch, but she didn't shy away.
"Would it have been so very bad if I did?" she asked quietly, her mouth firmly set and her eyes attempting to be cold but succeeding poorly.
"No, but if you did work here then you wouldn't have been able to get involved with anyone," he retorted quietly, his voice gentle. She almost laughed, but she smiled instead.
"Is there anyone in particular I should get involved with?" she asked, her bright blue eyes dancing. He smiled back, a conspiratorial and slightly embarrassed smile.
"If I answered you truthfully you would laugh," he said, his eyes dancing as well. She giggled.
"If you lie to me I would think you have no backbone, despite your service in the army," she teased.
He opened his mouth to speak, but just at that moment Clarisse came back in, her arms laden with bread, cheese, and some meat wrapped up in butcher's paper. She placed all of it on the table and put her hands on her hips, looking sternly at Sophie.
"I think I'm giving you a bit too much, but as you very well know, kindness is a large part of my nature," she said. "Now take your rations and get out of here."
Sophie smiled and thanked her, and quickly wrapped up the rations in the cloth she had used to contain her vegetables. She bid them both good-bye and hurried from the room, but not before allowing her gaze to linger on Rawlings for a minute, smiling at him.
"Where were you all day? I could have used your help around the house," her aunt chided as she stepped through the door. She had hidden the rations under a pillow in the parlor, a room which was never used except when guests came over, or on special occasions. She didn't want her aunt to find out that she had been trading their vegetables without asking her first, and she most certainly didn't want her aunt to find out that the rations they had gotten in return had come from Clarisse.
"I went out for a bike ride, I'm sorry," she said, putting an apron on and picking up a spoon. She stirred the stew which sat on the stove, attempting to find something to do so that her aunt wouldn't be able to criticize her any more. "I didn't realize you needed help today."
Her aunt sighed and continued cutting up the carrots. She could never stay angry at her niece for too long, for she was always such a good girl that her mistakes were few and far between, never serious in nature and never intended to hurt anyone.
"Have you gotten any letters from Charlie?" Sophie asked, forcing herself not to look up from what she was doing. She didn't want her aunt to see the sad desperation in her eyes as she thought of her brother.
"None," her aunt said, dumping the carrots into the stew. Sophie renewed her stirring with slightly more force, so that the carrots would get mixed in with the rest of the stew. "But not to worry, I'm sure the post is just slow. It's been that way since the beginning of the war, you know that."
Sophie nodded absently, but she was in no way comforted. She hadn't heard from her brother in weeks, and it worried her. But, as usual, she forced the thought from her mind and tried to think of something more cheerful.
"Your uncle said that the cobbler's shop down the street closed. I guess everyone has just decided to repair their shoes themselves, the way we have," her aunt remarked. Sophie said nothing but took the stew off the stove to cool. She stirred it one last time before putting the lid on it, to keep the heat in.
"We're far from being in trouble," Sophie remarked sadly. She knew, like everyone else did, that though they were suffering, they were far from going under. They at least had vegetables and a little bit of meat, some bread and cheese. And though her uncle's carpentry business was suffering, there were still English and American officers willing to buy French cabinets and trinkets for their wives back home. At least the war hadn't hurt them as badly as it had some of their neighbors- she was thankful for that, and she thanked God every day at least once for that blessing.
"Why don't you go fetch your uncle for supper?" her aunt suggested, her lips pressed tightly together, the way they got when she started thinking about something unpleasant. Sophie nodded, taking her apron off and hanging it up. At least her aunt's preoccupation with the war would keep her from inquiring about how her niece spent her day.
