Page 22 of If You Were the Only Girl in the World
“She does not work in a hospital. She gave up her own practice after her husband died.”
Katrina waited while Nate searched for words to go on.
“She is better than I to describe why and how she did that. You see, her motivation for her current work derives from the loss of her husband. And her hatred of the war.” Now it was Nate who was drawing patterns with his finger on the linen.
Katrina covered his hand with hers. “What does Aurore do?”
“She makes masks for men disfigured by shells and bullets.”
She was speechless.
“She understands the musculature of the human body as well as her mother and her father.”
She tipped her head in silent inquiry for an explanation.
“Her mother is the artist, Marianne Roland and her father is the sculptor, Remy. She learned the ‘poetry of the body’, as everyone in the family calls it, from both of them.”
Katrina sat back in her chair, flabbergasted at the fame and accomplishments of the parents. “Truly a remarkable family.”
“They are,” he said with a small smile and a hint of something beneath that resembled envy. Why that was, she had no idea and she was not going to ask him for an explanation.
“I look forward to it.”
* * *
That Friday at nine, Katrina met Nate at the entrance to the Gare de Lyon station. He’d purchased tickets and they climbed aboard a car jammed with people. Second class, the tickets did not provide for reserved seats and many people sat three or four to a two-seated banquette.
“We were lucky to get on this train,” he told her as they settled across from a woman and her two children. All three were bundled into threadbare heavy coats and carrying ragged over-stuffed garment bags. “The ticket agent told me there are only two scheduled for today. The tracks are often broken south of Paris and there are no railroad men to repair them.”
Katrina was not surprised. Train service in and out of Paris was sporadic. Most able-bodied French men had gone to the army early in the war and all businesses in cities and the countryside suffered from any workers to repair or replace them “I would guess from the looks of them that these people are fleeing?”
“Yes, south from the British and French lines.”
“A new offensive?” she asked in an undertone.
He raised his brows. “Or they simply seek some peace and quiet.”
She turned to watch the suburbs of Paris give way to the farmlands. The French abandoned their homes all across the north as the Germans shelled constantly. Entire villages had been demolished by cannon fire and traipsing armies. She’d often seen many, like the family sitting across from them, carrying everything dear to them, even their pet dogs and chickens.
“I wanted to get a staff car to take us from the train to the chateau but I couldn’t. I called Aurore ahead and told her. She’s sent the groomsman to meet us at the station. Hope you don’t mind a horse and buggy.”
“Not at all.” She reached for his hand and held it tightly in her lap. This morning he looked weary, as if he had not slept well. That was probably true. The responsibilities he bore to obtain medical supplies was a thankless one, never having enough of anything to satisfy the demands. She knew of it personally because her own hospital was besieged by such lacks. Yet, her hospital had more of everything simply because it was supplied by donations from Americans and in part by the United States government as well. “Let’s not talk more of any of that, shall we?”
“We won’t. I want you to absorb all the sunshine and brightness you can from your day off.”
“I want the same for you.”
* * *
And so with a hearty smile, the two of them gave themselves over to watching the beauty of the vast planes and lush forests roll by. When the train chugged into the tiny station, Nate and she were among half a dozen passengers to step down. A few lacy flakes of white snow kissed their faces as they walked the quay toward the old station. Bundling her scarf around her throat, she was glad she’d worn her heaviest winter coat, a Scottish tweed her mother had insisted Katrina take abroad.
“Why not wait inside and warm yourself a bit?” Nate said, happier now she noted than when they’d met this morning. It was good for him to get away too.
“I will.”
He strode off to the front door but returned in a minute. He was beaming. “Aurore has come for us!”
He took Katrina’s arm and led her through to the road. There, every imaginable conveyance stood in the large roundabout. Horses pulled flatbed wagons, loaded with potatoes and root vegetables. Donkeys led gigs. A goat was the beast leading a child’s go cart even though a girl in her twenties was the driver.
