Code Name Butterfly, page 28
Grant stilled. “Did we switch to talking about me? Who said I struggle to get through every day?” Elly frowned. So, he was going to deny it. “Is this what you and Pierre were talking about?” he demanded, his voice cool.
“Fine, Grant. Don’t be honest with me or with yourself. But let me just tell you, you can’t break free if you don’t acknowledge the prison that’s holding you.”
“Break free from what?”
Elly reached up, touching a finger to her brow. Men. They’d rather walk off a cliff than acknowledge that they were lost. “Never mind, Grant. Never mind.”
So distracted was Elly that it completely caught her off guard when Grant grabbed her arm and started hauling her across the road. “Hey! What is wrong—”
He nearly slammed her back up against the wall of the empty store they were passing but stopped just shy of contact being made. Before she could protest, his hand covered her mouth. “We’re being followed.”
She stilled beneath him and he lowered his hand from her mouth to her waist, tugging her a bit closer to him. “There was time for you to open your mouth and say something,” Elly hissed.
“And hear you go on some more about how broken I am?” He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, the bristles of his beard tickling her cheek. And her body reacted as it always did when she was near Grant no matter how irritating he was being.
“Grant, everyone is broken to some degree.” Her words were soft. She slipped her hands around his waist, possessively as though he were hers.
“In two minutes, you’re going to walk down the road on our right for another half mile, get into the car, and return to the castle. But take the long way home.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” she warned.
“You have to trust me. It’s the best way to get out of this situation. If they have to choose, they’re much less likely to follow a woman.”
Elly was silent for a moment. “If you don’t return home, I’ll have to go looking for you.” She’d never forgotten what he said about how if they were caught, they were on their own.
He lowered his chin onto her shoulder and she heard him exhale. His other arm wrapped around her back. “I cannot be fixed.”
Elly’s breath caught for a second and she squeezed him tight. “Last time I checked, I possessed no divinity and no magic powers. I’m not trying to fix you. You can’t fix me. I’m saying I can live with your failings. Assuming you can live with mine. Grant, I don’t like this idea of leaving you.” Of leaving him here in this moment. Of leaving him here in France.
Grant lifted his head and pressed the softest kiss to her cheek. Then he gently grabbed her chin, turned her head, and placed another tender kiss on her other cheek. Faire des bisous. “The sooner you leave, the sooner we’ll both be home with a story to tell.”
Elly leaned forward and touched her lips to his. Grant’s hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. He parted her lips with his own, kissing her slowly as though wanting to savor every taste of her, and making her feel like she could do this forever. Then he lifted his face, separating their mouths and leaving Elly with a heart that was pounding, lips that were swollen, and a body that wanted more. “Be careful,” she whispered.
“I will. But the only thing I’m afraid of right now is you.”
CHAPTER 36
Father Laval’s instructions were plain and straight-forward. The weapons were to be delivered to a train station about thirty minutes away from them. There, the stationmaster would make sure they were loaded onto an empty car and sent north. Very simple. In and out. But this was not just one or two small boxes. It was more like ten very large ones. And the Germans were patrolling. Jo and Grant went back and forth about whether to take on the job but there was no heat. They both knew it had to be done. Especially if it meant keeping the weapons out of German hands. But it did mean that in order for this to work, they were once again going to have to make use of the French deserters they were hiding.
Elly knew almost immediately that the plans being tossed out around her didn’t include her in the least. She still found a corner in the dining room, listening as the men talked in quick, careful bursts and scrutinized maps that were spread across the long, marble table. She eavesdropped quietly as she finally got around to hemming some clothes.
Pierre entered the room, looked around, saw her, and then turned in her direction. “You can do mine next,” he said as he lowered himself into the chair next to hers. He and Danny had gone out earlier to take pictures of the area. Danny was developing the film now.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t even like to do my own sewing.”
“You talk a big talk but you’re nothing but a softie inside. I bet you would fix my clothes.” He wasn’t completely wrong. Elly was beginning to discover that a part of her really liked to feel needed.
“Still not doing them.”
“I bet you would do Grant’s.”
Grant. She looked across the room at him where he was talking easy French with these soldiers as he must have done twenty years ago. They had not been alone once since the night before. Pierre had insisted on waiting up with her for Grant. And when Grant had arrived in the wee hours of the morning after giving the Germans something of a chase, he’d just nodded in her direction before heading for bed and leaving Elly with dozens of questions. “Well, we both know I won’t do yours.”
Unoffended, Pierre lowered his head onto her shoulder. She should have been annoyed. She did not particularly like being touched, even when she missed being touched, unless, of course, it was Grant Monterey doing the touching and yet, she did not tell him to move. “I’m beginning to see how this war is going to be fought in France now.”
“Yep,” Elly said as she pulled the needle through a seam.
“I don’t think it’s going to get better.”
“Nope,” she said as she snipped a long piece of thread.
“I would like to go home. I just don’t know where home is.”
“Fun has worn off?”
“Wore off a long time ago,” Pierre muttered and she knew they were both thinking of Polly.
Danny appeared in the doorway, photos in hand. He eagerly passed a handful to Grant before shuffling over to Pierre and Elly. He brought a hand to his mouth, yawning. “Boy, I’m tired. But I do think that those are some of the best photos I’ve ever taken if I don’t say so myself. Here,” he said, handing several to Elly. “I made copies.”
Elly lowered her sewing onto her lap and began flipping through the photos. This train station was just below a wooded hilly area, offering a lot of places to hide. Every time she finished looking at a photo, she passed it to Pierre who was still resting on her shoulder. “You do good work, Danny.”
“I know,” he said with all the confidence of someone who knew his craft. “It’s nice to be able to do my part in this thing.”
Elly hummed, acknowledging his comment.
“Now it’s just Pierre who’s a deadweight.”
Pierre lifted his head off of Elly’s shoulder. “… what?”
“How have you contributed? You could at least play the banjo. Then we’d have something to listen to while we work,” Danny muttered, inspecting his fingernails, which were an unusual color due to all the chemicals he used in developing film.
“I was literally just in that dark room helping you.”
Elly stood up, grabbing her sewing. Danny and Pierre could really nitpick at each other when they wanted to. “I’ll see y’all later. I’ve got dance rehearsal.”
After several months of rehearsing with no possible performance in sight, Elly was beginning to think that it was highly unlikely that she was ever going to be on a stage performing. The situation here in France was just too volatile. Elly didn’t see how it could be done. Nevertheless, she kept showing up on time for her practices with Jo.
“There you are!” Jo said excitedly, already going through the paces. Elly changed into her dance uniform and then she began stretching as Jo had taught her to. She was here for Jo. Because Jo seemed to look forward to dancing and rehearsing and if that meant Elly had to play along then so be it. Besides, she was developing into a better dancer. And how many people could say that they had been given exclusive one-on-one dance lessons from the Josephine Baker? So, she’d keep going to her practices.
“Okay,” Jo declared as she fiddled with the record player in the corner. “I’ve figured out your problem.”
“I thought you did that already.”
“Well, yes. It’s probably more accurate to say I’ve figured out a solution to your overthinking problem.”
“I cannot wait to hear it.”
Jo shot her a dark look that brightened two seconds later. “You’re dancing for the wrong people. When you think of dancing, you see a faceless crowd. You need to pick one person and dance for them.” Jo tapped a finger against the side of her head. “Preferably someone in here and not an actual audience member. So, think of the one person you want to see you dance, and dance for them.”
Elly frowned, considering her words. Who would she want to see her dance? Her thoughts went immediately to Grant and she felt her face grow warm. Thinking of him did suddenly make her want to lengthen her legs the way Jo always stressed and to shake with a little bit more oomph. She thanked God the heat in her face was barely discernible.
“If you dance for one single person, everyone in the audience will think you’re dancing for them. All right, up on your feet. Let’s go.”
There were twelve of them going: Grant, Pierre, and Danny, of course. Along with all nine of the French deserters they were currently housing. The weapons were going to be taken to the train station using their two Renaults and one wagon. They’d unload the weapons and then their group would ride into the night. An easy task unless one considered the Germans.
Elly knew that they had planted a few men at the station whose sole purpose for the past two days was to watch the movement of the Germans. The only thing was, two days was not exactly long enough to establish a pattern. They were going to have to be very careful, very quiet, and very quick so as to not attract attention.
Elly had listened to the plan over and over until it danced in her head. She was going to be able to watch the clock and know exactly where each man was and what he was supposed to be doing. Three of the French soldiers had already left with the wagon and a wagon bed filled with boxes. They were taking the long, circuitous route to the station. There was no help for it. The main routes were much more likely to be frequented by the enemy. The remaining men would leave in the two cars, arriving at the station hopefully at the same time as the wagon. The stationmaster was prepped to have the very last train car unlocked and empty. Seven men would move the weapons and ammo inside the car while the rest remained on guard. Then they would leave by car and fetch the wagon at a later time. All in all, it should take an hour max.
“I’ve made a decision,” Grant was saying to the remaining men. “About the weapons. I know we’re supposed to turn all of them over but I don’t like going down there knowing we might face the enemy and have nothing.”
“We’re going to take some?” one of the men asked eagerly.
Grant nodded and a wave of relief seemed to wash over the face of every man. “Just a rifle and a few rounds of ammunition. What we don’t use, we can ship later.”
Appearing before them with three rifles in hand, Grant handed one to Danny, one to Pierre, and then he held one out to her.
“For me?” Elly asked, surprise filling her voice as she carefully took the weapon from him. They’d had no time to speak to each other in the past few days. None.
“You would think he’d given her a pair of diamond earrings,” Pierre muttered to no one in particular as he began to check his weapon with easy expertise.
“Thought you might want to come along for the ride. We don’t have anyone to keep lookout for the cars.” Lookout for the cars.
“Are the cars planning on going somewhere?” Danny asked. A stupid question but the same one that was running through her mind.
Grant ignored him, his dark eyes on Elly. “You want to come or no?”
And that was how she found herself squished up front next to Grant who was driving one of the Renaults. He drove slowly with no lights on.
“Just stay with the vehicles,” Grant explained. “Make sure they’re running and ready to go in case we’re moving in a hurry.”
“Okay.” It was not a meaningless job. These particular cars needed cranking. You couldn’t just hop in them and go.
“Lay low.”
“Yes,” she said quickly, her grip on her rifle tight. She did not know why she wanted to go with them except that she hated sitting on her hands and waiting.
They parked the cars on the side of the road at the top of the hill that overlooked the train station. The wagon was going to be coming around from below. It was carrying most of the weapons but Elly watched as the men popped the trunks of the car, hefted boxes and started into the forest. And then it was just her, alone with the cars, and her rifle in hand.
Not wanting to be seen standing in the middle of the road—although she thought that might be hard to do considering it was night and she was wearing all black—she still crouched down behind one of the cars and waited.
A cool breeze blew through the countryside carrying with it a hint of lavender. Elly closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. She’d loved Paris. It was such a beautiful city. But she was beginning to think that she preferred the countryside of France. There was just something about being in a town where everything around her was a little bit trapped in time. It was that fantastical element that made her feel like France was not quite real.
So lost was Elly in her daydreams that the first pop of a weapon made her fall forward to her knees. Freezing in that position, Elly strained her ears. And then she heard it again. The sound of a gun firing, several times in rapid succession.
Elly looked down at the rifle in her hand as a wave of iciness began to crawl over her. Just who was doing the shooting and who was being shot down there?
And then the sound of many weapons being fired at the same time filled the air. There was a battle taking place.
“Watch the cars, Elodie Anne Mitchell,” she whispered aloud to herself. “They’ll need them.”
But the shots kept firing. “And just what are you going to do if you go down there? Hunting deer is different than being a part of a gunfight.” But what if they needed her? What if Grant or Pierre or Danny were in serious danger?
She would just go check. And then she’d race back. Happy with that decision, Elly took off, bent slightly over. Step lightly, she reminded herself as she crossed ground. Breathe deeply. She still managed to trip over unseen foliage a few times. But at least with her sitting in the dark as she had, her eyes had adjusted to the night sky and so it wasn’t as hard to see where she was going.
Elly followed the sound of the firefight until she knew she was just above it. She looked down the hill at the station, which was lit up, giving her a clear view of everything. And the first thing she saw was bodies. French bodies, lying twisted and unmoving just outside of the last freight car that was hooked up to the unmoving train. It looked as though her group had gotten the weapons onto the train and then been ambushed. Which probably meant that somewhere along the line they’d been betrayed.
CHAPTER 37
From where she was crouched down, hidden behind a wide tree, Elly began to count the bodies below. Scattered on the ground, in a near-perfect half-circle in front of the open train—as though they had just delivered the last few boxes of weapons—were the bodies of five of the French deserters. That meant that at least seven men were trapped at the bottom of the hill fighting it out with what appeared to be twenty German soldiers. But the Germans had taken a few losses themselves. Elly counted seven uniformed men lying on the gravel, looking like bloodied rag dolls.
The living German soldiers were lined up almost parallel to the train, shooting and firing and occasionally taking cover from behind a railcar if needed while Elly’s group was tucked behind the small wooden station itself. Elly had no doubt that more soldiers were probably on their way. They were going to die down there: Grant, Pierre, Danny, and the others. Even if it was only because they ran out of ammo. More than anything, she wanted to peek over the ridge to confirm that Grant, Pierre, and Danny were still standing. But there was no time for that.
Elly dropped to the ground, tucking the butt of the rifle into her shoulder. The others were behind the station not only for protection but also because there was a direct path up the hill from that point. And yet, to take that first step was to put oneself at a huge risk of being spotted and killed. She had to give them a chance. She was going to have to take the heat. Which meant she was going to have to kill a few men. Her first round hit one of the Germans right between the eyes. Because of her nerves, the second round hit another in the neck. The Germans paused, turning, searching. Her third round hit a man in the chest and then she picked up her gun and ran fifty feet to the right.
Ducking behind a large tree, she took a second to wipe at the sweat on her face but she didn’t waste time thinking. Snipers were effective because if they kept firing, they could pin entire units to the ground. This knowledge came courtesy of her brother. Thank heaven for little boys. Elly raised the rifle again. Having caught on, the Germans were playing a bit of hide-and-seek. Most of them had disappeared behind the railcars. Elly’s eyes darted to the station. One of the French deserters took off at a run for the path that led up the hill. A German soldier stepped out. Elly shot him, killing him instantly. Her grip on the barrel slipped and she took a second to wipe the sweat on her hands onto her pants.
