“They found them in the pantry," Mrs. Berner, the grocer, whispered, “That girl was always trouble but to be caught in her employer’s home with a Berchten soldier! The shock of it.”
Mrs. Mabel Ellis clucked her tongue, gathering her month’s rationing of flour and sugar to her bony chest. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she narrowed her gaze at Evette in line behind her.
“You best keep your wits about you, Miss Wardly.” The postmaster’s wife groused, her nostrils flaring, “Especially with that officer you are keeping. These Berchtens are like dogs, they know no bounds.”
Mrs. Berner gave Evette a nervous smile, “Don’t you be worrying about Evette here, Mabel. She’s a good girl, a smart girl. She went to University on the mainland before the war.”
With a sniff, Mrs. Ellis cocked her grey head to the side, “All the same. Remember, girl. They are the enemy, they have our boys in camps and have killed many of our sons already. You wouldn’t sleep with a murderer, would you?”
“Mabel Ellis!” Mrs. Berner snapped, her round cheeks matching the red of her flour dusted apron, “That’s quite enough in my establishment, thank you very much.”
The skeletal woman pranced away, roughly brushing past Evette’s shoulder. The heat that had risen to the school teacher’s face slowly dissipated as she set the cans on the counter. There were one can of soup, one of green beans, one corn and a special can of pears that Evette had picked out for her mother. She retrieved her stamp book from her school bag and laid out the government issued coupons.
“Pay her no mind, Evette.” Mrs. Berner gave a dismissive wave of her doughy hand, “I heard tell they just got word of their boy Marc. He’s in a camp somewhere in the mountains in Berchta, close to the Lyrovian border.”
Mrs. Berner could be counted on for the latest island gossip. Evette was thankful that she had always been on the boisterous woman’s good side. The last thing she needed were more tales about her circulating, especially after news of her broken engagement had spread like wildfire.
“How is your mother, dear?” Mrs. Berner asked, the register dinging brightly as the drawer opened, “Is she feeling any better?”
Evette managed a tired smile, “She has her good days. Doctor Moore came by yesterday and gave a decent report.”
“You are a good girl, keeping home for your parents in such a difficult time.” Mrs. Berner sighed, taking the coins from Evette, “Especially with the kind of house guest imposed on you at the moment-“
The bell over the door jingled behind Evette. Mrs. Berner’s face lost its jolly glow as she eyed the customer. Evette guessed it was a Berchten before she even peeked over her shoulder, only she hadn’t expected which one.
“Good day, ladies.” Lieutenant Vachel tipped his hat towards them, “Miss Wardly.”
Evette whipped back towards the counter without responding, her countenance paling. Mrs. Berner helped her tuck the purchases into a linen grocer’s bag as the young officer browsed. Glancing into the woman’s face, Evette was grateful not to see suspicion but pity as Mrs. Berner studied her.
“Chin up, my girl.” Mrs. Berner whispered, patting her hand, “They can’t stay here forever.”
Evette tucked her low bun of dark hair into her straw cloche hat. With a farewell nod, she quickly exited the shop while Vachel had his broad back to her, perusing a basket of local cheeses.
Before leaving for the school that Friday morning, Evette had discovered that the back tire on her bicycle was completely flat. She didn’t have the time or resources to mend it so she had set out on foot. Thankfully it was a dry if cloudy day so walking wasn’t such a dreadful task. Her father had been hoofing it to Parliament every day since the invasion because he had no like for bicycle riding, no matter how much Evette tried to convince him of its convenience.
After stopping at the local ironmonger shop for a patch to mend the wheel, Evette hitched her bags on her slim shoulders to trek home. As she passed by the brick library on the edge of town, a couple uniformed soldiers were trotting down the front steps. Evette kept her eyes ahead.
“Miss Wardly!”
She knew the voice but refused to pause. There were eyes everywhere in the village. Being a magistrate’s daughter, rumors could spark about her having even an innocent conversation with Vachel in public.
“Miss Wardly, wait a moment.” He trotted up to her, a couple books tucked under his arm, “I was curious, you are the school science teacher correct?”
“Yes.” She replied curtly, picking up her pace.
“Please, Miss Wardly- let me ask, I have a quick question,” He lightly grabbed her upper arm, bringing her to a reluctant stop, “I will only bother you a moment.”
“People are looking.” Evette’s gaze drifted over the library windows where Mrs. Ranier, the librarian, stood watching them.
“Let them look.”
Evette scoffed, glaring into his wide eyed expression, “Haven’t you heard the names they call girls who are seen with your men? I can’t risk it.”
“I only wanted your opinion on the local flora and fauna of the island,” He sighed, taking out a cigarette and offering the pack to her, “Would you like one?”
“No,” Evette sniffed, lifting her nose and swiveling away, “Good day, Lieutenant.”
She strode down the dirt road that cut a sandy ribbon over the green rolling hills. The clouds thickened overhead. There was a rumbling in the distance and initially she thought it was thunder. However, after peeking over her shoulder, Evette saw a vehicle kicking up a cloud of dust. Her heart sped up, eyes shooting straight ahead.
Vachel brought the automobile to a crawl next to her, his arm resting on the door. The hood was drawn over the open air cab, the leather cover puckering as a few errant rain drops fell.
“May I offer you a ride, Miss Wardly?” He asked amiably, steering the car with one hand.
Evette ignored him, her grip tightening on her school bag.
“Miss Wardly,” He sighed, “I only wish to offer you a kindness-“
“And expect what in return, Lieutenant?” She snarled.
“I was hoping for your friendship.”
“Why would that ever be possible?” Evette scrutinized him coldly, “Don’t think just because we share a roof that I have forgotten you are my enemy.”
Jaw clenching, his mouth set in a hard line. Evette’s gaze darted away as he sped off down the road. The rain picked up and she was soaked by the time she arrived at the villa. The entire miserable walk home, she commiserated over her circumstances.
The longer they were here, the more comfortable parts of the island population became with the Berchtens. Either for material gain like certain shop owners or to garner favors as some of the girls were doing, Evette’s stomach rolled at the thought of collaborating with their Berchten aggressors. Another section of the population were broiling hotter by the day. If they were ever liberated, as most hoped would happen with an Antican invasion, she dreaded to think what would happen to her neighbors who had become friendly with the Berchtens.
However, if she wasn’t at least cordial with the Lieutenant, perhaps he would refuse to give them quarter should anything happen to her family. Or perhaps take his frustrations with her out on her parents. She wouldn’t put it past a Berchten to wield his power without mercy. Vachel’s polite and even tempered demeanor could mask a rotten heart. She barely knew the man, there was always the possibility.
After leaving the groceries in the kitchen for Marta, Evette tracked damp footprints in her drenched stockings up to her room. The late afternoon storm had prematurely summoned the cool of evening. Dabbing her dripping curls with a towel, she stood in her dressing gown at her bedroom window. A small fire crackled behind her, giving off the only light in the room.
Evette’s brow furrowed as a figure appeared in the silvery twilight of the kitchen garden below. Vachel’s jacket was unbuttoned and his head was bare, a coil of smoke curling from his mouth. She studied him as he meandered towards one of the planters and inspected the seedlings she had recently transplanted there from the greenhouse. He straightened his posture and blew smoke towards the grey sky. His eyes drifted over towards her window. Evette drew back and realized she had been holding her breath.
Tossing the towel onto the bed, she stalked towards her chair by the hearth. Her mother was already in her room, tucked in with a hot water bottle to her brittle feet. Her father was in his study, burying his thoughts in the business of every day island life. He was determined to act as though their world hadn’t changed dramatically overnight. He had barely said two words to the Lieutenant since he had come to live at the villa. Even Marta was no doubt in her room, poring over her prayers for their conquered nation. All the residents of the villa were on their isolated islands of fear, hope and loneliness. Strangely enough, the only one Evette felt drawn to at that moment was Vachel in the garden.
Impulsively, Evette threw on a cornflower blue house dress with her navy cardigan and trotted down the stairs. As she emerged into the chilled early evening air, she found the garden empty. Out the corner of her eye, she noticed the glow of a cigarette in the glass house. She toyed with the frayed end of her messy braid as she entered the conservatory, innately aware she was playing with fire.
Vachel rose from the ground where he was kneeling by the mess of cucumber vines. In the growing dark, she could barely make out his expression. She could only assume it registered surprise.
“You should move these outside into a plot soon.” He commented, flicking ash to the ground and hiding his free hand in his pocket.
“I was going to tomorrow morning.” Evette replied.
“I can help you if you like,” He offered, taking a draw of smoke, “I am off duty for a couple hours.”
“Thank you," She cast her eyes to the ground, “I think I’ll be able to handle it.”
He shook his head with a scoff, “Why are you down here, Miss Wardly?”
“Why are you in our conservatory?”
“You gave me the key.”
“I didn’t think I had a choice.”
“You always have a choice with me, Miss Wardly," He moved towards her, “I am your guest.”
“You are a part of an invasion force, Lieutenant," She snapped, “You're not on holiday, you are an enemy soldier.”
Vachel chuckled softly, “Then I must ask once more, Miss Wardly. Why are you here?”
Evette’s mouth parted but she found herself without an answer. He wandered close enough for her to make out his features.
“Perhaps you are just as lonely as I am?” His voice dropped to a low, coaxing growl, “Maybe we are not as different as you think?”
He peered over at her with a lowered brow and relaxed mouth, his eyes darting across her face. Evette couldn’t name what swarmed in the air between them but the tension was palpable. Vachel tossed his cigarette to the ground and broke eye contact.
“Can you do me a favor, Miss Wardly?”
Evette crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her upper arms, “What would that be, Lieutenant?”
“Please, call me Erich," He glanced over at her with a weak grin, “It has been a long time since someone has and it would be a comfort.”
Evette nodded, “Very well. Only in private, of course.”
“Thank you, Miss Wardly.”
“You’re welcome,” She bit her bottom lip, “Erich.”
“May I call you Evette?”
She was surprised at the gentleness of his request. He sounded so different here in the quiet, rich darkness of the greenhouse. He was almost human.
“You may.” She answered, a sting of fear piercing her brain the second she conceded.
The silhouette of his shoulders relaxed in the grey and he moved closer towards her. As he reached out to her shoulder, her feet remained cemented to the floor. With calm hand, he brushed her braid over her shoulder and the loose tendrils of hair there. A worn fingertip grazed the bare skin at her collar bone and Evette visibly shuddered. Erich withdrew his touch and retreated a step.
“Good night, Evette.” He murmured in the shadows before leaving her to the chorus of crickets and rising moon.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
