The Girls from the Beach

by Andie Newton

  “What if it’s not—” Roxy said, but I unzipped the bag.

  All was quiet. Nobody breathed, nobody said a word. Then Red gasped, and when I opened my eyes my legs folded underneath me like a collapsible table. Diamonds, a million of them, glittering in the dusty, darkened ravine along with the greenest of emeralds and the reddest rubies.

  “God,” I breathed, and Red put her arm around me, giving me a squeeze.

  Me and Roxy reached into the bag, letting the diamonds slip through our fingers, sparkling like the sun shining on a snowcapped mountain. I thought about all the people I would give a diamond to—each boy under my watch. A souvenir, something to show for their wounds.

  “We did it, dolls,” Roxy said. “Right here, right now. We saved hundreds of our men in one swift move.” She smiled. “And nobody knows in the world, but us.” She pulled a handful of jewels from the bag, four good-sized rubies sat on top of a scoop of diamonds like cherries on a sundae. She studied them in her palm, picking at them for a moment, before stuffing them into her brassiere. Red stopped her.

  “What are you doing?” Red said.

  Roxy paused, her arm halfway down the front of her dress. “We can’t have a little for the trouble?” She looked confused, but Red shook her head.

  “Why not?” I said. “You said it, Red, before we left the field hospital. Then again when Jack told us the plan, you were going to keep some of it.”

  Red shook Roxy’s hand of all the diamonds, before reaching for mine. “We can’t. I was spouting off. Mad, you know? And I didn’t know the giant was part of the plan back at the hospital. Me and Kit already violated the Geneva Conventions with that German. What will happen if they find out we stole some of the jewels too? Besides, they aren’t ours.”

  “Well, whose are they?” Roxy asked.

  “Yeah, Red,” I said. “Who do they belong to? Our government? And what are they gonna do? Spend it somewhere? But what about us? We almost died getting here. And what about our boys? They deserve some too. In their own hands. Something to leave with.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, but it’s not right,” Red said. “We came to do a job. We’ll finish it honestly.”

  “Oh, I’ll freely tell Jack I’m keeping some,” Roxy said, reaching for the bag, but Red had zipped it up. “But the rubies, Red. One for each of us. Don’t you think we’re due that?”

  “Yeah, Red,” I said. “That sounds fair.”

  “The jewels belong to the victims of this war,” Gail said, and we all looked up. “The suffering villager who lost their son, daughter, or mother.”

  We were quiet again, but this time there were no sparkling jewels to gaze at.

  Red handed the bag to me. “When we get back, we’ll figure out who to give it to. I’m not so certain that person is Jack—not after all the lies and tricks from the OSS,” she said, and we agreed.

  Gail tried wiggling her fingers, and we watched her struggle, wincing and straining. “Can we leave now?” she said, breathless and irritated. “I want to get back.”

  “Yes, let’s get the hell out of here,” Red said.

  “But I’m hungry,” Roxy said. “We have to eat, find an apple tree or something. I won’t make it across the river. I can’t swim, and I’m tired as it is.”

  We all moaned.

  “I’m not bellyaching,” Roxy said. “This is different. We can’t ignore the exhaustion. We can’t pretend we don’t feel it.”

  Gail turned to walk out. We all followed to stand on the rocks outside where a breeze rustled through the trees. I held my hair back from tickling my face.

  “The rain,” Red said, and that’s when we noticed the clouds, which had turned gray and thunderous in the short few minutes we’d been in the cave. Bombs exploded in the distance from the advancing battle, and we all looked west. These explosions sounded even closer than they had earlier, with the faintest tailing of smoke visible in the clouds. We’d be dead the moment our boys crossed that river, caught in a firefight, and on the wrong side of the war. I looked up the hill where Gilda and the butcher would be if they had been following us. A blackbird flew by, and a caw came from somewhere else.

  “Come on!” Red waved for us to follow her out of the ravine and along the tree line that crested the farmlands. We walked for miles without talking, too fatigued, nervous, and scared. Spending time with your own thoughts can be dangerous. Every noise in the quiet country, every twig snap, every bird chirp, caused me and Roxy to jolt, thinking the butcher and his wife were following us. The coolness of the approaching evening felt like another hurdle we’d soon have to face.

  “Man, I’m so hungry,” Roxy said, holding her stomach. “It hurts, Kit.” She looked at me, her eyes drawn with pain as if her stomach was digesting itself. “I need some food.”

  “Me too, Rox,” I said. “What do you want me to do? Walk up to the nearest German and ask him for a snack?” I paused. “I know! I’ll ask him if he has any K-rations.”

  “Stop it, Kit,” she said, pouting, but I didn’t have a thing to give her.

  Red waved for us to get down behind her. “Guys! Shh!”

  We dropped to the ground in the grass, and she asked for the binoculars. “What is it?” I asked, and she shushed me only to pipe up a second later.

  “A house,” she said, but my heart had stopped, thinking she saw the butcher.

  Roxy rolled over in the grass, holding her stomach. “Maybe there’s food in there!”

  “Looks like it’s been bombed,” Red said, and I reached for the binoculars in her hands.

  “Let me see…” I fit them to my eyes, roving over the land, before settling on a little stucco farmhouse that looked like it had been bombed all right, a caved-in roof and charred black spots on the ground. “It has been bombed!” Farm equipment sat idle, and nobody was working the fields, which made me wonder if the house had been abandoned.

  I handed the binoculars to Gail even though she didn’t ask for them. “But I don’t want to go to a house,” she said. “I want to go back. To France, back to our hospital.”

  Red looked toward the sky. “I do too,” she said. “But it’s getting late. I don’t think we have a choice.” Roxy moaned again about her stomach. “Kit, go down there and see if anyone lives there.”

  I sat up. “Why me?”

  “Because you speak German, remember?” Red said. “And I don’t want Gail here having to do it with her shot-up arm.”

  Gail sat up next and held her head, hand stuck in her hair, and I knew Red was right. We couldn’t send Gail, but I didn’t want to go alone either. Roxy looked up at me from the ground where she clutched her stomach.

  I sighed, rubbing my face, before taking another look at the house, trying to think up a story—how I was going to approach it. “What should I say?” I chewed on my fingernails. “If people are inside… What’s my story?”

  Red scoffed. “You’re the storyteller, Kit.” She pushed me to get going. “You’ll think of something.”

  Roxy moaned again.

  “Fine.” I took off the bag of jewels and handed it to Red. “But just so you know, I think this deserves a ruby,” I said, and Red shook her head.

  “Get going, will ya?” she said, and she gave me another push.

  “All right, all right.” I stood up, straightening my dress and smoothing back my hair. “I’ll tell you one thing,” I said. “Nurse Blanchfield never said anything about this in the War Department film.”

  Red gave me a laugh for that one, but that was me being nervous about going off alone. I walked over, through the field to a dirt road marked by aerial gunfire. The cloudy sky felt heavy and staticky, like those seconds before lightning strikes even if there are only a few rain clouds. I looked back once to see the girls lying in the grass, and Red watching me with the binoculars. They were yards away, but it felt like miles.

  I made my way up the small gravel walkway and past a pot of bluebells, which sat next to a scorched pot of tomatoes, destroyed f
rom a fiery blast. The main window had been cracked, and a chunk of glass lay in the roses beside its broken green shutters. I peeked through the window that was still intact. I saw a hallway, wood floors, a kitchen table, and a sideboard with framed photos.

  I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. Mother of God. I rapped two times on the door. Cawing birds flew out of the eaves. “Ugh!” I ducked, then threw my hands up at Red, but she waved for me to go inside.

  I took a few more deep breaths, rubbing my trembling hands together. “You better believe I’m writing Blanchfield a letter when I get back…” I peeked through the window again, this time cupping my eyes with my hand, checking for movement. A breeze blew leaves in through the open ceiling and they trickled down the hallway.

  I knocked again after clearing my throat. “Hallo?” I said, and the door opened a crack. I froze, listening, then pushed a little on the door. “I was down the road. Is everyone all right in here?” The door swung open with a squeal. I paused, looking, listening.

  I stepped inside, arms folded, feeling chilled but not from the cold. I took another step, but this time the floor splintered and creaked, and it ran the length of the board to the wall. “Hallooooo?” I said, searching the air.

  I stood close enough to look at the photos displayed on the sideboard, untouched from the blast that took the roof off. One was of a young man, smiling, posing next to his mother in what looked like a brand-new Wehrmacht feldgrau uniform. I only glanced at them, not wanting to see what they looked like.

  I checked the rest of the house, which looked very lived in, homey. I waved for Red and the others from the front porch.

  Red walked in with Gail, handing me the bag of diamonds while taking in every detail, from the wood floors to the photos to the opened bedroom doors down the hall.

  Roxy walked straight to the kitchen. “Well, will you have a look…” She took a jar of pickled onions from the shelf where leaves speckled the countertops. Rain spit in through the open ceiling. She popped the lid off and fished out an onion as the rain tapped against her shoulders.

  I talked to Red near the photos. “Typical German family.” I pointed.

  Red picked up one of the portraits, taking a look. “Smells like burnt bread in here.” She sniffed the air as the rain continued to spit in. “Wet burnt bread.”

  “Yeah,” I said, looking up at the blasted ceiling. “Like this place got hit hours ago. Maybe even this morning.”

  “Can you imagine?” Roxy said, eyes skirting over the ceiling while fingering an onion in the jar. “Getting an egg dropped right on top of ya like that?”

  “There’s bedrooms down here,” I said, and the girls followed me down the hall. We found a closet full of women’s dresses in one of the rooms. Linen, cotton and some silky ones. I pulled a cotton one out, shaking it from the hanger. “Guys,” I said. “Look, dresses we can wear. Better ones than we have on.”

  “Is there one that’ll fit me?” Roxy took a great big bite of her onion. “Well?” she said, chewing, and I tossed one at her that she caught with her face.

  Red looked out the window into the field. “Seems strange, doesn’t it?”

  Me and Roxy changed into our new dresses. “What seems strange?” I said.

  “This house,” Red said. “Abandoned with their things still inside.”

  I froze with one arm through the armhole, looking at Red through the neck of the dress. “Well… yeah, Red,” I said, pulling the dress down. “I suppose.”

  “Not I suppose,” she said. “It is strange.” We looked at each other, listening to the rain tap on the part of the roof that was still intact.

  “Not as strange as Gilda,” Roxy said, and she threw a dress at Gail who’d sat on the bed. “Get dressed, before something happens and we have to run. Maybe the Germans come back.”

  Glass bottles of perfume had been cracked and spilled on the dresser. I sprayed Roxy with the blue bottle, the only bottle that hadn’t been busted, and she waved the scent away, chewing her onion. I picked through the ribbons, the trinkets, and the brushes that were displayed. I found a metal lighter with an engraving that said “Life be Lived” on the front in German. I flipped it open, striking it once to see if it worked. Red brushed out her knotted hair.

  “I need help,” Gail whimpered, sitting on the bed with the dress in her lap, covering her face with her good hand so we wouldn’t see her cry.

  Roxy rushed toward Gail while still clutching her jar of onions. “Here ya, Gail,” she said. “I’ll help.”

  Gail stayed on the bed as we dressed her, ignoring her painful grimaces and moans until we were finished with moving her arm. We stood back, not sure what to say, looking at her from her toes to her brassy head of hair for a sign that said she was better.

  “How is your pain?” Red said. “Can you move your fingers?”

  She tried moving her fingers with her hand in her lap. Four wiggled, but her pinkie had turned board straight and she cried out. “Red!”

  “Let me see…” Red looked slowly up after taking a good look at Gail’s fingers. “Looks like you might get a stiff finger out of it,” she said, and Gail covered her face again, sniffling. “But you’re alive. And if that bullet had broken, I know you’d be a lot worse off than you are now.”

  Gail pulled her hand away, her lashes wet with tears and her eyes glossy. “I want to leave, Red,” she said. “What if my finger is just the start? What if I die out here?” We three sat next to her in the German girl’s bedroom, dressed in our new dresses, thinking of what to do and how to make it better, but there wasn’t anything we could do.

  “Nobody is dying out here,” Red said. “You hear me? Nobody left behind. I promise you that. We can eat and rest, but we don’t have to stay. One hour only, then we’ll be off again. I want to get back too.” She glanced at Gail’s fingers, and I knew that look. Red was concerned.

  “Guys,” Roxy said, swallowing a chunk of onion. “Look.” She pointed to the wall, and to a photo of a young woman with her mom—the mother of the house. “She’s a nurse. Look at the uniform.”

  I got up, then Red and Roxy too, and we examined the photo more closely. The woman looked like us, wavy hair, smiling, arm over her mother’s shoulders. It was probably taken the day she left for the war, to take care of all those Germans our boys had wounded. My father took a similar photo of me and my mother when I left.

  I hung my head. My mom had probably heard about Sam being captured by now, and my heart broke for my parents, but especially my mother. I swallowed bitterly, turning away. “I don’t want to know what they look like. There’s photos in the main room too.”

  I walked into the kitchen and rummaged through the vegetable jars. “Tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbage…” I opened the cupboard doors, and a mouse scurried out, scaring me half to death. “Ack!” I yelped, and the others ran into the room, even Gail, to see me clutching my chest. “Sorry,” I said. “It was a mouse.”

  “For God’s sake, Kit,” Red said, and she took a few relieving breaths.

  “I said I was sorry.”

  Gail winced. “The pain!” she cried. “I stood up too fast and there’s a throbbing. Ow, and it hurts!” Her face contorted from the sensation, and it was clear that the little bit of morphine she’d had in the cornfield had run its course and all her nerves were exposed. “Red…” she said, and Red helped her to the couch. “Can I have a bit of the morphine?” She whimpered through pressed lips.

  “Sure… Sure…” Red reached down the front of her dress, pulling out a syrette. “Check if there are some crackers in the cupboard, Kit,” she said, turning away from Gail for a split second, and in that moment, Gail had stuck her own neck and drained the syrette of all the morphine.

  “Gail! What are you doing?” Red cried.

  Gail took a deep breath then sighed heavily, sitting back on the couch, looking very rested and relaxed. “That’s better,” she said, then she closed her eyes.

  “Why’d you let her do that?” Roxy said, a
nd she was angry, marching over to Gail and taking a peek at her closed eyes.

  Red threw her palm to her forehead. “Damn you, Gail,” Red said, but Gail was completely out, lying like a vegetable with her feet turned in and her arms hanging off to the sides. “You said you wanted to leave, then you do this?”

  “At least she’s not in pain,” I said.

  Rain continued tapping on what was left of the roof, and Red looked up after taking a deep breath. “Well, ladies,” she said, “looks like we’re staying.”

  20

  KIT

  Roxy ate every last onion in the house only to hold her stomach and moan about eating too many onions. I ate the green beans with Red, and with the blankets from a chest in the front room, we camped out on the floor next to Gail on the couch. The wind blew the rain through the open ceiling in sprays, but the couch and where we sat managed to stay mostly dry.

  Roxy sneezed, catching it in the blanket. “That was close.” She smiled with a sigh, thinking that was the end of it. “Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!”

  “Clam it, all right?” I said. “What if someone hears?”

  She wiped her mouth. “Who’s gonna hear us through all this rain?” Roxy said, looking around in the dark. “It’s beating on the roof like anything.”

  “Yeah, but I swear I heard a tap, something other than the rain,” I said, and I shivered from my head to my toes. “Feels strange in here.” I looked around in the dark, over the shadowy cabinets and down the hall and across the wood floors. “Did you hear it?”

  “It’s the rain,” Red said. “We searched the house and nobody’s here.” Her gaze trailed out the window as she chewed on a green bean from the jar. Tree branches scraped the side of the house, and I closed my eyes, thinking it sounded like Gilda’s screeching giggle.

  “What if the butcher’s trying to find us?” I said.

  “Not in the rain,” Red said.