by Lorna Lee
Meri froze. Both dog and employer seemed immobilized as well.
Soldat moved first. He shook again, spewing droplets of water everywhere. Madame burst into action. She shouted in German. Grateful she did not understand the words, Meri understood Madame’s tone all too well. Meri moved out of sheer instinct. She curtsied to Madame, took Soldat by the collar and gently escorted him outside and then came in to clean the kitchen. When she entered the hot kitchen, she nearly gagged from the combined malodorous and unmistakable stench of wet fur and feces. With Madame watching Meri cleaned up the mess as quickly as she could. Meri did not know who was breathing more heavily, Madame from anger or her from fear and vigorous work. Mon Dieu! No one should be taking deep breaths in this kitchen right now!
After she finished cleaning the mess Soldat made in the kitchen, Madame finally spoke. Venom tainted her slow and calculated words. “Meri, Karla needs a new dress. Take her to Monsieur’s shop.” Her eyes were ablaze with something menacing. I don’t want to leave her here with Soldat. She looks insane. But what can I do? She ordered me.
“Oui, Madame. Ah, Soldat. It’s too hot…too hot for him outside. Should I tend to him first?” Meri had never questioned a directive from Madame. She risked her job for dear old Soldat.
“Do not worry about the dog. I will see that he is taken care of properly.” She turned and walked out of the kitchen.
Meri had an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.
When Meri returned with Karla, she sent the girl to find her mother. Meri went straight to the kitchen. Soldat’s bed was empty. Philippe busied himself preparing supper.
“Where’s Soldat?” Meri’s voice pitched higher than normal.
Philippe did not look at her. He shrugged.
“Philippe? Please. I’m afraid Madame did something to him. Did she?” Her eyes were spilling with tears. She knew the answer to her question. She did something. But what? How?
“I suggest you help me prepare supper. What’s done…is done.” Philippe’s voice wavered.
Meri used the base of her palms to press against her eyes, trying in vain to stop her tears. “Were you here? I need to know. I loved him like my child…and he loved me, Philippe!”
Philippe’s head hung, his chin nearly resting on his chest. “I vowed I wouldn’t get in the center of this. But, you’re right, the dog loved you. You took better care of him than many mothers care for their children.” Meri winced, thinking of Jeannine who never spent a full day with her after one month of life. “Try to remember he was old and didn’t have long to live, anyway.”
Meri pulled at his sleeve. “Just tell me, Philippe.”
“All right. Promise you won’t do anything stupid. It’s easy to do something crazy when you get angry. These days, acts of stupidity are acts of suicide.”
Meri sighed and sniffled. Her tears had stopped. “Just tell me.”
Philippe took a deep breath. “After you and Karla left the house, Madame returned to the kitchen with a gun. A small one. A revolver of some kind. She went outside. I heard three pops. She came back in with a smile on her face. I didn’t go outside to look. I couldn’t. She made a call to Herr Freels’ office. I don’t know what she said—German, you know. In a little while, two German soldiers came. She took them through the kitchen. I didn’t see them again. They probably took Soldat’s body. I don’t know. I just hope they buried him instead of—”
“Enough!” Meri could not listening to anything more. She used all of her senses to imagine the scene. Her heart lurched when she conjured the image of happy Soldat faced with Madame. He didn’t like her. Did he sense she intended to kill him? Did he suffer? Did he wonder about me and why I wasn’t there to protect him? Where is he now—in the ground or being fed to prisoners? Meri began crying again. Her tears were silent and acrid with hatred for Greta Dorval.
§
Tension surrounded all meals thereafter. Both women engaged in a war of their own. Madame had the obvious power as Meri’s employer. Meri, however, had a tactical advantage: Michel. He’s an ally of immeasurable worth. Soldat belonged to both of them and his heartless wife shot him. Greta preferred the company and politics of Germans to her own husband, so he sought camaraderie with Meri.
“You did what?” Michel slammed the dinner table with his fists when Greta told him what she had done (and how she did it). Every dish and glass rattled.
“The dog was going to die soon, anyway. I just saved it from suffering an extended death.” Greta took a sip of wine.
“How kind of you.” Michel’s words oozed sarcasm. “Will you do the same for me when I get older?”
“Michel, do not be childish. It was just a dog…my dog if you recall.” Greta turned to Ernst with a look that requested support.
“I find that a quick death is preferable to a lingering one.” Ernst offered as he gnawed on a piece of tough meat.
“I suppose both of you find an execution preferable to a natural death.” Michel gulped his wine, pushed his chair back, and stormed out of the room.
Later in the evening, Meri went to see Michel in his study. His door was uncharacteristically closed. She knocked.
“Who is it?” His voice sounded gruff and menacing.
“Meri. May I come in?”
She heard footsteps and a click. He must have locked his door…
“Come in, Meri. You are the only one I would consider letting in here tonight. I do not think I have ever been so angry at Greta. Soldat was my dog too. I was very fond of him and she executed him in cold blood because she was angry, not because she was saving him from further suffering. I cannot begin to imagine how you feel, my dear.” He paced and slammed anything that would open and shut—cabinet doors, desk drawers…
“I’m heart sick, Michel. How could she be so cruel?”
“Germans! Their cruelty, their arrogance will be their demise. All of them!” Michel pounded his fist on his desk as Meri sat in the chair opposite. Too emotionally drained to cry, she nodded.
“Three bullets! She said the first one did the deed. The others were for the shit and for the water he shook in the kitchen. Who is this woman? She said watching you clean Soldat’s mess annoyed her.” He pounded the desk again.
Meri kept nodding, grateful to learn Soldat did not suffer for longer than he had to.
“If I had known she was capable of such things, I never would have married her. I do not even remember why I married her.” Now he raked his hands through is ever-graying hair.
Meri stood, feeling too anxious to sit still. “Michel. I can hate her enough for the both of us. You’re her husband. It’s not good for you to be talking this way. Let me hate her for you, for Soldat, for Jeannine, and for me.”
He looked at Meri for a long moment. A thin smile edged along his lips. “Should I add hating Madame to your official duties?”
“Only if you give me a big raise, Monsieur.” Meri curtsied. Papa and I used to tease each other this way. Papa, are you with me right now? If you are, give Soldat a big hug for me.
§
The Dorval residence became a microcosm of France. Germans occupied and ruled the manor, and a small, not always silent, resistance to their presence and their tactics operated in secret. Unlike la Résistance, the leader of the Dorval Resistance (Michel) could insulate himself and his one soldier (Meri) from dire repercussions. Meri had to be vigilant, especially when Michel was not in the residence to protect her. With Soldat gone and her child care duties limited to watching Karla only when Madame Freels felt ill or had an engagement, Meri’s domestic duties became limited to assisting Philippe in the kitchen and serving meals. Madame can get anyone to perform my duties. I’m as dispensable as Soldat.
Meri managed to be civil to Madame out of pure necessity. Madame made no such accommodations. She became more tyrannical, as if killing Soldat gave her some additional power in the household she now flaunted with imperiousness. The only deference she showed was to Herr Freels and to his German guests, most o
f whom were other officers in Hitler’s army. Is she sleeping with all of them and checking each one off some list of hers? Meri wished she had Siri, Tuula, or even Antoinette to share her snide remarks with. Keeping them private seemed like such a waste.
Beginning in the autumn of 1942, suppers with German officers turned into long meetings held at least four or five times a week at the residence and often at least one weekend day. Meri resented all of these gatherings for many reasons, but mainly because the weekend suppers interfered with her ability to visit Jeannine. She had no choice but to forego her day off to help Philippe prepare what food he could find for a “respectable meal”—a meal meeting Madame’s standards to impress her German guests—to serve hungry, ungrateful enemies.
The Mesdames, Michel, and Meri were present for every meal. Her lips nearly invisible as she tried to hide her distain for all but one of the parties at the table, Meri would serve them. The men and Madame Dorval laughed and ate with abandon. They spoke German at the dinner table, so Meri understood very little. A word here, a word there—she learned little of the harsh, heavy language. Madame, it seemed, always had something to contribute when the conversation contained words such as militärstrategie, (military strategy), feindliche front (enemy front), or nachrichten aus dem Führer (news from the Führer). Meri also noticed the behavior among the German officers while Madame was speaking—rolling their eyes, gazing at the ceiling or some inanimate object, suppressed grins, restlessness. After dinner, the men gathered in the parlor, now Herr Freel’s office. Madame never participated in the private meetings after dinner. The disappointment amplified her severe face. Relief washed over Michel’s aging face. Madame Freels revealed nothing. If she wasn’t moving, I would wonder is she is still alive. Perhaps she isn’t.
On one evening in early December, the meeting after supper ran very long. Rain turned into icy shards stabbing at the windows.
Five officers and one driver, Meri assumed, tried to decide the wisdom of travel on icy roads.
“We must insist they stay for the night. Travel is unsafe,” Madame said to Michel. Still downstairs because guests were in the residence, Meri continued to be on duty to serve them beverages or food on demand. She missed Soldat most when she was forced to stay downstairs for the German fiends as they plotted the deaths of innocent people. I used to groom and talk to Soldat while waiting for them to all leave.
Michel laughed a bitter laugh. “Oui, we must keep these annihilators safe from harm.”
“Michel! I will not have you speak this way of our German countryman.”
“Your German countrymen, Greta. Not mine. They are raping my country.”
“There is no talking with you these days! What has gotten into you? These are the men who will protect and save us. They are on our side, Michel!”
“Perhaps they are on your side. I do not stand among them. I think you would choose them over me in a heartbeat…and you wonder what has gotten into me?”
“Now is not the time to have this discussion…again. I am insisting they stay until the weather clears. The help will ready the spare rooms for them.” She turned her heel and marched out of Michel’s study.
After some debate among the men, Madame called upon Claire, Elyse, and Meri to prepare the guest bedrooms for the Germans. Meri noticed that Herr Freels kept a very close watch on one large leather valise. As all the men were escorted upstairs by the triumphant Madame, Herr Freels held this valise tightly to his side. Meri noticed a hint of concern in his eyes.
“Meri. Meri.” Karla whispered into Meri’s ear as the little girl shook Meri awake. She rubbed her eyes and examined her alarm clock: 2:34 a.m.
“Karla? Did you have another bad dream?” Karla had been coming into Meri’s room on a fairly regular basis since the news of her brother’s death. She did not quite understand death but seemed to understand her brother would never return. Karla did not get along with her mother of late either. Madame Freels sometimes smothered Karla with affection and then, without notice, became remote and rejected the girl. “Mami is different and it scares me,” she once told Meri. While Meri tried to explain how adults can get upset, Karla just wanted things back to normal. Meri suspected Madame Freels had been prescribed some type of medication. I can’t tell a child her mother might be crazy! Karla’s troubles sleeping are no mystery to me. Karla also started getting into uncharacteristic mischief. Probably to get her parent’s attention. Crying doesn’t work anymore.
“I couldn’t sleep so I went into my parent’s room and look what I found!”
Meri sat up in her bed and turned on her bedside lamp. Beside Karla’s bare feet lay crumpled scatter-rugs and the valise her father carried with him. She dragged it out of their room, and the rugs with it!
“It’s heavy. Let’s see what’s inside.”
“Karla. This belongs to your Papa. It’s private. He would be angry if he knew you took it. I think you should put it back.”
“I want to see what’s inside. Maybe it’s a present for me. He hasn’t given me a present in a long time. I want to open it now!” She raised her voice to well above a whisper.
Meri jumped out of bed and closed her door. “Karla, dear. I don’t think this is a good idea. I’ll speak to your Mamma about buying you a present. I don’t think this is a present for you.” Meri voice was higher than she wanted it to be. She had a bad feeling about this valise.
“How do you know? If you don’t help me open it right now, I’m going to tell them that you took it.” Her eyes were narrow and, for the first time, Karla seemed German.
“Karla! Stop this nonsense. You’re a sweet little girl.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care about you or them or anything. I just want to see what’s in this thing, and I tried to open it but I can’t.” Karla’s voice trembled.
Mon Dieu! She’s going to cry. “All right. Here’s the deal. Once we open it and see, you have to promise to take it back and leave me out of this. They could fire me…or worse. Do we have a deal?”
“Ja, I promise. Let’s just open it.”
I know what you’re doing. You think because I’m not German, I’m stupid. You’re placating “Stupid Meri.” What choice does “Stupid Meri” have? Meri broke out into a sweat in her chilly room. She hoisted the valise up onto her bed. It is heavy. Two latches, each with a key hole protected the contents. Meri tried sliding each latch. Both were locked. She looked at Karla and shrugged her shoulders.
“You must know how to get in there.”
Does Karla think I’m as devious as her German relatives?
Meri heaved a sigh big enough to move the heavy drapes on her windows, had she been nearer to them. “Picking locks is not among my many talents, Karla.” She stared directly at the little girl, hoping to scare her just enough to stop this dangerous game.
“Kurt did it all the time. All you need is something sharp and skinny.” Karla’s eyes were wide with anticipation. Meri glanced at her clock: 2:43 a.m.
Meri could not believe she had Herr Freels’ private attaché and planned to breach his—or the Nazi’s—privacy. Even if they somehow returned the case to his room without him waking up, how would a trained officer not notice scratched locks? “Karla, he’ll know someone tried to pick the locks.”
“He’ll never suspect us! Not unless one of us tells him.” She added with just a hint of malevolence in her crooked smile and hard eyes.
Meri took a big breath. I’m damned no matter what I do. She looked for a straight pin on her dressing table and began working the first lock, which gave way almost immediately. Click! The sound made Meri and Karla jump. Meri had visions of every German officer in the house breaking down her door.
She held her breath.
Karla held hers.
The house remained quiet except for the ticking of rain and ice against the windows and wind rattling the windows and the shutters. Karla motioned with her head to the second lock. By the time she heard the click, Meri pictured herself in a concentrat
ion camp.
Karla almost clapped her hands when Meri stopped her. “Shush! You have what you wanted. Now be still.” Being stern with Karla is grounds for dismissal. What do I have left to lose?
Meri covered each latch with one hand while she slid the mechanism with the other. Even with her hand muffling the clank of the latches letting go, the reverberation of the breach of privacy filled the room. Meri took a deep breath and carefully opened the cover of the attaché.
Looking into the case, Karla’s look of joyful anticipation turned sour then bland. She rubbed her eyes, yawned and said, “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” She disappeared without saying another word.
She left Meri alone in her room with Herr Freels’ secret case. I can see why he was so protective of it. The attaché contained two things uninteresting to Karla and shocking to Meri: schematics for what looked like a very large flying weapon with the identifier Kirschkern—V1 on them and, underneath these drawings, more cash than Meri had ever seen in her life.
“Mon Dieu!” Meri whispered. She had seen something secret the Germans were working on to use in their war against the French and others. What is this weapon? And all this money? Where did it come from? Where is it going? Dizziness and queasiness overtook her.
The Germans were notorious for being early risers. Meri looked at her alarm clock. 3:12 a.m. She closed the attaché case, relieved the latches locked when they were secured in place. Now she had to find a way to get the case out of her possession. Quickly and quietly. Meri first noticed all the rugs out of place—evidence of Karla’s journey dragging her father’s property. She did not dare go in the Freels’ bedroom. Being caught in there would be the end for her.
Then she gave Karla a reason not to think of her as “Stupid Meri” any longer.