Grantville Gazette.Volume VII

by Eric Flint

  "I had two love affairs this past year at college." Amy had her legs curled underneath her as she sat on her bed. "Dad would have a fit if he knew. I swear he glared at every single boyfriend I ever brought home from high school." Amy sighed. "The first one was to just get over my virginity, but the second… Hank was a great lover. I miss him. A lot."

  Colette nodded. "I missed Etienne for years. His touch was so.. . so…"

  "Electric?" Amy laughed.

  Colette nodded again. Both women sighed.

  "So?" Amy patted Colette's leg. "What about you and Josh? Do you find him attractive?"

  Colette blushed. "Yes. But he is still mourning the loss of his family, I think." Colette absently twisted a strand of her hair. "I can empathize. I mourned Jacques and Etienne for a long time."

  "But his family isn't really dead," argued Amy. "Just… left behind. Do you think he's attracted to you?"

  Colette blushed again. "I… I think so. I sometimes catch him watching me when he doesn't think I notice."

  "Well then…"

  Colette shook her head. "It is too soon. And he should make the first move."

  Amy raised her hands in exasperation. "If women waited for the men to make the first move all the time the race would be extinct." She pulled at her chin. "Hmmm, we need an expert in Basic Man Trapping 101

  …" Her face brightened. "I know!" She picked up the phone.

  Two hours later, just as Josh was starting to get worried, Amy and Colette walked through the front door.

  "Well, Josh, what do you think?" Amy said.

  At first Josh didn't recognize Colette. She was no longer just attractive. She was beautiful. It was not just the dress, or the different hair style, or the subtle use of make-up. It was also the smile and the way her eyes seemed to glow in the late afternoon light.

  "Josh? Hello? Earth to Josh!"

  "What? What did you say?" Josh felt a bit dazed.

  Amy smiled. "I said, "Doesn't she look gorgeous?" I want to hear you say that in French."

  "You do look very beautiful," Josh muttered in French.

  Colette dimpled and curtsied. "Thank you, monsieur."

  "Well, I've got to get home. See you two at church tomorrow." Before Amy left she leaned over and whispered in Colette's ear. "What did I tell you? Pole-axed like a steer. See you tomorrow."

  Amy skipped down the stairs and began to stroll home. As she went she occasionally snapped an imaginary whip, all the while whistling the theme to Rawhide. Rope him in girl, rope him in!

  ***

  "Our communion meditation will be number four thirty-eight. We Will Rise Again. Number four thirty-eight."

  As the church began to fill with music, Colette allowed herself to think about what she had seen during the Mass. It had been profoundly different from any other Mass she had ever attended. From the lack of Latin, to the priest facing the congregation, to the sharing of the sign of peace, it had been strange, but in many ways, exhilarating. Especially when she saw that women were allowed on the altar as readers and Eucharistic ministers.

  The people around her seemed to have a deep faith in God and a sense of community that even rivaled what she had seen in the beguinage de Hermee. All week she had prayed to God before going to sleep. Prayed for the soul of her father. Prayed for Henri while he was in the hospital. Even prayed for Joe when she discovered that he was suffering from a fatal disease. But most of all she had prayed for guidance. What should she do with her life?

  She could see that many of the congretation were singing. But at least a dozen were weeping. Then, it was as if the hand of God touched her soul.

  This was no "fairy-tale land" as she had first thought. This was a tiny piece of a world ripped out by the roots and plunged into the depths of a man-made hell of war, disease, and unspeakable cruelty.

  The people of Grantville were no weaklings. But neither were they giants. They could not stand alone, not just a few thousand of them. Not against the millions who would willingly devour them alive just for the fact that they were different. They would need help.

  Again it felt as if God touched her. She shivered. She would not be here if not for the Ring of Fire. She knew, with certainty now, that she would have been raped and murdered, along with her brother. So, just as the coming of Grantville had helped her survive, so now would she help Grantville survive.

  She would help them.

  With every ounce of her strength and her mind, she would help them.

  Thank you, God. Thank you.

  The refrain began again. And Colette Dubois began to weep.

  "We will run and not grow weary, for our God will be our strength, and we will fly like the eagle, we will rise again."

  ***

  Later that afternoon the parish chess club of St. Vincent de Paul inducted its first female chess player ever. There was no ceremony. But no one was going to deny Joe Modi.

  "Look," Joe said, "She's a great chess player, she's living in my house, and I like her. She's got spunk." He looked at the seven men in his living room. "Any objections?"

  Nothing but smiles and shrugs. "Great! Let's play chess!"

  "Who gets to play Colette?" Lou Giamarino glared at Joe. "You can't hog her all to yourself, Joe."

  Jerry Calafano raised his hand. "Me!"

  "Like hell! I get her first," Bart Kubiak said.

  Vince Masaniello spoke up. "Wait a minute! Age before beauty!"

  "You calling me a pretty boy, Vince?" Bart asked in mock anger.

  Colette laughed gaily. "Please, gentlemen, please. I'll play all of you. But how to choose…"

  "Where we came from, Colette, we often did things in alphabetical order," Josh pointed out.

  Colette smiled at him and nodded. "In that case, let's go in alphabetical order, by first name. But since I've already played Josh and Joe, they're out."

  Bart Kubiak waved her over. "B as in Bart, young lady. I'm first."

  But parish chess club meetings were not just about chess. They were also social gatherings and it was expected that multiple topics would be discussed throughout the afternoon. What everyone did not expect, however, was the direction it would take when it was Jerry Calafano's turn to play Colette. No one noticed when it started, but after awhile it became apparent that Jerry and Colette were no longer really speaking English, nor were they playing chess.

  They were speaking mathematics.

  It became most obvious when they got paper from Joe's computer room and sprawled on the floor, drawing diagrams, writing equations, and jabbing excitedly at each other's work.

  When Jerry finally left, promising to bring some of his math texts and other books the next day, Colette was more aglow than Josh had ever seen her.

  "Josh, do you realize what this means?" She was positively effervescent.

  Josh smiled and shook his head. "No. What?"

  "I will be the first person in Europe to understand the calculus! From what Jerry said, it was not really formalized for another fifty or sixty years. And the merging of algebra and geometry using coordinate geometry. Descartes has not even published yet! And non-Euclidean geometries! Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

  Josh laughed. "Just so long as you don't try to explain it to me too much. I had a tough time just getting through a couple of semesters of business calculus for dummies."

  Josh had a thought. "Wait, I've got something for you." He went into the kitchen and got his briefcase. He'd stuck it under the kitchen table. He opened it and took out his Ti-30 solar calculator.

  "Here. A gift from me to you. It's solar powered so you can use it anywhere there is enough ambient light. Should last for at least another ten years if you don't drop it too much."

  Josh leaned over Colette's shoulder and placed the calculator in her hands. He started explaining the basic keys and functions. After a few minutes she looked up at him. Her green eyes sparkled. She caressed his arm.

  "Thank you, Josh," she said softly. "This is a wonderful gift. I will treasur
e it forever."

  Inside Josh smiled. Who would have thought that the way to a woman's heart would be through a calculator?

  ***

  "My shoulder is healing well, Colette." Henri and Colette were sitting in Joe's small backyard. The fence around the yard was six feet high, just tall enough to prevent passersby from observing them as they sat at the wooden table with its large blue umbrella. "We can leave tomorrow if you wish."

  Colette was playing with her hair, a far-off look on her face. "I am not going, Henri," she said calmly. "And neither is Colas. You may do what you wish. We will stay in Grantville."

  "But your father would have wanted…"

  Colette stopped him with a gesture. "My father is dead, Henri. There is nothing else for me. If I could get to Amsterdam…" Colette shook her head. "No, not even Amsterdam attracts me now. The Ring of Fire was a sign from God, Henri. If it had not happened when it did, Colas and I would be dead. I am certain of it."

  She gestured around her. "This will be my home for now. The people in Grantville will need our help, Henri. They are master mechanics but they are very few in number."

  Henri looked at her skeptically. "You expect this Joshua Modi to marry you? Like you expected Etienne to marry you?"

  Colette stopped playing with her hair and glared at him. Then her glance softened. "I loved Etienne, Henri. As much as you loved either of your wives. He would have married me if he had not died at Dessau. I am sure of it. But I have mourned him long enough. And Josh Modi is not an unattractive man. His family has been left in another universe, except for Joe. He will be totally alone when Joe dies."

  "Eh?" Henri grunted. "What do you mean?"

  "Joe told me the first morning we were here. He has a disease that requires medicine they cannot manufacture anymore. He will live no longer than three months." Colette reached out and touched Henri's hand. "Henri, I need your help."

  Henri sighed. "What do you want of me, Colette?"

  Colette gave him three packages of letters. "I have written several letters. This first package is to be delivered to my aunt, Annette, at the beguinage de Hermee in Liege. She is executing my father's will and she must know where I am so she can forward the monies from the selling of his businesses. I have decided to sign over the house on the Rue Chodelistree to the beguinage de Hermee. That is the second document I have in there. Once you reach a secure Thurn and Taxis post house, I want you to send the second package of letters to Marie de Gournay in Paris. The third package of letters is to be delivered to my uncle, Louis de Geer, in Amsterdam. He has a keen eye and an even keener nose for business. What I have told him about Grantville in these letters should catch his interest. Grantville will have a need for wealthy patrons I think."

  Colette looked at him. "Will you do this for me, Henri? The letters to Annette and Louis de Geer must be hand-delivered. I dare not take the chance that they might be misplaced or lost."

  Henri nodded. Simon Dubois, Colette's father, had died in Henri's arms in February of 1631, a victim of the political infighting in Liege. Henri had promised to look after Simon's family. Henri had taken Colette and Colas back to his home in Magdeburg when men associated with the political machinations began hunting them.

  "I will, Colette. I promised your father I would take care of you. But do not expect to see me for several months. I will send word by post when I have accomplished what you ask. Do you want me to wait for return messages from your aunt and uncle?"

  Colette shook her head again. "No. I trust my aunt and I know that what I have written to my Uncle Louis will be sufficient for him to come here as soon as he can. He may be in Sweden at the moment, though. I expect him in Amsterdam within the next few months." She smiled at Henri. "You would not mind waiting a few weeks in Amsterdam?"

  Henri laughed. "No, not at all."

  Colette reached across the table, serious now. She clasped Henri's arm. "This is very important to me, Henri. But so are you. Ride safely and may God be with you."

  Henri sighed. Oh, to be twenty years younger. You would have a fight on your hands for this young woman then, Joshua Modi. Indeed you would.

  ***

  In the second week after the Ring of Fire Josh met with the machine shop owners and their employees. Colette and Amy Kubiak sat in the back of the audience to provide moral support. The most critical points in Josh's lecture concerned the importance of good cast iron with a high silicon content for steam engine cylinders and the need to make their own cast steel, since that process in Europe hadn't been introduced until the mid-eighteenth century. When alloy steels were brought up, Josh laughed.

  "That will take some time. Tungsten we can get from the tailings of tin mines, according to the encyclopedias. Chromite would be damn useful, but the deposits are spread all over the place, from Kemi in Finland, to Turkey, to Baltimore. If we could get to Maryland, the deposits there would be pretty easy to get. Vince Masaniello even has a brochure of a nature preserve where they used to mine it. Just a few problems, of course. Like getting to the sea and then crossing three thousand miles of ocean."

  Josh nodded towards Greg Ferrara. "Here's Greg to help refresh you on metal chemistry."

  Josh moved to the back of the room. Amy moved over so he could sit next to Colette.

  "How'd I do?" he whispered to Colette.

  "Excellent," she whispered back. "Having Vince and Monty speak was a good idea. They seem to be respected masters of their guild."

  After the meeting, Bart and Josh walked back to town. Amy and Colette walked ten feet in front, occasionally laughing and looking back at them.

  "Thick as thieves those two," Bart said musingly. "Thick as thieves. I think you're in trouble, Josh. They're scheming about something."

  Josh sighed. "I know it. I just don't know how much resistance to put up."

  Bart chuckled. "Knowing my daughter and judging from what I've seen of Colette, I don't think they're going to settle for anything less than unconditional surrender."

  The two women turned to look back at him again.

  Who knows, thought Josh. Unconditional surrender can't be too bad, can it?

  Chapter Two

  Joe Modi lapsed into a coma on August seventh. He died six hours later. The funeral was on August tenth. Josh Modi kept his composure throughout the ceremony, accepting condolences and murmurs of sympathy.

  Men, after all, don't cry.

  "Keep a stiff upper lip."

  "Be a man."

  "Grin and bear it."

  Society frowns on men who cry.

  But men do cry. Often it is late at night or upon awakening from a bad dream. Then the walls come down.

  For Josh Modi the walls came down the first time he slept in his grandfather's bed the night after the funeral. He woke from a sound sleep and found himself staring at the ceiling. He began remembering the simple things he and his grandfather had done. The chess games. The shared meals. The laughter.

  Brick by emotional brick his wall crumbled. Loneliness seized his soul. Ah, Gramps!

  Josh began to cry. Not simple tears, but the wracking sobs of a man who had kept things inside for too long. Josh didn't know how long he cried that night, but he would always remember when he stopped.

  A hand with long supple fingers began stroking his hair. Colette slid into the bed at his back, spooning him.

  "I'm sorry I woke you."

  "Shhh," she said. "Shhh. Sleep now."

  Slowly his body relaxed. Alone no more, he slept.

  ***

  The next day they began to clean out the basement using the inventory lists that Joe had developed over the previous three months. The first place they went to was the large brown metal container Joe had shown him back in May. When he opened the container for Colette and Colas he was surprised to see the BM-59 still there.

  Colas' eyes were round as Josh took the rifle out of the container. "What is that?"

  Josh laughed. "I had to ask Gramps, myself. This is a BM-59. In the universe we came f
rom there was a war called World War Two. Every army had its own main battle rifle. The American Army's rifle was called the Garand. It was a good rifle, one of the best. But it had limitations. The Italians created a main battle rifle based on the Garand but with twenty round magazines and in a different caliber. That's what this is."

  Josh handed the battle rifle to Colas after checking to see it was empty. "I thought Gramps gave this to the army but apparently he forgot or decided not to."

  After Colas had looked at the BM-59 for a minute Josh took it back and placed it in the container.

  Colas pointed to the comic books on the left side. "What are those?"

  Josh smiled. "Those are called comic books, but these are the rare ones, so we should leave them in the slip covers. Gramps said there were a few plastic containers of less valuable ones. Once we find them you can take a look at them. You'll have to learn to read English, though."

  Might not be a bad way to learn English, now that I think about it Josh thought.

  After relocking the container Colette, Colas and Josh began organizing the basement into three different piles: things to be sold, things to be kept, and other. Throughout the day Colette and Josh would sometimes touch or smile at each other. Occasionally they even embraced, when Colas wasn't looking. When it came time for bed, Colette yawned.

  "Good night, Josh. I'm very tired." She smiled. "I didn't get much sleep last night." Colette came over and gave him a platonic kiss on the cheek, then went to her bedroom and closed the door.

  Josh sighed. Well what did you expect, dummy? An hour later he went to bed.

  ***

  This time, when he woke up, things were different. First off, he was hard and aching. Second, Colette was naked and her feverish hands were definitely not stroking his hair.

  "It has been a long time," she murmured, swinging her legs over to straddle him. "You will forgive me if I am not very good at first?"