by Tricia Goyer
“You seem a little nervous about it.” Grand-Paul cocked an eyebrow.
“A little is an understatement. I just want to get it right, you know? My boss is counting on this.” She didn’t mention that her boss was also counting on her to understand her grandfather in new ways. Understanding was far from what she’d achieved so far. Rather, each new destination had only brought more questions—ones her grandfather had no desire to answer.
“Let me tell you something I used to tell the people working in my company,” Paul said, stepping closer to her. “Inside, all of us feel as if we’re still in junior high. We feel awkward and think everyone around us is more handsome, smarter, or better. The best thing you can do is to take long strides ahead and tell yourself you’re at the top of the class. Have confidence in yourself, in your abilities, Ava.”
Ava looked at Dennis, remembering what he told her: “I used to tell myself, Ava would do it, so why can’t I?” Thinking of that, she wondered when things had changed. For too long she’d focused on what she could do well, instead of trying new things. This trip was a huge step for her—she hadn’t realized how big until now.
“I’ll be fine. A little nervous, yes, but nothing hard work and a few prayers and tears can’t solve. Besides, I can’t think of a better story to lose a little sleep over. I have to get this right because I have one amazing subject.”
Her grandpa rose from his chair and tried to get his balance.
“Off to bed, all of you.” She waved her hands to shoo him away, trying to pretend she wasn’t bothered by his decision not to participate in the videos. “Get some sleep.”
She pointed at Dennis. “Especially you. You’ll need a good night’s sleep, because I have a feeling you’ll be dragging me around tomorrow in my half-asleep state.”
“I can do that.” Dennis grabbed her hand and playfully tugged her arm. “Just as long as your feet move to follow.” His hand felt warm and the heat from it moved up her arm, spreading through the rest of her body. She took a step toward him, the tenderness in his eyes drawing her, and she rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand.
“I can do that,” he repeated.
* * * * *
Ava previewed the video while Grandpa Jack got ready for bed. She smiled into the camera, noticing that the shots were nice. The audio was clear. The scenery came across beautifully—a nice contrast to the stories Grand-Paul was sharing. Her grandpa seemed to give no mind to the video playing on the computer screen as he got into bed. It was almost as though he believed the whole project would go away if he just ignored it. He snuggled under the down comforter and was asleep nearly as soon as his head hit the pillow.
While the video was uploading onto her computer, Ava set to work on the script for the extra video she wanted to shoot. After she got everything written out as she wanted it, she changed her clothes, put on fresh makeup, restyled her hair, and then she headed downstairs.
The dining room was empty except for a young waitress who was sweeping.
“Excuse me.” Ava approached the young woman, whose hair was dyed burgundy—a color popular in Europe. “I was wondering if I could videotape.” Ava pointed to a table in the corner.
“No, nein mur food today.” The waitress’s accent was strong.
“Oh, no food. My camera.” Ava lifted her video camera and pointed to the table. “Vid-e-o.” She nodded.
The waitress shook her head, still not understanding.
Ava was too tired to explain. Instead, she pointed again, moved to the corner, and began setting up her tripod. The waitress watched her.
“Hollywood movie star!” She nodded, hurried to the bar, poured a beer from the tap, and then sat down to watch.
Ava set up the video camera, thankful the cameras used for fieldwork these days were smaller and less complicated than the one she’d used in school.
Ava knew how to set the manual shots, but full automatic would work just fine. Fine sounded good to her. This wasn’t about being artsy. It was about doing her best as quickly as she could so she could get some shut-eye, although the excited nervousness of putting the video together had banished her fatigue. Even though she was disappointed that her grandfather hadn’t been part of the first taping, she was excited about this project. It was an excitement she hadn’t found in her work in a long time.
She put the camera into auto focus and sat down at the table. The streets outside the hotel were silent, and inside, the hotel was quiet. In fact, the only noise other than her own breathing was the sound of the waitress sipping her beer as she watched.
Ava adjusted her shirt collar, and then she pulled out her script. It had taken her over an hour to write and rewrite it. She’d used the Internet to search out facts about the Eleventh Armored Division and Belgium during the war. She glanced at the words again, knowing she didn’t have time to memorize it. She’d do her best and read what she couldn’t remember. Surely viewers would understand.
After taking a deep breath, she started the recording with the remote control under the table.
“Hallo, Bonjour. This is Ava Ellington coming to you from Belgium.” She glanced at the words on her notepad and then back to the camera again. “I’m here in Europe with my grandpa Jack. We were supposed to be on a tour with his division—the Eleventh Armored Division—but after some challenges, we headed out with another veteran and his grandson. Just two grandkids with the veterans they love. We’ve been traveling all day, heading into Belgium. We went to the hill where our grandfathers first confronted—I mean faced—the enemy, and the date was, uh… .” She blew out a breath. “Cut.” She stood, pointed the remote control, and turned off the camera.
“This is not going to work,” she said to the waitress who was nodding and smiling.
Ava brushed her hair out of her face. Okay, Ava, think through this. It’s going to look dumb for you to sit and read these dates and facts. She thought of her audience. Of the young mom. Of the lady in the dentist’s chair. The guy watching as he grilled his cheese sandwich. They didn’t care about dates and facts.
Deep down, Ava knew what she needed. She needed to engage the viewer first. There was footage of beautiful scenery, of the hillsides, of talk of battles, but that didn’t matter as much as two old friends walking through a field where they’d once fought. The real story started with a couple of kids who’d gone off to war.
She looked at the waitress who still sat there with her beer, and then she reset the video.
“What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think about your grandparents?” she said into the camera. “I always thought about my grandma’s homemade lemon meringue pie and the summer days when my grandfather took me fishing. I never thought of Grandpa Jack as young. Not until this week. The last few days have changed who I thought my grandpa was.
“Even though his hair is gray and his steps are slow and deliberate, I can see something else when I look into his eyes. I can see who he was in 1944—a nineteen-year-old kid from Kansas who found himself in the middle of a big war.”
Ava bit her lip and glanced up at the tin-tiled ceiling. Then she looked back at the camera. “I can imagine him fresh from boot camp heading into experiences he didn’t see coming. Experiences both good and terrible. Ones he’s carried with him his whole life.
“Things have changed. War is fought differently now, but stepping along this journey with my grandpa and his best friend of sixty-seven years takes me back to how things used to be. I’ve always loved my grandfather; he’s an amazing man. But…today I got to know a part of him I’ve never known before.” Ava felt her voice choking up. “Join me every day as I share the story of a couple of guys who headed to Europe in 1944. It’s a story of a war…and a journey of discovery.”
Ava lifted the remote control from under the table and stood. She spread wide her arms and looked at the waitress.
“What do you think?” Ava wrinkled her nose.
“Oscar! Oscar!” The woman laughed and then rattled off som
ething Ava couldn’t understand.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Ava packed up her camera. “See you in the morning.”
“Pardon?” the waitress asked.
“I’ll see you at breakfast?” Ava patted the table.
“No mur food.” The woman smiled.
“Yes, I know. Tomorrow.” Ava gathered her equipment and moved to the foyer, forcing herself up the tiled stairs. She liked what she had said for an introduction, but she wondered if it would embarrass her grandfather. Or anger him. In her own way, she was inserting him into the videos he wanted no part of.
As she neared their room, Ava dug out her key from her pocket—the real, metal kind, not the electronic card-keys that she was used to at hotels. Inside, she turned on her computer and connected the video camera and started the last transfer. It was 10:00 p.m. here, which meant it was 1:00 p.m. in Seattle. She tried to imagine what everyone was doing right now.
The day’s show would be done, and if she were in Seattle, her whole team would be in her office, staring at her large whiteboard, going over the rundown of the next day’s show. She smiled as she thought about how she liked organizing each day’s segment information—the guests, props, and B-roll that were needed, but even those moments couldn’t compare to this day. Even though she felt stretched—like Silly Putty getting pulled out of shape—Ava felt a sense of purpose she hadn’t felt in a while. She could be brave, not get the material she needed, and still figure out a way to make it work. She could live a story, and not just capture someone else’s. She could survive by sharing from her heart, and not just from a script.
Ava set everything up and connected to the Internet. Her in-box was filled with messages, and she quickly scanned them. It was mostly junk mail, but one stopped her from looking further. It was from Jay. With a trembling hand she opened it, and then sat back as if the words would jump off the page. She held her breath as she read.
Ava wow. Can’t believe you e-mailed. I was worried you wouldn’t. I’d like to talk. Know you’re in Europe but wondering if you could call. Call collect if you have to. Jay
She read the e-mail twice. It was exactly something he’d write. He hadn’t given away what he wanted to talk about. She assumed it was their relationship. The text he’d sent previously said he’d made a mistake and missed her, but he said nothing of that here.
Ava pressed her hand against her forehead. Most of her friends had fallen in love and had gotten married without the drama and the heartbreak she had to go through. She hoped that Jay was sorry and wanted to make things right, but she also doubted she could trust him. Why would she?
Dennis’s face came to mind, and she shook her head, trying to clear it. The man she thought she had loved—whom she’d imagined marrying—wanted to talk. The guy she could very easily fall in love with—whom she now traveled with—disapproved of nearly every goal she had for this trip. She closed the e-mail and shut off the light. She’d e-mail Jay, but not now. In her weariness—her heart heavy—she longed to reach out for the line he was tossing to her, but her heart had betrayed her before. She had reasons to believe love would bring only pain.
The room was dim, and Ava watched as the bar indicated that the video was nearly done transferring. Behind her, Grandpa Jack snored.
Her new laptop seemed out of place on the antique desk. The desk was made of solid wood, with layers of peeling paint on the surface. She wondered how many people had sat here over the years. Maybe some wrote with quill pens and ink and others with pencils and pens. Now, here she was creating a video that would be sent halfway around the world and be shown to millions of viewers in less than twenty-four hours.
Thankfully, the small hotel had high-speed Internet. That’s one thing she’d checked when confirming the reservations. Hot showers, optional. High-speed Internet, a must.
Pulling her spiral-bound notebook from her suitcase, she noticed something on the ground. A manila envelope that looked as if it had fallen out of her grandfather’s suitcase. Her mother had written “Don’t forget to pack” on the envelope.
Ava turned it over in her hand, wondering what was inside. On the back side of the envelope, her grandfather had written Ava’s cell number. Was this something he’d meant to give to her? She looked at her grandfather, who was still snoring, and slumped into the chair.
A smile curved her lips. The envelope made her think about the notes her mom used to pack in her things when she went to summer camp. One note for every day she was gone. Most of the time she didn’t open the notes until the bus ride home. Still, she’d open them and read every one, just so her mom wouldn’t feel bad.
Ava unclasped the small hook and tipped the envelope upside down. It wasn’t notes that first slipped out of the envelope. Photographs.
“Oh.” She breathed out. Tears sprang to Ava’s eyes. She picked up the photo from the top of the stack. It was a black-and-white photo of her grandfather in his military uniform. He was sitting in a rowboat. Behind him were water and a distant shore. The wind ruffled his hair, and his smile was wide. No, it was more than a smile. It was laughter. He was laughing at someone—most likely the photographer. She recognized the crinkle of his eyes.
In the next photo, he posed with another soldier. She recognized the second man, even though the man’s eyes were closed in the shot. Paul. They were both smiling, and sun was on their faces. She turned the photo over. It read: “Attersee, AT after V-E day during occupation of AT.”
AT…Austria.
Ava shuffled through more photos and then paused. Behind the photos was a stack of letters, bound together by a red ribbon that was now faded and tattered at the edges, tied into a small bow. She smiled, realizing her mother had gotten the message to her grandfather to bring his letters from World War II. Ava wondered why her grandfather hadn’t given them to her sooner.
She turned them over in her hand, immediately recognizing her grandfather’s handwriting. The first one had a postmark from Camp Cooke, California, where he had gone for basic training. Ava started to open it and then glanced at the time on her cell phone. She had only two hours to edit the video and send it on. Back in her college days, she could create a video in less than half that time, but to say she was rusty was an understatement.
Maybe she had enough time to read one letter.
March 13, 1944
Friday
Dear Mom and Dad,
The Army is doing a good job training me. I’ve been washing dishes all week and may have a shot at getting a job at a restaurant when I get home! That’s just a joke, you know.
I keep thinking about back home, wondering if the spring flowers are coming up. Nothing but dust storms here. Every crack is filled with sand. It even gets into my teeth when I sleep.
No time for much sleep, though. When I’m not washing pots, there are the drills, calisthenics, hand-to-hand combat, and obstacle courses. We went on a compass course over rough terrain and a bunch of the guys found a patch of thistles. Thankfully, I steered clear of that. The sand is bad enough.
Lots of the guys from B Company head to Los Angeles on the weekends. I did last weekend, but I’m running out of dough so I thought I’d stick around. To answer Mom’s question, I didn’t go to church last week, but I plan to tomorrow.
I do enjoy cutting a rug at the Paladium or guzzling a Coke at Dave’s Jukebox Joint. Last week I went to Pismo Beach. The water was cold, but we jumped in anyway. At first I forgot it was saltwater and that took me by surprise. I never thought I’d do a back float on the ocean. I can check that off my list. More later.
Monday
Dear Mom and Dad,
We had a gun drill. Guys are learning how to set up and fire the big guns on level ground. We can unload, set up, and fire in less than 30 seconds. It’s amazing how things work when everyone knows how to do their part. I’ve been selected to be part of the 21st Armored Infantry Battalion. The infantry part means we’ll be trained to fight on the ground. The armored part means that the tanks and bi
g guns will destroy everything in our way to make it easier for us.
We’re still having crew drills, and I got to fire the gun. I’m happy with this outfit and I know I’ll be content overseas with them.
Around Christmas I sent a letter to Patty Long, but I haven’t heard back. I’m guessing she hitched up with Roland Simpson as soon as I left town. What a thug.
Friday
Dear Mom and Dad,
We went out on the village fighting course to practice in street fighting and the taking of houses. I was in the cleanup squad and had to set off booby traps or neutralize them. They don’t use full charges. Yesterday, we had a full inspection with the squads lined up in front of the half tracks. I can’t write more as there is a bull session going on around me.
Oh yes, tell Mom I went to church. That should make her happy.
Give everyone back home all my love,
Jack
Ava smiled as she folded the letter, trying to picture her grandpa as that young man. She glanced over at him and realized he wasn’t snoring as loudly as he usually did. She wondered if he was lost in a sweet dream. She also wondered if he’d snored back in the war. She guessed not. That would have alerted the Germans, for sure.
There were at least two dozen more envelopes, but she wouldn’t read them all tonight. Her eyes burned and her mind was starting to dull from lack of sleep, and she still had a video to edit.
She placed the envelope beside her computer, telling herself to thank her grandfather for bringing them in the morning.
Ava started the edits for the segment, jotting down notes for her voice-over, while she waited for the various changes to load. She replayed her favorite quotes that she got from Grand-Paul and wrote them out on note cards. It was a trick that one of her old teachers had taught her. The note cards made it easier to move the quotes around to make the most powerful story.