Remembering You

by Tricia Goyer

  “This can’t be happening.” Anger laced Dennis’s voice. “I can’t lose my grandpa. Part of me believed he’d always be here.” Dennis blew out a long breath. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know how I could have faced this alone.”

  Finally, Dennis released her. She stepped back and looked up at him. “I’m glad I could be here too. I just don’t know how I’m going to look at him and not burst into tears.”

  “You gotta try, Ava. We’ve got to try. We need to finish off the trip the best we can. We need to fulfill his last wish to experience the ceremony at Mauthausen concentration camp.”

  “I’m here. For him, for you.” She patted Dennis’s cheek with her hand. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and his stubble was scratchy. Then, as if he realized their closeness for the first time, he scooted to the side, putting more distance between them.

  As she looked into his eyes, Ava could almost see the invisible wall rising as he put distance between them once again.

  She took another step back and brushed back the stray hairs blowing against her face. She looked up to the sky, noticing the sun slip behind a cloud and wishing the warmth of just a moment ago had hung around longer.

  Ava’s cheeks grew warm as they entered the lobby and then made their way to the small restaurant. Grand-Paul and Grandpa Jack were already there. Even though there were plenty of open tables, the elderly men sat at a table set for two—leaning toward each other, talking in low tones. Ava tried not to let her eyes linger on Grand-Paul. She was pleased to see that her grandfather looked fine. Even though he lifted his fork with a shaky hand, he looked no different than he had since they’d been there. There was no evidence of his tumble last night except for a slight scratch at his temple.

  Ava and Dennis approached, and Grand-Paul glanced up, as if he was surprised they were there. A Bible was open on the table between them.

  “I hope you kids don’t mind. I haven’t seen my buddy in a few years, and we have some catching up to do—private stuff. Can you get your own table this morning?”

  “Sure.” Ava looked at Dennis. She didn’t like the idea of their grandpas whispering between themselves. What things could be private that they couldn’t share?

  Dennis scanned the room. “You pick.”

  She picked a spot four tables away. Far enough that they couldn’t hear conversation but close enough to keep an eye on the guys.

  Ava spread her napkin on her lap. “That was strange. But I’m glad to see my grandpa’s doing okay. I had no idea he would react like that simply from the reference to Chenogne.”

  “Me neither.” Dennis opened his menu and stared at it, yet from the strumming of his fingers on the glass tabletop, there was more going on in his head than deciding what to order for breakfast. His eyes were still bloodshot, but she could tell from his gaze there was something else bothering him.

  “Dennis, are you sure you can’t fill me in a little about my grandpa’s experience in Chenogne? I looked it up last night but didn’t find much on the Internet—just that there was fighting there and that it was near Bastogne.”

  “Ava, when are you just going to let this drop?” He let out a low sigh, and he leaned forward, looking into her eyes.

  “Well”—she closed her menu—“maybe it’s because you seem to know a lot about all this World War II stuff. I mean you knew something about…the girl.” She whispered the last two words. “It’s obvious you’ve taken time to learn about your grandfather’s experiences. You’re doing better than I am.”

  “Aren’t you going to try to earn your grandfather’s trust?” It was the same thing Dennis had said before, but this time his voice was gentle, as if he was speaking to a child. If this was him acting nice, she didn’t like it much.

  “And what if he never brings it up?” Her voice squeaked, and a couple at the other table looked at her, curious. She pressed her lips together and ignored them, placing her red-and-white checkered cloth napkin on her lap. This was too important to try to act nice about.

  The waitress approached, and Dennis ordered ham and eggs. Ava ordered the same, just so she didn’t have to think about it.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” she said after the waitress left.

  “Maybe I don’t want to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I had a different reason earlier, but I have a new one now.”

  She tapped her fork on the table. “And what’s that?”

  “I don’t want to tell you because it makes you mad…and you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

  Ava opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her heart pounded in her chest. She smoothed her hands on the napkin on her lap. “Should I say thank you?”

  Instead of answering, Dennis glanced back at the grandpas and then looked back at her with a wistful look. “Give your grandfather some time. He’ll talk about it when he’s ready—everything. I have a feeling that’s why he’s here. To face the past. To put what pains him to rest.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  Dennis shrugged. “I have a feeling he will. In his own time.”

  Their breakfast came and Ava pondered his words as she cut her ham into small pieces.

  As they ate, they briefly discussed their travel plans to Prüm, Germany, and the brief stops they would make at the American military cemeteries at Margraten and Henri-Chapelle. They were the last resting place for thousands of American servicemen.

  “There’s something else I wanted to talk about,” Ava said when there was a pause in conversation. “It’s you. I’m not sure if you’re purposely trying to be aloof, but since we’ve been on this trip I haven’t learned one thing about your life.” She tapped her lower lip with her finger. “Tell me about your life, Dennis.”

  “What do you want to know?” He wore a smirk. He ate European style, with his fork in his left hand and his knife in his right, using both to cut and maneuver his food on his plate.

  “Last I heard, you were living in some third world country, India or Uganda or something.”

  “I’ve lived in both.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  Dennis shrugged as if what he did wasn’t that important, but the intense look in his eyes told her differently. “Hands-on stuff mostly. In the past ten years I’ve led two dozen groups of people, and we’ve built a few orphanages overseas. I also oversaw the digging of some wells. It was the folks with me who did the work. They get the credit. I was just honored to organize and help out in my small part.”

  “You sound like a saint. Like Mother Teresa. I really didn’t think there were people out there like that anymore.”

  “Like what?”

  “Willing to put their life on hold to help others.”

  “It’s not like I had a life to put on hold. It’s not mine. I surrendered my life to God.”

  “Right, of course. I mean, as a Christian, that makes sense.” Heat rose to her cheeks. She should have expected this conversation, but it caught her off guard.

  It’s not like she didn’t believe in God too. It’s just that people who took their faith so seriously made her see all the ways she was falling short. She bit her lip, remembering that it was a conversation almost like this that had started the argument with her grandfather.

  “If you love God, maybe you should make sure you’re living for Him, Ava. Is getting married to this person God’s plan for you… or your own idea?” her grandfather had asked.

  Her grandfather’s questions had bothered her as much as Dennis’s statement did now. Wasn’t it enough just to love God in whatever you did?

  “It sounds like you’re really doing great things.” She smiled, not knowing what else to say.

  From the corner of her eye Ava saw her grandpa rising from his seat, but she wasn’t about to end the conversation with this awkwardness. She didn’t want to go through another day with this much tension between them. “So how did you end up back in the States? Or are you?” she pressed.

  �
��Do you want the long story or short version?”

  Ava shrugged. “Is there something in the middle?”

  “Sure.” He looked at his grandfather briefly. Seeing he was okay, Dennis turned back to her.

  “Let me see. Three years ago I was headed to Uganda to help this young woman who was caring for thirty orphans in a small two-bedroom shack. I got into a conversation at the Amsterdam airport with an American businesswoman. She was interested in helping, and she asked if there was a website so she could check it out further. I didn’t have one. These kids were sleeping on a few blankets on the ground, and the woman wondered if they had a website!”

  Ava laughed. “I suppose that’s a good point, but I have to admit it’s a question I’d probably ask.”

  “Yeah, well, I gave the woman my business card and she said she’d keep in touch. I honestly doubted she would. I mean, she didn’t know me from Adam.” His eyes brightened as he spoke, and as Ava watched, she saw a different man—one of passion and intensity—reveal himself before her.

  “I was bothered by her question, but not because she asked it,” he continued. “It was mostly because I figured there had to be a way to bring the needs of people around the world to the attention of those who have the means to help. As I was thinking about this, I happened to look around the airport. It was a small waiting area, and there were twenty people on computers. Others had cell phones and iPods. I’m not really in love with technology. Sometimes machines get more attention than people, but as I looked around, it was as if a light switched on in my mind. Those computers were tools to connect needs with supplies.”

  Ava nodded. She knew how technology brought people together. Her job, after all, was sharing people’s stories with a wider audience. But she wasn’t going to bring that up. Just when things were improving between them, she didn’t want to throw an I-told-you-so in his face.

  “That was my last trip…until now. At twenty-nine, I went back to college and learned web design and marketing. It was harder than I thought—at least to turn out something good. I’m heading to the Czech Republic after we finish up in Austria. There’s a group doing career training for Roma people who have a hard time finding work. I’m going to get a website set up for them, to connect them with supporters in the States.”

  Ava couldn’t help but smile.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I just think it’s amazing.”

  The waitress came and refilled her coffee and she took a sip. “It’s funny where your life took you, that’s all. We were eighteen when we met. You’re so grown up now. So grounded. And it’s cool to see your heart. Back then, all you ever talked about was playing college basketball. Whatever happened to that?”

  Their grandpas left the dining room, and Dennis scooted back his chair, ready to follow. “I tore my ACL in my knee during a street ball game a week before college. I was able to have surgery, but it took six months before I could play again. It was one of those freak things. I just landed wrong after a jump shot and poof, there went my dreams, my scholarship, everything.”

  “It sounds like God gave you different dreams.”

  Dennis’s eyes brightened. “Yes, I suppose He did.”

  In the back of her mind, Ava thought about what a wonderful guest Dennis would make on the show. Three million viewers meant more people would be aware of his work—potential donors for the causes he cared about.

  She bit her lip, not wanting to bring it up. She didn’t want Dennis to think that everything centered on her work. There’d be time later when they could discuss the possibility.

  He looked like he was about to stand but didn’t. Instead he leaned forward, as if wanting to confess a secret.

  “It was actually a memory of one of our times together that helped with that transition. My willingness to try a new step started with a memory of you,” he finally said.

  “Me?”

  “Yes.” His blue eyes sparkled. “Remember how our grandpas taught us to jitterbug in your grandparents’ living room? At first I was so embarrassed, but then I saw you trying. You weren’t a pro, but at least you tried. After that, I decided to just learn the steps the best I could. I tell myself now to at least try something.”

  “I wish I was like that now.” She lightly tapped her fork on the side of her plate. “I’ve swung too far in the opposite direction. I like to have a plan and stick to it. I like to think I’m still adventurous, but I haven’t tried new things in a long time. That’s why this trip has been so challenging.”

  A long silence stretched out, and then Dennis’s eyes locked on hers.

  “You look so different.”

  “What?” Ava interrupted. “Thanks a lot.” She faked a pout.

  “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. You didn’t let me finish.” He reached over and placed his hand on hers. The tapping of her fork stopped. “I was going to say that I always thought you were pretty, but now you’re downright beautiful. No wonder you’re working on television.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. “I work behind the scenes, mostly. Except for this week. But really, I don’t feel beautiful. I—”

  Dennis shook his head. “Ava, honestly, after all these years I’d thought you would have learned—when someone gives you a compliment, all you have to say is thank you.”

  She looked at him, surprised. Partly because they’d made it through a whole conversation without fighting. And also because he seemed to mean it.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say.

  * * * * *

  Ava rode along in silence, flipping through the other letters her grandpa had given her to read. For some reason, the letters jumped from December 24 to April 7. From the Belgian battlefield to somewhere in Germany. She knew better than to ask her grandpa about the missing letters. As much as she didn’t like it, Dennis was right—he’d share when he wanted to.

  From the front seat, Grand-Paul was directing Dennis to their “side trip,” she supposed. They’d gotten off the main road, and she guessed they were visiting yet another battle spot. They drove on a country road with vast fields on either side. Small farmhouses popped up here and there. As pretty as it was, Ava returned her attention to the letters, trying to figure out a plan for this night’s video.

  April 7, Germany

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  Looks like I’m getting lax in writing, but if you could have been with me the last few days, you’d know the reason why. Let me just say, I’d like to settle down in some quiet place, eat a good meal, not C or K rations or something we’ve cooked ourselves, and sleep for forty-eight hours. Some out-of-the-way place where there are no tanks, trucks, tracks, airplanes, or uniforms.

  Our outfit liberated some American and English POWs, and that was a wonderful feeling—seeing them as they were freed and rejoicing with them. One of the prisoners was a chaplain from Mississippi. He told us we were an answer to many prayers. I’d like to think that was true, but what about those who weren’t rescued? Didn’t they pray?

  Love,

  Jack

  Ava paused, amazed that her grandfather had been so open with his thoughts. The pain of his last few sentences countered the joy just a few sentences higher: “Our outfit liberated some American and English POWs.”

  She closed her eyes and tried to picture the scene. Rejoicing. Freedom. She wondered if those prisoners of war had questioned whether they’d ever be free. She wondered if they truly believed it when help finally came.

  April 21, Germany

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  The apple trees are budding here in Germany. It would be pretty if there wasn’t a war going on. Last night, we were supposed to sleep in two rooms of a house, but a drunken lieutenant came in and said we were fraternizing. We had to move out into the yard.

  I read in the Stars and Stripes that Ernie Pyle was killed in an ambush in the Pacific. We were all sorry to hear of his death, for he was the only civilian who knew exactly what we go through in the infantry.<
br />
  Yet, it’s hard to be sad for one man when there are so many to be sad for. I feel numb sometimes. Maybe because what happened in Belgium haunts me in my sleep.

  Keep on writing. I’ll get your letters sometime next September. I need news of home. I need to remember it’s still there.

  Love,

  Jack

  Ava paused, again wondering about the trouble in Belgium. Even though she’d decided not to ask her grandfather again until he was ready, she’d still keep looking to see if she could find more on the Internet any chance she got.

  May 7, Somewhere in Austria

  This makes the sixth foreign country I’ve traveled in, and the fourth I’ve fought in. I’ve seen enough now to last a long, long time. I’m ready to see the USA. Because of security regulations, I cannot tell you just where I’ve been, but I can say it’s been a long and tough drive. I don’t think I could put to words what’s been going on even if the censors would let me. Pray for me. I’m not only haunted by all I’ve done, but what I refused to do.

  Love,

  Jack

  May 9, 1945, Austria

  We’ve heard the news that we (and the world) have been awaiting for so long. The news came to us in a small Austrian village north of Linz. The war in Europe is over!

  Even today, I find it hard to believe that this phase of the war is done. There were no celebrations or parties where we were. Instead, we’re wondering what the next move will be. I hope that our last drive is history and that we can settle down to somewhat of a normal life, but no one knows.

  I’ll write more later. I’m thinking about too many things. I’m also seeing what no one ever thought we’d see. I’ll tell you someday about how Austria welcomed us.

  Love,

  Jack