Free Violins of Autumn by Amy McAuley Page B

Robbie’s breathing quickens. The parachute flutters when he turns away from me. A stream of cold air slips between us. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
    “You shouldn’t have come to France?”
    “I shouldn’t have left home at all. My whole life, my sisters were so protective of me. I thought I could prove something to myself. How could I have been so stupid to believe I was brave enough?”
    I smile at the back of his head in the hopes he can hear it in my voice. “I bet there’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity. I wonder if any of us knew what all this would really be like.”
    “Fellows from my squadron have been killed in action,” he says. “The night before my mission I got a real bad case of cold feet, thinking about that. I couldn’t sleep worth a darn. I didn’t want to die. I just wanted to go back home. The sergeant came in to talk to me. By the time he left I was raring to go. I don’t know how they do it. They make you think you can do anything. Full steam ahead on the mission and you’d better believe you’re ready for it, even if you’re not.”
    I understand completely. And I envy his freedom to talk about feelings I keep hidden.
    “My first time out and I got shot down. This was to be an adventure. Meet some girls, get some kills. Go home and settle down with a family. I can’t stop thinking that I got myself into this mess. My birthday’s next month.” He sighs. “I’m not putting this right.”
    He was nearly killed today with his seventeenth birthday within arm’s reach. Here I am, practically the same age only he doesn’t know it. The harsh reality he faced today resonates through me too.
    “You’re putting it right,” I say.
    “They tell you your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die. Except after those rounds of flak hit, my first thought was that I should have eaten more of the good breakfast before final briefing. Then the plane went into a steep nosedive. I couldn’t pull up. I saw wheat fields, thick black smoke, and fire. I was in big trouble. And I wasn’t sure how to use my parachute. I prepared myself to die in that plane, Adele. I said good-bye—” He takes time to collect himself. “I said good-bye to my family.”
    I imagine him inside the cockpit of a flaming plane as it careens toward the ground, believing he might never see his mother and sisters again.
    “You must have been so scared.”
    “I’ve never been so afraid in all my life. You’re supposed to die old,” he says. “I’ve never even kissed a girl.”
    I bring my hand out from beneath the parachute and tentatively trail down the rough sleeve of the work shirt Louis lent him, until I feel the back of his hand. He turns his palm up in approval before I can ask if he minds, and we hold hands.
    “I didn’t mean to burden you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”
    I curl closer to his warmth and let the slow rise and fall of his breathing carry me toward sleep.
    “Don’t be sorry.”

NINE
     
    “The German bastards are coming!”
    I blaze from a deep sleep to wide awake. The sun has just begun to rise. A chilly fog hangs in the air. I scramble out from between Denise and Robbie, unable to place the voice of my awakener. But then I have it. Rat. That mute wisp of a boy shouted in the yard with the gusto of two full-grown men.
    From inside the barn comes the cry, “The Germans! They’re coming!”
    Denise leaps to her feet as Rat scampers up the ladder, scarcely making a sound.
    “What’s happening?” she mumbles.
    Blinking like mad, Rat says, “The Germans have an early start on the day. If they find you here during an inspection they will take all Louis has and burn the farm to the ground. Go, go! You may use my bicycle. I have ways of getting others.”
    I translate the torrent of French to myself as quickly as Rat blinks. He backs onto the ladder and descends with Denise nextin line. Twitchy and anxious, I wait my turn. Robbie gathers his parachute into