Traveler (The Traveler Trilogy Book 1) by Melanie Bateman

Author:Melanie Bateman [Bateman, Melanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-03-30T16:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

1916 – September

Rouen, France

The child swung her feet from their lodgings’ little balcony, staring at the moving masses of people below as she clutched the old bear’s paw in hers. Mark stiffened at the edge of the bed where he watched, prepared to lunge forward if she somehow managed to fit through the railing. She seemed to sense his anxiety and glanced over her shoulder, side-eyeing him innocently.

“What do you say we take a stroll along the docks?” Minnie asked from the vanity. “I’m a bit hungry, aren’t you?”

“Famished.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something at the shops for her to wear. We mustn’t leave her in those rags a minute longer.”

“Whatever you say.”

“What’s with you?” she asked, giving him a quick glance. Mark knew she didn’t expect a reply. Such was the beauty of having siblings. At times conversations were a nuisance, rarely a necessity.

As a major base depot for the British Army, Rouen wasn’t the quaint little village Mark had learned to expect behind the lines of fire. Waves of uniformed men of all ranks marched the streets, filling pubs and cafés and various other businesses marketed for the lonesome soldier. From the docks, ships unloaded motor lorries and wagons, crates full of provisions, munitions, and whatever else was necessary to keep troops in the trenches. It had been quite some time since Mark had stepped foot in the streets of Rouen or gazed up at its centuries-old structures and houses. The majestic Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Rouen stretched high above them in her gothic splendor. Her spires and towers cast a watchful eye over the masses below.

After several minutes of walking, the child asked in her silent manner to be carried. Minnie held her to her hip as they made their way toward the little French shops along the way. Night would fall within the hour, but the climate was unusually warm for the season, and they wished to make the best of it. Vendors welcomed them with fragrances from their carts, bakeries lured them with their pastries, while loud taverns housing khaki-clad customers repelled them.

“What do you suppose her name is?” Minnie asked, smiling at the child’s head resting on her shoulder.

“I wish I knew.”

“We can’t simply keep calling her ‘the child.’ Would it be pretentious of me to think of one?”

Mark grinned. “Do you have something in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know. She’s a dainty little thing.” She patted the child’s head. “A precious little thing. A little rose.”

Uproarious laughter gushed from one of the taverns as they walked by. Minnie half-turned when the child startled in her arms, averting them from the golden gleam of khaki irreverence bursting inside.

“I like the name, I think,” Mark said, placing himself between them and the tavern. “Rose. Little Rose.”

Minnie nodded in agreement. “We shall call her Rose, then.”

“You’re right, Minnie. You do sound pretentious.”

Laughing, Minnie shoved him away.

Mark led them from the stirring Rouen nightlife. They had no place in it, he thought with a hint of shame and forced the triggered memory away.

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