The Major's Daughter by J. P. Francis

Author:J. P. Francis
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-06-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“I’m sorry to bring it up at this time, with Marie’s funeral just concluded. . . .”

“I understand, Papa.”

“Do you?” he asked, his voice sharp. “I don’t think you do. To take two German prisoners off the prison grounds in the darkness, and one of them, this young man . . .”

Collie nodded. She felt her skin turning hot. She felt horrible that she had put her father in such an untenable situation. She sat on the edge of her seat in her father’s small office, her eyes still raw from crying at Marie’s funeral the day before. She could not look up to meet his gaze. Of course it had been ill-advised to bring the German prisoners with her to help with Marie. She had known the risk at the time, but she had gone through with it anyway. She would have done anything to help Marie, but it had failed, in any case. Now her father had been lampooned in the Littleton Courier as a commander who ran an open prison for the inmates. The editorial page had posted a cartoon of him standing next to a turnstile, a stack of free tickets fanned out in his hand, a grotesque German soldier passing through on his way to a carnival. It didn’t matter that the German prisoners—August and Herr Schmidt—had worked to preserve the life of an American citizen. To let German soldiers out at night, under dubious supervision, was all anyone needed to stir the pot.

“Under the circumstances, I understand. I do,” her father said. “You’ve been an invaluable help here. But there are rules governing these matters. . . .”

Collie nodded. She had no energy to fight.

“I won’t make that mistake again, Father,” she said.

“You should not take it on yourself to plead for special privileges. That’s an abuse of your position here. I’m sorry, but it is. It blurs too many lines.”

“Yes, Father.”

She heard him sigh. He stood and came around the desk and sat beside her. She had started to cry. She couldn’t tell if the tears were for Marie or for herself or for the stupidity of the war and the restrictions it placed on them all. It didn’t matter, she reflected. She felt tired and thin-skinned, unhappy with everything. When her father reached over and took her hand, she let him hold it for only a moment before drawing it back to her lap. She kept her face down.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

She nodded. Tears came more rapidly into her eyes.

“Marie was a darling girl and she was your friend,” he said. “I understand. And of course the newspaper men and critics . . . they don’t care about context. They want a headline or an excuse to drag us through the mud. I know you meant no harm.”

She nodded again.

“You have feelings for this young man. I understand that. You may not think that I understand, but I do. I was young once, too.

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