At 26, a cold and composed officer of the Women's Auxiliary Corps, Lieutenant Edith Sink is in control of her life. Within the parameters she has set, everything makes sense. Until the day Captain Richard Winters walks into her office.
Winters/OC/N...
Thankfully, there was enough to do in Camp Mourmelon to keep her occupied. Edith had just gotten settled into her new office when Colonel Sink decided it was time for her to take a few days off.
"For what?" Edith demanded in his office. "Why do I need to see Paris? Did I do something wrong?"
"Edith, it's not a punishment. Most of the camp is itching to get to the city-"
"But not me. It would be a waste!"
Colonel Sink set his hands on his desk and leaned towards his eldest daughter.
"Because your mother insisted," he hissed.
Edith let out a snort of indignation. "You are exiling me because of mother?"
"A weekend away from Camp Mourmelon is hardly exile, Edie. Stop acting like a child and just go!" Her father dropped his hand on the desk with a thud.
Edith jolted at the sound then straightened her posture. Her father's rebuke cut deep, but she hid it behind a placid expression. She ducked her head, folding her hands at her back.
"Go have a little fun, Edie. It will be good for you." Colonel Sink turned towards his file cabinet by the window.
Edith left without another word. She dropped into her office to make sure Samantha knew she would be leaving early. A flicker of relief washed over the girl's face. Edith did her best to brush it off before it could offend her. She returned to her quarters in town where she lived with an elderly French couple. After packing a light bag, she caught the mid-afternoon transport into the city.
Most of the personnel at Camp Mourmelon hankered for a chance to see the recently liberated city. Edith was not one of them. Cities overwhelmed her with their noise and chaos. Edith stuck her nose in her city guide and French phrase book, desperate to maintain control of her environment.
The city was abuzz with bodies. The streets clamored with military persons from many different countries. Earlier in the year she had visited London, a city still recovering from years of Luftwaffe attacks. Paris sparkled in comparison.
Avoiding a cab as it cut a sharp corner, Edith held her guide book to her chest. Snapping it closed, she looked around the street. She had no idea where she was. The realization made her panic a little. Holding her head high, she ignored a cat call as she crossed to the other sidewalk.
She ducked down into the underground subway. With a heavy sigh, she slipped into a seat in one of the cars. After riding for almost an hour, her stomach growled. She poured over the map in her book, looking for anything that would lead her towards an easily procured meal.
A metallic snap and the car jolted to life. The broad back of a uniformed American soldier sank into a seat directly in front of her. It was a common enough sight in the city of lights those days.
She tucked in the hem of her khaki skirt as the Metro swayed in an erratic rhythm. The Parisian boy in the seat across the aisle was tossing a coin in the air and catching it before it hit the floor. Edith snuggled to the chilled window.
The Paris city guide had been her mother's back in the 1920s. She had given it to her eldest daughter in the hopes she would make use of it. The only thing that could've sparked Edith's interest in Paris would've been the Louvre. Hitler's passion for art that didn't belong to him squelched that possibility. The famed museum had been out of commission since the invasion. The priceless works of Raphael and van Eyck floated around Europe in the chaos of war. Edith cringed at the thought.
The subway car heaved to the left and the lights blinked. The Metro cord outside cracked with electricity. The sound snapped her out of her musings and back into the present. Her eyes flickered off the page towards the seats facing her in the front. An older woman crocheted next to an amorous couple.
The lights danced. A sharp blue flash fractured against the windows from the tunnel outside.
The serviceman in front of her turned his head. He looked back at the boy with the coins as the adolescent let one of his silver francs hit the floor. His long face ended in a strong chin that jutted out from a somber mouth, his brow heavy and bottle green gaze thoughtful as he studied the boy. With that mop of neatly combed, dark red hair, she sat up abruptly as she remembered him.
She had only seen Captain Winters a couple times from a distance at Mourmelon. To be honest, since their brief meeting back in England, she had given the notoriously serious officer little thought. When her father spoke of him, she was sometimes surprised by a pang of jealousy at hearing Colonel Sink speak with such deference of his abilities.
Edith wondered if it would have been easier to earn her father's esteem if she had been born male.
The Metro screamed to a halt at its next stop. Edith had been planning on finding a café for a late dinner. However, she decided to get off at the next stop instead. Barely registering the words on the page, she glanced back up at Winters.
Richard was his first name. She fought a grin at the memory of his red face when she had noticed him admiring her legs while she stood on that ladder. She shooed away the thought and tried to focus on the words.
The next stop came and went. Edith flipped the page and stole a peek at the back of his head. He hadn't budged, rather seemed to be focused intently on something in front of him. There was nothing, but the short divider between the halves of the car. But he was transfixed, as though he was seeing something the rest of them couldn't.
Car gradually drained to empty. Time was slipping away. She continued to blindly turn the page of her book and snatch glances of the captain's motionless figure in front of her.
Why was a tall, handsome officer in the paratroopers spending his leave aimlessly riding the Metro in Paris? Most of the men in his position would be taking advantage of the liquor and French women that the city offered.
The Metro halted with a shudder. Edith's thoughts stopped cold as she peeked down at her wrist watch and realized that they had come to the end of the last run of the day. Her heart sunk into her stomach as she noticed that it was only she and Captain Winters left in the car.
Tugging her arms into the sleeves of her Army commissioned coat, she straightened the collar and glanced at him one more time. Winters seemed entirely unaware that they had stopped. Edith tucked the book under her arm and moved past his seat. She took one step down, holding onto the rail, and looked back. His gaze was dull, mouth slightly parted as though he were dreaming awake.
The image of her father with the same expression where he sat on their front porch in the height of summer invaded her memory. She had been a little girl and had raced into the kitchen to ask her mother what was wrong with him. Her mother's thin lips pursed and for the first time in her young life, Edith found out what her father had done in his youth. The horror of war wasn't easy to escape, despite the years and miles in distance. Edith felt an unfamiliar tug at her heart.
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She stepped back onto the Metro. Laying her gloved fingers on the seat back in front of him, Edith cleared her throat. Richard Winters blinked, his mouth closing as he looked up at her in a daze.
"I'm sorry, I- I thought it was you," she sputtered. "I just... I saw you here and I wanted to make sure you were alright. Are you alright?"
He sat up straight, taking in his surroundings as though he were seeing them for the first time in hours.
"Of course, you are alright. Well then, enjoy the city." Edith retreated stiffly with a nod and hopped off the car as quickly as she could.
"Lieutenant Sink," he hollered close behind as she emerged onto the street. "Wait a minute!"
