Read Online The Major's Daughter by J. P. Francis - Free Book Online

occasional shipment of new guards or the exchange of prisoners. Everything seemed transitory, impermanent, changeable. It struck her occasionally how adaptable humans could be. Three weeks before, the Germans had been a faceless enemy living somewhere distant and remote. Now, while they were still exotic, and remained the source of a thousand gapes from slack-jawed visitors, and continued to be the subject of hundreds of mostly ill-informed editorials, the fact of their existence had become widely accepted. “The prisoners at Stark,” people said, as if mentioning a landmark or a geographical feature. They had become part of the community’s mental landscape.
    Except, of course, for Private August Wahrlich. Dressing on a fine May morning, Collie wondered if she would see him that day. He cluttered her thoughts, and when she saw him her heart grew heavy in her chest and she had difficulty breathing. It was a schoolgirl crush, she knew, something more fitting for Marie, who had not stopped talking about the day she had pretend-danced with the gallant German soldier. It had been the highlight of Marie’s young life, Collie knew, and she enjoyed talking about it whenever she had a willing ear. As much as Collie pretended to be bored by the story, or disinterested, she relished hearing it again because she remembered the way she had exchanged a look with the young soldier. She remembered how handsome he had looked, his arms out, his eyes closing at times—she loved that detail—and how they had nodded slightly at each other. Yes, she remembered that, though at times she wondered if she had made that last part up. Had they really nodded? She couldn’t say for certain, but she believed they had. They all agreed, especially Marie, that August Wahrlich was the most handsome German soldier by far. He was the most handsome soldier in the camp, Collie thought, challenged only briefly by a dark-haired young American guard who had been transferred to Houlton, Maine, after only a week of duty.
    So she tried to see him, and that proved more difficult than she might have imagined. She could hardly lean out the window and gaze at the men like a lovesick heifer. Besides, the prisoners were gone most of the day, transported as far as Vermont to cut wood. She had her responsibilities as well, though they had changed slightly. Now, in addition to her responsibilities for translation, she concentrated primarily on the logging paperwork, attempting to keep track of what came in, what went out, who took it, at what cost, and so forth. The men proved to be unreliable accountants, and that made the bookkeeping more difficult. The Brown Paper Company wanted more pulp, always more pulp, but her father had remained a steadfast advocate for the fair treatment of the prisoners. He refused to be bullied. They met their quota, but he would not permit the Germans to be used as slaves as some factions desired.
    After breakfast, she ignored Mrs. Hammond’s admonition to wear a heavier coat, and she walked to the camp beside the Ammonoosuc. The trees on both sides of the river hung exactly on the edge of blossom. The leaves seemed to disappear if you looked at them directly, Collie thought, though they reappeared in slant gazes. The air smelled deliciously of pine and mud, and around the boardinghouse massive heads of lilacs painted the air.
    She stopped at her stone bench halfway to the camp and pulled Estelle’s latest letter from her pocket. She had deliberately avoided reading the letter earlier at breakfast for fear of spoiling it. Estelle had promised to see if she could arrange a visit; it felt too much to hope for. Collie opened the letter and immediately felt comforted by Estelle’s lovely handwriting. She clutched the tissue paper to her chest when she spotted Estelle’s promise to arrive in two weeks’ time, early June at the latest. She smiled at the letter and teared slightly as she forced herself to