Chapter 27
No, Jim Beam didn’t help tonight as Chaton took my hand and led me to the fire in the middle of her family’s encampment. I knew I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t help myself. I looked sideways at Chaton, so different from Gretchen. I’ve known Gretchen all my life, and it was only a year ago she let me take her hand. Chaton was bold and expected to be kissed. Gretchen hung back and turned her head when I tried to sneak a kiss. Gretchen was good and chaste, and Chaton was more like a flame, hot and beckoning.
“Jean Claude,” Chaton said and indicated a place on a nearby log to sit so I wouldn’t get my uniform dirty.
She poured some wine and sat next to me, tucking her legs under her skirts, only her bare toes visible.
“So, tell me about your uniform.” She pointed to the badges on my tunic for each level of horsemanship and skill.
“We are the best horsemen in all of France,” I declared. Although my skills were average, attending such a school was an honor, one I had worked hard to achieve.
She laughed, a bell tinkling on the air.
“Will you fight if there is a war?” she asked.
“Oui, that is our duty. But…” I lowered my voice. “We aren’t trained for fighting.”
“No?” she asked, confused.
“We are training to be officers, to lead, but not to fight.”
“Don’t you need to do both?”
“Perhaps.” The lack of training bothered me, but my father was fighting with the resistance movement against Germany, and he was a merchant until the war.
Chaton put her cup down and said, “It’s been difficult to find places to camp.”
The war would make it even more so. “Where will you go?” I asked, hoping it wouldn’t be far so I could continue my visits.
“We don’t know. We may have to split up into small groups.”
“Yes, small is best,” I agreed. Large groups of people drew attention; smaller would be better. The same was true for armies in war.
She slipped her hand into my pocket and moved closer. “Do you mind if I warm my hand in your pocket?”
“No.” A ploy to get closer. I placed my hand into the pocket and squeezed her fingers. I liked the smallness of her hand in mine.
Gretchen allowed me to kiss her behind a tree when no one was looking. Her lips stayed closed, and although the kiss was nice, it wasn’t satisfying. When Chaton had kissed me, it sent quivers up my spine. I longed to kiss her again and again, but she looked into the fire.
We drank our wine and watched the activities begin. With the dark closing in, I needed to get back to my dormitory for the night.
“I must go now.”
“So soon? There will be dancing later.” She slipped her hand from my pocket and placed it on my thigh. The pulse in my neck beat erratically.
“I’ll come again.” I shivered—not from the cold but from the pressure of her hand.
She walked me to the edge of the encampment and waved her fingers. No kisses tonight, I conceded glumly before turning away and trudging back toward the Cadre Noir and my narrow cot.