The rain begins before eleven and doesn’t let up all day. It seems the perfect weather to fit my mood. We’ve managed to cross eight more towns off the list and are still no closer to finding any answers.
To make matters worse, things between Jonah and I have reached an all-time high of awkwardness. After we left the farmhouse this morning, I’d had this fleeting sense of comfort from what he’d told me, sharing his childhood story, encouraging me not to give up.
It lasted until we got to the next town.
When I’d first realized how close the communes were to one another, I’d figured it wouldn’t take us that long to visit them. What I’ve come to learn, however, is that it isn’t the traveling that takes time, it’s the conversations.
Most of the people we’ve met have been open and kind, willing to answer our questions, or guide us to someone who might be able to. But the stories can be difficult to hear, the memories of what was lost as raw as when they happened.
Today, I’ve heard people tell stories that broke my heart. In Montaigu-la-Brisette, an older woman named Jeanne told us that she had lost every one of her children during the war. All six of them.
I sat, listening to her, willing myself not to cry in her presence. When we got back in the car I was so angry. At her loss. At my own. At the injustice of it all. In the moment, Jonah had reached out to touch my hand, and I’d recoiled. I’m not even sure why. A reflex, I suppose.
He didn’t touch me after that. He barely looked at me.
The tension between us only got worse.
Apart from the necessary conversation during our visits, we haven’t talked since. It’s the kind of silence that feels so loud you may as well be screaming.
“We need gas,” he tells me a few minutes after we leave Saint-Germain-de-Tournebut. “There’s a restaurant up ahead, so I’m going to drop you at it first.”
Somehow, I don’t think it’s my hunger he’s worried about. We pull into the parking lot, and as I get out of the car, I notice that his knuckles are white on the steering wheel.
He doesn’t look at me, or speak, and the second my door closes, he drives off. I feel like we’re back at square one. Omaha all over again.
With the rain falling hard, I run into the restaurant. A somber looking hostess greets me and leads me to a table with a view of the parking lot. It turns out she’s also the waitress, and after fifteen minutes of me not ordering, her attitude sours.
To appease her more than myself, I order a burger and fries. Being one of the only people in the place, the food comes quick. I didn’t realize how hungry I was, so I dig in, momentarily forgetting Jonah. When another twenty minutes passes with no sign of him, however, my unease comes back tenfold.
He said he was going to get gas. It wouldn’t take him nearly an hour to do that. Would he leave me here? It’s a horrible thought that I push aside quickly. Taking out my phone, I send him a text.
Where are you?
I wait, watching to see if I get a reply, but none comes.
“Fuck,” I mumble, my panic rising.
The waitress returns and puts the bill on the table, clearing away the plates. I pull some cash from my bag and leave it in the billfold, my mind anxious all the while.
What am I supposed to do?
I don’t even know where I am.
“Are you alright?” a voice asks from behind, making me jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I turn around and see a man at the table next to me. He couldn’t be more than twenty-five, his blonde hair cut short. He stares at me with kind, brown eyes, and puts down his book.
“I heard you speaking English,” he says in an accent not much different from my own. “American?”
“Yeah,” I reply, not sure what he wants.
“I’m from Vancouver. Canada, that is, not Washington. I’m David.”
“Nice to meet you, David. I’m Charlotte.”
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” he says with a sheepish grin. “But you seemed upset and I wanted to see if you were alright.”
I’m fine,” I say, not wanting to go into detail with a stranger.
“I have five sisters,” he tells me. “And if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that when a woman says she’s fine, she’s not fine.” He gives me a sincere smile. “But it’s none of my business. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Canadians and their politeness. It’s almost supernatural. “I’m waiting for my ride. He’s late.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
I genuinely believe him.
“Well, Charlotte, feel free to decline, but would you like to join me while you wait?”
I should say no, he’s a stranger after all. But there’s nowhere else for me to go. Besides, he seems harmless, and the waitress has been glaring at me from the hostess stand ever since she gave me the bill. Getting up from my chair, I walk over to David’s table and take a seat.
“So, what brings you to France?” he asks.
“Vacation.” I figure it the simplest answer. “What about you?”
“Same. I’m slowly winding my way down to Spain, where I’m meeting up with some friends.”
“That sounds idyllic.”
“It is.” He flashes a perfect grin. “I never thought I’d enjoy traveling alone, but it’s turning out to be awesome. You get to meet some really nice people along the way.”
The waitress meanders over, and I swear her gaze lingers on me longer than it should.
“I was thinking of having some wine,” David tells me. “Would you like to have some too?”
After the day I’m having, I can’t say no.
Half an hour later, David tops up my Chardonnay and finishes his hilarious story about a hike in the Rockies gone terribly wrong.
“In my defense,” he says, “it looked like a bear.”
I laugh so hard I nearly choke on my wine. “Remind me to never go hiking in Canada.”
His smile broadens, “It’s incredible, though, being out there in nature. Really reminds you to put things into perspective.”
“I might just have to go someday.”
“You should,” he encourages. “But make sure you don’t go off trail like I did. And bring mosquito repellent.”
“That’s excellent advice.”
“And if it looks a bear,” he says, raising his glass. “Run.”
I laugh, imagining how panicked he must have been running from what turned out to be a mountain goat.
“What’s this?” I turn and see Jonah approaching the table. His eyes go from me to David, landing heavy on the latter.
My anger swells. “Where have you been?”
“Hi,” David says politely.
Jonah doesn’t reply.
“You’ve been gone for over an hour,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I had something to do.”
“You had something to do?” I don’t even try to hide my contempt. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Let’s go,” he tells me.
I pick up my glass in defiance. “No.” I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look at him. I’m not going anywhere. I like David, and there’s wine at his table.
“Would you like to join us?” David asks.
Jonah glares at me in reply.
“Jonah is my guide.” I’m careful to enunciate that last word. “He likes to abandon women in towns after promising to pick them up.” My brain is fuzzy from the alcohol. “David is a kind Canadian who I’m sure would never leave a woman stranded in a place she doesn’t know.”
“Charlotte.” Jonah’s voice is tense, tired. “It’s time to go.”
I snort. “You don’t get to talk to me about time.”
He exhales heavily. “Please.”
“I have to pay for the wine.”
“No,” David presses. “It’s on me. You’ve paid your share in conversation.”
As reluctant as I am to leave, Jonah’s return has brought all the tension with him. “Thank you, David. It was really nice to meet you.”
“You too, Charlotte. Don’t forget that advice I gave you.”
“I won’t.” I smile and get up from the table. When I look at Jonah, my smile disappears.
He doesn’t wait, instead turning and heading out the door. I follow him, my anger growing with every step I take. I find him by the car, waiting for me in the rain.
When he sees me approach, he glowers. “What are you doing?”
“Excuse me?”
“I show up and you’re flirting with some strange guy.”
“I wasn’t flirting.”
He scoffs. “You normally laugh like that?”
What the hell is his problem? “I laugh however I want to laugh when the occasion calls for it. And you don’t get to ask that, especially after what you did.”
“I’m know I’m late.”
My jaw clenches. “Let me guess. Another tire blew out?” He unlocks the door, and I get in, furious. “You’re an asshole.”
“I’m sorry,” he says as he gets behind the wheel. “It wasn’t deliberate.”
I turn the full power of my wrath on him. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m not the one who offered to drive. You did. And leaving me for over an hour after you said you were going to get gas is a really fucked up thing to do.”
“Jesus.” He sighs, starting the car. “You have a high opinion of me, don’t you? It’s not like I meant to leave you that long.”
“So, where were you?”
We pull out of the parking lot, the rain hitting the windshield with force. When Jonah doesn’t answer, I watch the rapid motion of the wipers, the aggressive movement doing nothing to calm my anger.
“I lost track of the time, alright?” There’s limited visibility ahead due to the torrential downpour and Jonah keeps his attention on the road. “I went and got gas, and then I needed some time to myself, so I drove for a bit. And I saw a church we hadn’t been to, so I stopped to ask if they had any information.”
I turn to look at him. “And did they?”
He shakes his head. “But I found out that a plane came down in one of the farmer’s fields. Unfortunately, no one survived the crash. But it does mean we’re in the right area. It tells us that some of the planes that deviated off course came out this way.”
I feel no comfort from his explanation. “You could have texted me. I actually thought you’d left me there.”
“Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know, Jonah. It’s not the first time though, is it?”
He lets out a long exhale. “You know I’m helping you, right? That all of this isn’t exactly a vacation for me?”
“Then why offer it?” I practically yell the words. “I didn’t ask this of you. You came to me and said you wanted to help, and I foolishly believed you. But I guess what you really wanted was to charm me into sleeping with you.”
“What!?” He briefly takes his eyes off the road and sets them heavily on me. “You think that’s why I offered?”
When he looks back out the windshield, I can see the tension in his neck. “I don’t get you, Charlotte. Last night I thought...” He hesitates. “It seemed you wanted me to kiss you. Then today you hardly talk to me. Then I find you flirting with a Canadian. And now you’re telling me you think the only reason I’m here is because I want to sleep with you?”
It’s an incredibly simplistic view of what’s happened. “Okay. One, I did want you to kiss me. Two, you made it clear that the kiss didn’t mean anything. And three, it’s none of your business who I do or do not flirt with, especially when you’ve dropped me off at some random restaurant and left me there because you ‘needed time.’”
The rain hits the windshield like a deluge. “Who says the kiss meant nothing?”
It’s not the part of my response I expected him to focus on. “You did. You said it was a kiss in the rain and no more than that.”
I watch as my words hit him. “That’s what you thought I meant?” he says.
“What other meaning could I take from that?”
“Hang on. That’s why you were upset?” He runs a tired hand over his face. “Charlotte, I only said that because you seemed worried I was expecting more from you. You said you didn’t want to have sex last night, and I didn’t want you to think that was all I was after.”
I can’t make sense of his explanation. “But today you said there’d been a misunderstanding.”
“Yes,” he shouts, gripping the steering wheel. “You thinking that all I wanted was to sleep with you.”
His words hang in the air between us as I slowly untangle the version of events that have been playing through my mind all day.
“Why do you think I’m here?” he asks as he checks his blind spot. Changing lanes, he accelerates to get ahead of the truck. “Can’t you see how I feel about you? How crazy you make me?”
Visibility reduces even more as we pass the truck, the tires splashing as much water up as there is coming down. It’s only when we’ve passed halfway that I see the car racing toward us. Even at the speed Jonah’s going at, I know we won’t pass the truck in time. I look at Jonah’s alarmed expression and know he’s thinking the same thing.
I close my eyes, my scream caught in my throat. I’m six all over again. The car flipping. The sound of metal twisting. Glass shards piercing through my skin.
Except we don’t flip, and there’s no crunching metal.
No broken glass.
Jonah manages to speed up just enough to get in front of the truck.
“Fuck,” he breathes when we’re back on the right side of the road.
My fear and adrenaline rush through me faster than my breath can catch up.
“Charlotte?” Jonah’s concerned voice breaks through my shock.
I try to deepen my shallow breathing, the inhales and exhales competing with one another. With my hands still braced on the dash, I feel my body start to tremble.
“Hang on,” he says, taking the next exit onto a country lane. There’s an entrance to a farm and he pulls the car over. “That was my fault. I shouldn’t have tried to ... fuck, I’m so sorry.”
I take my hands from the dash and stare at them.
“Charlotte.” He reaches for me, cupping both sides of my face, making me look at him. “We’re okay.”
I nod, the realization only starting to sink in.
“I’m so sorry.” His fingers caress my cheek, the touch soothing to my frayed nerves. “Are you alright?”
I’m not sure if it’s the surge of adrenaline, or the immense relief at being alive, but I lean forward and kiss him.
Any reluctance on his part is short-lived. He opens his mouth to me, his urgency meeting my own. Our hands grab at whatever they can get — face, neck, back, arms, as the tension that’s been between us all day burns into something else entirely.
The need within me overwhelms. “Take me somewhere,” I urge against his lips.
He leans back, his breathing labored, his eyes searching mine.
“I want you to take me somewhere,” I repeat with conviction.
He nods, understanding my meaning, and quickly takes the car out of park.