Fleur De Lies by Maddy Hunter Read Free Book Online Page A

tree limb, and then I headed away from the sound of artillery fire. Don’t even know which direction it was because my compass got smashed in the jump. It’s pretty embarrassin’ for an Iowan to admit, but I was lost about as bad as the Israelites in the wilderness.”
    On a brighter note, at least it didn’t take him forty years to find his way back to civilization.
    He gave his head a disbelieving shake. “Eighteen thousand Allied troops parachuted into Normandy, but I never ran into another livi ng soul that whole night. No Americans. No Germans. No one. Kinda felt like I’d arrived for the war all by myself.”
    “Osmond,” I said gently, “does anyone in the gang have the slightest inkling that you participated in the actual D-Day invasion?”
    “Nope. If I’d told ’em I’d been to war, the Dicks would’ve asked, ‘Which one? Revolutionary or Civil?’”
    “I’m not sure how you’ve kept it to yourself all these years,” marveled Tilly.
    Osmund shrugged. “If you’d seen the things I saw, you’da kept it to yourself, too.”
    “But you’re a hero,” I insisted.
    He shook his head. “The fellas who jumped out of those planes and never lived to tell about it are the real heroes, Emily. Not me.”
    “That’s not true, Ozmund. Have you not told your friends what you did for my family?”
    His Adam’s apple bobbed uncomfortably. “No need getting into that now. Far as I’m concerned, it’s all water over the dam.”
    “ Non ! You tell them, Ozmund Chelsvig! If not for you, my mama and papa would have died at zee hands of zee Germans.” Her voice grew sharp. “ I would have died!”
    “Hey, folks,” Cal called out from the front window, “looks like the bus is here to pick us up.”
    “But I still have room on my memory card for five hundred and forty-four more pictures of myself,” whined Bernice.
    “If you do not tell them, Ozmund, I will,” threatened Solange. She skewered him with a fierce look. “Well?”
    He responded with a stubborn snort. “All right, all right.”
    My mom and dad had standoffs like this all the time, but it was usually over an issue that was even more vital to marriages than trust and fidelity: control of the TV remote.
    “Solange’s parents hid me in a secret room they’d built under their front staircase, but the day after I showed up, so did the Ger mans. Three of them came knocking, and it wasn’t a social visit. They knew about the secret room and the family’s involvement in the Underground, so they arrived to voice their objection.” He thrust out his bottom lip and shrugged. “That’s about it.”
    I frowned. “That can’t be it. You can’t end a story like that.”
    “Why not?”
    Tilly rolled her eyes. “You’ve given us the exposition and the conflict, but you’ve left out the resolution. Without a resolution, we’re dealing with random plot points that go nowhere. So you need an ending, accompanied by a satisfying denouement, if you can manage it.”
    “Confound it.” Sucking in a lungful of air, he burst out with, “So the Germans barged into the house with their threats and guns, and I made sure they never left. Is that resolution enough for you?”
    I looked at Tilly. Tilly looked at me. We both looked at Solange.
    “Zee three men shot their way into Ozmund’s room, but he was waiting for them, barricaded behind pillows, flat on his back, with his broken leg bound in splints. He returned fire, and when zee shooting stopped, it was Ozmund who proved to be zee better marksman. My brave little chee-ken man.”
    “Mesdames, messieurs, your tour director is waiting for you by the front gate.” Madeleine strolled around the room, herding guests toward the doorway.
    “Chicken man?” I stared at Osmond, baffled. “I—uh, I don’t get it.”
    “He wore a chee-ken on his shoulder,” said Solange. “A little screaming chee-ken.”
    “Chicken?” Tilly straightened her spine. “On a military badge? I seriously doubt it