Windmills of the Gods

“I am afraid there is not much to tell that is exciting.”

“You mentioned that you fought in the underground in Algeria. That sounds exciting.”

He shrugged. “We live in terrible times. I believe that every man must risk something so that in the end he does not have to risk everything. The terrorist situation is literally that-terrifying. We must put an end to it.” His voice was filled with passion.

He’s like Edward, Mary thought. Edward was always passionate about his beliefs.

“If I had known that the price would be the lives of my family-” He stopped. His knuckles were white against the table. “Forgive me. I did not bring you here to talk about my troubles. Let me recommend the lamb. They do it very well here.”

He ordered dinner and a bottle of wine, and they talked. Mary began to relax, to forget the frightening warning painted in red. She was finding it surprisingly easy to talk to this attractive Frenchman. In an odd way it was like talking to Edward. It was amazing how she and Louis shared so many of the same beliefs and felt the same way about so many things. Louis Desforges was born in a small town in France, and Mary was born in a small town in Kansas, thousands of miles apart, and yet their backgrounds were similar. His father had been a farmer and had scrimped and saved to send Louis to a medical school in Paris.

“My father was a wonderful man, Madam Ambassador.”

“Mary.”

“Thank you, Mary.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome, Louis.”

Mary wondered what his personal life was like. He was handsome and intelligent. “Have you thought of getting married again?” She could not believe she had asked him that.

He shook his head. “No. My wife was a remarkable woman. No one could ever replace her.”

That’s how I feel about Edward, Mary thought. And yet it was not really a question of replacing a beloved one. It was finding someone new to share things with.

Louis was saying, “So when I was offered the opportunity, I thought it would be interesting to visit Remania.” He lowered his voice. “I confess I feel an evilness about this country. Not the people. They are lovely. But the government is everything I despise. There is no freedom here for anyone.” He glanced around to make sure no one could overhear. “I shall be glad when my tour of duty is over and I can return to France.”

Without thinking, Mary heard herself saying, “There are some people who think I should go home.”

“I beg your pardon?”

And suddenly Mary found herself telling him about the paint scrawl on her office wall.

“But that is horrible! You have no idea who did this?”

“No.”

Louis said, “May I make an impertinent confession? Since I found out who you were, I have been asking questions. Everyone who knows you is very impressed with you.”

She was listening to him with intense interest.

“You have brought here an image of America that is beautiful and intelligent and warm. If you believe in what you are doing, then you must fight for it. You must stay. Do not let anyone frighten you away.” It was just what Edward would have said.

THE following morning Mike Slade brought in two cups of coffee. He nodded at the wall where the message had been painted. “I hear someone has been spraying graffiti on your walls.”

“Yes. Have they found out who did it?”

Mike took a sip of coffee. “No. I went through the visitors’ list myself Everyone is accounted for.”

“That means it must have been someone here in the embassy.”

“Either that, or someone managed to sneak in past the guards.”

“Do you believe that?”

Mike put down his coffee cup. “Nope.”

“Neither do I.”

“What exactly did it say?”

“‘Go home before you die.”’ He made no comment.

“Who would want to kill me?”

“I don’t know. But we’re doing everything we can to track down whoever it is. In the meantime, I’ve arranged for a marine guard to be posted outside your door at night.”

“Mr. Slade, I would appreciate a straight answer. Do you think I’m in any real danger?”

He studied her thoughtfully. “Madam Ambassador, they, assassinated Abrahwn Lincoln, John Kennedy, Martin Luther King, and Marin Groza. We’re all vulnerable. The answer to your question is yes.”

THREE days later Mary had dinner again with Dr. Louis Desforges. He seemed more relaxed with her this time, and although the core of sadness she sensed within him was still there, he took pains to be attentive and amusing. Mary wondered if he felt the same attraction toward her that she felt toward him.

After dinner when Louis took Mary back to the residence, she asked, “Would you like to come in?”

“Thank you,” he said. “I would.”

The children were downstairs doing their homework, and Mary introduced them to Louis.

He bent down before Beth and said, “May I?” And he put his arms around her and hugged her. He straightened up. “One of my little girls was three years younger than you. The other one was about your age. I’d like to think they would have grown up to be as pretty as you are, Beth.”

Beth smiled. “Thank you. Where are-“

“would you all like some hot chocolate?” Mary asked hastily.

The four of them sat in the huge kitchen drinking the hot chocolate and talking.

The children were utterly enchanted with Louis. He focused entirely on them, telling them stories and anecdotes and jokes until he had them roaring with laughter.