"Well, what's the verdict?" She beamed from ear to ear and said in her broad accent,
"Doctor says there's a bun in the oven; you are going to be a father!"
Some time later the "bun" was almost baked, and as Connie emerged from a checkup at the clinic she met an old school friend. During her school years she had had a crush on him and even dated him once or twice, but in just ten years he had changed. He had lost a little hair, and working for the local newspaper at a desk job coupled with good home baking had given him a pot belly. Connie smiled as she thought that she must look the same to him, but her belly wasn't the result of lack of exercise.
As they stood by her truck, he quizzed her on what she had been doing since the war. It took about ten minutes to fill him in on her new life. When she let slip that Jerry was with the French Resistance for four years, he raised his eyebrows and said,
"I would love to do a story about you two; nothing sensational, just a local human interest story. What do you say?" Connie knew that Jerry didn't like to boast about the war, so she smiled and said she would talk it over with him, and they agreed that he would phone her the next day.
Two weeks later, a half‑page article appeared in the local newspaper. Jerry had agreed to the story, as long as the reporter put emphasis on the fact that he was an American who had married a local girl, and not on the war. If any mention was made that he was a freedom fighter for the Resistance, people may begin thinking that he was some sort of war hero. To him the real heroes were men like Jacques and the Allied soldiers who lay dead on the beaches of Normandy.
To be continued...