Remembering You by Tricia Goyer

camera bag. “I asked my grandfather about that. He said no.”
    “But don’t you think—”

    “Listen, Ava, this is their trip. It’s not about you or your videos. It’s about them.”
    “Yes, it’s about them, but my grandpa was so excited about Belgium. His first question when he heard the tour was cancelled was, ‘What about Belgium?’” She placed a hand on her hip, the frustration of the moment mounting. “So we’re here, and now he’s not going to do anything?”
    Dennis took a step back, holding up his palms as if to protect himself from the onslaught of her words. “Listen, we are going to see things.” He motioned toward the field. “But this is their trip and their memories. I’m letting them call the shots whether you like it or not. There are other places your grandpa wants to see, but not Chenogne.”
    “Do you know something about Chenogne you’re not telling me?” She narrowed her gaze at him.
    Dennis’s eyes met hers for the briefest second, and then he looked away and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not at liberty to tell.”
    A harsh laugh broke through her lips. “Are you kidding me?”
    He looked down at her camera bag. “I might have considered it before you told me about your work .” He spread his arms wide. “But this isn’t just a lead, Ava. This is their lives. Their memories. If your grandpa wants to tell you, he will. You’ve got to take time to understand him. You’ve got to trust him.” Dennis took the tripod from her, easing her load. Then he looked at her, his eyes gentle. “And you’ve got to earn his trust,” he said in no more than a whisper.
    Ava wanted to argue, but she knew she was standing on shaky ground. Lash out at Dennis, and she could lose Paul’s goodwill.
    “Besides,” he said, “we don’t need to go there for the story. Your grandpa carries it with him. He always has.”

    They walked quietly side by side as they approached the car where the men were looking around. They looked so frail, tired. Ava lowered her head. Guilt ricocheted through her. This was hard enough for them—physically, emotionally—and here she was placing more demands on them. Still, she had no choice.
    “Can I get one more thing before we leave?” Ava pushed the thought of Chenogne out of her mind. “Grand-Paul, can you state your name and unit into the camera?” Ava knew Dennis was right. Pushing her grandfather too hard wouldn’t help anything. So she tried to push softly. “Grandpa, can you do just this one thing for me too? It’ll be painless, I promise.”
    Her grandfather didn’t respond, and if she didn’t know better, she would have thought he had not heard her.
    She got out the camera again and focused on Paul. She turned it to the low-light setting and hoped that the high-tech camera would make up for the dimming sunlight. “Okay, go ahead.”
    Grand-Paul straightened and stuck out his chest. “Paul Prichard, Company B, Twenty-first Armored Infantry Battalion of the Eleventh.”
    “Great.”
    Then she turned to her grandpa. He narrowed his gaze, obviously still uncomfortable.
    “I’m not going to ask you to tell any stories, but can you just state your name and unit for me?” she asked again.
    He looked weary, and then he straightened. She turned the camera on him.
    “Jackson Andrews, Company B, Twenty-first Armored Infantry Battalion, Eleventh Armored Division.” Then he narrowed his gaze. “That’s all you’re going to get.”

    A lump formed in Ava’s throat. She cleared it. “Okay, if that’s how you want it.” She quickly put away her camera, wondering why she’d ever pushed for this. Everything in my life has to be so hard these days.
    It was quiet as the car pulled out and they headed into town. The guys’ eyes were intent on the views around them, and Ava wondered what they were thinking, what they weren’t saying.
    Then, as they neared Bastogne, Grand-Paul started in singing “Auld Lang Syne . ” After the