She turned toward him and looked him fully in the face for the first time. He met her eyes and held them. Seconds ticked by. Finally, she said, “Tomorrow if you wish. There is a—une soirée pour les enfants. A l’ école. Pour Le Noël. . . . Do you . . . ?” She made a fluttering motion with her fingers. “Le piano.” “Oh . . . sure. Un peu.” “Bien. Les chansons de Noël?” “That’s about all I can play. Except for ‘Moon River.’” “Bien. A onze heures. A l’ école.” She pointed. “I’ll try to be there.” She smiled. “Good.” She put her legs over the side of the jeep and looked back. “Merci, Lieutenant.” “A demain, Térèse.” She seemed surprised at being addressed that way, then said, “A demain . . . Benjamin.” She slid down from the jeep and walked toward the dispensary in the church compound. Tyson watched her. She looked back, smiled shyly, then hurried on. From the book " Word of honor " by Nelson Demille