Sun & Moon - a contemporary romance (The Minstrel Series #1)

by Strauss, Lee

  She hadn’t heard him enter the kitchen where, at this time of day, she normally worked alone. She was mortified. Not only was her face a blotchy mess, but she also felt ugly in her baggy white uniform and apron. Her voice came out in a strangled whisper, “I’m fine.”

  “When I did this job, I found it helped to listen to music. Just pull your ear buds out when my dad’s around.”

  “You did this job?” Katja couldn’t hold in her surprise.

  Matthias grinned. “For many years. Believe me, I feel your pain.” He grabbed the blade, and bent over to scrape the dough off the floor.

  “What are you doing?” Katja asked, bewildered.

  He looked up with a smirk. “Helping?”

  “You don’t…”

  “I know, but it’ll go faster this way. And…” he added without looking at her, “I wouldn’t mind having someone to eat lunch with.”

  Matthias Bauer wanted to eat lunch with her? Her throat started to seize up, and she squeaked out, “I just broke up with someone.”

  Matthias handed her the broom, then started filling up the mop bucket. “It’s not a date. It’s just lunch. I’m hungry.”

  Of course. Look at her. She was a disaster. How stupid to think that the boss’s son was actually interested in her. She kept her head down as she swept, hoping the blush of embarrassment she felt would fade by the time they were done the floors.

  Katja changed back into her jeans and blouse, taking a moment to wash her face and put on a little makeup, thankful she had some old product in her purse. Matthias looked up from his seat in the café and smiled when he saw her. He was just another guy, she told herself. A potential friend. She could really use another friend about now. She sat across from him on a plush, red chair just as two bowls of goulash arrived. The soup was thick with meat and vegetables, with just the right amount of spice.

  “This is great,” she said after her first taste.

  Matthias nodded. “Secret family recipe.”

  “Really?”

  “No.” He chuckled. “You can find the same one online.”

  She patted her smile with a napkin. “So, what kind of music do you like?” she asked since he’d mentioned he listened while working.

  Matthias rattled off a list of bands and performers, and Katja was pleased to find he shared her taste in music.

  “Do you play?” she asked.

  “Play what? You mean an instrument? Nope.”

  He didn’t ask her in return, and she didn’t offer the information.

  “A lot of great acts come through Berlin, as you probably know,” he added. “There’s a club around the corner that caters to indies. I’m going this weekend to check it out, if you want to come.”

  Katja hesitated. “Not a date?”

  Matthias cocked a brow. “You just broke up with someone, got that. Also explains why you’re crying over the sink. So, no, not a date.”

  Katja covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry to assume.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sure guys ask you out all the time. Do you want to go or not?”

  “Yes,” Katja smiled genuinely for the first time in a long while. “Sounds fun.”

  Even though Katja worked full-time at the bakery, it wasn’t enough to cover the rent, the bills, and the family debt, so the only other answer was for her mother to go back to work.

  “I’m doing better,” Gisela reassured her. “I feel stronger. It’s just such a relief to have him gone.”

  Katja considered her. She’d taken her mother to get her hair done and bought her some new clothes. Now, with the bruising on her face gone, and a few extra pounds from eating properly, she looked pretty good. “You think you could go back to work? It would only need to be part time.”

  Gisela nodded. “Maybe I could find something on the weekends.”

  That would be perfect. Katja worked during the week, so Gisela was home for Sibylle. If she worked on the weekends, Katja could keep an eye on her sister.

  With that decided, Gisela spent most mornings looking for work, but her résumé was weak. She didn’t get any of the jobs she applied for, and Katja started to worry. Then one day her mother got a call from an employment service. A bank nearby needed janitorial help on the weekends.

  “That’s perfect,” Gisela said. “Funny thing. I don’t even remember applying there, but then again, I applied at so many places. I lost track.”

  Katja gave her mother a congratulatory hug. Things were going to be okay.

  They eased into fall and with Katja and her mother both working, they satisfied the financial requirements of the social worker. Their home was deemed a satisfactory and safe place to raise Sibylle. The trial was over and Horst was now in prison. He wouldn’t be out for at least a year, so they had some time to breathe.

  It was Friday, and Katja met up with Matthias at the Musique Club again. It had become a weekly ritual, and Katja found she looked forward to it. She entered the dark room, her eyes scanning the faces for Matthias. He grinned when he spotted her and waved her over to his table.

  She recognized a few of the faces, other regulars. There was a Berlin equivalent to Sebastian, a rockstar wannabe with an arm draped over a girl, and his sleazy Karl-Heinz-type sidekick. There was even someone like her—the old her—a hopeful singer-songwriter chasing her dreams. She was good, too. But Katja knew that being good wasn’t enough to make it. She should talk to the girl, tell her to find something else to do before she had her heart stepped on.

  Katja knew the girl wouldn’t listen. She’d have to find out her own way.

  And who knew, maybe she’d be one of the lucky few who broke out.

  Matthias had been really good about giving her space, keeping their relationship platonic. She must’ve hid her lingering heartache well, because on that night, he draped an arm across the back of her chair. It was innocent enough, just a friendly gesture, but a little while later his hand slipped off the chair and onto her shoulders. She stiffened.

  “I’m sorry,” Matthias said. He moved his hand back to the chair.

  “No, it’s okay,” Katja said. She missed being touched. His arm around her felt good. Matthias smiled and returned his arm to her shoulder, giving her a little squeeze.

  She sipped her beer, making one glass last the whole night. Her wild and crazy days were over. No more getting drunk and making loud judgmental proclamations she regretted the next day. No more letting strange men fawn over her. She had responsibilities now. She couldn’t just think about herself anymore.

  During a break between acts Matthias spoke into her ear, “Do you want to get out of here?”

  Katja flinched. Was he serious? One arm around her back, and he thought she’d be up for sex?

  “Katja,” Matthias said, “I just mean for a walk, or something. Man, you should see your face.”

  She giggled with embarrassment. “Sorry, it’s just…”

  “I know, I know. Guys hit on girls like you all the time.”

  Katja reached for his hand. “Let’s go.”

  The city lights pushed back at the darkness of nightfall. The odd leaf drifted slowly down to the sidewalk from the nearby linden trees. “You must think I’m so conceited,” Katja said.

  Matthias shook his head. “Not at all. I’m surprised you’re hanging out with someone like me.”

  Katja stopped to look at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Matthias snorted. “You tell me.”

  “I did tell you. I just got out of a relationship.”

  “That was weeks ago. Maybe it’s time for you to move on, Katja. Let someone else in.”

  Maybe Matthias was right. Katja nibbled her lip ring.

  He held her gaze. “It drives me crazy when you do that.”

  She stared back. “Should I stop?”

  “No.” He leaned in slowly and gently brushed the ring with his lips. Her breath quickened. When she didn’t pull away, he placed a hand on the back of her head and kissed her for real.
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  It was nice. Matthias was a good kisser. Just enough pressure, not too much tongue. Katja tried to relax into it, but all she could think was they weren’t Micah’s lips. The hand on her head wasn’t Micah’s hand. The body pressed against hers wasn’t Micah’s.

  She felt numb, and though she didn’t push Matthias away or tell him to stop, she grew limp.

  Matthias noticed and leaned back. “Whoa.” He reached up to wipe a tear off her face. “Was it that bad?”

  Katja crumbled and Matthias wrapped his arms around her. She cried into his shoulder, feeling weak and helpless to stop it.

  “Too soon,” Matthias said, rubbing her back. “I get it.” He led her to a bench. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  Katja pulled tissues out of her purse and blew in a very unattractive manner. “I don’t think you want to hear me talk about my problems with another guy.”

  “Well, not really. But I am curious to know what my competition is. So, spill.”

  “He asked me to marry him.”

  “Wow.” He leaned his elbows on his knees. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “It lasted two hours.” She chuckled like she was being strangled. “I was engaged to be married for two hours. How lame is that?”

  “You need to give me more, girl. I can’t stand it.”

  Katja blew her nose again, then filled him in on the whole Greta debacle.

  “So, you’re mad he left you on your engagement night to catch up with his old fling?”

  “Yes. Wouldn’t you be?”

  He huffed. “You’re damned right. That guy’s an idiot. Not worth another tear, if you ask me.”

  “To be fair, he had thought she was dead, so it was a big shock for him. And he had loved her once, so of course he’d want to know what happened to her.”

  “Sure,” Matthias conceded. “But did that have to take all night? Especially if the night in question is the one where he’d just asked someone else to spend her life with him?”

  “That’s my thinking, too. But I still wonder, sometimes, if I’m being too hard on him.”

  “No, definitely not.”

  He wasn’t exactly unbiased if she could go by the tingling sensation that remained on her lips. She pressed her balled up tissues against her nose and leaned into him. Matthias put his arm around her and said, “I promise I won’t kiss you again until you tell me you’re good and ready. Okay?”

  She sniffled. “Okay.”

  Katja and her guitar were estranged lovers. In a way she blamed it and her stupid dream for the pain that ballooned in her chest like a fat bear. The instrument, locked in its case, had been propped up in the corner of the bedroom she shared with Sibylle all these weeks, and she eyed it from her place on the bed.

  It called to her, whispering for her to come back to it. She moseyed over, brought it back to her bed and carefully removed her guitar from its case. She laid it on her knee and caressed the curves of the blond, rosewood frame. Blaming her guitar for her problems was stupid. This instrument had been nothing but a good and faithful friend. It never lied, never betrayed, waited patiently for her to return her affections.

  She tuned the strings, noting that they sounded a little dull and she’d need to buy new ones soon. The fingers of her left hand automatically ran up and down the frets, knowing exactly where to land and where to press, while her right hand alternately strummed and picked at individual strings.

  She was rusty, for sure, but like riding a bike, playing guitar was something she’d never forget. She played for hours, lost in the world of her favorite folk artists and some of her own songs that belonged to her before the Dresden days. By the end of it the tips of her fingers burned. She knew she’d suffer for a couple days, and she vowed she’d never let her calluses disappear again from lack of use.

  Maybe she would perform again. Possibly line up a few gigs around town. Not as a career move, but just for fun. The idea sparked a little life that she needed right now.

  She couldn’t imagine ever playing “Sun & Moon,” or “How Deep Can You Feel” again. “Don’t Go Now” remained unfinished and was hidden deep inside a proverbial drawer. She’d have to write new stuff, or she could just stick to cover tunes.

  In fact, she’d have to come up with a whole new set list. Her old one reminded her of Micah, and it was just too painful. She needed to move on, and it appeared that he finally agreed. He’d stopped texting weeks ago. Even though it was what she’d wanted and needed, his silence, the fact that he had, in fact, given up on her, crushed her heart.

  If only she could stop thinking about him every spare minute of every day, all would be fine. She smirked sadly. She was thankful for one thing. She was glad for Micah’s spiritual beliefs, and for the imaginary force field. Breaking up with Micah was the most painful thing she’d ever experienced. It was physically weakening and emotionally crushing. She couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like for her now if he’d accepted her invitation to join her in his bedroom.

  Katja left early for the Musique Club because she didn’t want Matthias to see her lugging in her guitar. It was open mic night, and she signed her name on the form when she walked in. Matthias didn’t know about this side of her life, and she wasn’t sure if she would go through with it. He’d egg her on if he knew, and she just didn’t want the pressure.

  Matthias arrived and flashed Katja a smile before taking the seat beside her. They’d stepped back into friendship, and their one and only kiss wasn’t mentioned again. Matthias pulled a wool cap off his head and ordered a beer.

  “Who’s up tonight?” he asked. “Anyone we know?”

  Katja held in a smile. “Possibly.”

  Three acts in, the host of the evening called her name. Matthias slapped the table. “Seriously, Katja? You never thought to mention this?”

  “Just shut up and listen, before I change my mind.”

  Katja eased out and collected her guitar. Her heart thudded when she stood under the spotlight. It’d been a long time since she played in front of a crowd and she was nervous. She closed her eyes and strummed. Her stage fright melted away with the first word she sang. This was her scene. She was made to do this. She belted out Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi” like she owned the song. Her voice was strong and powerful, and she felt the rush of knowing the room was hers. Every eye was turned to her, every ear listening.

  She finished with a flourish, and the room exploded.

  “Hot damn, Katja!” Matthias said, giving her a gigantic hug. “You are a major talent!”

  She couldn’t stop the huge smile that crossed her face. “It felt good.”

  Matthias ordered another round of beer. “No, seriously, you’re really good.”

  Katja thanked him again and then forced herself to focus on the next act. At least she tried to. She couldn’t stop herself from reliving her performance in her head, basking in the afterglow. She knew for a fact that she’d do it again. She just needed the courage to write a new song.

  Matthias walked her home that night. “Are you ready?” he asked, when they got to her building.

  She knew what he was asking, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry.” Matthias was too good a person to lead on, and until she was really and truly over Micah, she vowed she wouldn’t kiss him again. “You shouldn’t wait for me,” she added. “I fell hard. I don’t know when I’m going to be ready to be with someone else.”

  Matthias’s shoulders slumped, but he didn’t try to talk her out of it. He sighed, giving her a firm hug and left. Katja didn’t know if that meant he’d wait for her or he’d move on. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from him, but for his sake, she hoped he’d move on.

  Sibylle was asleep when she entered her room. She tiptoed quietly to the bed and kissed her little sister softly on the forehead. She turned on the bedside lamp and Sibylle grunted, but turned over and fell back asleep. Katja picked up her duffle bag and looked inside. Now that she had conquered one fear, she thought maybe it w
as time to face the others. Her sketchpad and lyric notebook were the only things remaining in the bag. She pulled out the sketch book first, stroked the cover and spine, but didn’t open it. She knew what filled the pages. Besides the faces of strangers from the café, and a few of Renata, they were mostly images of Micah Sturm. She pushed the book aside. She wasn’t ready for that.

  Her lyric notebook wasn’t much better. The last song scribbled out was the one she’d written the night everything with her and Micah had imploded. She tossed them both back into the bag and shoved it under the bed. Tomorrow she’d buy a new lyric book.

  As time went on, Katja created a name for herself in the indie scene. Like with Maurice at the Blue Note, she was usually offered a full night by the managers of the clubs. She accepted those offers when they came, but she didn’t delude herself into thinking they were the gateway to stardom. She sold a few of her old CDs and made extra cash, sure, but it went to buying Sibylle new clothes and boots for the winter, not into a dream fund of any kind. Katja kept her wits about her, keeping her drinking to a minimum. She didn’t trust easy flattery, and played to please herself, not worrying if the crowd loved or hated her.

  She had a gig that night, where she shared billing with another indie artist called Simone Pellar. They’d tossed a coin to see who went first and who got the more coveted last spot. Katja won that round, but she still wanted to get there early to show Simone her support.

  It grew dark earlier now, and the mid-November frost caused the leaves to fall, leaving skeletal trees in their wake. Katja shivered and ducked her head to the wind. She could’ve taken a bus or taxi, but that cost money she didn’t want to spend. The club wasn’t so far away, and in good weather, a pleasant walk.

  Her arm grew tired and she shifted her guitar to the other hand. A blast of wind tossed her hair across her face, and she worked to clear it away. Even through her gloves, her fingers burned with the cold. Maybe she should wait at the next bus stop and ride from there.