He longed to believe Aggie’s malicious display toward him was a result of the many small strokes that had followed her big one. That she couldn’t help it or didn’t know the filth that she spewed. He’d read of such cases. Some patients, after suffering a stroke or a series of seizures, could do nothing but utter foul language and curses. It was a condition of the brain and nothing intentional.
Unfortunately, this was not the case with his mother-in-law. Aggie hated him. She had ever since he and Katerina ran away and married, squelching all Aggie’s dreams of Katerina becoming an actress. Katerina had begged and pleaded with her mother to understand that acting wasn’t her dream at all. She loved Günther and wanted nothing more than to be his wife. He’d hoped after Nikolaus was born, Aggie’s ugliness would wane and she’d take to him and her grandson. Unfortunately, that was not to be.
Chapter Fourteen
Wolfgang, Helene, and Camille stood in the threshold of the kitchen in stunned silence.
“What?” Helene finally managed to get out through her strangled throat. The single word was high-pitched and terrified. “W-What is it?”
Sasha moved in a trance-like state, unmindful of being watched.
“I have no idea,” her husband whispered back. His police training dictated his ability to maintain calm, a disciplined control, but the wobble in his voice gave him away. “It’s like she doesn’t know we are here or…”
Sasha climbed down from the chair, interrupting his statement, and now stood on the shiny surface of the granite countertop. From her hands and knees, she reached down into the open drawer and grabbed a handful of spoons. Serenely, she went about carefully and with calculation, sticking them here and there into her unnerving creation, like a music box’s spindly-pronged mechanism.
Chills ran unchecked up and down Camille’s spine. She knew she was witnessing something exceedingly abnormal and in no way a typical three-year-old prank. Why this spectacle made her so frightened, she didn’t quite know, except that it was like something in a science fiction movie, completely off the chart for normal behavior. She shifted her gaze over to Wolfgang and Helene.
Wolfgang took a step forward. “Sasha?” His hair was rumpled from sleep. Fire engine red pajama bottoms hung loose around his hips and his feet had a sparse covering of dark hair over his toes. A small butterfly tattoo stood out on his left shoulder.
Sasha gave no reply.
“Liebling,” he called again softly, but the spoken endearment still brought no response.
When Wolfgang took another step, she stopped mid-reach, suspended in time, holding her pose for several seconds while never taking her eyes off the tower. Then, as if someone flipped a switch, she continued.
Helene, who wore only her pink camisole top and short tap-pants bottoms, reached out and took Camille’s hand in her own. Camille felt her quiver and heard the shallowness of her breathing.
Wolfgang reached out. “Sasha.” It was low, barely audible. He was a couple of steps from the tower, in direct line of Sasha’s vision.
She looked past the tower at her father.
“Vati?”
Camille let out a breath. It was as if the trance-like state evaporated, and the Sasha she knew was back. Her eyes sparkled. “Vati?” she said again in question, her voice high and uneven.
Wolfgang stepped forward, lifted his daughter off the counter, and carried her into the living room. Cradling the child in his arms, he sat on the sofa. Helene and Camille followed and sat on either side of them. Helene reached out and took Sasha from his arms to hold her close. The look that passed between husband and wife spoke volumes.
“I’ll ask around the department for the name of whom she should see,” Wolfgang said, watching as Helene rocked her back and forth.
Petra came into the room, her brow marred with worry. “Mutti, was ist los in der Küche?”
“I will tell you later,” Helene replied. “Just go get ready for school. And tell Patrick to get ready quickly. Vati will drop you off early.”
Camille sat on the sofa as the family dispersed, leaving her with Helene and Sasha. Sasha got up and followed her sister out of the room. “What can I do to help, Helene?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what is going on. I’m frightened. I didn’t hear anything this morning, or any noise in the kitchen as she made that detestable thing.” Tears slipped from her eyes and ran down both cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.
“I’ll take it down,” Camille said.
Helene shook her head in protest. “No, you have your class to go to.”
“I want to help,” Camille replied firmly. “I’ll take care of the kitchen. You go get your shower and get ready for the day. I’m sure you’ll want to be ready if Wolfgang can get an appointment with someone today.”
Patrick walked by the kitchen slowly, looked in, and his eyes grew round. His sister must have filled him in with the little information that she’d gotten from her mother.
Helene got up and returned to her bedroom, and Camille went into the kitchen to make the coffee. She tried to ignore the looming object as she filled the coffeemaker with coffee and water. Helene appeared and the tension in her voice showed how shaken she was still. “I’m going to go in with Wolfgang now. We’ll take the kids to school and then see about Sasha right away. Thank you for doing this for me.”
“It’s not a problem at all,” Camille responded. “Things will all be where they should when you get home.
It took Camille several hours to disassemble the tower. It was tricky and Camille still couldn’t understand how Sasha had built it so tall and balanced all by herself. As careful as Camille had been, more than a few cups and plates had fallen to the ground, smashing into hundreds of hazardous shards. At the moment, a rainbow of bright colors covered the tile floor.
Camille startled at the sudden ring of the phone. She picked her way carefully across the littered kitchen floor and got to the phone on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Camille, it’s Günther.”
She glanced at the kitchen clock. It was already ten thirty.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“I’m sorry. I should have called you to let you know I wouldn’t be in class today. The time just got away from me.”
“Are you all right?” His voice sounded guarded.
“Yes. But something really weird is going on with Sasha. I stayed home to help Helene as best I could.”
“Sasha?” The concern in his voice was thick. “Is she hurt?”
“Not hurt. But she’s acting bizarre and doing strange things. Wolfgang and Helene took the children and left early this morning. They’re trying to talk with someone today, a doctor, and maybe even get her seen by a specialist. With Wolfgang’s connections, they felt sure that they would be able to. Hopefully get some answers.”
“Acting weird? Like what?”
“Last night she slapped Helene in the face. That alone had them upset. This morning was worse. When I came down for coffee, I found her alone in the kitchen. It was very early and she must have been awake for hours. She was in a dreamlike state and had built a tower almost to the ceiling from anything and everything she could find in the kitchen. I couldn’t have done it the way she did, very balanced and symmetrical. No way. Just taking it down was difficult. That’s what I’ve been doing this morning. Trying to get it down without breaking every dish and cup they own. I’m not doing a very good job, I’m afraid.”
He was silent for a few moments. Finally, he asked, “Do they have any ideas what could be the cause?”
“Not yet. I’m waiting to hear.”
“How are you?” he asked her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
His phone call had helped already. Just the sound of his voice calmed her roiling stomach and brought back some sort of stability. A warm, wonderful sensation started to warm her insides.
“I’m okay. I’ll be better though when they call or come home. I’m really worrie
d.”
“That’s understandable. I’m giving you my cell number. Let me know what they find out.”
She found a pencil in the desk drawer and took his number.
“Don’t worry. You can call anytime. Day or night. For anything.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“The morning break is almost over so I better get going.” His voice was easy on her heart, calming. “Remember to let me know.”
“Okay, I will,” Camille promised. “And thank you so much for calling.”
“You’re welcome. Tschüss.”
They hung up and Camille went in search of a broom and dustpan. If she didn’t hurry up, they might get home before she had it all swept up and put away. She found what she was looking for in the hall closet that led to the garage, and set to work.
Finally finished, Camille ran upstairs and took a five-minute shower. She donned a clean pair of jeans and a sweater. She applied the minimum of makeup to her face and ran the brush through her hair.
It was almost lunchtime, but the thought of food of any kind made her stomach queasy. All she had to do was to think of that thing, and everything flew out of her mind and shivers ran up her back. She glanced around. I need a distraction.
She plunked herself down on the sofa and clicked on the television.
A cooking show flashed on. The chef spoke so swiftly Camille only caught a word here and there. He must be a comedian, for the audience was laughing at almost everything he said. Amidst one uproar of laughter and applause, Camille almost missed the ring of the doorbell.
She ran to the door and looked out the peephole.
Stephen Turner? She looked around the room as if there was something that could circumvent his visit. He knocked.
Camille opened the door. “Stephen, hello.”
His expression said he knew that he was calling at an inopportune time.
“Camille? I’m sorry to surprise you like this. I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop on the off chance you might be at home. Actually, I didn’t think you’d be here. But I’m glad now that you are.”
He was rambling and she was embarrassed for him. She stood in the doorway like a sentinel, not knowing if she should invite him in or not. Finally, pressure to be polite won out over her caution, and she stepped back in invitation.
“Would you like to come in?”
“Oh, maybe for a moment, if you have the time.”
“Of course.”
She showed him into the living room and clicked off the TV. “Can I get you something? I was about to fix myself a cup of hot tea.”
“Yes, thank you. That sounds great.” He looked around at the quiet house then took the computer case from his shoulder and set it onto the coffee table. “Anyone else here?”
She started for the kitchen and pretended his question didn’t startle her. “No, but I expect Helene any moment.”
He followed her into the kitchen and looked around as she filled the kettle and set it on the stove to warm. He wore the same style of casual slacks he’d worn on the flight and a heavy navy sweater worn over a button-down shirt. It was an attractive look but it wasn’t office attire. He must be off today.
“Pull up a seat,” she said gesturing to the stool under the counter. “How have you been?”
It was a ridiculous question considering she’d only met him five days prior. She considered just how little she actually knew about the man sitting across from her. Now that she gave it some thought, his name, and the fact that he drove a Budget Rent-A-Car, were the only two things she actually knew.
“Just working mostly. I took in an art show last evening in the Freihaus Quartier, in the Fourth District. Have you been there?”
She shook her head.
“A new Italian artist. Too contemporary for me. Other than that, nothing exciting.”
Camille poured two cups of raspberry tea and set one in front of Stephen. She set out the sugar bowl and poured milk into a pitcher. The image of it wedged in between a cup and box of crackers in the heart of the tower made her inwardly cringe. “What is it you do here in Vienna, Stephen?”
“Actually, Camille, I’m not at liberty to say. Let’s just say I work for the United States government.”
She could believe that. He fit the profile of an agent in a Tom Clancy movie. Tall, smart, a bit on the secretive side. It wasn’t the answer she’d prefer to hear. Something calm and neutral and middle of the road, like a teacher or banker, would have been much more to her liking.
“Oh.” She tried to think of something clever to add but she was drawing a blank.
“You’re not in class today,” he stated, an interested look in his eyes.
“No. I took a day off.” Irritation rippled within.
“How is the German coming?”
“Gut,” she said and smiled. “It’s fun and we do a lot of social things too. I’ve enjoyed this week immensely.” That was if she didn’t count the unnerving encounters with Branwell, almost being run down by Father Florian, and now this mystery with Sasha.
He slouched on the stool and rested a forearm on the counter. “There must be a lot of interesting people in your class.”
Was he being friendly or just plain nosy? “Interesting in what way?”
“I don’t know. Different from what you’re used to in Portland.”
She sipped her tea and savored its pleasant flavor. This conversation was becoming a bit of a struggle. She tried to remember when she had told him that she was from Portland. “The class is full of eccentrics, so to speak. Revolutionists, heirs to Swiss castles, along with a self-proclaimed princess. Nevertheless, I like it. It seems I’ve been ready for a change, this change, all my life and didn’t even realize it. I’m taking one day at a time so I don’t waste a minute. Enough about me. Where do you live when you’re in the US?”
“Sorry…” he began.
“You can’t tell me that, either?” She lifted an eyebrow and laughed, but cautioned herself to measure her every word from here on out. “Okay. Then tell me something about yourself that you can share.”
He winked. “I’m just teasing. I was raised in Richmond but live now in DC.”
The phone rang. It was Helene. They were taking Sasha to a clinic in another town. Camille wasn’t sure of the town or where it was but scribbled down the name and several phone numbers.
They were leaving the twins with Helene’s mother in Perchtoldsdorf, a small village twelve kilometers southwest of Vienna. Helene asked if Camille would be okay alone for a few days without them. She reminded Camille to use the moped or anything else in the house she needed and apologized for the upheaval.
She hung up.
“Problem?” Stephen asked.
“No, not really. You were saying?” She wasn’t going to share personal information.
“I’ve been traveling for work to Vienna for the past seven years. I know the city very well and wanted to know if I could take you to dinner some night soon? This weekend, actually.”
Camille could feel the shocked look on her face.
“I hope I’m not rushing you,” he continued. “The fact is, I know some really fine restaurants here in the city that only the locals know, and I’d like to share them with you. Since you are only here for two months, I don’t have time to waste.”
He had her over a barrel now. She could hardly turn him down without saying outright that she didn’t like him. He knew she didn’t know anyone and had an open calendar. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want to go, it was just she didn’t really know if she wanted to go. She was ambivalent.
“Well, tonight is impossible.” It was. With everything up in the air with Sasha. She wanted to stay right here by the phone.
“Tomorrow then. Six o’clock.”
He certainly was persistent. She ran it over in her mind. By then, she would have heard from Helene and things would be a little more settled. She looked at him again.
“Come on. Even old-fashioned girls hav
e to eat.”
That made her laugh.
He smiled.
“Okay,” she accepted. “Since you put it like that.”
He brightened. “I thought that I had offended you. I’m glad that’s not the case.”
“No. Not the case at all. But I’ll meet you at the restaurant because I have a busy day tomorrow.” That was sort of the truth.
“Fair enough.” He took a pen from his breast coat pocket and wrote down an address on a piece of scratch paper she handed him. He slid it over the counter so she could read it. Bohème, Spittelberggasse 19, Seventh District.
“Is six good?”
“Six should be fine.”
The phone rang again and Camille quickly picked it up and greeted the caller.
“It’s Stephanie. About time we talked,” she said in a playfully curt tone.
“Steph. You won’t believe everything that’s happened. I’ve lived a lifetime in one week. I have so much to tell you.”
Camille darted a quick look at Stephen. When the phone had rung, he’d gotten up and went into the living room where he was meandering around. He looked engrossed in some photographs on the wall, and then gazed thoughtfully into the office from its threshold.
“Like?” Stephanie asked.
“I have a visitor here at the moment so I can’t go into all the fun details. But I’m healthy, with no problems.”
“You’re taking your low-dose aspirin every day?”
“Of course.”
“Exercising?”
“You bet. Today’s the first day I’ve missed. Maybe I’ll go out a little later for a speed walk. But then again, maybe not. It’s clouding up and might start to rain. I’m having a wonderful time, though. How’s Kristin?”
“Good. But she misses you. She has a crush on a boy who just moved into town and is new in class. Scott Taylor. I told her she can’t do anything with him until you get home.”
“A boyfriend? Wow, that’s a milestone.” Sadness at missing such an important moment in her daughter’s life gave her pause.
“Camille? You still there?”
Camille glanced at Stephen. He was now looking out the front window. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was casing the place.
Three and a Half Minutes Page 11