Three and a Half Minutes

by Caroline Fyffe

  Mrs. Günther Christove.

  A horn blared, and Camille almost fell as she jumped back and scrambled to the sidewalk. A little red Porsche careened down the lane and was gone. She didn’t even see the car that had almost hit her. The pain of her sore, blistered feet was dull compared to the pain in her heart.

  Another horn beeped, and a green compact pulled over.

  “I thought that was you,” Wolfgang called out the passenger window. “I was horrified when you stepped into the street in front of that Porsche. Get in. I’m on my way home now.”

  “Thank you.” Camille opened the door and climbed in. “I don’t think I could have walked another step.”

  “I guess not.” His tone was tinged with incredulous humor as he took in the sight of her feet. “What happened to your stockings?”

  “I bit off a little more than I could chew.”

  He snickered.

  “Okay, a lot more. It wouldn’t have been a problem in my comfortable shoes. How’s Sasha?”

  His face clouded. “Not good. I guess Helene told you that the doctors suspect some level of autism.”

  His expression tore her heart.

  “That is what they’re basing their tests on. We really don’t know much yet.”

  “I’m so sorry, Wolfgang. How are the twins taking the news?”

  He put on his signal, made a right turn into a circle change, and sped past a truck. “We haven’t told them. But they’re old enough to know something is going on. They are good kids though, and are waiting patiently, giving us time before demanding an explanation. We’ll have to give them one soon.”

  “If there is anything I can do to help. In any way. Please, you must let me.”

  “Thank you, I will. At the moment, I really can’t think of anything.”

  Two minutes later, they were pulling into the small garage.

  Wolfgang put the car in park and switched off the ignition. He turned and looked at her. “Actually, there is something. Just be a friend for Helene. She’s going to need someone she can talk to when they return. Woman to woman.”

  “Of course. That goes without saying.” They sat in the dark garage as the door had closed. “Can I go to her now? Be a support for her?”

  “That is very kind, but no. When they get home will be soon enough.”

  Wolfgang opened his door and collected his things off the backseat. “We’re sorry to have all this emotional upheaval happen to spoil your holiday. Leaving you alone much of the time,” he said over the hood of the car as they walked inside. “It is not our usual hospitality.”

  Before entering the house, Camille took off her shoes and dangled them from her index finger. “I’ve been doing just fine on my own. Don’t give that another thought. Now I’m going to run upstairs.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, I’m going to limp upstairs, change, and then come down and fix you something to eat.”

  “No, no. I ate on my way home. We’ll think about that later.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. Unless you’re hungry. Have you eaten today?”

  Camille wished she were still in her newfound favorite restaurant. Another cup of coffee would have been heavenly. If only she’d opted for that instead of following Johann. “Yes. I had brunch after Mass.”

  “Alone?” His scrunched brow told her he was again sorry.

  “I enjoyed the solitude.”

  “I don’t believe you. Anyway, get a pot in the kitchen on your way upstairs and go soak those feet. You’ll find antiseptic and bandages in the medicine cabinet. If you need anything else, just call down.”

  After a good, hot soak, Camille flopped down on her bed. Today was Sunday, after all. A day set apart for rest and rejuvenation.

  She’d call Kristin in an hour or two, or get her online. It was still too early on the west coast to call now. She missed her daughter. Missed her happy-go-lucky ways. Her insatiable laughter. She missed her great big bear hugs desperately, and wished she could feel one right this very moment.

  Camille rested back on her pillow and opened a travel magazine. Would Günther call? Most likely not. He’s married, she reminded herself. The other calls he’d made to her had been out of courtesy when she hadn’t come to class. And then about Sasha.

  She closed the magazine and flopped her arm across her eyes, feeling physically and emotionally drained. Every bone in her body seemed to sink down into the mattress. What a day. So much to figure out.

  She tried to analyzed her feelings truthfully. She was sorry Günther was married. She would be a liar if she said she didn’t care. How had she been so wrong? She’d thought that he was interested in her. At least a little. She’d felt the chemistry. The bond. She yawned and closed her eyes for a moment. Was it all in her head? Her head, it must be. Must, must be all in her…

  Startled, Camille cried out in delight when she found herself back in the garden, the beautiful place she’d told Günther about today. Thinking about him now brought a profound sadness. But his image seemed to intensify the colors surrounding her, the feelings, the sounds.

  She strained to focus on the trees, the flowers. There was so much to see. She headed in the direction of the hill where she’d heard the woman’s voice before.

  “Hello?” she called out softly.

  Just like the first time, her heart filled with a joy so deep it almost hurt. “Is anyone here with me?” Camille turned a complete circle, noticing her feet felt perfectly fine. In awe, she strolled past a brook and under a canopy of blossoming trees, enjoying their lovely fragrance. Each one was unique, as different as snow is to the sun. Where the bark on one was shining with a pearlescent coppery color and had twinkling silver flowers, another was a deep coral shade with periwinkle and gold blossoms. Inside the trunk, some sort of liquid pulsed in rhythm with the soft breeze. Unable to control her curiosity, she reached out and gently ran her finger over the strange bark. The tree quivered and a slight tinkling sound surrounded her.

  Camille pulled back in alarm. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  The tinkling came again. It was the breeze or the air or something else. The petals trembled and shimmered as if trying to communicate with her. Goodness radiated all around. From the plants, the sky, the ground.

  “This is not possible,” she whispered aloud.

  “Are not all things possible with God?”

  Camille turned quickly expecting to find someone behind her. “Where are you? Why can’t I see your face?”

  “You will see me when the time is right. For now, just enjoy the privilege you’ve been given.”

  Each time the voice spoke, it came from a different location. But it was, without doubt, the same female voice Camille had heard Friday night.

  “Look more closely.”

  Feeling like Alice in Wonderland, Camille looked up into the branches, deeper into the blossoms, knowing there must be something magical there.

  The miniature birds, which had been still and invisible until now, took flight all at once. They swooped down and surrounded her, enveloping her in a cocoon of love.

  Camille opened her eyes when a knock sounded on her door. “What? Who is it?”

  “It’s Wolfgang. I heard you cry out.” He paused. “Is everything okay?”

  Camille rolled from the bed and opened the door. “Yes, I’m fine. I fell asleep, that’s all.” She glanced at the clock. An hour had passed. It felt more like a few moments.

  “Good. A little nap is what you needed.”

  The phone next to her clock rang. “Oh, I’ll leave you to that,” Wolfgang said as he turned and started down the stairs.”

  Günther, she wondered?

  With trembling hands, Camille lifted the receiver.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Mom, it’s me. Kristin.”

  Camille’s heart stopped its crazy thumping and was replaced with delight at the sound of her daughter’s voice.

  “You must have picked up on my vibes to
day because I wanted to call you an hour ago, but it was too early. I didn’t think you’d appreciate me waking you up. How are you, sweetheart?”

  “Super good.”

  Kristin’s voice was a bit too chipper.

  “Kristin?”

  “Mom…I really miss you. I didn’t know I would so much.”

  “I miss you too. I was wishing earlier today for one of your big hugs. It’s only been a week since I left. I don’t know how I’ll make it without you for two months.” Camille wondered if there was something else Kristin wasn’t telling her.

  Silence filled the line. Camille waited. She heard Kristin sniff a few times and thought she heard her crying softly.

  “Kristin, honey, what is it? Has something happened?”

  Kristin sniffed louder into the phone. “No.”

  Camille doubted that missing her mother was all that was troubling her, but she didn’t want to push her daughter. “How are Grandma and Aunt Stephanie?”

  “Grandma is…Grandma, you know. She’s well. And I like staying here. I’ve been helping her with all her chores. I even cooked spaghetti the other night.”

  “Good girl.”

  “And Aunt Stephanie, she’s great and all but…she’s not you, Mom. She doesn’t understand me at all.” Kristin blew her nose. “She’s pretty bossy too.”

  Camille’s stomach tightened. A nodule of guilt blossomed, taking root. How else was a young teen supposed to feel when her mother runs off all the way around the world? And for something as frivolous as to study a foreign language, for goodness’ sake. She and Kristin were like two peas in a pod. They had been inseparable since Bret died. They did everything together. Biking, running, skiing, and she even let her friends see them going to the movies together. They were best friends.

  “Yes she does, honey. Give her a chance. You know they both love you very much.”

  “I know that, Mom, but…” Her voice faded off into silence.

  Camille glanced at the wall calendar. “I can arrange to come home, Kristin. I knew when the three of you gave me my going-away gift that two months was a really long time. I can easily change my plans.”

  Something inside Camille rioted. Her heart was rising up against her better judgment.

  Günther is married.

  She had to stop this crazy fascination with him. Better to leave now before she fell deeper, before her heart got completely broken.

  “No, don’t do that,” Kristin screeched. “I feel a lot better just talking with you. I don’t want to spoil your trip.”

  Going home a month early was probably the smartest thing she could do. She was falling in love with a married man. She was having crazy dreams and visions and doing fanatical things like running down the street in only her stockings. She worried about the outlandish lengths her possibly unbalanced study partner was willing to go to make her life miserable. He was a hard one to figure out. Going home early would actually be very smart.

  “But I’m homesick too. Can’t I please come home? If I came home after a month, then maybe next year I could come back for a refresher course. I wouldn’t mind doing that at all. I’ll look into it tomorrow.”

  “Mom, no! Aunt Stephanie will absolutely kill me. I’m sorry I said anything to you. I’m just being a big baby. I’ll be fine.” Kristin sighed. “Really. Mom, promise you won’t do anything to change your ticket.”

  “Now, stop panicking. I won’t say anything to Stephanie or Grandma just yet. First, I’m going to find out if it’s even possible, without a huge loss of the money you all spent. Oh, by the way, how’s Scott?”

  “Scott?”

  “Yes, Scott,” Camille said, laughing. She wanted to cheer Kristin up.

  “He’s really nice. Did Aunt Stephanie tell you about him?”

  “A little birdie flew all the way around the world and landed in my window.”

  “No, Aunt Stephanie told you. See what I mean?” Her voice was back to normal.

  Camille could hear Kristin’s cell phone ringing in the background.

  “Aunt Stephanie is supposed to tell me. She wouldn’t be doing her job if she didn’t. Now, be sure to be nice to her. And be a good help too.”

  “I better go now, Mom.”

  “Okay, sweetheart. Thank you so much for calling. I’ll call you back in a couple of days with some news. Don’t worry about anything. Remember I love you, sweetie. And Jesus loves you too.”

  “Mom?”

  “What?”

  “That just sounded like Grandma, not you.”

  Camille laughed. “Grandma’s a pretty smart lady.”

  They said their good-byes and Camille hung up the receiver and smiled.

  Boy trouble.

  All the way around.

  Florian was worried. He sat at his desk staring blindly at his calendar. Pfarrer Schimke had the Sunday evening Mass and he could hear the congregation singing in the church.

  Two days had passed since the meeting with Elizabeth Roth in regard to Johann. Just yesterday, Bernhard had called on Günther with his late-night visit at his apartment, which was totally out of character for the man. If only he could find Bernhard and speak with him, convince him to sign over custody. But to whom? Wolfgang, who was working on Johann’s case, had said that he and Helene would somehow take the boy. Make it work. It was a generous offer, but might prove impossible for them on Wolfgang’s salary, with the three children they already had. And now there was the troubling news about Sasha, and whatever that would play out to be. The family had the room and intention, but lacked the means with which to carry it out.

  How long did they have? Ms. Roth had said the weekend. That was almost over. It seemed impossible. Florian’s gaze moved up the wall to the crucifix hanging there. Impossible for us, but not impossible for You.

  Florian closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. “It’s up to You, Lord. Use me in any way that You need me but…help us find a home for Johann. So he doesn’t have to leave everything that he loves. So he won’t be trapped by his uncle into a life of hopelessness and crime.”

  There was a cough outside his door and then a knock.

  “Ja, bitte kommen Sie herein.”

  Old Pfarrer Blauberg tottered in and closed the door behind him. “Guten Abend, Pfarrer Florian.”

  Florian returned the greeting and motioned for him to have a seat on the chair facing his desk. His old friend took his time getting comfortable, and then shared with Florian his congratulations on how successful the Saturday English class was becoming. The number of students was growing each week. It was good work. Important work.

  Florian got comfortable too. Once Pfarrer Blauberg got it in his mind to visit, he could easily carry on for an hour as if it were only a minute. Not getting out much anymore, he was a bit lonely. He’d lived his vocation loyally, working hard, and Florian was happy to visit with him when there were no pressing matters at hand and when time allowed.

  A time like now.

  Pfarrer Blauberg went on saying he’d enjoyed very much meeting the young American woman. She was intelligent and had an air about her. She looked extremely prosperous, in her American sort of way…

  The rest of what the elderly priest said faded out as an idea took hold in Florian’s mind. Turning, tumbling, picking up speed.

  Is this your way, Lord? He glanced at the crucifix. Are You speaking to me through Pfarrer Blauberg, as providence would have it? His visitor had just said something funny and was laughing, as he slapped his knee. He got up.

  “Gute Nacht, Pfarrer Florian.”

  “Gute Nacht, Pfarrer Blauberg.” Florian stood too, feeling a bit guilty over not paying closer attention to his words. He walked with him to the office door and assisted him up the tricky stairway to his room.

  Was he putting the cart before the horse?

  Could Camille Ashland have been sent to them for a reason? A very important one, at that?

  In the darkness of the quiet house, Camille got ready for the Monday o
f her second week of class. An hour earlier, she’d heard Wolfgang banging around in the kitchen and then watched his taillights as he left for work. She was much more nervous today than she had been last week, and dreaded seeing Günther after their encounter yesterday.

  The circles under her eyes attested to the fact that she had gotten little sleep. Robotically, she pulled on a pair of Levis and donned a chocolate-brown sweater over a camisole top.

  After nine days here, she was much better at judging the unpredictable weather that could be bright one moment and cloud up with rain the next, and was familiar with the idiosyncrasies of the old school building with its drafty halls and cool rooms.

  She studied her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her hair. She’d lost a little weight. She added a touch more blusher to her drawn, pale face. She looked intently at her mirror image, remembering how different she had looked lying on the floor of her shop. Life was such a mystery. She felt sorry for the people who couldn’t bring themselves to believe in the supernatural or afterlife. It seemed amazing to her.

  What was going on anyway? Again last night she’d had another very short vision, or dream, or whatever they were. Camille felt sure they were real, in some way, the remembrance of her three and a half minutes in…eternity?

  It was so uncanny. If it were God she was seeing or angels, saints, or some other known heavenly entity, she would feel a little bit better in thinking it was some sort of afterlife experience.

  But an unknown woman? She’d actually gotten a glimpse of her for the first time last night, with her long brown hair and striking face. Obscure to say the least, but she’d seen it. Very close to the face she’d seen in the mirror. She’d tried to talk to her and ask her what she wanted. Why she kept coming back time and time again as if she wanted—no, needed, to tell her something important.

  Before she’d gotten a chance to get close enough, she’d awakened in the darkness of her room, alone and bewildered. She lay there awake for hours until she heard Wolfgang below.