Til smiled weakly at the compliment.
“Strong, handsome, sexy,” she added dreamily, as if reading Til’s thoughts, or his face. “You’re all those things. A real man, not some boy.”
Til’s smile broadened. “This is the third time we’ve gotten together.”
Stefi glanced guiltily at the bed, “I know, I’m sorry. I . . .”
Til followed her glance. “Oh, I didn’t mean that! Look, if you’re not ready for that, don’t worry. We can just chat, cuddle a bit, who knows. I like you, Stefi, I really do. This isn’t just some gambit for me to get a cheap thrill. I think we have something special going for us.”
“I like you too, Til,” she said almost sadly. “I really do.”
“Why the long face then?”
“Oh, no reason,” she answered, picking her mood up perceptibly. “Girls get this way when it’s a special moment.”
Til got up from the chair and sat next to her on the bed. He put a fatherly arm around her shoulder, then leaned in and brushed his face against her hair. Stefi lowered her head as if deep in thought or undecided about something. Til placed his hand under her chin and gently lifted it so that she was looking into his eyes. “You are very, very beautiful,” he whispered.
They held each other’s eyes for a moment and then slowly their lips came together in a long and passionate kiss.
Til stared up at the ceiling and smiled with pleasure. So easy, it had been so easy to assuage her fears, and despite her claim to be inexperienced, she was verygood in bed—almost as if she were going out of her way to please him, perhaps even neglecting her own pleasure. That thing she did with her mouth . . . Intuition, she had said. “Do you like it?” she had innocently asked. Did he like it? Wow! Either the girl had had a really good teacher or she had phenomenal intuition.
Stefi stirred and awoke from her brief nap. She turned toward Til and smiled seductively. “Oh, that was marvelous,” she cooed. She pulled herself closer to him and wrapped her body around his.
He stroked her hair and held her close. “I love you.” As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn’t.
Stefi pulled her face away so she could look at him. “You don’t have to say that, Til. I love you, but I know you have a family and things. It’s enough that you want to be with me now and then. Don’t love me, it will just complicate everything.”
She climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom. When she emerged, she had washed and dressed, so he decided to do likewise. As he came out of the bathroom, she handed him a drink. “A toast,” she said, “to a beautiful, uncomplicated relationship.”
“You are amazingly understanding.” Til drank the shot of whiskey. He made a face at the taste but decided not to comment on her youthful ignorance of good liquor.
“I know,” Stefi agreed. Again she seemed quite sad.
“What’s the matter, sweetpea? Didn’t you enjoy your first time?”
“Oh, I did. That’s the problem. I’ve got to go now and I don’t want to.”
He noticed there were tears in her eyes. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get together again, soon.”
“Will you stay here, like you promised? If anyone sees me leave, I don’t want them to link me and you. It would be disastrous.” Stefi picked up the glasses and went into the bathroom to wash them.
“Your father and mother are out of town, honey,” Til called out to her. “Who’s going to see you?”
“Will you stay?” she insisted as she tucked away the glasses and the bottle in her bag.
“Of course, I promised. I even brought a book. See? I’ll stay an hour before I go back to work, and I’ll come and check out tomorrow morning. Just like I promised.”
The following morning, when Richard returned to work, he noticed Til was not in yet. As he sat at his desk and began reading his mail, the secretary stepped into his office.
“Excuse me, Herr Traugutt.”
“Yes?” he asked, still busy perusing a letter.
“It’s about Til.”
Something in the secretary’s voice made Richard look up. “What’s the matter, what is it?”
“He’s had a heart attack.”
“A heart attack? Where is he, is he okay?”
“No, he’s dead.”
“Dead? A heart attack? He’s so young!” Richard exclaimed, truly shocked. “How did it happen? Where?”
“He was found in a hotel room, mein Herr. The police think he must have gone in there with a prostitute or a mistress, but nobody saw the woman and she wasn’t there when he was found. She probably panicked and left.”
“Probably.”
“The odd thing was, he was fully dressed, lying on the bed, with a book.”
“Hmm. That is odd. Did they look for fingerprints?”
“No sir. The death was not suspicious. Should I send an order down for them to look?”
Richard shook his head. “No, there’s no point causing his widow any further grief. The most we’d locate is a woman she’d rather not know about.”
“Is there anything I can get you, Herr Traugutt?” the secretary asked, respectful-of Richard’s obvious distress.
“His family doesn’t have a phone, do they?”
“No, mein Herr.”
“Ach, I’ll visit later. Could you send my condolences, some flowers or something?”
“I’ve already done that, Herr Traugutt.” The secretary came forward and handed him a note.“Here’s what your card said.”
Richard read the brief message. “Thank you.” He sighed heavily. “I think I’d just like to be alone for a few minutes.”
The secretary nodded sympathetically and left.
Richard rested his chin on his fists and stared at the desk. He remained that way, silent and unmoving, a long time.
26
“ANDDID THOSE FEET in ancient time, walk upon England’s mountains green?” His hands worked deftly in the pungent earth as he sang softly under his breath. Even though he was outside and she was not, he kept his voice low so that Frau Vogel, or rather Elspeth, would not overhear him singing in English. She did not understand the language and was therefore sure to assume there was something obscene or inappropriate in the words.
The song, the twittering of the birds, the warm, June sunshine on his back, allconspired to make him think he was elsewhere—perhaps England’s mountains green, wherever they might be. He glanced down at his left wrist to find out the time and was vaguely surprised that no watch was there. Shaking his head at his idiotic lapse of memory, he squinted up at the sun and decided it was time to leave the virtual freedom of the yard and return to the prison of the house to prepare the coffee for Elspeth’s coffee circle. As was a tradition among German ladies of her class, she and a small circle of friends met regularly at each other’s house to drink coffee, eat cake, and discuss household affairs and gossip. This week, it was Elspeth’s turn to be hostess and was the second time that Peter would serve them.
He had accomplished much in the intervening weeks. He had settled into a routine that was acceptable to Elspeth: he did many tasks without explicit instructions and even took over the scheduling of some of his work. In particular, he learned about gardening simply by observing the actions of the next-door neighbor and, when possible, asking him questions surreptitiously over the fence.
Today, at the neighbor’s instigation, he had decided to thin the flower beds, removing the dead and dying flowers and even cutting a few of the full blooms to make way for the coming blossoms. The small pile of flowers lay in the sun, ready to be discarded. On an impulse, he picked out the best flowers before discarding the pile and brought them indoors. He intended to place them in a vase somewhere discreet to cheer up the house, but as he came in the back door, Elspeth was already in the kitchen and observed them in his hand.
“What’s that?” she asked accusingly.
“Flowers, gnä’ Frau.” Aware that such an answer was sure to be interpreted as sarcasm, he added quickly, “For you,” as h
e extended them toward her. He was well aware that she was unlikely to view the gesture favorably. He expected anything from a neutral shrug to indignation that he should be so insolent as to present her flowers as though they were his to present.
He was shocked by her response. “Flowers? For me?” She sounded almost coquettish. “Oh, how sweet! I’ll put them in a vase. How lovely. Yes, yes.” She took the bunch and went to fetch a vase herself, mumbling, “Flowers. For me.”
Later, during her coffee klatch, she even pointed out the vase and the source of the flowers to her friends.
“Oh, my dear Frau Vogel! How cute!” her friend, Frau Widerhausen, acknowledged agreeably.
“He is handsome,” Frau Meissner said unexpectedly and to no one in particular.
None of the others seemed to have heard her as Frau Schindler said almost simultaneously, “I don’t know, my dear, I don’t think it’s wise.”
“Nonsense, my dear Frau Schindler, there’s no harm in it.”
“You shouldn’t encourage such behavior,” Frau Schindler insisted dictatorially. Though she was probably the youngest of the group, and quite pretty aswell, she outranked them all by virtue of her much older and very powerful husband.
“What behavior?” Frau Widerhausen asked.
“Familiar behavior.”
“Nonsense. He was simply pruning the flower bed.”
“Still, it’s the implication.”
“What implication?” Frau Widerhausen persisted.
“Of intimacy,” Frau Schindler replied ominously.
“Intimacy! Oh, my dear Frau Schindler, you do read too much into things. It was just a nice gesture,” Elspeth retorted.
“See, it already has you thinking wrongly,” Frau Schindler trumpeted.
“What’s wrong with niceness?” Elspeth asked innocently.
“Next he’ll be expecting you to reciprocate, and then where will discipline be?”
“Our discipline is very strict here,” Elspeth protested.
“No, it isn’t,” Frau Schindler asserted. “The very last time I was here, I heard him humming to himself.”
“No! Not in front of you?” Elspeth asked, rather afraid of the answer.
“No, in the garden. Nevertheless, my dear, you never know what words go with those tunes! They sing rude songs, with words like Hitler had only one big . . . well, you know,” Frau Schindler explained, suddenly flustered. She tapped her chest to calm herself and continued solemnly, “He must keep silent. It’s the only way to retain order!”
Frau Vogel seemed ready to debate this point as well, but then considered betterof it. “Well, my dear Frau Schindler, you are so much wiser in the ways of the world. You must be right. I’ll have a word with him about it later—make sure he understands that it was inappropriate. Yes. Yes, I see now—you’re quite right. Yes, I’ll speak to him later. Firmly. Yes.” Elspeth would probably have continued to mutter in this vein if Frau Meissner had not indicated, with a frown of disappointment, that the coffeepot was empty.
Peter was called to refill it, and after counting down an appropriate delay, he launched himself from his eavesdropping position near the door and came into the room. He threw an evaluative glance at Frau Meissner. So, she thought he was handsome, eh? Then he risked glaring briefly at Frau Schindler and finally completed his act with a deferential nod toward Frau Vogel as he removed the empty coffeepot.
Despite Frau Schindler’s dire warnings, Frau Vogel never did bother to speak to him about the flowers; instead, once the women had been hustled out the door, she rushed to the shops with Peter in tow to try to buy something special for her husband.“He’s feeling a bit stressed of late,” she intimated as they walked along, apparently forgetting that this was exactly the sort of thing Frau Schindler had warned against. “Everything is changing at his work, and he just doesn’t know who’s going to come out on top.”
Elspeth stopped by the statue of Hitler and stared at it as if in adoring sorrow.“If only I could handle things directly,” she sighed, “it would be so much easier.” Peter remained silent a respectful distance behind her. He also looked at the statue as if contemplating the world’s great loss. “Well, I guess we should get moving. The last thing we need is for my husband to get home before us. Not in his present mood!”
They did some shopping and then went to the butcher shop, where Elspeth picked her way through the expensive, unrationed sausages hoping to find something that Karl liked so that she could surprise him and conceivably soothe him for yet another evening. Peter waited patiently, unable to indulge in any higherlevel thinking as he was overwhelmed by the pungent smell of the meat. Perhaps the butcher noticed how he gazed hungrily at the nearby links, for he interrupted his work to approach Frau Vogel and ask if he could provide her with anything specific. She had been so distracted by her thoughts that she looked up vaguely surprised by his question. As she began to answer, she noticed the clock on the wall and gasped, “That can’t be the time!”
The butcher turned to look at the clock, then consulted his watch. “Yes, that clock is correct, gnädige Frau.”
“Oh, I have to go!” She rushed out the door. Peter followed and almost stumbled over her as she came to a dead stop only steps outside the shop. He heard her swear quietly under her breath. The cause of her frustration was obvious: the square had temporarily been closed due to a bomb scare, and the only way to leave or enter was by waiting in a queue to go through a security check.
There were only two official exits and the queues at both were long. Frau Vogel hesitated a moment before choosing the slightly shorter queue. After only a few moments, she lost patience though, and telling Peter to wait in line, she approached the officer in command. Try as she might though, he would not look up from his work—he knew from experience that if he heard the plea of one rushed shopper, then he would immediately be inundated. Exasperated, Elspeth finally returned to her place in line, but she was not so easily defeated.
“Come with me,” she said, and pulled Peter out of the queue and over to a barricade on the far side of the square. It was a simple police barrier blocking the gap between two buildings. On the far side of the narrow alley created by the two shops was a similar barrier.
They stood there and Elspeth glanced expectantly down the alley, but there was nothing to see. When a moment had passed and no one approached or seemed to notice her, she turned to Peter. “Go down the alley and get someone’s attention from the other side.”
“I can’t do that!” he protested in utter astonishment.
“Nonsense! Don’t be such a coward. Go!”
“Frau Vogel!”
“That’s an order! Now go!” She pointed adamantly at the passage between the two buildings.
Well aware that he could be shot for what he was going to do, he handed her the packages he was carrying and ducked under the barrier. He walked down the alley, approached the far barrier, and looked across. “There’s no one here,” he stated, and turned to come back.
“Well, crawl underneath!” Elspeth ordered, waving him back away from her. “Get someone!”
He went back to the far barrier and glanced around. Still no one. Frau Vogel waved at him to go ahead, and reluctantly he lowered himself to the ground to clamber underneath.
“Hands up! What the hell do you think you’re doing, boy?” a voice asked. Peter only had time to notice the rifle pointed at his face. He automatically placed his hands on his head as a pair of arms tugged at him, pulling him through to the other side.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Following orders.” Peter threw his head back down the alley. “She’s the one you want to talk to.”
He heard the private mutter a curse.
“What’s up?” a sergeant asked as he approached the two of them.
“The lady there,” the soldier explained, pointing down the alley to Frau Vogel as she waited haughtily.
“Check him out,” the sergeant ordered, then moved the first
barrier and went down the alley to open the path for Frau Vogel. She followed him down the passage, a look of regal annoyance on her face. The private finished frisking Peter, then checked the packages that Frau Vogel had brought with her. As he finished, he turned toward Frau Vogel expectantly.
“Just what do you think you are doing?” Frau Vogel asked as the young man reached toward her.
“I have to search everyone, gnädige Frau,” he explained politely.
“Oh, no, you don’t!”
“Gnädige Frau,” the sergeant interrupted rather brusquely, “not only will you be searched, but I will have to write out a fine for the way you have attempted to violate a secured area.”
“You will do nothing of the sort!” Elspeth snorted.
Peter watched with some amusement as Frau Vogel debated with the two men about their duty. Despite her rush, Elspeth was managing to turn a tensecond frisk into a major waste of time. Another security officer was brought over, the debate continued, the possibility of having a woman do the search was mooted and rejected, then finally the ranking officer was found and brought over.
“What’s the problem, gnädige Frau?” the ranking officer asked.
“These rude young men want to touch me!” Elspeth huffed.
The ranking officer inspected her papers. He stiffened, then sheepishly returned her papers to her.“My humblest apologies, Frau Vogel. Of course thereis no reason for you to be searched! Please accept our sincerest apologies.” He bowed slightly and motioned for her to continue on her way. The security officers looked at him, utterly astounded.
Elspeth harrumphed and stormed off, but Peter lingered long enough to hear the ranking officer hiss at his men, “You idiots! Didn’t you see who her husband is? God, I hope she didn’t get my name.” Peter laughed to himself, then hurried to catch up with Elspeth, or rather, the noble Frau Vogel.
When they reached the house, Karl was not home yet, so Frau Vogel ordered Peter to unpack the purchases and make her some tea, but before he could do either, they heard the slam of the car door. Karl usually took the train in to work since the center of Berlin was no place for his beloved car to sit virtually unattended, but recently he had preferred to drive in, perhaps hoping that the status symbol of his Russian-made Zil would impress anyone watching him during the current crisis.
The Children's War Page 23