The man touched his heart with his hand. “Thank God. It is my gift for my friends. I am on holiday. And you?”
Christy and Sierra looked at each other. Neither spoke up right away.
“Oh, I am sorry,” he said, reading their expressions. “I have interrupted something. I can leave if you would like.”
“That’s okay,” Sierra heard herself say. “We just arrived this morning, and we’re not quite adjusted to the time and everything yet.” She felt Christy give her a little kick under the table.
The young man looked harmless enough, in Sierra’s opinion. His face was long with high cheekbones and a narrow chin. He wore his dark hair smoothed straight back except for a resistant strand that hung like a black crescent moon over his right eye. His eyes were dark but clear and alive—full of intrigue.
“I am called Alexander,” he said, extending his hand to Sierra.
She placed her small hand in his and received his firm, decisive shake.
“My name is Sierra.”
“Sa-har-a?” he repeated. “Like the desert?”
“No, Sierra. Like the mountains in California.”
“You are named for mountains in California?” Alexander asked.
“Sort of. I used to live in the mountains. Now I live in the city—in Portland. That’s in Oregon. Do you know where that is?”
“Of course, yes. And you?” he asked, turning to Christy.
Christy hesitated for a moment. “I’m Christy.”
“Christy,” he repeated. The “r” rolled off his tongue beautifully. “You are also from rainy Portland?” Alexander asked.
“You’ve definitely heard about Portland,” Sierra said.
She smiled at Alexander and then at Christy, hoping her friend would lighten up. But Christy pursed her lips together and looked down at her hands. Sierra wondered if Christy was remembering Aunt Marti’s warning about not talking to strangers. But they were in Europe. People were friendly like this on the trains. What could happen to the two of them? Alexander seemed harmless enough to Sierra. Harmless and intriguing.
“Actually, I live in California,” Christy said after an uncomfortable pause.
The waiter stepped up to their table and asked in German what they would like.
“Allow me,” Alexander said. He spoke in a deep, rumbling tone, first to the waiter, then to Sierra and Christy. “Did you wish to order some breakfast?” Alex asked them.
“We just wanted a sandwich or something,” Sierra said. “And some milk.”
Alex spoke again to the waiter and then, nodding his head, said, “Danke.”
Sierra moved closer to the window, making room for Alex to sit down. “Would you like to join us?”
“If this would be all right with both, then yes.” Alex sat down next to Sierra.
She noticed his gray sweatshirt was made from a heavy woven fabric. It didn’t look like the thick cotton knits available in the States.
“Are you from around here?” Sierra asked, deciding that she might as well be the one to ask questions.
“I am on holiday to see friends in Basel. This is where my mother is from. I have many relatives here. My father is from Russia. I have been seven years living in Moscow. I lived in Basel before that time.” Alexander leaned back and looked at Sierra with his gentle smile. “If you live in two different states, how did you then come to be friends?”
“We met in England last January on a …” Sierra thought a moment before answering. “We’re Christians,” she blurted out. “We were on a missions trip.”
A warm smile spread across Alexander’s strong face. A friendly chuckle emerged from his lips. “You will not believe,” Alexander said, laughing. “I am also Christian. Four years now.”
Sierra felt relieved and delighted at the same time. She and Christy both laughed in camaraderie with Alexander.
“We would call this a God-thing, Alexander,” Christy said.
“Yes! Please. Call me Alex. Yes, this is good. You being Christian makes for easier conversation, no?”
“Yes,” Sierra agreed. She was glad to see that Christy had relaxed and that they didn’t have to feel uneasy about Alex. Sierra liked the feeling that had come over the three of them. In the past she had discovered that when she was away from home and out of her familiar routine, she learned to trust God more. She had seen Him provide for and protect her many times in situations in which she was out of her element. Now God had provided another Christian for her and Christy to share their first meal with in Germany.
The server stood at their table, swaying slightly with the train’s rhythm. He carefully placed before them a basket of hard, crusted rolls, a plate of thinly sliced ham and cheese, and a bowl of individually wrapped butters and jellies. They each received a small silver pot of coffee, and a pitcher of milk was placed before Sierra.
“This is what you ordered?” she asked.
“Yes.” Alex looked concerned. “Is it not what you wanted? Did you not say milk for your coffee?”
“This is fine,” Christy said quickly.
“It’s fine. Really,” Sierra said. She wondered if it would be tacky to pour the milk directly into her coffee cup and drink it all.
“I must tell you something,” Alex said, pouring his coffee and looking long at Sierra. “There is a beautiful innocence about you. About both of you. It is as if I am gazing on the first tulips of spring.”
Then, because she couldn’t help it, Sierra burst out laughing. She wondered if her forehead had an invisible sign emblazoned on it that said “Sweet sixteen and never been kissed.”
“Did I say something not correct?” Alex looked at Christy.
“It was sweet of you to say that. I guess we just didn’t expect it,” Christy responded.
Sierra checked herself. “Are you always this intense with people you’ve just met?”
“Yes,” Alex said, looking serious.
Sierra swallowed her laughter. “I bet you are. You’ll have to excuse me for laughing. I’m not used to guys like you.”
“And I am not used to girls like you. This is a good compliment.”
Sierra took a sip of her coffee. It was one part coffee and ten parts milk.
“You two must have boyfriends who wait in long lines for you. Do they do this—make long lines in front of your houses?”
It was all Sierra could do not to spew her coffee mixture when Alex said that. She quickly swallowed the murky, lukewarm beverage and said, “Christy has found her true love. I’m still interviewing all the guys in my long line.”
Alex sat up a little straighter and tilted his chin. He flipped back the lock of dark hair that hung over his eye. “Then I should like to get in line. I am ready for interview. First question, please.”
Sierra had never felt so charmed. She put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. “Okay. Here’s your first question.” She picked up one of the tiny containers next to the jelly. “What is this?”
“Oh, how do you call it? Ah … I do not know this in English.”
Sierra shook her head and, with a “tsk, tsk,” said, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to go to the back of the line.”
Alex laughed and then said, “You must try it. You will know it. Take some on the bread.”
Both Sierra and Christy tried some.
“It’s kind of like cream cheese,” Christy said.
“Cream cheese,” Alex repeated. “Yes, cream cheese. Now do I get to ask you a question?”
Sierra licked the last dab of the sweet cream cheese from her lip. “Sure. Ask me a question.”
“How do you make your hair so?”
“So … what?” Sierra asked.
“I have never seen hair so … so beautiful.”
Sierra shook her head again. This time she looked at Christy and said, “Some guys will say anything to get to the front of the line.”
three
“MARTI?” Sierra slid open the door to their train compartment, and tall Alex ducked
to enter with Sierra and Christy. “Marti, this is Alex.”
“I am pleased to meet you,” Alex said, extending a hand to Marti.
She ignored him. “Where did you meet this young man?” Marti asked the girls.
“In the dining car,” Sierra said innocently. “We had breakfast together.”
Marti looked shocked. Alex withdrew his hand.
“I do not mean to interrupt here. I will go. It was my pleasure to meet you, See-hair-a.” He reached for her hand, but instead of shaking it, he held it warmly.
“And to meet you, Christy.” Alex kept hold of Sierra’s hand and nodded at Christy. “Perhaps we will meet again soon.”
“It isn’t likely,” Marti said coolly.
Alex smiled. He slowly released Sierra’s hand, gave a pleasant nod to all of them, and left.
“You didn’t have to scare him off,” Sierra said, lowering herself onto the seat across from Marti. Her right hand still felt the warmth of Alex’s touch.
Marti’s dark eyes blazed as she looked incredulously at Sierra. “Excuse me? I tell you and Christy not to talk to strangers, and you come back with some scruffy German boy and expect me to be delighted with your behavior?”
“He’s not German. He’s Russian,” Sierra said under her breath.
“Russian!” Marti looked shocked. “What in the world are you doing speaking with a Russian?”
“Aunt Marti,” Christy said calmly, “I know it seems as though we went against your wishes, but we didn’t. We just happened to meet Alex in the dining car. He left his package on the seat.”
“That was convenient,” Marti said.
“No, it wasn’t like that. He’s a very nice person. He’s a Christian. We felt totally comfortable around him. You would like him if you gave him a chance. Nothing was against your instructions, really,” Christy responded.
“I told you not to speak to strangers. You deliberately went against my instructions. What kind of a trip will this be if you two don’t follow my wishes?”
Sierra bit her lip to keep from saying anything.
Christy sat on the upholstered bench seat next to Sierra. “Look, Aunt Marti, we both appreciate your taking us on this trip, but the fact is, I’m nineteen years old, and I’ve traveled halfway across Europe by myself on a train. I think you know you can trust me. This whole trip is going to be really frustrating for all of us unless you treat Sierra and me like responsible adults.”
“I’ll treat you like adults when you begin to act like adults. Starting up conversations with Russians is not the way to prove you’re responsible.”
“He’s only half Russian,” Christy stated. “His mother is Swiss, and he grew up in Basel.”
“And that’s supposed to make everything all right?” Marti said. “I don’t want you two consorting with strangers. Is that clear?”
Christy and Sierra looked at each other and then nodded.
“Yes,” Christy said. “We’ll go by your rules.”
Marti leaned back, let out a long huff, and folded her arms across her chest. Sierra looked over and noticed Christy had closed her eyes. It seemed to be the only way to block out Marti’s railings. Sierra followed Christy’s lead and did the same.
Alexander … Why did Marti have to scare him off? I want to see him again. There’s something special about him. I’m sure we’ll see him when we get off the train. He’s going to Basel, too. And we told him where we were staying. He’ll come find me. I know he will. Sierra smiled to herself.
“When is that cart coming by?” Marti asked. “I’m awfully hungry. The service in these countries is nothing like it is at home. It’s disgraceful, really.”
“We can get you something,” Christy offered.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Christina. No, you may not sneak out to meet your foreign friend. Consider yourself grounded to this compartment. Both of you.”
Sierra couldn’t imagine how humiliated Christy probably felt. It was bad enough to be grounded in the first place, but even worse in front of Sierra—especially when Christy was only trying to be nice.
The train began to slow. Sierra gazed out the window as they pulled into a station, but she didn’t catch the name of the town on a sign they rolled past. Several rows of track were laid on either side of the covered station, and dozens of travelers hurried across the landings. Large billboards advertised soft drink, chocolates, and cigarettes—all in German, of course. Sierra tried to break down the words to see if she could decode any of them. It made her wish she knew more languages. She had taken Spanish during her first two years in high school, but she didn’t know if she would be able to converse in Spanish if the need arose. It amazed her that Alex spoke several languages and that his English was still very good. He was such a gentle-spirited guy.
Just then the door to their compartment opened, and Sierra looked up, hoping that Alex had been bold enough to return in spite of Marti. A gray-haired gentleman in a suit entered, carrying a black briefcase. He checked his train ticket for the seat number and then tucked it into his coat pocket, greeting them in German.
Marti put on a tight smile and looked him over.
His eyes moved around the room, politely acknowledging the three of them. He spoke to Marti again in German, motioning toward her seat by the window. She didn’t answer him.
“I think you’re in his seat,” Sierra said.
“Just so,” the man said. He had switched to English. “That is my seat number, but it does not matter to me. Please. I’ll sit here.”
Marti offered him an obligatory nod.
“You are, I suppose, three sisters traveling together?” he said as he settled into the seat.
“Oh, no,” Marti said, suddenly coming alive with a ripple of laughter. “This is my niece and her friend. We’re not sisters.”
“You certainly look like three sisters to me,” the man said. His voice was smooth, the look in his eye was keen, and his aftershave was strong enough to be considered an air freshener back in the States.
Oh, brother! Sierra rolled her eyes. Does this guy think he is suave, or what? I can’t believe Marti is actually flirting with him. At least Christy and I weren’t flirting with Alex. We had a much deeper conversation. How can Marti judge us when she acts worse than we do around strangers?
“We’re on our way to Basel,” Marti said. “Perhaps you can suggest a good restaurant. I’m afraid the cart hasn’t found its way back here yet, and we’re all very hungry.”
“The service is not always what it should be on this part of the trip. I was going to get myself a cup of coffee,” the man said. “May I bring back enough for all of us?”
“None for me,” Christy said.
“Nothing for me,” Sierra added.
“That would be very nice of you.” Marti paused, waiting for the man to give his name.
“Gernot,” he volunteered. “And you are?”
“Marti,” she said slowly, as if he wouldn’t understand her unless she exaggerated her words.
Before Gernot could rise to get the coffees, the cart and attendant appeared at the door. Gernot insisted he buy the coffee and roll for Marti and even bought chocolate bars for all of them. For the next hour, Sierra pretended to be asleep. Actually, she did doze off and on, but it was hard not to stay awake listening to the spicy conversation between Gernot and Marti.
This is weird. Really weird, Sierra thought. First, Christy and I get grounded for our innocent conversation over breakfast with Alex—and now we’re locked in this compartment, listening to a middle-aged married woman carry on a flirting fest with a smooth talker who is wearing smelly aftershave.
Feeling nervous about what might happen next, Sierra could only imagine what Christy was thinking and feeling. Sierra couldn’t wait for the train to stop so she and Christy could talk all this over. They had to be almost to Basel by now.
Staring out the window, Sierra saw rolling green hills dotted with old timber-framed farmhouses
. A forest of towering evergreens covered the rise to the south. She decided that must be the Black Forest, which meant they were close to Basel, since it was located just over the border from the Black Forest.
She wondered if Alex was looking out his window right now, too. Was he on the same side of the train? Was he seeing the same beautiful hills and thinking of her the way she was thinking of him?
Sierra mentally went over their conversation at breakfast after they had quit joking with each other. Alex had said that he’d studied on his own to improve his English and then taught himself French. He also spoke Russian, German and some Italian. He had already finished school but was hoping to be accepted at a university where he would study economics. Sierra sighed. Alex seemed so intelligent and fun at the same time.
The peaceful scenery rolled past. Sierra eyed green grass, cows grazing on the hillsides, and tumbling brambles of wild berries. Children in shorts played in front of houses with red tile roofs. Everything seemed perfect in the scenic world outside.
Sierra couldn’t help but think that if she could see Alex one more time, everything in her world would be perfect, too.
four
RIGHT BEFORE THEY ARRIVED in Basel, sweet-smelling Gernot offered to drive Marti and the girls to their hotel and treat them to lunch at his favorite bistro. Marti declined, explaining they already had lunch plans. Until that point, she had chatted happily with Gernot. But when he made the offer, Marti backed off in a hurry. Gernot still lingered at the Basel station, making sure they had all their luggage and knew which direction to go.
Marti thanked him and took off, walking with purpose across the long, crowded platform. Sierra did her best to follow Marti, but she kept turning to look for Alex. Any sign of him and Sierra was sure her heart would jump into her throat. She’d be happy with just one more smile and a wave from him.
Alexander didn’t appear—not on the platform, not inside the train station, not in the line at customs, and not on the street where they caught a taxi to the hotel. Gernot seemed to have disappeared, too.
From the backseat of the taxi, Sierra took one last look over her shoulder, scanning the stream of visitors coming and going from the Basel station. She saw no sign of Alex.
Sierra Jensen Collection, Vol 3 Sierra Jensen Collection, Vol 3 Page 2