“What exactly happened to my husband today? Were you with him? Were you two at the electrical building?”
Markus explained how they were at their usual duties at the wireless station and suddenly Warner felt faint and collapsed. He was semiconscious and complaining of pain in his chest. Several workers loaded him into a cart and took him to the hospital.
“I’m so sorry your husband has this difficulty. The doctor seems assured that Warner will recover shortly.” They were turned in toward each other. Markus saw the stress and fear in Mrs. Lange, and he tried to comfort her with reassuring words. He took her hand and told her that her husband was in good hands.
“But what am I going to do? Our ship leaves in two days … Now it’s just a day and a half. I can’t leave Warner now. He needs me here.” The trail of a tear traced down the edge of Dorothy’s face. “This is such an important time for Diana. It should be a happy time for her … and now this.” She hung her head and brushed an annoying tear streak away.
Dorothy continued, “Her chance at happiness is with a fine, young man in San Francisco. She must pursue this marriage opportunity she so desires, but—”
Markus cut in. “Possibly she could go ahead, travel with Professor Lange’s associates back to California. You and the professor could follow in a few weeks when he is better. What do you think?”
She looked up and said, “I don’t know what to think … Diana traveling all alone—well, not exactly all alone, but I should be with her … but, I should also be with my husband.” Another tiny rivulet of moisture ended at the side of her jaw and fell onto her dress.
“I wish there was more I could do for you, Mrs. Lange. Perhaps it’s best that you get some sleep.”
“Yes, yes, of course. And you must be exhausted too.”
“Then I’ll say good night.”
They both stood up. She took his two hands and squeezed them. “Thank you for your caring and concern. Good night.”
Markus turned to leave, adding, “I’ll see you at the hospital tomorrow.”
The next day consisted of a fifteen minute visit by the two women to Warner’s bedside, with Markus a few feet away. The doctor had given Warner a sedative, so only a few words were whispered by the patient, with a nun standing as a guard over him. “He must sleep. He must rest while his heart heals,” she said.
Later that day, in the dining room of the hotel, Diana agreed to leave the next day with the others, expecting her mother and father to follow as soon as possible. Markus had to get back to his wireless duties but agreed to meet again the next day at the hospital.
Twenty hours later, the two women were again at the bedside. In an emotional farewell, Diana kissed her father, bid him a speedy recovery, and was finally shooed away by a sympathetic but rule-abiding nun.
As she left, her father said in a whisper, “Your mother and I will see you married soon, my dear.”
The following morning, Diana, Markus, Mrs. Lange, and Diana’s traveling companions were in the train station lobby when several of the Conrad family arrived.
Having finally heard from Markus of Professor Lange’s illness and knowing Diana was to leave, they hurried to Windhoek to see her off and extend sympathies.
Markus had a chance to converse with Diana out of earshot of the others. He handed her a small bundle three inches high, wrapped in a native, printed cloth.
“It’s a small ceramic bottle made by the Herero blacks who live in the northeast of the colony, up by Rhodesia. They’re known for their beautiful pottery. It’s for you to remember the happy, beautiful times you had here. I put some African soil in it and sealed up the top with candle wax.”
She smiled at him, looking directly into his eyes. “I will always remember you, your kindness to my father … and to mother and me. I wish you all the happiness you can find, Markus. You are a fine man, a gentleman … and if I may add, I know you will find someone someday who will make you wonderfully happy.”
The others crowded around as happens when someone is leaving, her mother giving Diana last minute instructions and hugs and tears and promising to bring her daddy to California soon. The Conrads, including Helena, who was observing the departure, hurried forward as Diana leaned out the train window.
Helena called, “Here is a small bouquet of wild flowers from the ranch. Have a save trip and Godspeed! Press one of the flowers in your Bible. It will always remind you of your friends in Africa.”
With that, Diana was gone, heading for the coast and the long trip home.
“She meant something to you, didn’t she?” Helena asked without a hint of anger or jealousy.
“I mean, I saw how she looked at you … that knowing, familiar look of someone who cares about you, who knows you. It’s all right, Markus. I know life can be complicated and—”
“I love you, Helena, more than anything.”
Markus and Helena were at the ranch the weekend after Diana departed and had strolled out among the trees near the ravine. The last light of a setting sun lit just the top branches in a brilliant, golden glow.
He pointed up and started, “How fleeting that beauty is. Look how it changes colors almost every moment.” They gazed up into the gently swaying tree tops.
“Life is like that,” he continued, “beautiful, fleeting moments that—”
Helena stopped him with a slight squeeze of his arm. She looked at him for a long time after he spoke. Her lips quivered, and her eyes misted over. They stepped forward into each other’s arms in a gentle embrace, a loving hug devoid of overt passion. It was a surrender into beauty and serenity, into a state of grace that surpassed simple love.
“Thank you, dear Markus, for finding yourself … and for finding me.” She offered a gentle kiss again. Nothing more needed to be said beyond that realization. They had found truth in each other, and they each felt it. The two walked arm in arm back toward the ranch house, toward a new beginning together.
CHAPTER 12
A Need in the Night, Tragedy, and Passion
Helena wanted to announce publicly her engagement to Captain Mathias after he asked for her hand from her father. For some reason, Markus wanted her to postpone the announcement for several weeks. He gave no reason but assured Helena the announcement would be made soon. She could not conceive that Markus was in doubt about their relationship. She surmised it somehow had to do with Diana, but said nothing. What else could it be? she thought.
Professor Lange was recovering from his heart attack and was finally released from the hospital with orders to remain in the hotel, with only short walks and nothing strenuous. He managed that routine for ten days and then resumed a light workload at the wireless station. He had three months left on his contract with the Imperial German Government, so it was decided Dorothy would depart soon to assist Diana in the wedding preparations, with the ceremony to be held when Warner returned.
It was a brisk Sunday morning with the entire Conrad family in town for church. The church bells had rung, and the small choir sung to organ music as the Mass began.
Markus was seated next to Helena, several rows in front of the communion rail. A well-dressed black employee of the hotel entered the back of the church, just as the High Mass processional had finished winding its way around the interior to the altar. The man followed the last of the acolytes up the center aisle, spotted the captain by his uniform, and stopped at his pew. “Please, come with me, sir,” he whispered.
Markus looked up with a start, looked at Helena, and followed the man out of the church without a word.
“What is it? What’s happened?”
“I am sorry, sir, but Professor Lange has died. The Lady Lange asked for you.”
“What? When? Oh, Mein Gott, this is awful.” Markus started walking briskly toward the Bismarck, with the hotel man keeping pace. “Where is Dorothy … that is, Mrs. Lange, now?”
“She is with the doctor and the hotel manager in her suite, sir.”
Mein Gott! What am I going to say to
her, the poor woman? Markus thought. He abruptly stopped and turned toward the man. “Would you please go back to the church and wait until the Mass—the service—is over and then tell the lady I was sitting next to what has happened? Do you remember what she looks like?”
“Yes, sir, I remember, the pink and white dress.”
“Right, good. Thank you.” As Markus resumed his fast gait, the hotel man called after him: “Please, sir, tell the director I am at the church.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, without turning or slowing down. He bounded up the stairs and was at the Lange suite in moments. He knocked and was met by a dour-looking manager. Markus stepped into an anteroom that led to the parlor with two bedrooms off of it.
The manager guided him to the bed chamber. Warner Lange lay on his back in a perfectly undisturbed bed, with the sheet up to his chest. Dorothy was sitting on a daybed nearby, her head down, listening to the doctor. As Markus stepped into the bedroom, she looked up, rose, and rushed to Markus, who raised his arms to wrap her in a consoling hug. She sobbed softly.
“I am so very sorry, Mrs. Lange … Dorothy. I, he, Warner became my very good friend.” He held her in silence and then continued, “If there is anything, anything I can do for you … ” His words trailed off into silence again.
“He was getting better! Everyone thought he was getting better,” she muffled into his shoulder. “Warner, oh, my dear husband,” she sobbed. “How will I ever tell Diana? She’s on that ship! How will I tell her?”
The next several days were a nightmare made real. Markus arranged his schedule to be with Dorothy several hours every day. The Conrads, shocked by Warner’s death, went out of their way to comfort her, including insisting she come out to the ranch for an overnight stay. Helena was particularly attentive, engaging Mrs. Lange in conversation and relating to the tragedy by way of her mother’s untimely death. The two women spent hours in the small family chapel at the ranch, praying and meditating.
Markus did secure permission to contact the ship Diana was on and made it possible for Mrs. Lange to wire a message to her. However, Dorothy finally decided not to send the tragic news to her daughter, reasoning that nothing could possibly be accomplished by informing Diana of the passing of her father.
The next challenge was a delicate one, the question of what to do with the body. A burial in the small church graveyard in Windhoek was the simplest, most practical solution. But emotionally, for Dorothy to leave her husband in faraway Africa and go back home alone was too much for her to deal with at the moment. Finally, Markus and Tomas Conrad gently but firmly told Mrs. Lange that a burial must take place immediately. It was done.
Dorothy spent the next few days at the ranch while Markus gathered Warner’s possessions at the wireless station and made arrangements for a stateroom on the next available ship going around the horn to California.
The evening before her departure, Markus, Helena, Mrs. Lange, and Tomas Conrad dined at the hotel, with cheerful remembrances of happier days in Africa. Markus assured Dorothy that he would be by in the morning to take her to the train station. Markus and Helena said their good nights, and Helena mounted the carriage with her father for the trip back to the ranch. Soon after Markus got back to his quarters, his telephone rang. It was Dorothy.
“Hello, Markus. I forgot to tell you I have a departing gift for you … Well, it’s really from my husband … That is, it’s one of his prized possessions. I want you to have it in appreciation of all you’ve done for me and for Diana.” There was a pause.
“Why, thank you Mrs. Lange, I’ll pick it up—”
“Could you pick it up this evening? Would that be too much trouble?”
“Now? No, no, I could come over to the hotel. Shall I meet you in—”
“Just come up. I’ll be waiting for you. And, Markus, thank you.”
Well, this is a bit unexpected, Markus thought to himself as he slid into his boots and military tunic. He grabbed his hat and was out the door. It was a fifteen minute walk from his quarters to the Bismarck. The sun had long since set as he bounded up the stairs into the lobby of the hotel and up the grand staircase to the Lange suite. She greeted him warmly at the door with her ever-pleasant smile.
“Do come in, Markus, I hope I didn’t disturb your evening plans.”
“No, not at all, I have no evening plans, Mrs. Lange”
“Dorothy.”
“Yes, Dorothy.”
“Here, in the parlor,” Dorothy took Markus’s arm, and they stepped into the parlor. “It just arrived this afternoon. I had completely forgotten about it. It’s yours.”
Entering the room, she silently guided his gaze toward an overstuffed chair in the corner. Propped up in the chair was the mounted head and horns of a gemsbok Oryx, the trophy Warner Lange had shot while hunting at the Conrad’s land several months ago. Markus stepped forward, sliding his hand up and down the rough surface of the three-foot-long, spike-like horns.
“It’s really quite a beautiful animal, isn’t it?” he said, smiling as the memory of the hunt flashed through his mind.
“Thank you, Dorothy, I —” he was turning toward her. She was just beside him.
“I wanted to give you something, something—” Her hand was on his shoulder; it slid behind his neck, and she gently pulled him to her and kissed him. She held the kiss.
Startled, Markus was at a loss as to how to react to her gesture. He rested his hands lightly on her back and just let the moment unfold. He had been rigid at the moment of the embrace, but he relaxed after a second or two. She finally withdrew her lips and lowered her head, resting it on his shoulder, still holding him. They stood there in silence, the vacant, glassy eyes of the Oryx staring at them.
“What am I to do?” she sniffled. He felt a tear on the side of his neck.
“I’m all alone. I’m leaving Warner here and … I have that long ocean voyage … back to an empty house.” She turned her head up and looked him in the eyes. He could see her tears on her cheek and felt her intense stare.
“I am so sorry for—” She interrupted him with a kiss, pressing harder than before and hugging him closer. He could feel her body against him, moving gently. It had its natural effect. He had often noticed her beauty, her voluptuous body, and at forty-three, Dorothy was a woman to be envied. She again withdrew. I don’t see a contradiction.
“Hold me,” she whispered, “just hold me.” They stood there, as the growing darkness crept in through the windows. Finally, she brought her hands around in front of her, looked up, and gently kissed him again. Her fingers found the button on his tunic, and she unbuttoned the top button, then the next and the next.
“Dorothy,” Markus said gently. Her one hand went to his lips and pressed him lightly to silence, as the other hand slid another button from its button hole. She opened his tunic and slid her arms around him and pressed her body to his. His cotton shirt was pressed to him by her breasts behind her summer blouse.
He felt her moving against him in a subtle motion. Her hands caressed his back as she pulled him to her. He could hear her breathing—and could feel his own reaction to her. She broke off from him stepped back a few paces, still facing him.
Her hands went to her side and unbuttoned her long skirt. It slid to the floor.
Again, he said, “Dorothy, I … we shouldn’t,” but he stopped as she unbuttoned her blouse. It slid down her arms to the floor. She was standing there in a sheer shift that he was just able to see in the failing light. She walked over to him, not saying a word, took his hand to lead him to her bedroom.
An oil lamp burned low on a table, casting a golden glow. As she approached the bed, she pulled the shift over her head, revealing her bare back. He stepped up to her, his hands touching her arms and moving to cup her breasts in his hands. He could feel her reaction as her shoulders pressed backwards as he caressed her. She turned and kissed him passionately as she fumbled with his belt, it uncoupled, his buttons parted.
They were both in b
ed in seconds, stripped of their clothing. In each other’s arms, she devoured his kisses and pressed him hungrily to her.
It seemed to him to be over in a very short time, but they lay there together a long time, he on his back, she on her side, with his arm around her. Finally she said softly, “It’s late; you should go.”
“Yes.”
The next morning, Markus was at the hotel as promised, and Dorothy already had her luggage in the lobby. The hotel manager was talking to her as the hotel servants loaded her bags into the hotel carriage for the short ride to the train station. Helena and her father, Tomas, appeared unexpectedly, just as they were about to leave. After greetings, Helena said, “We’ll take our carriage to the station and meet you there.”
Markus and Mrs. Lange got into the hotel carriage and sat next to each other as the driver clicked the horse to a walk.
“Do you have everything?” Markus asked.
“Yes, yes … except, I left your present. The hotel will deliver it to your quarters.”
“Very good, thank you again.”
“You would look strange walking down the street with that animal head on your back,” they both smiled. Peaceful silence filled the carriage as Dorothy took Markus’s hand. She gripped it tightly as she looked out the window at a town and a country and a life that had already slipped away. Markus turned to her, surprised at his sudden, emotional feelings. He brought her hand up and kissed it. She turned, looking at him with a faint smile on her lovely face. He wanted to say something to express the depth of his feelings, but she cut him off.
“Markus, dear Markus,” she began in a clear, gentle voice, “thank you for all you have done for me and for my husband. I feel life will work itself out somehow.” She looked out the window a moment and then turned back to him.
The Storm That Shook the World Page 7