“Please, you have to listen to what I have—”
“Not now,” she insisted, pressing her fingers against his lips, silencing him. “This isn’t the time for talk. Whatever it is, it can wait a little longer.”
Slowly, Peter nodded; he didn’t say a word as he took her hand and led her through the kitchen and down a short hallway to the bedroom. It was sparse like the rest of the apartment, with only an old mattress and a shadeless lamp for furnishings. Faint starlight streamed through the window above the makeshift bed. Peter still hadn’t said a word when his fingers began to undo the buttons of her blouse. Olivia’s pulse quickened. Immediately, she started to do the same to Peter’s shirt; both of them moved fast, each wanting the other to be undressed.
Within seconds, their shirts, pants, shoes, and undergarments were all on the floor. Olivia stood before him naked, without shame, her skin lit from outside. When Peter lowered himself onto the mattress, he held out his hand for her to join him and she took it.
Peter’s hands fell on her skin, which caused Olivia to suck in a breath through tightly clenched teeth. He traced her collarbone, an almost tickling touch, before sliding downward. The back of his fingertips drifted sideways, circling the underside of her breasts. His hand turned, cupping her, holding her heft as he gently squeezed, feeling her as no one else ever had before. When his thumb began to turn counterclockwise over her raised nipple, she shivered with pleasure.
Olivia’s hands returned his advances. She marveled at the thick muscles beneath his skin; her fingers lingered on the cords of his forearm, the sharp rise of his bicep, the peaks of his shoulder, and the breadth of his chest. The way her attention roamed, it was as if she was addicted to him, as if she couldn’t possibly get enough.
“Peter,” she said breathlessly between kisses.
Their passion grew even more intense when his hand left her breast, descended across her ribs to her belly, then curved across her hip before dipping to her inner thigh. Moments later, as his fingers slipped between her legs, touching Olivia’s womanhood, seeing for himself how their love had made her feel, she was nearly beside herself with pleasure. Her head thrashed about on the mattress and her back arched as her fingers dug deep into Peter’s arm, so hard that she feared hurting him.
Desperately wanting him to share what she was experiencing, Olivia groped below his waist. When her fingers found what she was looking for, wrapping around him, sliding up and down the length of his taut skin, Peter took several quick breaths, followed by a gasp.
“O…Olivia…” he managed, too overwhelmed to kiss her. Empowered by how she was making him feel, Olivia began to move faster, almost greedily, wanting more and more. Suddenly, he stopped her, grabbing her tightly by the wrist, his breathing ragged.
“That…that was almost too much…” he explained.
When Peter raised himself above her, Olivia spread her legs to accommodate him. She stared up into his face, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, drinking him in. While he maneuvered himself into position, he never once looked away. When he first touched her, preparing to enter her, Olivia flinched, not out of discomfort or fear, but out of surprise at how sensitive she was. Finally, Peter was ready. Slowly, he eased himself forward. Olivia felt her body being opened, followed by a momentary jolt of pain, forcing her to bite down on her lower lip. Peter went deeper and deeper, until finally their bodies were pressed closely together, the meeting of their flesh complete. For a long moment, they were content to stay still and silent. When Peter finally spoke, what he said sent shockwaves racing through her.
“I love you, Olivia,” he said.
Tears filled her eyes. This was the man she had waited her whole life for. These were the emotions she’d always wanted to experience. This was the beginning of the future she had always dreamed of.
Unable to find words to answer, Olivia kissed him instead; Peter met her advances as if he’d heard her speak. As his tongue encircled hers, he slowly began to move his hips, almost imperceptibly at first, sliding in and out of her. Olivia felt some discomfort, but her love for Peter was so great that it was hardly worth noticing.
Pleasure crashed over Olivia as Peter began to move faster. Soon, they had developed a rhythm, each moving in the opposite direction, sliding apart before coming back together. Beads of sweat dotted their skin, their fluids mixing, a hint of salt on Olivia’s lips as she kissed his face. The sounds of their lovemaking echoed off the walls of the small room.
“I love you, Peter!” Olivia declared, finally finding her voice, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “I love you so much!”
This time, it was Peter’s turn to let his actions stand in place of words. He began to kiss her, devouring her lips, his body pistoning against hers, their ecstasy growing to a fevered pitch.
In the midst of all this, Olivia thought about how meeting Peter Baird had changed her life. Even before he’d pulled her out of the way of Sylvester Eddings’s truck, she’d felt something pass between them. But the more she’d gotten to know him, to learn who he really was inside, the more she knew that Peter was the man she’d been destined to be with. Though it had meant hurting her best friend, breaking off their ill-advised engagement, Olivia had done what she had to in order to finally have this.
On and on, their bodies kept moving. Olivia moaned, her pleasure growing nearly unbearable, making her feel as if she was on the peak of a wave, hanging in air. But then, suddenly, the wave broke; she barely stifled a shout before spasming with pleasure. Peter reached a crescendo of his own, his fevered movements coming to a halt, his muscles tightening, as he spilled his warm seed inside her. For a moment, neither of them moved as their ragged breathing slowly steadied. Then Peter lowered himself to lie by her side. Olivia placed her hand on his cheek. A smile slowly spread across both their faces. Gently, she kissed him. Neither of them said a word, but they didn’t have to.
They both knew that this was love.
Peter stared up at the ceiling as he absently rubbed his thumb across Olivia’s bare shoulder; she lay against him, one arm draped across his chest, dozing softly. Though tired, he couldn’t sleep. His mind churned as it considered everything that had happened. Making love to Olivia had been even greater than he’d imagined, amazing, like a dream. When she had told him that she loved him, it had freed his heart, had made him give himself over to her completely, in body and mind.
But with that had come a revelation.
When Peter first heard about the end of the war, he’d considered never telling Olivia who he really was, about where he had come from or what had befallen him before they’d first met. He had debated whether Peter Becker shouldn’t disappear forever, replaced by Peter Baird, a man who had nothing to hide. But now, in the wake of what they’d just shared, Peter knew he could no longer lie to Olivia. It was time for the truth, even if revealing it cost him everything, including his freedom and the woman he loved.
“Mmmm,” Olivia purred as she woke, pushing away her blond hair to look up at him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
When she leaned up, intending to kiss him, Peter turned away.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, confused.
Peter stared at her. So many times now, he’d meant to come clean, to tell Olivia everything, but something always seemed to get in the way: the loss of his nerve, bad timing, or some other interruption, including the end of the war. Even tonight, when they’d first arrived at the apartment and he had wanted to unburden himself, she’d cut him off and he’d allowed her to, giving in to his urges, wanting to make love to her.
But now it was time.
“Olivia…” he began. “From the moment I first saw you, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you…something that you need to know, but…”
She leaned up on her elbow and smiled at him, encouraging, completely unaware of what was about to be said. “You can tell me anything.”
For what felt like the hundredth time, Peter th
ought about swallowing the truth forever, but looking into her eyes, seeing the love and trust that gazed back at him, he knew that to continue to lie to her meant the damning of his soul. So he plunged forward, right into the fire.
“My family name isn’t Baird. It’s Becker. And I’m not an American, not completely. I’m German. I’m an escaped prisoner of war.”
Chapter Twenty-two
OLIVIA’S FIRST THOUGHT was that she had misheard Peter. Her second was that he was telling a joke, though one she didn’t find the least bit funny. But the longer she waited, watching his face, expecting there to be some sign, something to give him away, the more she began to realize that he was telling the truth.
“What…what are you saying…?” she stammered.
“I know this is going to be hard for you to hear, but you need to listen,” he answered, his face conflicted, almost pained. “I was born and raised in Germany, but my father was an American, a soldier just like John. He stayed in Europe after the war and soon after met and fell in love with my mother. That’s why I speak English the way I do. My father taught me.”
Disbelief and shock began to overwhelm Olivia. Try as she might, she couldn’t wrap her head around what Peter was saying. It was incredible, unbelievable. She leaned up, dragging the bedsheet with her, suddenly self-conscious enough to want to cover herself. Slowly, she began to shake her head.
“This isn’t possible,” she said.
“I never wanted to be a soldier,” Peter continued; now that he had finally started to talk, the words kept coming. “I hate Hitler and all that he and his Nazis stand for, but I didn’t have a choice. After I was conscripted, I could have run away, but my mother would’ve been the one to suffer. Her health was bad and I was afraid of what could happen to her if I was considered to be a traitor.”
By now, Olivia was on her feet, backing away. Her thoughts reeled. Inch by inch, she moved farther from him, the man she thought she’d known, whom she’d come to love. In her head, she was transported back to the time when the war in Europe had just begun. She saw the newsreels, with the jackbooted soldiers marching across the screen; she’d been terrified. The idea that Peter was one of those men, that it had been him who’d entered her dreams, waking her from sleep, was more than she could bear.
“You’re…you’re the enemy?” Olivia asked.
“No, I’m not,” Peter answered emphatically. “I’m just a man who did what he had to in order to survive. Every day I fought, I prayed for the war to end. When my unit was captured in France, all I felt was relief.”
“If you were caught, then how are you here?”
“It was an accident. I was with hundreds of other prisoners, put on a boat and sent across the ocean, here, to America. But then the train I was riding on had an accident in a storm. It crashed. The man whom I was chained to and I escaped into the woods during the confusion. I shouldn’t have followed him, but I did.”
Olivia was conflicted. On the one hand, she wanted to hear what Peter had to say, to try to understand who he was. But another voice screamed at her to run as fast and far away as she could. In the end, she found a compromise; she gathered up her clothes and began to dress as she listened.
“I don’t know how far we traveled or even how many days we rode on trains, trying to stay out of sight, but in the end we found ourselves here, in Miller’s Creek. Eventually, I got free of my restraints, then scrounged up some clothes and something to eat. When I walked into town, I had every intention of surrendering.”
Olivia paused while buttoning her blouse. “That was why you were asking for my father, wasn’t it?”
Peter nodded. “But that changed the moment I met you.”
The more Olivia considered Peter’s story, the more it made sense. His admission explained why he hadn’t had any clothes or other belongings with him when they’d met. Why he had no money or identification. She thought about how evasive he had been, even when they’d first talked, the vague way he spoke of family back in Pennsylvania. She recalled how when the subject of his military service had been raised, he’d claimed that what he did was a secret; in that, Peter hadn’t lied.
What made it all so much worse was that she’d been warned. Olivia thought about what Billy had said beneath the evergreen tree. He’d told her that she really knew nothing about Peter, that he could be dangerous, that everything he’d told her could be lies. She’d laughed it off, defending Peter, already starting to fall for his charms. Then there was her mother; Elizabeth had argued much the same thing, that her daughter only knew the side of Peter he’d chosen to show her. Olivia doubted her mother had considered the possibility that Peter was an escaped German soldier! If she only knew that she’d harbored such a man in her home.
Olivia had been taken for a fool, her and her whole family.
“You…you lied to me…” she said, her hands shaking with anger.
Peter stared at her, a faint look of shame in his eyes. “I did,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t have told you the truth. Not at first. You wouldn’t have understood.”
“You said it yourself!” Olivia shouted. “You’re a German soldier!”
“But that doesn’t mean that I’m a monster!” Peter insisted. “I told you, I despise Hitler and all he and his Nazis stand for.” He sighed, trying to control his emotions; his piercing blue eyes held Olivia in place. “I am as you see me,” he said. “I’m the man you fell in love with, who loves you back with all his heart. The only thing truly different between who I am and who I pretended to be is my family name. You’ve got to believe me…you just have to…”
There was a part of Olivia that wanted to do just that. She loved him; there was no point in denying it. Peter had always been kind to her, funny, and intelligent. His touch sent her heart racing. Even now, standing before him, not an hour since she’d given herself to him, Olivia had no regrets. Maybe things could be fixed. Maybe he could better explain himself. All it would take was to fall back into his arms…
But there was another part of her that couldn’t let it go. Just like how Billy had kept his love secret from her, Peter, too, had chosen to hide something; a truth that he knew would change everything between them. How could she be with him now? He was a German soldier! Tears welled in Olivia’s eyes, spilling over to tumble down her cheeks.
“I…I can’t!” she cried, running for the door.
After breaking off her engagement to Billy, Olivia had thought her life couldn’t possibly get any more complicated.
She had been wrong.
“Olivia, wait!”
But she didn’t. As the door slammed shut behind her, Peter swore under his breath. Only a few moments earlier, she’d been lying asleep beside him. An hour before that, they had made love for the first time. He could still hear her voice as she said that she loved him. But now, because he’d finally revealed the truth about himself, she was gone.
Peter couldn’t blame her. He’d known the risk.
He’d seen the disbelief in her eyes. What a shock it must’ve been. He remembered the way she’d spoken about Germans, saying that they deserved everything they were getting; to learn that he was one of those Germans must have been a bitter pill to swallow.
What could he do but let her go? Surely she would run and tell her father what had happened; it’d only be a matter of time before John showed up at his door with his gun and handcuffs.
Go after her!
The thought raced through Peter as if it was electricity. He stared at the door. His reasons were selfish. It wasn’t because he was having second thoughts about being locked up; escaping from the wrecked train with Otto had been a mistake for which he knew he should pay. The real reason Peter wanted to stop Olivia was that he loved her. No matter what, he couldn’t let her hate him. He had lied to her, hurt her. But maybe he could still make it right between them. Maybe he could convince her that he wasn’t the enemy. Maybe he could taste her lips, tell her that he loved her, just one more time…
Peter reached for his clothes.
Olivia ran as fast as she could. Once she’d hurried down the stairs from Peter’s apartment, she’d had only one destination in mind.
She had to get home.
Even as she dashed past the post office, the hardware store, and then the bank, its clock showing that it was nearly midnight, Olivia wondered how she could possibly tell her family what had happened. What would her father say? Would he feel as betrayed as she did? John Marsten had gone out of his way to help Peter, letting him stay in his home while he recovered from his injuries, and then finding him an apartment. If word got out about Peter, if the people of Miller’s Creek learned that he was German, her father’s reputation as sheriff would be left in tatters. Olivia could only imagine what her mother would say. Would Elizabeth crow about being right to doubt Peter? To this day, Olivia’s mother still held on to the tiniest of slights, to instances in which she knew she was right; would Olivia have to hear about her mistake for the rest of her life?
And what about Billy? How would he react? Would what remained of their friendship survive this revelation?
But worst of all was the struggle Olivia knew she would have to face alone. The man she loved, who had unexpectedly come into her life and then stolen her heart, was an enemy of her nation. It wasn’t possible! He had lied to her, betrayed her trust, and deceived her. She had allowed herself to believe in him, in their growing relationship, to think that she had finally found the man she loved, the person she might spend the rest of her life with. Then, when Peter had revealed the truth of who he was, it was ruined in an instant.
But even now, as tears flowed down her cheeks, sobbing as she ran, Olivia couldn’t bring herself to hate Peter. All she wanted was to rewind time, to go back to a week earlier, a day, even an hour, back to when she believed him to be as American as she was, to a moment when their future together seemed bright and limitless.
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