by Hope Franke
He was going to say no, but it wouldn’t hurt for him to do a little PR, especially after the bad press his band had been getting.
He plastered on his rock star smile. “Sure, ladies. Lead the way.”
The large, street-side windows were open in the summer, giving the illusion that there was no outside wall at all. Sebastian took the seat nearest to the door so he could make an easy getaway if necessary. The blond brushed her bosom along his back as she maneuvered for the chair beside him. He groaned inwardly. This was a bad idea. He should’ve known better.
The three women started asking questions all at once.
“I read you broke up with your girlfriend.”
“I hope that mystery girl is a hoax? Is it?”
“Did Hollow Fellows really break up?”
He faked interest and answered their questions as vaguely as he could. He was thankful to be interrupted by the waiter when he came. The blond was less than subtle with her body language, twisting completely in her seat to face him, twirling yellow strands of hair around her finger, batting eyelashes. Sebastian knew she would go home with him if he asked.
He wondered why he wasn’t interested. He was a red-blooded, heterosexual guy. Even so, one-night stands had never appealed to him. He’d always been faithful to Yvonne, though now he wondered why he’d bothered.
No, he knew why. His burden of guilt was already so big. Adding cheating to that would be more than he could take.
Besides Eva deserved better. She was everything these girls were not. She was worth waiting for and worth dealing with her overbearing parents for.
He reached for his phone and stared at the screen, careful to make sure the blond couldn’t see it was blank. “Ah, man. I forgot I have an interview to do in twenty minutes.” He stood and waved the waiter over. “So sorry, ladies. I gotta run. Lunch is on me.”
Eva’s father gently squeezed her shoulder. He glanced down at her with soft eyes, his lips pulled inward in a slight smile—his pastor face.
“Schatz,” he began. “You must stop seeing that boy.”
Eva’s heart lurched. “We’re just friends,” she lied. Her heart squeezed a little more. She never used to lie to her parents. To anyone at all for that matter. That habit began recently. With Sebastian.
“He’s not the right kind of boy for you. You must see that, right? He is one kind of person, and you are another. Remember how the Bible tells us not to be unevenly yoked. You know what that means, don’t you?”
She did. She heard all the sermons, but she knew he would tell her anyway.
“The farmers of old depended on oxen to plow their fields. They had to make sure that the oxen they yoked together were equal in size and strength, or the team would not be able to succeed. One would pull the other, and they wouldn’t be able to walk in a straight line. It’s the same with two people who marry. If they don’t approach life in the same way, share the same values and beliefs, one will pull the other one along in a direction she doesn’t want to go.”
“Papa, he was just walking me home. We’re hardly talking marriage.”
“Yes, but I know how young men think.”
Eva wrinkled her nose. Please, not the talk.
“First it’s holding hands, then kissing, then—”
“Papa!”
Her father sighed. “Don’t forget what the Bible teaches you.”
How could she forget? The lessons had been hammered home since she was a child. Honor your mother and father. Forgive your enemies.
Forgiving her enemies was something else. She’d never forgive the person responsible for her handicap, the one who was responsible for the physical and emotional pain she dealt with daily. The person who had stolen her confidence and made her afraid. She didn’t think God could fault her for that.
Honoring her mother and father had been easy until now. Her father wanted her to give up Sebastian, the very person who was giving her back some of the things she’d lost. Confidence. Courage.
Passion.
How could her papa make her choose?
Her father pressed the code to their building when they reached it.
“Be careful with your heart,” he said as he held open the door for her. “That’s all I’m saying.”
The problem was Eva was tired of being careful. She’d been nothing but careful for the last five years.
Gabriele was hunched over her laptop when Eva made it back to her room. Eva flopped on her bed, suddenly exhausted.
Gabriele didn’t look up.
“Homework?” Eva asked.
“Exams.”
“You’re almost all done, Gabi. I’m proud of you.”
Gabriele looked up then, and a smile drew across her face. “I know. I’m getting married in three weeks, Eva. Three weeks!”
Eva laughed with her sister. “I’m happy for you.” And she was. Her heart felt larger and warmer toward her sister. Eva really wanted her to be happy.
Eva’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her purse, and her insides tingled. Sebastian had texted already.
Sebastian Weiss
Is it a good time to call?
“Who is it?” Gabriele asked.
Eva ignored her and texted back.
Eva Baumann
No. Sister here.
Sebastian Weiss
Fine. We can text. I just want you to know I’m thinking about you. Your lips mainly. But you. Yes, definitely you.
“Eva? You should see your face. You’re blushing!”
Eva huffed. “Don’t you have exams to study for?”
“Is that Sebastian Weiss? Is he texting you?”
“Can you just chill?” Eva said through tight lips. “Everyone is treating me like I’m twelve.”
Gabriele clammed up after that, but her eyes kept darting to Eva.
Eva tucked her phone out of sight and texted Sebastian back.
Eva Baumann
You’re creating quite a stir around here.
Sebastian Weiss
That seems to be the effect I have on people. Are you okay with it???
Eva Baumann
I’m totally okay.
Sebastian Weiss
Whew. I really want to see you again.
Eva Baumann
I really want to see you again, too. Might need to wait a day or so. Let things cool down.
Sebastian didn’t text back right away and Eva wondered if she’d just killed their relationship before it had a chance to get started.
Then finally he responded.
Sebastian Weiss
I hate waiting. But you’re worth waiting for. Good night, Eva
Eva bit her lip to suppress the squeal that bubbled up. Gabriele flashed her another worried look, but Eva just turned and faced the other way allowing her lips to stretch out into a big, sappy smile.
It was like Eva’s kisses had unlocked the song vault in Sebastian’s heart. He spent most of the afternoon scribbling down lyric ideas and plucking out new melodies. He hated that he had to wait to see her again, but if he could keep this up, the time would fly by.
Dirk would be happy. Sebastian hadn’t thought about Dirk or the band in days. He’d promised Dirk he’d spend the band’s hiatus writing. At the time, he thought he was just blowing off his manager, but here he was with several great ideas and a few strong songs started.
Sebastian reached for his phone and pressed Dirk’s number.
“Hey, man,” he said when Dirk answered.
“Sebastian, how’s it going?” Dirk sounded reserved, like he was afraid Sebastian would lay on more drama.
“Actually, it’s going great. Better than great.”
“Really?” A relieved breath. “What’s up?”
“I’m writing, man. And I think I’ve got some good songs to work on. You should set up a rehearsal.”
“You realize that Karl is still in the band, right? Aren’t you still pissed at him? You know, the reason we’re on this sabbatical in the first place.”<
br />
“Yeah, but whatever. The past is past.”
“The past is past? You weren’t talking like that two weeks ago. What happened? Did you meet a new girl?”
Sebastian chuckled. “Yeah. I did. Yvonne is so yesterday.”
Dirk laughed. “Okay, great. I’ll set up a rehearsal. You can’t imagine how relieved I am to hear you got your head back on straight.”
No one was more amazed than Sebastian at how quickly he’d turned around. He wondered if he’d ever really loved Yvonne. He thought he had at the time, but she never stirred him like Eva did. She never made him want to dig deeper creatively or grow as a person. She was kind of just there, which was what he needed at the time—someone to lean on when his family abandoned him. She was like a wall or a fence. She kept him from falling over, and he felt immensely grateful. But were those feelings love? They’d gotten physical quickly after getting together. Yvonne never held back, never said no. He was able to release a lot of his emotional pain with her body. But he realized now his feelings for her weren’t love. They were loyalty.
She stood by him. He would stand by her. Until she didn’t.
It was amazingly easy to get over her, and maybe this was why.
Not that he was in love with Eva. Though he could imagine falling in love with her one day. Maybe.
His phone buzzed and he assumed it was Dirk getting back with rehearsal times. Or maybe it would be Eva saying she could see him sooner after all.
The name that flashed shocked him. Then angered him. Stefan Weiss, his father.
What did he want? He hadn’t tried to contact Sebastian in years. Not a birthday greeting. Not a congratulations when his songs hit the charts.
Sebastian pressed ignore. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t have a father anymore.
Eva seriously thought she had died and gone to heaven. The last two weeks—wow, her life had changed so radically! Before she was an invisible cripple with nothing more pressing in her life than making sure to take her pain medication and watch Gabriele have the life she thought she’d never have. Today Eva felt alive and… hopeful.
Last month each wedding-related task assigned to her was like a needle in the heart, poking and taunting her with envy and pity. But now she made ribbons for the table decorations with enthusiasm. One day she would have her own wedding.
Even if it wasn’t to Sebastian (Oh my heart, please let it be him!), he’d shown her that she was worthy of adoration and affection. Of love and devotion.
Not that he’d declared his love to her. But he obviously really, really liked her. Every time she’d gone over to his flat (sneaking away while her parents were busy with the church, and Gabriele with Lennon) with the guise of writing a song, Sebastian struggled to keep his hands off her. She’d had a lot of practice at kissing lately (!), and more than once she had to gently move his hand when it crept too high or too low.
“Eva?”
“Huh, what?” She’d become the queen of daydreaming lately. Gabriele stared at her across the kitchen table with consternation. “You’ve made one bow in the last five minutes. We’ll be here all day at that rate.”
Gabriele’s friend Julia and Eva’s mother were seated around the table, helping as well. Her mother just tsked and kept her eyes on her own handiwork. Julia had short dark hair, and a severe side part. She raised a brow and nodded subtly, like she was signaling that she found the bow-making task boring too.
“I’ve done three in the time that you’ve done one,” Gabriele continued.
“Okay, I’m working,” Eva said.
“Give the girl a break,” Julia said. “I’d find it hard to concentrate too, if I had the attentions of Sebastian Weiss.” She grinned wickedly at Eva. “You must be going crazy!”
A hush descended on the table. Her mother’s head shot up. “She’s not seeing that boy anymore, Julia,” she said.
Her family didn’t know she was still seeing Sebastian, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been spotted together. The Neustadt was relatively small.
Julia narrowed her eyes at Eva, and Eva could tell that she knew. She’d seen them. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said tactfully. “My mistake.”
The door chime rang, and Eva was thankful for the distraction. Gabriele sprang from her chair to let Lennon in. She stepped into the hallway and the women left behind at the table could hear Lennon’s footsteps stop in the stairwell and the subsequent passionate greeting.
Eva rolled her eyes. Her mother and Julia studied the ribbons in their hands like they couldn’t hear the smacking of lips coming through the open door.
Gabriele led Lennon in by the hand and waved at the mountain of bows on the table. “The big ones are to decorate the end chairs in the rows in the church,” she explained. “The little ones are to decorate the chairs at the party.”
Lennon’s eyes crinkled closed as he smiled. He dressed casually in jeans and a button-down shirt. His style was different from Sebastian’s: more clean-cut and preppy, but a perfectly attractive counterpart to fashionable Gabriele.
“Nice work, ladies,” he said in German.
Eva smiled at his British accent. Lennon was a man of few words and didn’t try to talk to anyone. Maybe because his German wasn’t very strong. It was a good thing that Gabriele’s English was excellent. Eva wished she could say the same for her own English. She understood most things and liked English better for songwriting—it was just more lyrical and more commercial—but in practical, everyday conversation, she wasn’t very good.
She added another bow to the pile before checking her phone for messages. Her heart jumped at the sight of a new text from Sebastian.
Sebastian Weiss
English movie playing at the Arthouse Theatre this afternoon. Can you go?
Perfect timing. Just when she was thinking she needed to work on her English.
Eva Baumann
We must speak English only.
Sebastian Weiss
The whole time?
Eva Baumann
The whole time.
Sebastian Weiss
Good idea. Meet me there in one hour?
Eva Baumann
Yes
Eva was becoming a master at hiding the fountain of joy that continued to bubble inside. She kept her hands busy, making bow after bow. They were almost done. Mama had work to do downstairs, and Julia left with Gabriele and Lennon. Such a relief to be left alone and out of scrutiny.
Eva put on a fresh sundress, combed her hair and applied a little makeup. She grabbed her cane, locked the door behind her and shuffled down the circular stairwell. Once outside, she headed in the direction of the Arthouse Theatre. Her sunglasses hid her eyes, but she could no longer hide her smile.
Sebastian had Eva Baumann on the mind: the way her hair smelled and the fresh scent of her skin, and the way her soft, body felt under his fingertips and how she gently kept them from roaming too far. She was intoxicating. Her conservative nature was part of her appeal. She kept her blouse buttoned up one notch more than any other girl he knew, and she blushed at the slightest amount of flirting.
He had assumed she was still a virgin, though now that he knew what it felt like to want her he didn’t know why he assumed that. But when she confessed that he was actually her first kiss, he was stunned. Surely some suave Christian boy would’ve broken that seal before now.
When the shock wore off he felt honored and pleased. It made him ridiculously happy that no other guy had touched his girl before.
Yeah, his girl.
He wished he could offer Eva the same gift, but that ship had long since sailed.
It also made him want to be extra careful. She was precious and pure of heart, not jaded by bad love affairs. He didn’t want to be the one to screw that up. That meant he had to slow himself down. Way down. Which meant he needed to stop bringing Eva to his flat and to take her out instead, to public places where he’d be forced to behave himself.
He just happened to walk by the Arthouse T
heatre and spotted the posters for showing English language films showing this week. He acted on impulse, knowing that Eva might not be able to drop everything and meet him, and he felt ridiculously giddy when she said yes. He waited now, outside the door of the theatre, cap pulled low, aviators on. He felt his lips tug up when he saw her at the intersection waiting for the light to turn. He walked to meet her as she crossed over to his side.
“Hi,” he said, taking her in. He’d never known a girl who wore so many skirts and dresses, but Eva hinted that she liked to keep her scar hidden, and shorts wouldn’t do it. He liked the look. Very sweet and feminine, and kind of retro.
She smiled back. “Hi.”
He bent down to kiss her and it felt like the whole street blurred away, as if they were the only two people left on the planet. The only people that mattered anyway.
He took her left hand. He always walked on her left because of the cane.
“Just to warn you,” he said. “It’s a romance. I know how you hate that sort of thing.”
She smiled. “I love romance. But I imagine this is a big sacrifice for you.”
“I’ll do anything in the name of education. Hey, we’re supposed to be speaking English.”
“Right,” she said in English. “How are you?”
“I am fine. How are you?”
They laughed at the use of their first English conversation learned long ago in school.
The Arthouse Theatre was an old hole in the wall, a small film house that had seen better days. The old décor was dingy and the vintage wallpaper sagged with age. It smelled musky, but despite the aging appearance it had a rustic appeal.
A couple about their ages stood in front of them to buy tickets. They spoke fluent English to each other and it was obvious by their loose-fitting clothes and the backpacks that hung on their shoulders that they were tourists.