“I can’t.”
“Just answer me. Do you love me?”
“It’s not possible.”
He put his hand around my face, forcing me to keep my eyes on his.
“Sally.”
“Yes. All right, yes.”
And then a miraculous thing happened. He started to smile, a smile that started somewhere deep inside him and spread sure and warm into his face, chin, mouth, cheeks, eyes. Not only did he look happy, but pleased with himself, almost, I might say, smug. He grabbed my hands, kissed my cheek, then said to my father: “Excellency, I would like to ask you again for permission to marry your daughter. And to leave as soon as possible for the United States.”
“Do you mean it?” I gasped. Never had I expected anything like this. “Do you really mean it?”
“Yes,” he said.
“You’ll leave Germany?”
“Yes.”
“For me?” I said this shyly, still not believing.
“Yes. For you. What do you say?”
“Yes,” I said, and went into his arms.
“Christian,” I heard my father say. “I am impressed. Are you sure you have thought this through?”
“I have. It is not as difficult as you might think. But it is more difficult to think of letting Sally go.” He still held me, talking to my father over my head. “I hope you will approve now. We will need your help.”
My father did not quite believe Christian, and he began asking questions—when? why? how? I went off to bed, too sleepy, too emotionally drained to keep my eyes open. I don’t think they even noticed when I left the room. Christian stayed a long time, convincing my father that he meant what he said. My father told me the next morning of the many arguments Christian used, of the reasons he gave for leaving his country, of his love for me. That was what finally convinced Daddy in the end: that he loved me.
THE NEXT EVENING Christian and I went to see his mother, who had just returned from Denmark. Lisa hugged me and gently cuffed Christian on his shoulder, then hugged me again. She cried when we told her about the marriage and the baby, and then she sat us down at her round dining room table and made us something to eat. She was, after the tears and cakes, very practical.
“You have to have a civil and a religious marriage here,” she said, then turned sharply to Christian. “I hope you do not intend one of those godless SS ceremonies?”
“No, Mama, not if I can help it.” We had decided not to tell her yet about our plans to leave Germany. Christian was worried about leaving her behind.
“That would not do,” she muttered, folding her hands on the white lace tablecloth. She thought a moment, then looked up. “Here is what I think you should do. You need to be married as soon as possible, with the least amount of interference. Because of who Sally is and your being in the SS, there could be a great deal of publicity. So you must elope. You must get married somewhere else and tomorrow or the next day if you can.”
“But without you or Daddy?” I protested.
“I know, sweetheart, I hate the idea too, but we can have a party afterward. Think about it; it makes sense and will avoid all kinds of trouble. Not that I wouldn’t love to arrange it all, but you two have made that impossible. Ah, I’m glad you have enough shame to blush.” She smiled at me. “A grandchild,” she said and reached out for my hand. “I couldn’t think of anyone I would rather have this boy of mine marry, and I am thankful that you will take him in spite of his dishonorable behavior.”
“I should think agreeing to marry me is pretty honorable,” I said.
“Just barely,” she said. Christian was leaning back from the table, his hand playing with his coffee cup. He smiled lazily at his mother.
“I know!” She slapped the table, as though inspired by her son’s smile. “I know what you will do. You will go to Lake Sebastian. You will go there and get married in the little church. You remember it? With all the animal carvings? And then you will go to the mayor to have the civil ceremony. I will complain. The ambassador will be outraged. But when you return, I will arrange a reception for you and we will all make up and forgive each other and your father and I will accept the inevitable. We will even call Annaliese home from Vienna. What do you think of that plan? Pretty good, huh?”
“Mama, I never knew you could be so conniving,” Christian said. “But it sounds good.” His mother looked pleased. “What do you think?” he asked me.
“I like it. And I like the idea of being married at Lake Sebastian. Thank you, Frau Mayr.”
“Lisa, now you are almost a mother too.” She shook her head. “I haven’t seen you in years, and now . . .”
I got up and went to her, taking her hands in mine. “Thank you, Lisa.”
“Well, dear one, what’s done is done. It will be all right.” And as she had always done in my childhood, she put her arms around me.
THE BEST ROOM IN THE INN
I KNOCKED ON the door to my father’s bedroom to say good-bye. To keep up the fiction of an elopement, he wouldn’t come to see us off. He opened his door and put his arms around me, then, his hands on my shoulders, asked me, “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I said, hoping I sounded it. “I’m sure. I may be crazy, but I’m sure.”
“All right. Well, you’d better go.”
Vittorio put my bag in the taxi, then opened the back door for me. “Good luck, miss,” he said softly in Italian.
“Thank you, my friend,” I said. I hadn’t told him, or any of the servants, what was going on, but Vittorio seemed to know.
I was to meet Sydney at the station, and I had a bad five minutes waiting for her. She had my train ticket. Finally, there she was, hurrying along in her high heels.
“Here, darling, I had a terrible time flagging a cab. Are you all right? You look super. Tuck these away.” She handed me the ticket and a couple of magazines, one a Vogue. “I know. You probably won’t need them, but when I say good-bye to someone at a train station, I must buy them magazines or chocolates.” We found my compartment and sat down for a moment.
“I didn’t know what to pack,” I said, holding the magazines in my lap.
“Do you have something nice for the ceremony?”
“Yes. And some woolens. I think they’ll be warm. Will it snow?”
“That would be romantic, Sally. Just think of it. Much more romantic than our honeymoon. We went to Cornwall, like idiots, and it rained the entire time. The sheets were damp. The room was damp. I swear our shoes grew mold. Hideous.”
“Oh, Sydney, I wish you were going to be there. Is this the stupidest thing anyone’s ever done?” I blurted out.
“No, of course not. But I think it may be a close second.” She smiled at me. “Sally, I have a secret to tell you,” she said, reaching across the space between the seats to touch my arm.
“What? Are you going to have a baby, too?”
“How did you guess? You clever goose, you.”
“No! Sydney, I was just . . .” I hugged her. Looked at her and hugged her again. “Oh, that’s just wonderful.”
“I wanted you to know you weren’t the only one with unexpected plans.”
“Did you just find out? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Just yesterday, promise. Listen, Sally, I must go. I’ve got to meet Brian.”
“Does he know?”
“Yes. We’re going out tonight to celebrate.” She stood, smoothing and arranging her coat, gloves, and bag. “Oh, here, I almost forgot,” she said, handing me a small florist’s box.
I opened it and lifted out a small, lovely nosegay of pink roses, white satin ribbon, and baby’s breath. “Oh, Sydney, it’s beautiful.” I bent my head to it to deflect my tears.
“Well, I just thought you should have some flowers.”
She left me alone in the compartment and I sat staring out at the increasingly busy station platform, her flowers in my hand, thinking about big, fancy church weddings and dresses with trains and long veils. Al
l the trappings that I was not going to have. I really didn’t mind, but I had to admit that I would have enjoyed the fuss, being the center of such a huge production. I would also have liked to have someone with me, a woman, to tell me things. I was, I realized, lonely for my mother. Then Christian slid open the door to the compartment, and I thought, Everything will be all right now.
“Am I late?” he asked.
“No.”
“The traffic is insane.” He was still in his uniform and he tossed his hat, upside down, into the small space provided for gentlemen’s hats.
“I thought you were going to wear civilian clothes, to be less conspicuous.”
“Didn’t have time. Besides, we’ll get better service,” he said matter-of-factly.
I turned to look out of the window at the bustle on the platform. The conductors called out, and with a jerk the train started forward out of the station. Christian busied himself stowing away his bag, hanging his overcoat up. I looked up to see him pulling down the shades, closing us in from the corridor. He kissed my cheek and sat down next to me, then jumped up again. I watched the train slide past the station and the yards, suddenly struck by the idea that I was going to marry this man. For a moment the prospect almost terrified me, the idea of being bound to him, being his.
When he sat next to me again, he held something out to me. It was a ring box. I stared at it, then looked up at him.
He laughed. “Yes, it’s for you.”
I took it from his hand. Inside was a diamond ring, old- fashioned, with chasing on the elaborate setting, but lovely and feminine. It was an engagement ring. I looked up at Christian, who was leaning toward me, his eyes shining.
“It was my grandmother’s. I nearly didn’t get it back in time from the jeweler. Sydney found out your ring size. Do you like it?” He put one arm around me and took the box from me with the other hand. Carefully, he removed the ring. “You’re shaking,” he said and held me against him for a moment.
“Now,” he said, “what do you say?” He slid the ring onto the fourth finger of my left hand. “Will you marry me?”
“Oh, Christian, it’s lovely.” I leaned against his shoulder, ignoring the armrest between us.
“You have not said yes,” he reminded me.
“Ask me in English,” I said. “So I’ll know for sure.” And he did. I kissed him again, then drew back. “Why?” I asked.
“Why?” he parroted, still in English. “Why? Why do I ask you to marry me? You silly girl, because I love you.”
I swallowed. “The baby?”
“Ah,” he said, his arms tightening around me. He switched back into German. “Yes, I will not lie. The baby is part of it.” He sighed and rubbed his chin against my shoulder. “I am pleased with the baby. And you.”
I put my arms around his neck and hugged him. He held me and we stayed like that for a while.
“Yes,” I said, pulling back from him.
“What?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” He laughed and kissed me. Pausing to flip the seat divider out of the way, he gently pushed me back until we were both half-lying, half-reclining on the seat. He kissed me, one arm cradling my head, the other hand busy under my skirt. His fingers grazed the bare skin of my leg above my stockings. I jumped.
“Christian!”
“No one will come in,” he said, his hand moving up to my panties.
“But . . .”
“It is all right.”
There was a knock on the door. Quickly we both sat up. I pulled my skirt down and crossed my legs, hoping my hair and hat weren’t too much out of place, grateful for the interruption.
The door opened. “Tickets,” said the conductor in a bored, aggressive voice, which immediately changed to obsequious politeness when he saw Christian’s uniform. “Heil Hitler, Herr Hauptsturmfuhrer. If you please, your tickets.”
Christian reached into his inner pocket for his and I handed him mine, and he casually held them both out to the conductor, who quickly checked them and handed them back.
“Thank you, Herr Hauptsturmfuhrer,” he said, saluted with the Nazi salute and was gone.
Christian turned to me, putting his hand on my knee. “Someone came in,” he said, looking sheepish but amused.
“I noticed.”
“Let’s go have a drink and see about dinner.” He stood up and put out his hand to pull me up, holding me for a moment.
“This is so beautiful.” I lay my left hand against his chest and wiggled my ring finger. “It was perfect of you to think of it. Thank you.”
He covered my hand and bent his head to kiss me, but at that moment the train went around a bend, throwing us against the seat. Laughing, we both grabbed for the luggage rack to keep our balance.
WE WERE MARRIED early in the morning, having arrived in Lake Sebastian late the night before. For propriety’s sake, we stayed in separate rooms, too tired to mind.
The ceremony in the tiny wooden church was short but surprisingly moving and the pastor and his wife treated us to a glass of schnapps, which did nothing to settle my stomach. I carried Sydney’s nosegay and wore a pale-gray dress with some of Madam’s antique lace at the neck and cuffs. Though it was an old-fashioned-looking dress, I thought it suited this very modern situation. Christian wore his uniform. I’d rather have seen him in a suit, but at that point, I was just so happy to have us married. Besides, he did look handsome in it and I could see people in the town looking admiringly at us as we walked back to the hotel.
We had a lovely lunch at the little hotel, where we were thoroughly spoiled by Herr Mittelstadt, the landlord, and his wife, who remembered both of us and our families well. Then they walked with us to the mayor’s house for the short civil ceremony, the Mittelstadts acting as our witnesses. It started to snow as the mayor married us, big, fat snowflakes hitting messily against the windows of his office.
It was the first snow of the year, an early snow, and it continued all through our wedding day.
At last, we were married and alone in our room. I opened my suitcase and fussed with my things, more nervous than ever. I heard Christian come into the room from the hall, but I didn’t turn to look at him.
“Let’s go for a walk in the snow,” he said energetically. “Let’s go walk around the lake and look at our old houses.”
“Oh, yes,” I said, almost hysterical with relief. “What a good idea. Oh, yes.” I pulled my wool slacks and sweater out of my bag and went down the hall to the bathroom to change.
It wasn’t as cold out as it had been before the snow started, and we walked along, our arms around each other’s waists. We didn’t make it very far, because passing a drift of fluffy snow; I couldn’t resist and lagged behind him to make a snowball.
“Christian,” I yelled, and when he turned, threw the snowball at him, right into his face. I clapped for my perfect aim, laughing at his expression. I should have run, because he came after me, grabbing me and dragging me down with him into the snow.
I screamed as he got a handful of snow down my sweater and in my hair. He sat on top of me, holding both my hands in his and laughed down into my face. I bucked, trying to unseat him.
“Get off, you big lug,” I said. “I’m freezing.”
“All right, but I just want to . . .” His face changed and he leaned down and kissed me long and hard, his tongue busy against mine. Finally he stood, pulling me up next to him. My jacket and sweater were wet through to my skin and I was very cold. My teeth started to chatter.
“Serve you right if your bride comes down with pneumonia,” I muttered as he wiped the snow off my back. I sneezed.
“Don’t you dare,” my new husband said, wagging his finger at me.
We hurried back to the hotel and I waited, dripping on the wooden floor, while Christian asked Herr Mittelstadt for a hot drink. Frau Mittelstadt came through the curtains from the back of the hotel, where their private quarters were, and taking one look at me, took me off to a hot bath.
Sh
e carried away my damp clothes and left me to soak in the steaming-hot water, admonishing me not to let it cool.
“Then you get into bed and have a little sleep. I’ll send that rascal husband of yours up later with some tea. My, what a handsome one he is. But I don’t envy you, being married to such a good-looking man. I do envy you his future. You’ll have everything. Everything.” She was still chattering as she closed the door, and I was glad not to have to hear about Christian’s future.
I snuggled happily under the huge feather bed and soon fell asleep, a hot-water bottle against my feet. It was the best sleep I’d had since I’d found out I was pregnant. I awoke in the dark, warm room when Christian brought the tea. He walked, tray in hand, quickly across the room. He laid the tray on the table, which was covered with an embroidered cloth, and came to look at me. I struggled up through the puffy feather bed and sat up, running my hands through my hair.
“What time is it?” I asked him.
“You’re awake. It’s almost seven. How do you feel?”
“All right. I don’t think I caught a cold.”
“Good. Do you want some tea?”
“Yes, please.” I turned on the light next to the bed and arranged the pillows behind me. “You’re all dressed again.”
“Hmm.” He had a cup for me in his hand. “Milk? Sugar?”
“Both. Why are you in your uniform?”
“I got my clothes wet too. Nothing else to wear down for dinner. Do you want one of these?” He offered me a plate of cookies. I nodded and he put one on the saucer, added milk and sugar to the cup, and carefully brought it over to me.
“Thank you. Why do we have to dress up? I don’t have anything either.”
“Your gray dress.”
“That’s special now.”
“Well, you have to wear something to dinner.”
“I’ll wear my traveling suit.”
“Good, I’m glad that’s settled,” he said and sat on the bed. “What an interesting conversation.”
I grimaced at him. “Get used to it. We’ll have many such.”
“I’ve had years with sisters, remember. I can handle myself very well in these situations. Shall we now talk about hats? Here, there are more cookies, and I know you won’t want more; however, I do.” I giggled and drank the tea, although I made him put more sugar in it.
The Last Innocent Hour Page 38