by Marya Stones
Mike got out of the car and Greta followed him.
At the door, there were only doorbells, no name plates. It looked very exclusive. The house was a nineteenth-century manor, its entrance very imposing, with stairs covered by a red hemp carpet, and a vestibule topped with a glass cupola on the roof. One could see the stars in the sky through the cupola.
Greta followed Mike to the elevator, which was also carpeted in red and wood-paneled within.
They ascended to the topmost floor and Mike entered a numerical code into the keyboard on the elevator.
Arriving at the top, the elevator door opened and Mike and Greta were deposited in an entrance hall, a foyer with a grey-veined marble floor and mosaic-work on the walls. An oval table stood in the middle of the foyer with an extremely large vase filled with white lilies. The scent of the flowers was intense and pleasing; above them, there was another glass cupola.
“Come,” Mike said, “let’s go inside.” He crossed the foyer, and walked to the white French doors at the end, pressed the handle and allowed the doors to swing open.
Greta caught her breath. Before her lay a room that seemed to extend endlessly onto a terrace. The terrace doors were open, and the view was exactly as Mike had described it in the car: the castle, the Old Town, the river below. But where were the guests, where was Sigi? The apartment was devoid of people.
When Greta asked Mike where everyone was, he said: ”Sigi is traveling on business. I told you a little fib. The apartment is ours and today I lay Salzburg at your feet.”
He smiled at her, and took her in his arms. Greta didn’t know what to say. The thought that it was all planned went through her mind.
Surprised and captivated by the atmosphere, Greta allowed Mike to lead her to the terrace. There she saw that the wine was chilling, and two glasses stood at the ready. There were also plates. Mike saw Greta’s glance, and explained further:
“Sigi arranged everything. He also ordered the ‘Salzburger Nockerl’ from the hotel next door. They’ll be served to us here privately later.”
Mike poured the wine, handed Greta a glass and continued. “I absolutely wanted to be alone with you for a little while today. We can stay here and drive back to Munich later or tomorrow morning. My plane leaves for New York tomorrow in the early evening. So, what do you think? It’s entirely up to you.”
“But why did you organize all this? We could have spent a lovely evening alone in Munich, too.”
“No, that’s not what I wanted. It was important to me to transport you into a different atmosphere. At Stephanie’s, you were so completely uptight and blocked. And then I wanted to make up for our meeting in New York. I don’t have your things which you left there, but you look more fetching in the jeans and boots that I got you anyway.”
Greta smiled at him.
Mike continued, “Our get-together didn’t go at all as I expected in New York. I hadn’t seen Steve for a long time. He had been in Jamaica, and has his software firm there. We stay in contact through e-mail and by telephone regularly, but I wasn’t at all aware that a meeting with a beautiful woman that he didn’t know could again end as it did.” He took a sip of wine, pensively. “After you had gone, I went back to Steve of course. He had also come to the conclusion in the meantime how completely off course his behavior had been. He didn’t apologize, but I really reamed him out and was very angry. And then I was sad. You were gone and I didn’t have any contact information for you. I didn’t know how I could reach you.” Mike paused for a moment. “What luck and an absolute sign from heaven that we saw each other again so quickly today at Stephanie and Ollie’s. It’s entirely clear to me that can’t have been a coincidence.”
With these words he took Greta’s glass out of her hand, put it aside, and took her in his arms. He held her tenderly but tightly. She felt his arms around her waist and his hands at her back. There was no getting away at this point, nor did she wish to. She knew: Now he will kiss me – and I want him to.
The kiss was soft on her lips at first; then small touches around her entire mouth. He kissed her a little harder, but just as tenderly as before. He opened his lips and she could feel how his tongue thrust into her mouth. The kiss became more intense, loving, and more intimate. His hands wandered across her back, down to her waist. They sought their way under her blouse to her bare skin. Now Greta’s hands also sought the way to his bare skin. His shirt hung loosely over his jeans and was very easy to pull up. Mike’s skin felt smooth and warm. They continued to explore one another and kissed passionately, until the doorbell rang.
“The Salzburger Nockerl!” Mike laughed and untangled himself from her embrace. Greta pulled her blouse back in place, while Mike answered the buzzer. She followed Mike back into the apartment, the glass of wine in her hand. Now she could study the furnishings a little more closely. Everything was very luxurious and tasteful. There was a couch upholstered in light colors, and the marble from the foyer covered the living room floor all the way to the terrace. The walls were painted in a cream-color, and hung with paintings of landscapes, portrait drawings and photographs – a combination that she had not seen before but one that seemed wholly fitting. The lighting was indirect, dominated simply by the convex floor lamps with their oversize lampshades, placed to the right and left in the room. The furnishings were expensive and beautiful but not ostentatious.
In the meantime, Mike had opened the door. The promised “Salzburger Nockerl” were being served off the tea-cart, just as in a hotel. Even a silver bell to summon the waiters was present. Two servers in black and white tuxedoes steered the cart quickly and professionally toward the terrace. It seemed as if they had been here before.
The Nockerl were transferred to the plates, and after they were served the waiters asked Greta and Mike if they had any other wishes. Mike looked quizzically at Greta, who demurred, and let the waiters go.
Both Greta and Mike enjoyed the sweetly delicious Floating Island ‘Nockerl’, a Salzburg specialty soufflé, made of whisked egg-whites, with flour, vanilla, lemon, and milk, then baked into peaks to be served with powdered sugar, to mimic the snow-covered mountains that surround the town. Greta and Mike had a wonderful time feeding one another a morsel at a time. It remained mild on the terrace and from a short distance away, they could hear the rushing of the Salzach intermingled with the laughter in the streets.
Greta did indeed feel somewhat carried away. She felt removed from her every-day existence. It was intimate yet strange. It was perfect.
Together they drank the wine and it was clear that they wanted each other. The kiss, the touching before the sweet palate-pleaser, could only be described as a kind of foretaste of one another. The desire for each other grew with every glass of wine that they drank. Greta sensed Mike’s desire for her with every spoonful that he gave her, and she also sensed how her own desire grew ever stronger. Finally, the intensity between them was almost unbearably sweet. Both couldn’t keep their hands off the other. They kissed, they touched, they immersed themselves in each other. Greta knew they were no longer on the terrace, but how they had gotten to the couch was not entirely clear.
Mike whispered in her ear that he desired her more than anything. And everything thereafter was magical: completely enamored, passionately engaged, exploring each other without inhibition or reserve. They made love very tenderly, very intensely, and for hours. Then, intertwined, they happily fell asleep.
Chapter 17
Greta opened her eyes. It was dark. She felt Mike’s warm, strong body next to her. It had to be the middle of the night.
She suddenly heard Mike’s voice. “Are you awake?” Actually she had thought that he was asleep, he lay next to her so quietly.
“Yes,” she answered.
“I have appointments in Munich tomorrow that I absolutely have to keep. You know already – playing fireman with Ollie.” He turned to her and smiled. “And then in the early evening my plane heads back to New York again. Is it okay with you if we get ready now
and drive back to Munich?”
“Yes, of course,” Greta said, “but I already know that I’m going to snuggle up to you in the car.”
Mike gathered Greta up tightly in his arms. “That’s going to be a hot trip,” he whispered.
They smiled at each other and kissed, just as they had made love earlier.
Then Mike swung himself out of bed and gathered his pants and shirt up off the floor. Greta was almost a little disappointed to have to end their little trip already. She would have happily spent the rest of the night with Mike – and the morning, too. But that’s the way it was. By the way, whatever happens is for the best, ran through her mind, and she smiled.
Greta dressed quickly, disappeared once more into the bathroom, which was furnished every bit as luxuriously as the rest of the apartment. Greta admired the bathroom appointments - this Sigi was really a decorator. Fabulous!
She freshened up a bit and then returned to the living room that expanded into a kitchen area. Mike had cut up some fruit and prepared a few slices of goat cheese.
“Do you like goat cheese?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, the best I ever had I enjoyed in France, with a glass of Pernod.”
“You are certainly a cosmopolitan,” Mike said with admiration in his voice. “I’m already anxious to know all that the two of us will experience together.”
“I hope the world is waiting for us,” Greta said.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not exactly sure myself.” Greta wondered why she had said that. “It sort of just slipped out. Perhaps that we’ll have time to experience many beautiful things together.”
“Yes, that’s my wish too.”
They ate the fruit and the cheese, straightened the apartment, and then were on their way to Munich.
In the car, Greta snuggled as close to Mike as possible. They were again driving with the top down, since the night had remained mild. The car didn’t offer too many possibilities for Greta to snuggle even somewhat comfortably next to Mike, but somehow she managed to knot her long legs together and lay almost with her head in Mike’s lap. She had wrapped her arms around his upper body.
Mike reached the highway quickly and Greta was pretty glad that in her half-prone position she couldn’t see the speedometer, but she could feel that Mike was driving very fast.
Suddenly the funny car and driver stories that Mike had told so well at Stephanie’s crossed her mind. Although they were very amusing, they had an edge. Oh, don’t be pessimistic, she reminded herself quietly.
She didn’t want to free herself from her knotted position just now, however, and sit up straight in the passenger’s seat. The music in the car filled the air, and both were deep into their own thoughts.
Suddenly there was a loud bang, Greta screamed, and the car skidded out of control, having lost its steering stability. Mike cursed loudly, “SHIT!” and one could clearly hear fear in his voice.
He tried again to bring the car under control, but it skidded again and turned around 180 degrees. Greta couldn’t be sure any longer whether they were driving in the proper direction or like ghost-riders, heading the opposite way. She didn’t dare move. Mike was still trying to regain control of the car. Then there was another loud bang, this time on the long side of the vehicle. Greta couldn’t tell whether the bang had come from colliding with the guard rail, or whether another car had scraped or driven into them. After yet another turn, the car finally came to a stop.
Greta smelled smoke. Mike wasn’t moving. He was half draped over her, the other half resting on the driver’s door.
She tried to free herself from her position, but noticed that her foot had gotten caught. Only with a great deal of pain could she pull her foot out from between the passenger’s door and seat. As she freed herself and moved away from Mike’s lap, Mike collapsed in a heap. Now he lay on the steering wheel, face down.
“Mike, Mike, say something, can you hear me? Say something! Are you okay?”
Mike didn’t react.
She couldn’t see his face, but noticed that the steering wheel under it was turning red with blood.
Then a stranger stood beside her and pulled her out of the car.
“I’m an emergency physician,” the man said. “You just had a collision with another vehicle and the guardrail.” The stranger must have seen the accident.
Shortly thereafter Greta, wrapped in a blanket, was sitting at the side of the highway. First she noticed that she was also injured. Her arm and the leg that had been caught hurt like hell. There was also something the matter with her head.
An ambulance came. The highway was partially closed, and the ambulance made its way through an alley cleared between the vehicles. Everything happened so terribly quickly. Greta had lost all sense of time.
There was a lot of light all around her, but she found it difficult to focus. Her head was reeling. Where was Mike? she asked herself. But she got no answer. No one seemed to hear her. Why doesn’t anyone answer me? Don’t you hear me? I want to know what’s going on here, she insisted.
Then it was simply black all around her.
Chapter 18
As Greta regained consciousness, she lay in the hospital. Her head was very painful and was wrapped in bandages. The right leg hurt, but wasn’t bandaged; the left wrist was. She was alone in her room. It was light outside.
Immediately, Mike came to mind. The accident on the highway. It must be the next day.
Where is Mike?
Just at that moment, a nurse came in to check on her.
“How nice that you’re awake,” the nurse said with a friendly voice. “You’ve slept a long time.”
“Where exactly am I, and where is Mike?”
She found out that she was in the Rechts der Isar Hospital in Munich and Mike, that is, Mr. Sloan, had already been released. As far as the nurse knew, he had returned to the USA earlier.
“Oh,” Greta heard herself answering, faintly. “Can you tell me if he’s all right?”
“I can say that he’s able to be transported,” the nurse said, choosing her words carefully. “But he signed his release from the hospital under his own recognizance. He absolutely wanted to return to America and to be treated there. I am not permitted to say more, unfortunately. Perhaps it would be better if you spoke with the doctor.” After a pause, she added: “But don’t you want to know what’s going on with you?”
“Of course.” That was all that Greta could muster.
“Then I’ll go and get your physician.”
Greta couldn’t understand all that and her head hurt like hell, so bad that she couldn’t think straight. What was actually wrong with her?
A man in a white doctor’s coat appeared shortly thereafter. He was small in stature, solidly built, but not fat. Greta judged him to be in his mid-forties: friendly face, pleasant, dark brown eyes, and a biker-beard, trimmed short.
“I’m Dr. Braun, Ms. Mayfield. Good that you’re awake. How are you feeling?”
Greta reported on her headache and found out that she had suffered a serious concussion. That’s why she was put to sleep – in order to prevent any complications. The head pain was completely normal at the moment and would diminish. She could have painkillers if she wished. Everything else – her wrist and her leg – those were just scratches and not worth discussing.
Then she asked about Mike.
Dr. Braun first asked her if she was related to Mike. No, Greta was forced to admit, but they were newly in love and she absolutely had to know what had happened to him.
Dr. Braun allowed his demeanor to soften. Mike, he told her, has a puncture wound in his head which had to be stitched, as well as a concussion. His left arm is broken in a number of places.
Despite the advice of the doctor, Mike insisted on being released from the hospital. He also left without the necessary papers. He spoke about having to fly back to New York, since he wanted to be treated there.
That was all that Dr. Braun had to report.
“When was he released?” Greta wanted to know.
“Yesterday,” Dr. Braun said. “Mr. Sloan also tried to say good-bye to you, but we had put you into an induced coma.”
“What day is it today?” Greta asked.
“Two days have passed since your accident, Ms. Mayfield. You’ve slept your way to good health here with us,” said Dr. Braun and smiled. “Your concussion was quite massive. It was important to put you to sleep. Now you are stable. You’ve tolerated your medications well. You’ll have no side-effects, and you’ll see, in three days everything will be okay again.”
Chapter 19
Three days later Greta was released by Dr. Braun. Nathalie picked her up and brought her home.
Greta had not yet heard anything from Mike. Again, she had no contact information – except for Facebook and a cell-phone number. How should she reach him? Simply call him?
“Mike is actually on track, right?” She asked Nathalie.
“Yes, actually,” Nathalie nodded. “You’ll see, he probably has sent you a message on Facebook.”
And so he did. Immediately upon arrival at home, Greta opened her Facebook account. In her mailbox there was a message from Mike Sloan.
“Had to go to N.Y. – everything’s okay – please respond when you read this.”
Greta was practically hypnotized.
At least he writes that everything is okay.
She wrote back:
“I’m out of the hospital again. When can we talk? Skype or telephone? Let me know.”
Because of the time difference it would be a few hours until Greta could expect an answer.
Questions upon questions raced through her head, which still wasn’t quite okay.
She was still on sick leave for another week, then she wanted to return to her flight schedule without fail. Ultimately, she wanted to see Mike as quickly as possible. According to the operations plan, which she could see online, she was scheduled for a flight from Munich to Chicago.