Sun & Moon: An Inspirational Contemporary Romance (A Guitar Girl Romance Book 1)

by Hope Franke

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know what the pay’s like…”

  “Anything would be great.”

  Jonas took a napkin and jotted down the information. Katja slipped it into her pocket. “Thanks.” Another paying gig, no matter how small, or how far in the background she’d be, was great.

  Jonas said goodbye and waved as he left. Renata called out, Mach’s gut, Schatz! Take care, treasure, not caring who heard. Jonas waved.

  Katja was happy that Renata was obviously so close to her son, but she couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss for herself. This was what she’d missed out on.

  Thankfully, the shop got busy again, forcing Katja to push the lingering sadness away. The line was suddenly long, and she just focused on each customer as they reached the counter.

  “May I help you?” she offered the next man without looking first. When she glanced up she gasped at the handsome, familiar face. “Micah? What are you doing here?”

  His eyes twinkled. “I think I’m getting a coffee.”

  Katja tilted her head. “You have a perfectly good coffee maker at home.”

  “Ah, yes,” he admitted slowly, “but I don’t have a Berliner donut.” He watched her and his mouth twitched. “Or you, to serve it to me.”

  Katja gaped. Was Micah Sturm flirting with her? “Well, in that case, allow me.”

  As quickly as the crowd had assembled, it disappeared, leaving Katja alone with Micah at the counter and Renata hovering behind. She approached with a friendly grin.

  “Oh,” Katja said, seeing her. “This is my friend and my boss, Frau Renata Beck. And this is…” She opted for no description. “…Micah.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Micah said, reaching to shake Renata’s hand.

  “Likewise.” Renata let her eyebrows jump when Micah had looked away, indicating to Katja that she approved. She smirked and left to busy herself at the back.

  Katja resumed with Micah’s order, thankful that Renata hadn’t said anything to embarrass her. “Will that be to stay or to go?”

  “Sadly, I must get back to work, so please make it to go.”

  Katja made his coffee and poured it into a takeaway cup. She used the tongs to place the crème-filled, chocolate-glazed donut in a small paper bag.

  “So, I’m curious,” she said as she waited for him to dig the proper change out of his suit pocket. “I happen to know they have coffee shops and bakeries in the Altstadt. This is quite a departure from your daily routine. Why did you go so far out of your way?”

  He handed her the money, and he didn’t pull his hand away when their fingers touched. “I would think that would be obvious.” He raised his coffee cup to her before turning to leave. “See you later.”

  Obvious? Not really. Katja was stunned. Had Micah traipsed all the way across town just to see her? It didn’t make sense, especially since they saw each other every single evening. She stared at his back as he left the store, worrying the ring in her lip.

  “So, is that your boyfriend?” Renata’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  She arched an eyebrow at her boss. “I’m not sure.”

  Katja sniffed and moaned as she stirred awake the next morning. Her body was stiff and she ached all over. She could barely lift herself out of bed to use the bathroom. Her head was burning up. She splashed cold water on her face, then promptly vomited in the toilet.

  She went back to her place on the sofa bed with a bucket and a cold cloth and passed out.

  She stands on an older, wooden bridge that crosses a raging waterfall. The bridge is shifting and cracking. She has to get off or she will fall and surely die, but her legs won’t move! She opens her mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.

  Micah’s there now. Beautiful, brave Micah. He sees she’s in danger and he runs to save her. But no, the bridge is falling. If he reaches for her he’ll fall, too. She shouts,“No!”

  Katja’s eyes sprung open as she called out.

  “Shh,” a voice said.

  She collapsed to her bed and calmed her breathing, vaguely aware of someone helping her, holding her head up so she could sip water, wiping her brow. She was in and out. No more dreams. Just blackness.

  Katja finally woke to the early morning light, but it came in from the wrong direction. She stirred feeling discombobulated. This wasn’t her bed. These weren’t her sheets.

  Her eyes popped open.

  This was Micah’s room. His bed. Her eyes scanned the surface for another form, but she was there alone.

  So, where was Micah?

  She slipped out from beneath the sheets, waiting a moment for the dizziness to pass, then padded softly to the living room. He was sleeping on her spot on the sofa bed. She was relieved to find him, but confused.

  Why had they switched places?

  His eyes opened and focused on her. “Feeling better?”

  “Yes. I guess so. What happened? Why are you sleeping there?”

  Micah pushed himself up into a sitting position, the sheet falling to his waist, exposing his toned, bare chest. Katja glanced away.

  “You came down with a serious flu. You were out for two days. The doctor came by and helped me move you. He said if you weren’t doing better by today to take you to the hospital.”

  Two days?

  Micah slipped a T-shirt over his head and tugged it down. “I’m relieved you’re feeling better.”

  “Me, too,” Katja said, though her legs felt shaky. She didn’t smell great, either. “I’m going to have a shower.”

  She let the hot water pour on her head and scrubbed off the sweat and sickness. She didn’t remember getting into Micah’s bed. He must’ve carried her.

  She dressed in jeans and a light blouse. They felt looser. She’d lost weight.

  “Would you like coffee?” Micah said when she walked out. “Breakfast? Do you feel like eating?”

  She combed her fingers through her damp hair. “Actually, I’m starving.”

  He closed the distance between them and stroked her face. “You scared me.”

  His words surprised her, and she didn’t know what to say. He stepped away and smiled. “One coffee and breakfast platter coming up!”

  She picked at the soft-boiled eggs and toast Micah presented, doing her best to prove she was on the mend. They chuckled over breakfast, gossiping about the other tenants in the building. Katja studied him as he ate. He’d changed since the “ceremony.” His countenance was lighter. He seemed happier.

  Was he happy?

  “I dreamed about you this morning,” she said.

  He winked. “A make-out dream?”

  “No!” She clasped a hand over her mouth to hide a smile birthed from embarrassment. She couldn’t believe he’d said that. “It was actually a scary dream. You were in danger.”

  His expression grew serious. “How so?”

  “You were trying to save me, and in doing so, you were about to lose your own life.”

  He didn’t respond. The only noise in the room she could hear was the pounding of her heart. “Are you trying to save me, Micah?”

  He considered her. “Do you need saving?”

  She twisted her lips to the side, then said, “Maybe, but don’t deflect.”

  “You think I’m helping you so I can atone for my guilt about losing Greta.”

  Katja leaned back and folded her arms over her chest. “The thought has crossed my mind.”

  Micah mimicked her, crossing his arms and leaning back as well. “I’m not. And I’m not going to apologize for trying to save you, if or when you need saving.”

  Katja almost said she didn’t need saving. But Micah had saved her the night he picked her up off the streets. And he did just take care of her when she was so sick she didn’t even know she’d been sleeping in his bed.

  Then Micah smiled. “Well, I think we’re both safe enough for today. The sun is shining. Do you feel up for a walk along the river?”

  Katja softened her posture. A walk wou
ld be nice.

  She used the bathroom and brushed her teeth. Her hair was still a little damp, one of the hazards of having so much thick hair. She spent a few minutes with the blow dryer until her locks were thoroughly dry, then she pulled it all back into a high ponytail. She chose a light silk scarf to match her blouse and donned a summer sweater while waiting for Micah to take his turn in the bathroom.

  He hung a hoodie over his shoulder then opened the door allowing Katja to leave first, and then he locked the door behind them. He followed her down the stairs. She held the rail still feeling a little weak.

  “Are you okay?” Micah asked, noticing. “We don’t have to go out if you’re not up to it.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I want to go.”

  Once outside, Micah surprised her by wrapping an arm around her waist, and she leaned in grateful that he was there to hold her up. She reached up to her shoulder and clasped his hand, squeezing gently, happy they were growing more comfortable with each other.

  They found an empty bench and sat facing the sun. Micah kept his arm around Katja as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He studied her profile like she was a painting, and her heart skipped a beat. She melted under the gaze of his dark eyes. He leaned over to kiss her forehead and paused. Katja tilted her chin up. Micah was looking at her lips. She parted them.

  “I think it’s time you kissed me,” she said. “Kissed me good.”

  Micah grinned crookedly. “I think you’re right.”

  He cupped her face, and she ran her fingers through his dark curls. His lips landed on hers, taking her breath away. This was it. They were together.

  Finally, Katja thought.

  They kissed slowly, and Katja lingered on every moment. She wanted to memorize the taste of his lips, the feel of them on hers, soft and sensuous. The way he trailed kisses along her jaw, to the base of her neck and back again. She closed her eyes and felt light as a feather, like she was floating away, without a single care. Safe and adored. She couldn’t remember being happier than she was in this moment, kissing Micah on a park bench in the sun.

  They walked languidly over the blackened, stone bridge to the old town in search of a place to eat lunch. The sky was cerulean blue, and the rippling water of the Elbe sparkled in the sun. Katja felt like the world was crisp, distinctive and spectacularly beautiful. They held hands over the table at an outdoor restaurant and ordered braised chicken salads with lemon dressing and sour dough buns. The flavors were exquisite and her taste buds delighted in the meal. She couldn’t believe how this day had become so amazing, and her gaze washed over Micah’s face as they ate and conversed.

  Every subject was so much more tantalizing: music, books, movies, current events, technology, travel dreams.

  Afterward, they visited the art museum, window shopped at the gift shops and watched actors in front of the arches who dressed like statues and stood stiff and unblinking. They stopped at the neighborhood grocery store to pick up supplies for the meal they planned to make together later that evening, like a real couple.

  Katja almost burst at the seams with happiness. This was the perfect day. Maybe the best day of her whole life.

  The groceries were barely put away before they ended up making out on the sofa. They moaned and giggled, and Katja was ready to give everything away to Micah. She’d never felt this strongly about anyone before, and the thought occurred to her that she was falling in love.

  Micah gently pushed her back, taking a deep breath.

  “I think we should slow things down a little.” He stroked her cheek with his finger and rested his forehead against hers. “The best things in life are savored, experienced gradually over time.”

  Katja smiled. Micah was right. Even though it was so tempting to eat a whole jar of candy in one sitting, no one was happy with how they felt afterward.

  Micah gestured to her guitar. “Play for me.”

  It was a simple request, but one that made Katja abnormally nervous. Micah had heard her play before, but always in a group setting at one of her gigs. She rarely practiced or wrote songs when he was home, not since her feelings for him had started to grow. It just felt… too vulnerable.

  “I don’t know,” she responded. “Why don’t you turn the stereo on instead?”

  “Katja, please.” He tilted his head, and grinned playfully. “Sing for me.”

  Katja hesitated, then removed her guitar from its case. She laid it across her lap and pressed her fingers to the strings, adjusting the tuning pegs to bring them in tune. Playing and singing was such a normal creative expression for her, but for some reason, today, alone with Micah, she felt like she was about to bare her soul.

  “What do you want to hear?”

  “Have you written anything new?”

  She nodded and her tongue reached for the ring in her lip. Was she ready to play it for Micah? He’d know the lyrics were about them. She strummed the first chord and dove in.

  It’s all in how you look at it,

  she said

  As if there were a hundred ways to walk a high wire

  Go on and try to let it go

  Close your eyes and

  Let your heart rule your head sometimes

  Some folks dig for gold

  and only scratch the surface

  You saw something more

  and it’s making you nervous

  Maybe he’d think it was about something else, and not about her deepening emotions about the man who stared so intently at every move she made with her fingers and every word that formed on her lips.

  She stopped suddenly, and glanced away. “That’s all I have for now.”

  “Katja, you are so talented, so artistic.” Micah said. His eyebrows jumped. “It’s very tantalizing.”

  She giggled and plucked out a random lick on the strings.

  “When did you know you wanted to be a musician?” He stroked her arm. “Tell me how it happened.”

  “I can’t remember a day when I didn’t love music,” she responded. “When I was young, before my father left, my mother always had music playing on the radio in our kitchen. Even as a baby I banged out rhythms on the table when I was supposed to be eating my Nutella toast.

  “Dad actually boasted about me to his friends, and one day he came home with a beat up guitar. I don’t know where he got it, flea market, likely. I guess I have my father to thank for something. My hands were too small, and I couldn’t do anything but mess around for a while, but I eventually grew into it. I never got any lessons. I figured out the basic chords and just taught myself by playing my favorite songs. There are a lot of guitar lessons posted on YouTube. Henni’s family had a computer, and I spent hours every Sunday afternoon practicing at her place, pretty much force feeding myself on those. That and the songwriting videos.”

  Katja paused to run a finger along the curves of her guitar. “I worked hard the summer I was sixteen, cooking bratwurst sausages at my neighbor’s stand in the park. I was too shy to sing in front of anyone at first, just played to myself in the privacy of my bedroom. I spent the summer evenings with Henni, watching the street musicians on Unter den Linden and how random strangers filled up their instrument cases with coins. I realized it was a way for me to make some money without standing on my feet all day in the summer heat.

  “The first time I did it was the result of a dare.” She glanced over her shoulder at the memory. “Henni and I were playing Truth or Dare with a bunch of the complex kids. She knew about my secret obsession and dared me to busk or to kiss chubby Bernhart Moser on the lips.”

  Micah laughed, and Katja hurried to conclude her story. “I chose busking, of course. She made me do it right that instant. I ran inside to get my guitar, and everyone followed me to the nearest pedestrians-only shopping street. I was scared to death but more afraid of kissing Bernhart. I closed my eyes and played and unbelievably, people tossed coins into my case. My friends cheered me on, and after that I was hooked. The next thing I knew I was
trying out at all the open mic spots I could find. I met someone who helped me record in their home studio, and then I had CDs. It just kind of happened.”

  “Do you miss Berlin?”

  “The city? Sure.”

  “Not your family?”

  Katja closed her eyes, knowing where this conversation was headed. Micah continued before she could answer.

  “I have a business meeting coming up there next Saturday. I can go with my colleagues, Anna and Thomas, but…” He looked at her expectantly. “If you wanted to go, we could drive together. My meeting’s over at 1:00. We could swing by your home for an hour or so and be home that evening.”

  Katja’s heart jumped at the thought of going away with Micah, even if it was only a two hour drive north of Dresden, but then it plummeted again at the idea of going “home.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Katja.” His gaze softened, and he leaned closer. “It’s very difficult to have someone you care about go missing. Have you called your sister yet?”

  “Not yet, but I will.”

  “And you’ll go with me to Berlin?”

  Katja sighed. “Can I get back to you on that one?”

  Micah squeezed her knee. “Sure. Now sing me another song.”

  That night Micah entered the living room with clean sheets in his hands. “I’ve already changed the ones on my bed. Go ahead. I want you to sleep there.”

  Katja squinted. “Alone?”

  Micah smirked. “For now.”

  He was right, she supposed. It had taken them three months to get to their first kissing session, she shouldn’t expect him to sleep with her the first night they got together. Though she wouldn’t argue with him if he tried.

  “I can sleep here,” she said, pointing to the sofa. “I don’t want to kick you out of your bed.”

  Micah dropped the sheets and took her hand. “I want you in my bed. Believe me, it makes me very happy to know you’re there.”

  “But, why don’t you come, too?”

  Micah leaned back and ducked down. “Call me old-fashioned but I won’t sleep with a girl unless I’m committing my whole life. I don’t want a woman just for her body.”