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

by Hope Franke

  Micah removed his briefcase and suit jacket from the back seat, slipping the latter item on. His white shirt fell untucked over jeans, and he nailed the preppy, urban, young business man look.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” he asked again.

  “Yes. This is my town.” She smiled reassuringly. “I’m looking forward to meandering the streets again.”

  “Make sure you eat something,” he said. “They’ll be feeding us, so I’ll be fine.” He pulled fifty euro from his pocket and slipped it into her hand.

  “I have a job, you know,” she said, staring at the bill. She stretched her arm to give it back.

  “I know. I’d just feel better if you took it. Do it for me.”

  She shrugged and slipped the money in her pocket. She wouldn’t spend it. It would find its way into the fruit bowl later that night. But it did make her feel good that Micah desired to take care of her.

  Katja kissed Micah longingly, wanting it to be memorable enough to last through whatever close encounters he might have with Anna. She ran her tongue along his lips, nibbling the bottom one as she pulled away. By the smile and glint she saw in his eye, she thought she succeeded.

  “See you in four hours,” he said, walking backward to the glass doors of the banking institution.

  Katja felt bereft for a moment, but then shifted her backpack and straightened her stance. She took in her surroundings and started walking. She was on the eastern side of Brandenburg Gate. It was a huge stone monument comprised of six deep pillars creating five archways and was topped with a greening bronze statue of four racing horses pulling a chariot with a lone rider. The gate had signified communistic rule for forty years and now freedom that came with the subsequent democracy. Crowds milled about, tourists mostly, taking pictures and lining up to hop on the tour buses.

  She hadn’t been born yet when the wall came down, but change came slowly, and growing up in eastern Berlin was very much an Eastern-Bloc experience for her. She lived in a concrete block apartment in the lower-income part of the city that had been built during the GDR times. It was the same one her family still resided in, with only two bedrooms, a small kitchen and living area. The grounds were left in their natural state, with landscaping reserved for parks, tourist destinations and higher-income dwellings.

  She’d learned a lot about the value of freedom. Her mother used to tell her there was nothing more important than that. Her grandparents had all passed away before the wall fell, and had never experienced what it was like to pass through the Brandenburg Gate to the western side since it had been barricaded by the Berlin Wall.

  Katja was fortunate to be born in a time when physical freedom had been granted to Europeans, but that didn’t mean she was completely free. There were bondages known to the human psyche that didn’t involve physical chains or armed border patrols.

  She walked through the massive columns to the west side until she was in the Tiergarten, a green space that claimed several city blocks, and settled on an unoccupied park bench. She removed her notepads from her pack. Was she in the mood to write or draw?

  Neither was calling to her at the moment. She gazed ahead blankly as a childhood memory crystallized. Her father and mother had brought her here once, when she was three or four years old. There was a fair of some kind set up in the park, and her parents had taken her on a ride. It was a bland one, where they sat in a small chair and spun in lazy circles. But she remembered being thrilled, her mother on one side and her father on the other, both of them squishing her in the middle. She laughed out loud, not truly understanding the source of her joy. She’d thought it was the ride. She now knew it was because they were together, a family.

  Melancholy dripped on her like dew. A sadness for what could’ve been. Grief for what was lost when her father left them.

  She’d never known why. Against her mother’s wishes he’d taken a job fishing in the northern sea. They hadn’t seen him since. Why hadn’t he tried to contact her? Why did he stop loving her?

  Katja put her notebooks into her bag. She headed back to the eastern side where most of the shopping was. She walked up and down Unter Den Linden, browsing the gift shops and bookstores. She stopped at a donair place and bought a gyros sandwich for two euro. She wondered mildly what exactly Micah thought she would eat for lunch that she’d need fifty euro. Steak and lobster?

  A quick check of the time on her phone told her she had only twenty-five minutes left to wait. The time had gone by quickly. She slowly worked her way back to the bank to meet up with Micah.

  He was huddled on the front steps with Thomas and Anna when she arrived. Katja plastered on a smile and shimmied up behind him.

  “Oh, hi,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders for a quick hug. He wasn’t shy to show his affection in front of his friends, and Katja shook off her feelings of inadequacy. Micah liked her. Micah was into her.

  She even flashed a genuine smile Anna’s way. Anna blinked and then returned it. Katja tugged on Micah’s hand. “Time to go?”

  They said goodbye and walked around the corner to the car. “How was your meeting?” Katja asked.

  “Oh, you know. Boring.”

  “Boring? I thought you loved all that markets and money talk.”

  He shrugged. “It’s interesting enough, but it’s just a job.”

  Micah started the car and stopped to stare at her before driving out. “You’re ready for this?”

  No. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Katja gave Micah directions to the dense, multi-family residence where her family lived. She completely regretted bringing Micah when they pulled to a stop in front of the colorless building. Weeds grew out of the sidewalk cracks and took over whatever yard existed between the building and the road. There’d been some effort to paint the exterior over the years, but wind and rain had worn it away in spots, and it peeled away from the cracking plaster. Laundry hung on clothes lines, and several people leaned out open windows smoking cigarettes and blatantly stared at them. The Audi didn’t belong in this neighborhood. Neither did Micah Sturm.

  “It’s not too late to turn around,” Katja whimpered.

  Micah squeezed her hand. “We’re here now. You can do it.”

  She inhaled deeply and opened the door. It felt so strange to be back, even though she’d walked down this path to the front door of her building a million times. She hesitated at the door, before inserting her key.

  She led Micah up the dimly lit stairwell to the second floor. The air inside was a stale mix of cigarette smoke and the odor of the six families who shared the floor: dirty laundry and last night’s dinner.

  She paused in the hallway outside of their door. “This is it.”

  “Are you going to knock?” he asked.

  “I guess so. I mean, I’ve never knocked before, but I’d never been away so long before either.”

  “Then knock.”

  “They might not be home.”

  “You won’t find out if you don’t knock.”

  She puffed, hating that he was so pragmatic, and tapped on the door. The rumble of the neighbor’s TV bled through into the hall from the opposite side, so Katja couldn’t hear if there was movement in her flat.

  “I don’t think anyone’s here,” she said just moments before the door inched open. A set of wide, blue eyes stared at her. “Katja?”

  “Hi, Sibylle.”

  Her younger sister opened the door, and Katja spread her arms, inviting her in for an embrace. Sibylle hesitated, then stepped forward, but her thin arms didn’t reciprocate.

  “How are you?”

  Sibylle’s mouth remained pulled down in a frown. “Okay.”

  “You’ve grown.” Her sister was almost twelve and had started filling out. Katja smiled to hide her concern. Sibylle was at the age she had been when Horst started acting inappropriately with her.

  “Who’s that?” Sibylle asked.

  Katja turned to Micah, whose eyes had moved from her sister to the sp
ace beyond. The place was filthy. Dirty dishes filled the limited counter space, and the living area was unkempt with abandoned food containers and dirty clothes lying about. Again Katja wished she’d come alone.

  “This is my friend Micah.”

  “Hello,” Micah said gently.

  Sibylle glanced away shyly. “Hi.”

  Katja looked beyond her sister for signs that anyone else was there with her. “Is Mama home?”

  “She’s in her room.”

  Katja swallowed but kept her voice even. “What about your dad?”

  Sibylle shrugged. “I don’t know where he is. I’ll get Mama.”

  A burning sensation built up behind Katja’s eyes. She hated seeing her sister so despondent. Like a miniature version of her mother. She smiled weakly over her shoulder at Micah. He gave her a slight nod.

  An impossibly thin woman with greasy hair and ragged clothes padded into the room. “Katja?” she said faintly. “Is that you?”

  Katja nodded. “Yes, Mama.”

  The woman covered her mouth with a bony hand, and her shoulders began to shake. “You look good,” she managed to say through a soft sob. “I was so worried.”

  “Oh, Mama.” Katja almost ran to her mother and pulled her into a hug. “I’m fine. I’m doing great. I met someone wonderful.” She waved Micah over. “This is my friend Micah. Micah, my mother, Frau Bergmann.”

  Katja’s mother wiped her eyes, then held out her hand. “Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”

  “It’s been my pleasure.”

  “And please, call me Gisela.”

  “Sibylle,” Gisela said, “Put a pot on for tea.”

  Katja’s sister ran water into the pot and turned on the old stove. Gisela made an effort to clean a space at the table. “I’m sorry it’s so messy. If I knew you were coming…”

  “It’s fine, Mama.”

  Katja and Micah sat awkwardly at the table while her sister and mother made tea and served it to them in old but clean teacups.

  “We’re out of milk and sugar,” Gisela said.

  “Black is fine,” Micah said, thanking her.

  Gisela lowered herself into the chair adjacent to Katja’s. “Tell us all about your adventures.”

  Katja’s eyes cut to Micah, and he encouraged her with a tip of his chin. She told them about her gigs, and her job at the coffee shop. “It’s not super exciting, but it’s good.”

  Gisela motioned to Micah. “How did you meet this fine young man?”

  The way they met will forever be a point of embarrassment. Katja wondered if other couples had to lie about their first encounters. Micah came to her rescue. “We met outside a restaurant in Dresden. I thought she was someone else at first, but I’m glad for the mistake now; otherwise, we wouldn’t have had a reason to talk.”

  It was a cleaned-up version, but it wasn’t untrue.

  “Lovely,” her mother said.

  Sibylle disappeared into the living area, where she turned on the TV. Katja sipped her tea, working up the courage to ask her mother the question that had forever been burning on her heart. “Mama, I was wondering… Why did Dad leave?”

  “He’ll be back soon. He’s just dating Jack Daniels.” It was meant to be a joke, but she didn’t smile.

  “No,” Katja clarified. “I mean my father. Why did he leave us?”

  “Oh.” Gisela drew back and wrung her hands in her lap. Katja thought for a moment that she wouldn’t answer, but then she mumbled. “I know I told you he left us. It was because I was angry. He worked at a mill near here, and even though it didn’t pay well, I was happy enough with that. Between the two of us, we got by. But then he heard about the fishing job with big promises of large wages. I begged him not to quit his job and leave us, but he wouldn’t listen. He promised to send me money— lots of money, he said—but instead, I never heard from him for months. On my wage alone, it wasn’t enough to take care of us.”

  Gisela wiped her eyes. “A year later, I got a telegram saying he fell off the boat. I never saw one dime of any money he supposedly made.”

  Katja felt tears burn at the back of her eyes. “He fell off the boat? You mean he died?”

  Gisela’s eyes drooped. “I should’ve told you, I know. But I thought that thinking he was gone would be easier for you than knowing he was dead.”

  Katja sat back stunned. She supposed that deep down she knew something terrible had happened to her father. She’d believed he’d loved her and wouldn’t have stayed away so long if he were alive and of sound mind somewhere.

  But hearing the truth so starkly like that pierced her heart. Sorrow weighed heavily for the things both she and her mother had lost by her father’s poor decision.

  Oh, Papa. At least when she thought he was alive, there was hope they might meet up again. Now that hope was shattered and her heart along with it. She let her hair fall in front of her face to hide the grief that pinched so deeply. But knowing that her father hadn’t abandoned them, that he meant to do them well, brought some relief. Maybe now she could forgive him for not being there for her, for forcing her mother to depend on Horst.

  Katja reached up under her sheath of hair to press back the tears. She felt the warmth of Micah’s palm on her leg under the table. Gisela reached across the table for her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  Katja didn’t know how to respond to her mother. It wasn’t okay that she’d lied to her all these years. But, her mother wasn’t strong, and she had done what she thought was best at the time.

  Katja knew she needed to mourn this new loss, but now wasn’t the right time. She breathed deeply and pushed her hair off her face. She mustered a soft, “It’s okay.” Then she dug her phone out of her bag, surreptitiously checked the time under the table and glanced at Micah. She wanted to leave.

  “I have a phone now,” she said to her mother. She took a pen and paper out of her purse and jotted down her number. “If you or Sibylle need anything, just call.”

  Katja sipped the last of her tea. Micah had been right about her coming back to check in. Her mother and sister didn’t look great, but they were okay. And the fact that she had calmed her mother’s worries made the effort worthwhile.

  She was about to tell her mother they were leaving when the door opened and a low baritone voice she knew well slurred, “What the…?”

  Horst stumbled into the room, and everyone automatically stiffened. Katja stood and Micah followed her lead.

  “We were just leaving,” she said.

  Horst narrowed his puffy, bloodshot eyes. “Katja? Is that you?”

  He lumbered his heavy form toward her and Katja’s eyes widened with disbelief. He was actually going to try to embrace her? She stepped back, with palms up.

  Horst’s face twisted with offense. “What? You ungrateful sow! After everything I did for you, you can’t even give your father a hug?”

  “You’re not my father,” Katja said stiffly. “Never was, never will be.”

  He moved to grab her—Katja wasn’t sure what he planned to do—but Micah stepped in between them. “Calm down,” he said. He stood tall with straight shoulders and a stern glare. His fists curled near his abdomen.

  “Or what?” Horst said incredulously. “You come into my home and think you’re some big hot shot?”

  Horst took a lazy swing, and Micah swiftly and expertly twisted his arm behind his back. Horst cried out in pain. Micah spoke clearly in his ear. “I’m leaving now with Katja. You make one wrong move and you’re on the floor, do you understand?” He wrenched Horst’s arm again, causing another yelp.

  “And if you even think about touching your daughter in an inappropriate way or hurting your wife, I will send you a legion of trouble. You’ll be locked up so long you’ll never again see the light of day. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, yes,” Horst huffed.

  Micah pushed him to the sofa where he collapsed. Katja quickly hugged her mother and sister, and whispered urgently into Sibylle’s ear. “Mama has my
phone number. Call me if you need me, okay?”

  Sibylle’s lips trembled but she nodded.

  Katja hated leaving her mother and Sibylle behind, aware of how ironic it was considering she hadn’t wanted to come to see them in the first place.

  Besides fear and regret, her heart burned with another strong emotion: anger. And oddly it wasn’t directed at Horst. She was mad at Micah.

  Tension filled the Audi like foam peanut packaging in a parcel marked “fragile.” Micah’s white knuckles wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed and trained on the road ahead. Katja stared out the passenger window, her arms folded over her chest and a thick lump forming in her throat.

  “Are you okay?” Micah finally asked.

  Katja bit her lip and shook her head once. No, she wasn’t okay.

  “I think things went well, though, hey? Until that jerk showed up.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  Micah’s eyes cut to Katja’s stiff form. “Done what? Take down a bully?”

  She turned sharply. “You don’t get it, do you? You just made things infinitely worse.”

  “What? How?”

  “You humiliated him in front of his wife and daughter. He’s only going to get meaner now, to reinstate his status of patriarch.”

  Micah shook his head. “No. He understands that I’d bring the law down on his head if he did anything.”

  “The law doesn’t care about people like my family.” Katja pinched back tears. “Women get beaten in their own homes all the time in my world. Girls get raped, and nothing ever happens to stop it. It’s not like in your world where money talks and you can manipulate those less powerful than you with a simple threat.”

  Your world. My world. Katja held in a sob. Micah didn’t get it. He didn’t get her.

  Silence filled the space, and an invisible force pushed them further apart. Katja lowered her window, suddenly needing fresh air. The world blurred by as the Audi picked up speed. Katja glanced at the speedometer: a hundred and eighty kilometers an hour.