Free The Gathering Storm by Bodie Thoene, Brock Thoene Page A

across the German border to Kitzbuhl, Austria. The newsman also rode on the same train as we and in the same carriage, in case there was trouble from the authorities.
    His presence and our marriage certificate, combined with my American passport, made the crossing uncomplicated. From Austria, the plan was for Varrick to go on to Switzerland without me. We would meet again later. I would return to Berlin to start arranging papers for his family.
    The Nazi border guards who inspected our exit documents sneered at our youth and the fact that we were on a honeymoon.
    "Where are your skis?" laughed one fat fellow with a Hitler moustache as he flipped through our papers.
    His companion, a florid-faced civil servant, jibed, "They are not interested in the snow. They are only going to Austria to keep warm."
    I felt myself blush. Varrick held my hand tightly. He did not look them in the eye. I spotted Mr. Dean leaning forward, as if to spring into action if there was any trouble. Our identity folders were tossed back in Varrick s face, and I heard the guard mutter the word "Jude" as he left us.
    We entered Austria. Shane Dean, en route to Vienna, clasped our hands and wished us well as we disembarked. He warned Varrick: "Get out of Austria as soon as you can. The Anschluss is coming. Soon Austria won't be safe for you either, American wife or not."
    Hours later, we were riding in a sleigh on our way to Kitzbuhl. I could not look at Varrick's face. I felt like a child and he looked at me like a man—hungry and filled with desire. Our hotel room was grand, nicer than anywhere I had ever stayed before. The heavy furniture had marble tops. The room had mirrors on three walls: enormous, gilt-framed, glass panels reflecting not only whoever stood before them, but the entirety of the chamber, including the four-poster, canopied bed.
    "No, don't open it. Just leave it for now," I heard Varrick say.
    While Varrick tipped the bellhop for bringing up our bags, I wandered about the room, touching everything: table, chair, lamp, curtains, as ifrehearsing the reality of where I was... and how my life had irrevocably changed. I needed to prove this was not a dream, but I also wanted to remember it all. If I was to leave my love, my husband, my Varrick, so desperately, painfully soon, I wanted to carry with me an exact image of our first night together.
    When I glanced up from playing with a silver candy dish, I saw Varrick staring at me. On his face was a mixture of wonder and... something else. Something that frightened me and thrilled me, both at the same time.
    "The manager sent up a bottle of champagne," Varrick said, flourishing the dark green bottle. "Would you like some?"
    "My father doesn't approve," I said, then stopped at the absurdity of what I had said. I was a married woman; a woman grown, no matter if the calendar might assert otherwise. "Yes," I said with a toss of my head. "I think I would."
    Varrick struggled with the wire cage over the cork and then just as he succeeded in removing it, the cork shot out of the bottle and bounced off the mirror near my head. As Varrick ran to hold the gushing wine over a pair of glasses, we both laughed and laughed.
    It was a very good thing to laugh just then—a very good thing indeed.
    After passing me a glass of champagne, Varrick sat on the edge of the bed. He took a swallow, then patted the mattress for me to join him there.
    When I did so, he smiled at me, the same shy smile I had seen when I had first met him. "To you," he said, raising his glass.
    "To us," I replied, clinking the rims together. "To being together again soon, and to never being parted, ever again."
    Several quiet moments passed, with Varrick gulping the champagne and me sipping gingerly. I didn't really like the taste but would not tell him so. He started to say something several times, pausing as if searching for the right words.
    At last he said, "Do you, I mean, do you know...did your mother tell you—"
    "How a married