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

man and his wife behave with each other?" I replied in the best grown-up, matter-of-fact voice I could muster. I still squeaked a little, and color rose in my cheeks. "Yes, of course. I bet I've known longer than you have." I instantly regretted saying that. This was not a school competition to prove which of us was smarter. "What I meant to say is, yes, my mother and father are very much in love. She explained to me what that means...in the way you mean it too."
    Varrick looked incredibly relieved. "I'm so glad! I mean, well, I had that talk with my father, but he kept saying how when I married you...oh, yes, I've always known this day would come! How when I married you, I must not be impatient. How I should not scare..."
    "Varrick," I said, setting the tulip-shaped glass on the night-stand. "Stop talking and kiss me."
    He sighed happily, put his arms around me, and pulled me close. After that everything was just as it should be...perfect in every way.
     
     
    Three days into our planned honeymoon Shane Dean unexpectedly reappeared in Kitzbuhl. "The Anschluss is happening...now!" he said. "The borders are closed. Varrick needs to get out immediately. I'll set it up for tomorrow morning."
    Suddenly our time together was shattered. We said our most intimate, personal good-byes long before the sun came up on departure morning. I promised myself I would not beg to stay with him. I would not make this separation any more difficult for my husband than he was already experiencing.
    When dawn came, I was not sleeping, but I could not bring myself to wake him. My arms wrapped around him, hugging him fiercely. I committed to memory every bit of him in the way I had sought to record the room.
    All too soon it was time to rise, dress, and pack. We would not leave one moment earlier than necessary. Still, the time flew by, despite every angry glare I gave the clock.
    As if there were no Nazis, no possible pursuers, no danger to our families, we acted like the final act of his escape from Berlin was the beginning of a cruise to the South Seas. Varrick adopted a different air than I had seen in him before. He appeared ready and able to do battle with any threat. In between moments of looking fierce he stared at me, drinking me in and embracing me with his gaze.
    I also had a part to play. I made certain luggage tags were securely attached. I contrived for every mission to carry me past Varrick near enough to touch him.
    I touched the curl of hair on the back of his neck. When I adjusted the angle of the fedora he wore, I stroked his forehead. When nothing else suggested itself, I plucked imaginary lint from his sleeve, then let my fingers rest on his hand. "I love you," I whispered.
    "I love you, and...I cherish you," he returned.
    The porter came, and we silently followed our luggage to the lobby. My throat, already constricted with emotion, contrived to tighten even further at that. We uttered hopeful little glimpses of what our future life would be like.
    "We'll have a place of our own," he said.
    "You can finish school," I offered.
    "We'll raise our own vegetables on—how do the Americans say it?—a bit of garden.'"
    "Flowers," I insisted. "Flowers too."
    All too soon Shane Dean arrived to assist Varrick in crossing the mountain to safety. There were others assembled who would pass into Switzerland today. Varrick stroked my cheek in one final embrace. "I'll see you soon," he promised.
    I could not speak. I did love him, I discovered. I nodded. "Soon."
     
     
     
    The next time I ever saw Eben Golah was on the eve of great terror and tragedy. It was late afternoon on the ninth of November, 1938. Mama was in the kitchen, so when Eben Golah came to our home, I answered his knock. He asked to speak with my father, alone. I ushered him into Papa's study, but I left the door slightly ajar after presenting him.
    Such was the air of mystery around the man I could not help listening in the hallway outside.
    What I overheard made me