Free Heart of Lies by M. L. Malcolm Page A

dancing around her face, green eyes trapping the sunlight like a pair of emeralds.
    Occasionally she would smile at him, a frank, matter-of-fact invitation to friendship, but Harry could only blush and look away. He was too shy and too in love to just start talking.
    Then Harry realized that this enchanting princess, whose visage floated through his bittersweet daydreams as he played lovesick tunes on his violin, was none other than Bernice Levy’s younger sister. Bernice, unlike Martha, was eminently approachable. She was not an intimidating beauty, and she was a fellow engineering student. He could certainly talk to Bernice. He would just have to work up the courage to talk to Bernice about Martha.
    He rehearsed his speech for weeks. On a bright April morning, he caught up with Bernice after a lecture and asked her if she would like to go with him for a hike in the foothills now that the weather had warmed up. He would bring a picnic. She could bring her sister.
    Bernice was not really offended. It was, after all, a predictable and sensible strategy. Bernice had long ago accepted the fact that Martha was the pretty one, and she was too busy with her engineering studies to devote any time to romance. But David Levy was exceedingly protective of his pretty, high-spirited younger daughter, and Bernice knew better than to acquiesce in Harry’s plot without her father’s permission.
    “Harry Jacobson,” she said in a stern voice, “my little sister is only seventeen. If you would like to court her, you had best ask my father, not connive with me.” She had to squelch the urge to laugh as a look of utter mortification filled Harry’s soft brown eyes. Harry would make an excellent engineer, but Bernice suspected he would never be very good at wooing women.
    “I couldn’t. I didn’t mean—”
    “Of course you did. You’re not the first. But it’s a dead-end.”
    The wretchedness smothering Harry’s features made Bernice take pity on him. He was so earnest. And decent looking, too: trim but not a weakling. Nice height, with wiry brown hair and an intelligent, warm look to his eyes. Martha would start dating eventually. They couldn’t keep the floodgates closed forever. Harry might be a good choice. She thought it over for a moment while Harry stammered more apologies.
    “Oh, stop. I’ll help you. Come to my house for dinner next Thursday night. Afterward, we can study for our physics test together. It will give my father a chance to look you over, and give you a chance to meet Martha.” Dazed with joy, Harry pumped Bernice’s hand until her shoulder shook. She tolerated this for a moment, then sent him off with, “Get out of here before I change my mind. I’m already late for my next class.”
    So began the special friendship of Martha and Harry, under the watchful but eventually trusting eye of Professor Levy. Five months later Bernice was away at graduate school in Graz, Austria; Harry was beginning his last year at the university; and Martha, who was by then eighteen, had enrolled for her first semester in college.
    She had always been a reasonably good student, but studies at the university required a drive for a particular discipline. To her family’s dismay, Martha did not feel driven. She did her best, trying to keep up with her work, but fell behind as soon as she was tempted by any sort of distraction.
    And Schwabing provided all sorts of distractions. Luckily, she experienced most of them under Harry’s careful protection. He never pressured her; never expected anything more than a hug and a swift good-night kiss. Martha felt completely safe with him. Not having amother to talk to, and not feeling close enough to Bernice to discuss anything more personal than a grocery list, she was left with a vague sense that there must be something more to romance than the shared joy of an evening in a literary cabaret, something more intense than the pleasant contentment she felt when she saw Harry’s face