Free Love under contract by Karin Fromwald Page B

aback, probably because he looked nothing like what she imagined a rabbi’s son should.
    “Shocked?” he asked and had to smile. She couldn’t have been more disconcerted than he had been earlier. “That’s why you also speak Hebrew,” Zara murmured. Gregor smiled but said nothing. This girl had two faces and there it was again, this feeling, this pounding heart, when he looked into her serious green eyes. He didn’t have this strange feeling with Catherine, with any woman.
    “Your father must have been disappointed when you became a model,” Zara said finally, and tried to imagine him as a little Jewish boy, which she found difficult.
    “More than that, believe me.” Zara took the book from him, lightly touching his hand, and he flinched. “Or would you like to read it?” Gregor shook his head and grinned, “No, that’s not for me.”
    Zara stuffed her Notebook into her bag. “Antonio is cooking pasta – we should go.” She got up and looked down on Gregor, who remained seated and seemed to be lost in thought. “Don’t you want to eat?” Zara asked again. What was going on with him?
    Gregor thought about his parents who now lived in Jerusalem, and he always had a guilty conscience because he had the feeling that they would not approve of the life that he had chosen. They’d probably have contempt for it, as if all that he had done had been a failure, and everything he had achieved was nothing in their eyes. But a woman like Zara would certainly not understand that.
     
    The next day Zara avoided Gregor until late in the afternoon when the storm-warnings came and everyone began to prepare frenetically, except Catherine. Zara remembered the sailing-trip with Marc and panicked a little, but kept her feelings to herself. She only gave Marc a look -- he had also become a little pale, and was feverishly searching the nautical chart in an effort to locate the closest island, but found none.
    Catherine only noticed that bad weather was arriving as the boat was noticeably rocking and Zara handed her a life-jacket. “Why do I need this?” she asked, frightened. Zara laughed. “In case we drown!” “You have to have it,” Gregor interrupted and looked at Zara accusingly. She really mustn’t cause Catherine to panic.
    “What?” Catherine looked at Gregor, frightened. “Oh, her highness is exaggerating.” Zara laughed and shrugged her shoulders. She had changed her clothes in the meantime, and had Capri-pants and a T-shirt on, with her boat shoes and life-vest within reach nearby.
    Gregor took Catherine into the cabin and calmed her down. When he returned, Zara was standing in front of the radio equipment and had accessed some kind of weather station which gave her information regarding the direction the storm was taking. “That was really unnecessary. Catherine has never been sailing before and becomes easily frightened anyway,” he said reproachfully when Zara had ended her conversation. Zara laughed. “I have tranquilizers in the cabin, perhaps we should give her some. The Coast Guard has just told me that it’ll be pretty severe.” Gregor sighed. “That’s just great – I’ll never get her on another sailboat!” But he also had to laugh. “And you’re not afraid?” he asked Zara, who was looking at the turbulent sea and watched the black on-coming clouds.
    “Hey, I’m a descendent of warriors who were at the front of the brigade, leading it into war. And you?” Gregor looked at her. “My ancestors were cut down by such warriors, your ancestors, and I don’t see fear the way you do!” Zara pressed her lips together and said quickly: “They were Huguenots, not Jews!” Gregor laughed; she had an answer for everything.
    “But not only,” he added. Did he always have to have the last word? she asked herself. “You really don’t want to argue with me about the sins of my ancestors here and now, do you?” she asked. This little girl, who just about came up to his shoulder, really