Charades (28 page)

     “Why not?”

     “I realized it would complicate the picture. You were already so angry at me for telling Jacob about you, I didn’t want you to avoid me any more than you already did.”

     “Why did you tell Jacob? I never understood that.”

     “It just slipped out when he had the nerve to criticize Juliette at her funeral. By the way, where did Mr. High and Mighty go?”

     “He left. I guess in the end I just disappointed him again.” His mouth drooped in a wry smile.

     “Let’s not talk about that old grouch. Tell me more about the proposed wedding.”

     “We want you and Anton to be the best man and matron of honor, or is it maid of honor since you’re not married at the present? We’re not sure who’s going to marry us yet. Do you have any thoughts on it?”

     “Me? Good Lord, no! You could get married by a Buddhist monk for all I care. When is the happy event?”

     Wulf grinned. “As soon as I can stand up for a little longer than a few minutes at a time and maybe walk around some.” He eyed Hazel carefully. “You did me a big favor there, didn’t you?”

     “Yes,” she said, grinning at him. “You needed each other. You were wild as a March hare, and she wouldn’t come out of her shell.” Hazel’s grin faded, and she looked at him anxiously.

     Wulf shook his head. “Frankly, I can’t decide whether to kiss you or kill you.”

     “You and Anton are remarkably alike in that regard,” Hazel said, giving him an acerbic look. “So you forgive me?”

     Wulf held out his hand. “I guess I have to, mother. You’ve made my life worth living.”

     “Thank you.” Hazel said, her eyes suspiciously wet. She took his hand, and Wulf drew her close to the bed.

     He reached up, pulled her face down, and planted a kiss on both of her cheeks. When he drew back, he saw the joy and wonder mixed on her face. The silent tears in her eyes made him feel suddenly humble.

     “You’ve made me very happy,” Hazel whispered to him. “I know I never deserved you but Juliette did.”

     “I understand, Hazel. It’s all right.”

     She nodded, swiping at her tears. “At least I got pregnant by the best man I could find. You can’t beat Anton for a great gene pool. He’s over seventy, and he hardly looks a day over fifty. Without surgery, too!”

     Wulf couldn’t keep the laughter from bubbling up. “Thanks. I’m obviously the product of a very selective breeding program.”

     “Humph! I just thank God, yes, God—don’t laugh at me, you miserable creature you—that I’ve gotten a chance to be a part of your life finally. I missed out on so much. I’m sorry, Wulf,” she whispered, “truly sorry.”

     “Don’t be sorry. You gave me a great mother. Even Jacob was okay in his way. He’s honest and ethical, more than I can say about myself sometimes. On top of everything, you gave me Mercy.”

     “I did the best I could with what I had,” she said, her lower lip trembling.

     He nodded. “I know. Would you send Anton in now? I’d like to talk with him.”

     “I’ll send him right in.”

     Visualizing Anton and Hazel about thirty years ago wasn’t hard; Anton with his dark good looks—and Hazel with her natural beauty. She could’ve been easily swept up by the glamour of the espionage business and someone as powerful and forceful as Anton. They must have been quite a pair.

     The door opened and Anton came into the room.

     “Well, Anton, shall I call you
Vater
?” Wulf asked.

     Anton let out a breath. “So, she told you. I figured it out myself the day I gave you blood here at the hospital.”

     Wulf nodded. “It’s good to know you’re available for a transfusion if I ever need it again.”

     Anton sat down and looked intently at Wulf. “I don’t know how you feel, but I want to say right here and now that I’m damn proud you’re my son. I just wish I’d known sooner.” He shrugged. “Not that it would’ve changed much, I guess.”

     “I can’t complain.” Wulf nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat.

     They were both silent as they studied each other.

     “Do you have any problem with Mercy and I getting married?”

     “No. Why should I? After seeing how she’s coped with all that’s happened, she seems strong enough to put you in your place when you need it. Don’t plan on a long honeymoon, though. You’ve had all the free time I’m going to give you. We still have that joint venture with Reveille Oil in Ecuador. If you’re well enough to get married, damn it, you’re well enough to go to Ecuador.”

     “That’s not much time with my future bride.”

     “Take her with you if you have to, but get that project up and running before we start losing money.”

     Wulf laughed. Anton being Anton was always good for him. As usual, he was also good for a little advice. “I’ve told Mercy so many lies. I wonder sometimes if she’ll ever believe me about anything after all this.”

     “Hmmph! I wouldn’t if I was her, not unless you put it in writing and have it notarized.”

     Wulf laughed again, his humor fully restored.

     “As soon as I can, I’m going to change my name from Rheinhart to Steiger.” Wulf swallowed a lump in his throat.

     Anton nodded. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”

     “Now that we’ve covered that, I need a best man. Think you can manage that, too?”

     Coughing and clearing his throat, Anton said, “I think I could make room on my calendar.” He stood up and went over to Wulf, holding out his hand.

     Wulf reached up and clasped Anton’s hand in both of his. For both of them the feelings were still too new, too raw. It would take time to explore what it meant to be father and son.

     “I’m glad you’ve still got a few good years in you,” Wulf teased. “We’ll make Steiger a name to be proud of.”

     Anton coughed. “I’ll send Mercy in now.”

     “Yes, do that,” Wulf agreed. He felt the fatigue of the day rapidly overtaking him.

     “You look positively gray,” Mercy exclaimed when she saw him. “You need to get some rest.” She reached for his pillow. “
Soeur
Bernadette will have your head on a silver platter if you don’t watch yourself. I’ll come back later, okay?”

     “No! Wait a minute.” Wulf didn’t want her to leave, even if he fell asleep at her feet. She took his outstretched hand and moved closer, gathering him to her bosom, almost as though he were a child. He nuzzled her breasts, rubbing the nipples with his nose as they rose into peaks.

     He looked up at her. “How about getting married in the chapel downstairs. Is the end of the week all right with you?”

     “I don’t want to discuss this until you’re well enough.”

     “What’s there to discuss? You love me. I love you. The four children are negotiable.”

     Her stunned look dissolved into bubbling laughter. “You never stop, do you?”

     “Why should I? Look what it’s gotten me so far.”

     She shook her head, smiling. “Let me start with the obvious, then. Number one, you’re cultured, polished, and sophisticated. I’m not. That could be a problem for you because of your position. What if I embarrass you?”

     “I don’t expect my wife to be as sophisticated as some of the people I hang around with. They bore me. Beautiful and intelligent is good enough for me. Naive helps, too. You wouldn’t have had a thing to do with me if you hadn’t been so naive.”

     Mercy rolled her eyes. “Okay. Number two, you’re Jewish, I’m Catholic, two more incompatible religions you couldn’t find, unless it’s Jewish and Muslim. If we had children, what religion would we raise them?”

     “I have an answer to that,” he said. “We’ll go to both services until we settle on one or the other for our children. One of those religions should strike at the core of our joint beliefs. And if it doesn’t, we’ll find a religion that does. Or, how about this? We’ll raise the boys Jewish and the girls Catholic.”

     “You’re glib when you want something, aren’t you?”

     “Damn right, and I want you.”

     “Which brings me to number three. What about your tendency to lie to me? There have been so many times that you’ve told me lies or half-truths. I can’t help taking everything you say now with a grain of salt.”

     Wulf grimaced. “Anton thinks you ought to make me put everything in writing and have it notarized before believing me.”

     Mercy laughed.

     “I can only justify myself by saying that I felt I had to lie at the time,” Wulf said. “I was afraid you’d run from me if I told you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Remember that time you left me in the cabin?”

     It was Mercy’s turn to grimace now. “I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve stayed and had it out with you right then and there. In fact, I think the reason you get away with so much is because no one calls you to account fast enough.”

     He shrugged. She saw him much clearer than he thought. “I swear to tell the truth at all times, except, of course, for those times when it might put you, me, or our children in danger. I remember what you did to the man in that restaurant and to Ramon.”

     “Wulf! We don’t even have children yet and already you’re making excuses for future behavior.”

     “I know. I didn’t say I’d be perfect all the time, did I? Will you still marry me?”

     She cupped his face in her hands, a grin on her face. Wulf started to pull her to him.

     “Not so fast,” she said. “Number four. What about the number of children? You said once that you wanted four, but I still think two would be better. What’s it going to be? How do we resolve that question?”

     “I’d say that’s out of our hands, wouldn’t you? However, I’ll settle for three. How does that sound to you?”

     “It sounds as though you’re a good negotiator,” Mercy huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

     “What’s your next objection? Come on, I’m ready for anything now.”

     “I’ll just bet you are,” Mercy said, laughing. If he brought that same wit and determination to their marriage, she’d be in for a very interesting and insightful life. Maybe she ought to change her name from Mousy Mercy to Miraculous Mercy.

     “So, what’s it going to be? Are we getting married?”

     “Why, this is just so sudden!” Mercy said, fluttering her eyelashes and speaking in an exaggerated Southern accent.

     “Yes, I know. I’ve fairly swept you off your feet, haven’t I?” he acknowledged modestly.

     “I’m not sure if I should let you get away with this.”

     “You can’t help yourself. We Germans are very romantic. Did you know that?” Wulf couldn’t keep the grin off his face. God! He wanted to look at her face like this for the rest of his life, at the least until he fell asleep. He could barely keep his eyes open now.

     He nuzzled his head against her breasts. The exhaustion seeped deeper into his bones. He hated letting go of her, even for a moment.

     “Romantic?” Mercy laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly call your behavior romantic, rather like an avalanche sweeping over and burying me.”

     He chuckled. “I’m a very romantic avalanche, though, don’t you agree?”

     “Oh, yes, a very romantic avalanche.” Her smile lit small fires all over him. “You know,” she continued, not smiling now, “this isn’t the end of our discussion. We still have a lot of talking and arguing to do.”

     “Mercy, I…” he floundered, his ability to think complicated by his tiredness and the softness of her in his hands.

     “Oh, don’t worry that I’m going to change my mind about marrying you. You won’t be that lucky. I’m going to make your life a living hell, nagging you about all those idiotic lies you once told me.”

     “Which lies?” he asked, frowning.

     “Study, study, study? Work, work, work? Really! Anton told me the truth about you. How could you say such ridiculous things?” She laughed again and pulled his head up.

     “Well…” he temporized, his eyes flicking away from her gaze. She’d caught him in another falsehood, one he’d forgotten all about. “Would you believe me if I said all those women meant nothing to me, that I never came alive until I met you?”

     “Oh, you’ll say anything,” Mercy said, shaking her head. “Now that I know that about you, I’ll be more careful. Don’t expect me to be a pushover in the future. And now, my romantic avalanche, you are going to lie back in bed and go to sleep. I’ll stay and sit here, but you’re going to lay down if I have to hit you over the head.”

     “But…” he protested, when she pulled away from him and pointed to the bed. He started to reach for her again.

     “I’ll call
Soeur
Bernadette,” she threatened.

     “I surrender.” Wulf held up both hands. “Maybe I do feel just a little tired.” He stretched out on the bed, gazing lovingly at her for a few moments and then closed his eyes, thankful. Through his exhaustion crept a feeling of true peace. She hadn’t left him after all. God had answered his most heartfelt prayer. The charade had worked, in an odd sort of way.

     Wulf smiled as he drifted to sleep, an old Hebrew saying dancing in his brain:
People plan and God laughs.

     Ann Logan’s background includes working for Naval Investigative Services. Her experience with a bureaucratic organization stood her in good stead for her next five-year rite of passage as a clinical psychologist. It amazed her how many crazy people were at state mental hospitals besides the administration.

     Ann loves to travel, and her numerous trips to Europe, Great Britain and Mexico have given her more material than she will ever be able to use.

     In between writing, she runs a property management company she founded. Her husband of 30 plus years is a criminal defense attorney. They have two children and an ever-changing number of animals.