Child of the Light (23 page)

"She won't let you in this time," Sol said, "not covered in dirt and blood."

Erich looked down at his chest and arms, flexed his muscles, and lifted his blood-smeared face in a statuesque pose. "I guess some water wouldn't hurt," he said reluctantly. "Their dogs will go nuts if we try to get in while I'm painted up like this."

"Guard
dogs?"

"Don't worry, I'll take care of them."
Better than I took care of Grace,
he told himself angrily.

The boys were almost upon the estate when they spotted a pump. They took turns at the handle, using Erich's shirt as a washcloth.

"Did you scrub behind your ears, Solomon?" Erich said in a maternal falsetto, stuffing the shirt under a hedge. "No sense keeping this. Let's go."

The Rathenau house was constructed of limestone and surrounded by a tall stone wall. Square turrets latticed with ivied trellises were surmounted by mock parapets scalloped with friezes. Ornate cornices shadowed many of the narrow leaded windows, and moonlight glinted off the circular stained glass set above the front portico. A golden flagpole rose over the roof.

"That's Miriam's room." Erich stuck his arm through the side gate's iron grating and pointed toward the far turret. There, beyond a trellised balcony, white curtains draped French windows.

"You're something, Erich! You wouldn't walk in Rathenau's honor, yet you have the nerve to come here."

"Why should I care about her uncle? I didn't even like him."

"You didn't even know him."

"What difference does it make!" Erich took hold of the grate and peered through as if between the bars of a cell. "Tonight's the night, Fraülein Rathenau."

"Not while I--"

"Relax! I just meant I'm going to promise to take her to Luna Park."

There was loud barking and growling as two sleek shadows raced across the grounds and lunged at the gate.

"Down, Princess." Erich kept his voice silky as the Doberman and the Russian wolfhound snapped and snarled and thrust their muzzles between the bars. "Down, Piccadilly."

"Piccadilly?" Sol's tone was a mix of terror and disbelief.

"Something to do with your pal the Rat's hatred of England." Erich knew his disrespect would aggravate Solomon. "There's a circus or something over there by that name." He reached out and, closing his eyes and tensing, let his hand slowly descend between the bars. "Easy girls."

The dogs quieted and Erich stroked the terrible heads, wishing with all his heart he were petting a living, breathing Grace. "We can go in now." He wondered how long it would take for him to stop feeling queasy about what had happened at the camp.

"You're sure?"

"Course I'm sure." He was already climbing the gate.

"I could wait here for you--"

"Please,
Solomon."

Looking forlorn, Solomon began to climb. He crossed the iron spearheads that rose from the gate top and dropped to the turf at Erich's urging. The dogs circled and sniffed him.

"Lead on, Princess," Erich whispered. "Let's go."

Together, he and the dogs raced across the lawn toward the west-end turret. He started up the ivy and rose-laced trellis. "We go hand-over-hand along the eave, then drop to her balcony," he said to Solomon. "It's not much of a drop. If you stretch, you'll be able to touch the balcony rail with your toes."

"How do we get back down?"

"With difficulty. Or else sneak through the house."

"You're insane."

"So is the world--or that's what my dear papa keeps telling me." Erich dropped quietly as he could onto the balcony's hexagonal tiles.

"I'll stay here," Sol said from the terrace. "Who's in the house besides Miriam?"

"Her grandmother." Erich squatted beside the French doors and tried to peer in through the curtains, which were too sheer to block the view completely. "Some other relatives, too. I don't know who. They were there when I was here before. I think they came in from all over Europe after the Rat kicked it."

"He was
assassinated.
And please don't call him that!"

"I keep telling you--dead is dead! Anyhow, there's also a whole platoon of maids and valets and gardeners."

He rapped lightly on the door. The sound seemed to shimmer in the air like something tangible.

"I'm going back!" Sol said.

"Stay...please!" Heart pounding in his ears, Erich pressed his face against the door's edge. A small night lamp stood on a vanity neatly arrayed with silver-handled brushes. Moonlight swam in the vanity mirror. He could see the corner of a bed with a pink coverlet. He rapped on the door again, a little louder.

"Maybe they've gone away," Sol whispered.

Erich had about decided the same thing when a light blazed and Miriam emerged, looking as if she had thrown off the bedcovers in the middle of a dream. Her face shone like ivory, an effect intensified by the edging of cream-colored lace around the neck and sleeves of her peignoir and by the tumble of long dark hair that framed her face and shoulders. He caught sight of the silhouette of her breasts.

If only he were older...richer...taller--

If only he were Jewish.

Frightened by the intensity of his feelings, he twisted his head to look for Sol. The action sent him off-balance, and he grabbed the balcony rail.

"Something wrong?" Sol asked. "Another seizure?"

Erich twisted his head around to answer, but Sol shook his head and held a finger to his lips. Then he ducked behind the corner and Erich turned back to see Miriam staring at him through the glass door.

"Who's there?" Miriam called out, more curious than afraid.

She pulled on a pink robe, framed along the collar and cuffs with vanilla fur, and walked toward the balcony door. With the light on in the room, she could barely make out a dark shape outside the door; she could see a circle of moisture where his nose, or perhaps his mouth, had been pressed up against the glass.

Quickly she doubled back and switched off the light she had turned on when the rapping at her door had wakened her.

"Erich?"

She stifled her laughter for fear of hurting his feelings. Before going to bed she had drawn aside the thin, gauze curtain that usually covered the door and separated her from the moonlight. Oma called it a privacy curtain and insisted it should be kept drawn, which had always seemed ludicrous to Miriam. Her room was, after all, not in the middle of a traffic pattern. Every now and then her fantasies included a handsome beau climbing the trellis to her balcony, a Scarlet Pimpernel in a red velvet jacket, lace at his neck and a plumed hat set jauntily on his head--not this bare-chested hopeful Romeo-with-a-rucksack who stood out there now.

"What on earth are you doing here in the middle of the night!" She opened the door and looked past him, down at the trellis. "Where's Sol?"

Erich shrugged. "Not here."

Miriam frowned. There were little lies and big lies, and times when both were necessary. What she could not abide was a
wasted
lie. A pointless one. Someone else had been out there, and who else but Sol would consent to come out with Erich at this time of night?

Boldly, though awkwardly, Erich leaned toward her as though to kiss her on the lips. Miriam pushed him away. "You know you shouldn't be here. You especially shouldn't be here doing
that."

"You liked it at the shop."

"Maybe I did like it," she said honestly. "Just don't do it."
 
She had liked it all right, but not enough to be the booty in a bet, which was probably what this was all about. Still, she had to admit she was enjoying the idea that Erich--and Sol--had braved the dogs and the trellis to get to her.

"How did you get past the dogs? I thought I heard them barking. And why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

"I can handle dogs." Erich took a step backward and looked over the rail as if to see the animals below.

"You're lucky they didn't attack you! Well, now that you're here and in one piece, you want to tell me why?"

Erich grinned, and she felt foolish. Talk about giving someone a--what did they call it in America?--a straight line.

"Brought you a present," Erich said.

"My birthday's not till the end of September."

"It's an un-birthday present."

Removing the rucksack from his shoulders, he reached inside and took out a tiny puppy. He held it by the nape of the neck, its legs dangling.

A stuffed dog--from Erich? She might have expected that from Sol, but not Erich. A snake, an alligator, a live dog maybe, but not---
 
She reached for it.

"Here!" she said. "No! Take it away!"

At the point of tears, she thrust it back at him.
 
This was no stuffed dog; it was living, breathing. Like Susie--

"What's the matter? I haven't done anything wrong."

"I'm sorry," Miriam whispered. "It's just that my parents were taking my English sheep dog to the veterinarian when they were--" She took a sharp breath. "Well, you know."

But he did not know, she was aware. Not about the fire or her fears. How could she explain to this too-young boy that she wanted a dog more than anything else in the world, yet was terrified that owning one would cause her to lose someone she loved?

Erich kissed the puppy on the nose.
"Her
mother's dead, too. T-take her...go on. Please." A sense of worried begging shone in Erich's eyes.

A rustling from the trellis provided Miriam with the distraction she needed. She stepped toward it and was about to say something more about Sol when the guard dogs growled.

"They're just jealous," Erich said, too quickly. He waved a hand near the trellis as if shooing away a fly.

Signaling his friend, Miriam thought. Hope the dogs don't tear Sol apart. "Those dogs
are
jealous." She decided not to mention Sol again. Sooner or later, she would find out what was going on.

"She needs to be fed," Erich said.

"Who? Oh, you mean the puppy." Miriam reached out tentatively and stroked the dog; it was soft--and warm. "Look at your tiny paws." She wished she had the courage to hold it.

"She's going to be a beauty," Erich said. "I bet you and I love dogs more than anyone else in Berlin."

Miriam steeled her resolve. Carefully, as if the animal were made of eggshells, she took the dog from Erich. "You're right, I do love them, but--" Frustrated with herself, she sighed deeply. "I can't accept the gift, Erich. I just...can't."

"Sure you can."

"No!"

She handed the puppy back to him. He kissed it on the nose again and rewrapped it with the towel. She watched him place it in the corner of the balcony and did not retreat when he stepped forward and took her awkwardly in his arms. For a moment, not wanting to think about the puppy, she gave in to his boyish embrace, then pushed him away.

"Stop it. If anyone sees us--"

"No one will see."

She felt a mixture of agitation and pleasure as he put his arms around her again. "Please, Erich. Don't." He kissed her throat insistently. "This is stupid." She tried to ignore the warmth creeping through her. "We're asking for trouble."

She pulled roughly away and did her best to glare at him.

"I'm sorry." His bravado was gone and he sounded on the verge of tears.

He is just a boy on the edge of manhood, Miriam thought. And she did like him--a lot. Well, maybe she didn't
like
him all that much--he was too mixed up and too...Aryan. What she liked was the person he
could
become, if he discarded the arrogant set of his shoulders--if the slight hardness around his mouth when he was refused disappeared--

If! Ifs didn't count, she knew that. Like the "if" at work right now:
if
he didn't give her that warm feeling when he looked at her, when he touched her, she would have sent him away at once. In fact, she would have had nothing to do with him in the first place.

Relenting, though only slightly, she placed his arm around her shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. He was barely taller than she as she leaned into him. Barely taller, Gentile, too-young...but still,
if
--

She felt his arm tighten around her. Oh, hell! She stared up at the moon. What did it matter; she was not exactly going to marry him!

Turning to face Erich, she closed her eyes and let herself enjoy their first real kiss. Just one, she told herself, and then she would go back to bed.

The rose vines irritated Sol's cheek, and his forehead itched. The dogs panted, circled, whined, rose on hind legs to paw the ivy. Moonlight and silence veiled the balcony.

Around the corner from the balcony, he went further down the trellis. The wolfhound growled and the Doberman climbed onto the latticework in bright, angry anticipation. Sol cursed softly.

Above him, Miriam gave a small sigh.