of those looking for peace. I did not
offer up a prayer of my own. I didn’t
need to; they were all being answered.
A short drive away from the
monastery, we stopped for lunch in
another
small
town
called
Oberammergau. Shepard explained that
the town was famous for performing the
Passion Play, based on the life and death
of Jesus. They made a promise to God in
the 1600s, that if spared from the
suffering of the plague, they would fulfill
a promise to perform the play every ten
years.
“They still do it?” My eyes grew
large as we walked through the idyllic
town, full of shops with wooden
carvings and sculptures. A Christmas
themed shop caught all of my senses
with a strong cinnamon scent wafting
outward, cuckoo clocks chiming, and
delicate ornaments hanging from heavily
decorated faux pines. Touching several
pieces tenderly, my heart dropped at
never having a tree – not even lights.
That time of year stopped being special
long ago. I cradled a small wooden
angel with both hands. She was simple
and had brown hair like mine, holding a
heart with the word hoffen inscribed
upon it.
“Do you know what that means,
Violet?” His finger traced along the tiny
words.
Shaking my head “no”, I waited for
his response.
“It means hope.”
He gently took the angel out of my
hands and walked to the register where
the woman boxed it up tightly with white
tissue paper.
Sitting in the car on the final leg of
the trip, I pulled the angel out of the box
and gently unwrapped her. Laughing
lightly, I said, “I don’t even have a tree.”
“Well, now you have a reason to
get one.” He smiled brightly at me as I
continued to explore the handcrafted
ornament.
A few hours later, we arrived in the
waterside town of Lindau, which was
near the border of Switzerland on the
Lake of Constance. My aunt chose to
live there after meeting her husband
Joachim nearly twenty years earlier. The
GPS system made it simple to navigate
and made me wonder how I ever
traveled without one.
As we arrived at the chalet
structured home, they both greeted us
warmly outside. She startled Shepard by
pulling him into a hug as well. Joachim
chuckled at the expression on his face
when she let him go. They led us into the
spacious home and to the guest room on
the upper level of the house. She began
to lead Shepard down the hall to a futon,
but I said that wasn’t necessary. Eyeing
us strangely, she gave a knowing smile
before closing the door.
“How do you know I don’t like
futons?” He was already removing his
shoes and belt while asking the question.
“You are free to sleep there tonight;
I was just being nice.”
Wrapping his arms around my
shoulders, he gave me a quick peck on
the cheek. “Well, aren’t you sweet.”
I knew he was being sarcastic. I
wanted more of the playful Shepard. I
smacked my rear and blew a kiss. “Like
sugar, watch out so you don’t get a
cavity.”
He must have been in a very playful
mood, because I was not prepared to be
tackled and slammed on the ground,
being tickled so hard I wanted to piss in
my pants. When I screamed loudly, my
aunt came to the door in a panic.
Realizing we were just messing around,
she closed the door again, leaving me at
his mercy. Once again, he pinned me to
the ground, but I didn’t fight this time.
My chest was heaving heavily
beneath him, remaining still until he
decided to free me. He wanted to see if I
would submit – trust him not to hurt me. I
was not afraid like before; a different set
of emotions were running wild within
me. He was breaking my resolve.
One more day, Violet, just one
more day…
He leaned down with his lips
hovering over mine, so close I could
almost taste him. I wanted to taste him;
all I had to do was lift my head a
fraction of a centimeter. Twisting his
hips to grind ever so slightly between
my legs forced a moan from deep in my
throat. My body deceived me and arched
back into him. Every fiber in my being
started to hum with desire, engaged in a
new battle, not with him but with myself.
His mouth moved and lightly grazed the
soft skin above my collar bone, the soft
whiskers brushing along my cheek. His
tongue dipped into the hollow beneath
my throat, causing me to shudder and
whine softly.
“Tell me to stop, Violet, and I
will.” His husky voice was low and
quiet, barely a whisper in my ear.
I could hear myself cracking as his
name came out. “Shepard.” Stopping to
look down at me, wild and full of
passion, he began to retreat when he saw
my face, almost looking ashamed.
“Please stop.”
His hands released me and he
rolled to the side flat on his back,
breathing out deeply. He was hitting his
breaking point, too. I could see the
tendons in his neck and jaws tighten as
he clenched his teeth, staring at the
ceiling. I had to diffuse him, and I only
knew one way how. “Shepard, wait.” I
was asking him to do something that was
killing me. Threading my fingers through
his chocolate hued hair, I crashed my
lips down over his and inhaled hard,
stealing the breath from his lungs.
It’s just a kiss, just one kiss. I can
give him this, it won’t ruin anything.
I was terrible at lying to myself. I
was sinking quickly and I knew it. Just
as his tongue set out to devour every part
of me, a quiet knock came at the door.
Her voice was soft, as if she knew
what was transpiring behind the closed
doors. “Violet, it’s time to eat.”
Despite
Shepard’s
obvious
irritation at the interruption, her timing
couldn’t have been more perfect. “We’ll
be right down!” I smiled at the frustrated
man trapped between my thighs and
shrugged my shoulders. Leaning down
gently, I placed a soft kiss on his lips,
coaxing him out of his suddenly bad
mood. “It’s not that I don’t want to; I just
can’t. I won’t be able to survive another
heartbreak…what’s
left
is
barely
holding together.”
Moving off to the side, I knelt one
last time to kiss him deeply. His hand
reached up and caressed the side of my
face in understanding. This would have
to be enough for now.
He rolled over and reached out his
arm for me to pull him off the floor.
Once standing, he laced his fingers
through mine and brought my hand to his
lips. I turned his hand to kiss the palm
and held it to my chest. “I’m trying to
listen, okay?”
He nodded his head and opened the
door to walk behind me. Once
downstairs, my aunt and uncle both
smiled deliberately, yet didn’t say a
word about it. Instead, they proceeded to
grill Shepard about what he did, how we
knew each other, and his favorite soccer
team. They had prepared small dishes
full of ingredients to cook in a small
oven-like device with little cast iron
trays.
“What is this?” I held the trays
curiously and likened it to a child’s play
oven.
Hannalore started to load a tray
with small finger potatoes, peppers and
a slice of cheese, and then placed it into
one of the slots as a demonstration.
“It’s called raclette; it’s Swiss.
You put the food onto here and cook for,
I dunno, three, four minutes. It cooks
fast.” Her English always impressed me
for being her second language. She
explained that most German children
learn English in school, yet in some
areas, it is not as important. Talking to
me gave her the chance to use it more. I
could tell Shepard was confused as he
listened to them conversing. Finally, it
must have bothered him enough to
address it.
“Wait, you’re German? How is she
your aunt? I mean, you look dead on like
each other, but I don’t understand,
though.” As he looked back between us
both, Hannalore turned towards me.
“You didn’t tell him?”
It honestly had slipped my mind; I
didn’t really think about it. It was a huge
deal for me to be here, but sharing it
with Shepard was an afterthought.
Shaking my head back and forth, I picked
up my wine glass and took a sip before
starting.
“My grandfather was stationed here
right after World War II. They told the
soldiers not to embark on relationships
with the German women, because they
would not acknowledge their children.
They were occupational children. My
grandpa found out later that his German
girlfriend was pregnant after he received
orders to return home, but she gave
Hannalore up for adoption. When he did
find out, he had already met and married
my grandmother. They petitioned the
German government and were granted
custody. By then she was already four
years old. They didn’t warn the adoptive
mother that they were coming to get her;
they just showed up. The woman had a
heart attack, and my grandmother refused
to take her. My grandpa was furious, but
this was her home. These people had
raised her from the day she was born,
and in a moment, she would have been
gone. My grandma didn’t want to leave
her, but she felt it was the right thing to
do. Unfortunately, she didn’t know she
was adopted until she was fourteen. It
was only ten years ago she found her
father, and now he’s gone.”
My aunt had started to tear up and
held my hand as I told Shepard the story.
While she dabbed her eyes, she looked
to him and grinned widely.
“And Violet is the first to come
here to see me. She sends me pictures
and calls me on the phone; it is nice. I go
to America many times, but no one
comes here. I am very happy right now.”
I cannot help but hold her as we
weep into each other’s arms. This
brilliant woman who I was a nearly
identical to had lived an entire life time
as a stranger. I couldn’t imagine
knowing what it was like to never know
who you were. My presence gave her
something over fifty years of longing
could not replace.
My eyes caught sight of the long
curly hazel branch suspended above the
dining room table. I noticed she had
small ornaments hanging off of it with
fishing line. I turned to Shepard who
immediately knew what I was thinking
and nodded in approval. Running up to
the room, I pulled the small white box
from the suitcase and came back down.
“It’s from both of us.” I winked at
Shepard and watched her gingerly open
the package. Unfolding the tissue paper
to reveal the fragile wooden angel, she
brought her hand to her mouth and held it
up for Joachim to see it. She smiled as
she hung the ornament from the branch
and leaned over to hug each of us.
Shepard kissed the top of my head
and excused himself to sleep, knowing
that my aunt and I would be awake for
many more hours, catching up before we
had to leave the next day. Once I was
sure that he was fast asleep, I settled into
a chair by the small fireplace with stacks
of photo albums and a few bottles of
wine.
After pulling the cork from the
second bottle, she set her glass down
and looked me square in the eyes. It was
eerily like looking into a trick mirror at
a carnival. Her head cocked to one side,
idly flipping through the albums with me.
“Now what is it that we need to