Charades (24 page)

     Finally Sylvia rose. “Sleep well,
nieta
. I must go to bed myself now.”

     “
Señor
,” she said to Wulf, grasping his hand in hers, “I am very pleased that my granddaughter has chosen her
novio
so well. Please excuse me for the evening. It has been a very long day.” She nodded and left the room.

     Mario excused himself soon after. “I’m supposed to stay and chaperone you,” Mario said, winking at Mercy. “But, I think Wulf can be trusted. He’s done a good job so far.”

     “What the hell is all that winking at you about?” Wulf grumbled after Mario left.

     “Nothing,” Mercy assured him, smiling at his jealousy. Just looking at Wulf caused her blood to rush, her pulse to race, and her heart to pound. She not only loved him. She wanted him, too. Her face grew warm as she quickly looked away, trying to settle her thoughts.

     “Would you like to see the pictures of my family that my grandmother gave me when I left here,” she asked, needing something to take the edge off her restlessness.

     He caught her arm before she could stand up. “I’d wait an eternity for you, Mercy Fuentes. Don’t you know that?”

     “I believe you this time,” Mercy said after a moment. “But I want to warn you, we still have some very high-level negotiating to do between us, Mr. Rheinhart. I can’t have you lying anymore just to protect me. I’m old enough to take the truth, about you or anything else.”

     “After what you did in that cafe in Rudersdorf and then to Chamorro, I agree. I sure as Hell want you on my side.”

     “Good!” Mercy said, feeling much better. “Let me get those pictures.” She ran to her room and grabbed the two albums and the photograph in the now glassless frame.

     “These pictures are remarkable,” Wulf said, as he thumbed through the two albums. He picked up the photograph of the Strattons. “I’m amazed at how alike you and your grandmother look.”

     She nodded. “I
do
look a great deal like her, don’t I?”

     “We’ll have to get a new frame or find new glass for it. Maybe you can use some thick paper to hold it in place until then.”

     “I think I saw just the thing,” Mercy walked over to the buffet and brought back a piece of cardboard backing from one of the drawers. As she took the frame apart to insert the cardboard, a yellowed, folded-up piece of paper fell from behind the picture.

     “What’s this?” Mercy asked, picking it up. “It’s in Spanish,” she said, giving it to Wulf to read.

     His eyes widened as he scanned the paper. “It’s a letter from your Grandmother Stratton to your father.”

My Dearest Pedro,

     You have been the answer to my prayers. I have watched you since you were a little boy, and even though Lisa is still so young, I can see your attraction for each other. She will be in danger here until you can take her far, far away. I don’t know if I will survive Adolph’s evil intent. I do not deserve to live. I have benefited from the misery, degradation, and death of millions of people, and my heart is heavy with guilt. I do not know if God can ever forgive me. My sin is compounded by the fact that I cannot stop loving Erich, the man responsible for these horrible sins to my people. I have taken the money Erich stole from the Jews by switching his account from Switzerland to Luxembourg under my name, Merci Stratton. If you find this letter some day, please take the money and give it back to the people from whom it was stolen. Although I know I owe much more to these nameless people, this is all I am capable of doing.

     You will find the number of the account in the locket of mine that will one day be Lisa’s. The bank is the Luxembourg Grand Bank in the capital city of Luxembourg. I will need many prayers and the good Lord’s generous forgiveness if I ever hope to see my daughter some day in heaven. Please love her all the days of your life. I never want her life to be the hell on earth that mine was. May God bless and keep you both safe and well.

     Merci Stratton

     “I wonder if he ever saw this letter?” Mercy said, tears glimmering in her eyes. “He left the photograph here.”

     “Maybe,” Wulf countered, “he read it and chose to ignore it. It was probably too dangerous at the time to do anything else. Perhaps that’s why he left it with his mother, someone who would see that you got it one day.” He hugged her tightly.

     “Yes,” she agreed. “And now I can fulfill grandmother’s last wishes.”

     “We’d better not tell anyone about this,” Wulf cautioned, “not even your family.”

     “You’re right. The less anyone knows the better.”

     By noon the next day, they were jetting their way to Luxembourg, courtesy of Steiger Oil.

     “I’ll be so relieved to be done with this so we can get on with our lives,” Mercy said, dropping her head on his shoulder.

     “You and me both,” Wulf agreed. This was such a different trip than the one from Dallas. That trip seemed a million years ago.

          They landed in the capital city of Luxembourg before dark, and checked into one of the luxurious, small, downtown hotels catering to businessmen with a need for quiet and privacy.

     As they dined in the hotel’s outdoor patio, Wulf watched with amusement as Mercy tried not to fall asleep.

     “Wulf, I was just adding it up. Do you realize that in less than a week I have been in four countries and traversed the Atlantic three times?”

     “So?” he said, amused at the desultory way she went after her salad. He touched a hand to his forehead. “That’s right. I promised to take you shopping. I want to see you decked out in Bavarian dress.”

     Mercy laughed. “Oh, you just like the way women look in those bodice things with their you-know-what's pushed out.”

     “They have much to recommend them.” Wulf laughed. “How do you like the lifestyles of the rich and infamous so far?”

     “It’s harder than I thought,” she said, frowning. “You never know when you’re going to have to defend yourself.”

     She picked up her fork, then gave up. “Please Wulf,” she said tiredly, “take me back to my room so I can go to sleep.”

     “Just sleep?” he asked.

     Mercy smiled and nodded. “I’d be useless tonight.”

     “Let me make that decision, okay?” Wulf teased, pulling her into his arms. She’d been through Hell, and the only thing she complained about was lack of sleep. “Leave this door unlocked, I won’t feel safe until that money is taken care of.”

     He’d chosen this particular hotel because of its high-tech security and was pleased to see sturdy, burglar-proof locks on all the solid-core doors, a far cry from much of Europe.

     Wulf had already undressed down to his slacks and socks when he heard a timid knock. Opening the connecting door, he saw Mercy standing there, swathed in a long, pink, flannel nightgown, cuffs to the wrists and a neckline up to her chin.

     He shook his head. “Where in the hell do you get these things?” he asked, plucking at the thick, unyielding material. “Mother Teresa’s thrift store?”

     “Quit teasing me,” she said, tiredness lending a grumpy sound to her voice. “Do you mind if I sleep with you? Just sleep, okay?”

     “Okay, come in. I promise I’ll just hold you.”

     She nodded. “It’s not that I can’t get to sleep. I’m almost dead on my feet,” she said, getting into the bed and pulling up the covers. “I just don’t feel safe being alone.”

     Wulf finished undressing and got into the bed. He pulled her into his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder.

     It was amazing when he thought about it. If Hazel had tried to get them together, she couldn’t have arranged the sequence of events better than the way it had lead them here, to this moment. Maybe that had been Hazel’s intention all along. Hadn’t she badgered him for some time now to get married and settle down? Oh, God! He would strangle Hazel if he found out she’d purposely exposed Mercy to danger. He loved her so much, the very thought of her safety being risked made him want to gnash his teeth.

* * *

     The next morning Mercy was up and dressing in her own room when Wulf woke up. He must’ve been pretty exhausted to have missed
that
opportunity. He remembered with a grin the satisfaction of their previous lovemaking. Although he’d planned to make slow, delicious love to her all morning, he wasn’t that disappointed. They had the rest of their lives. He leapt out of bed. Let her run now. He felt primed to do some chasing.

     As he dressed, he heard the sounds of her moving around and humming off key. “I had no idea you couldn’t carry a tune,” he called to her. “I, of course, have an excellent voice.”

     “You’re so modest too.”

     “All Germans have good voices,” he bragged.

     “That’s only because you Germans get so much practice,” she said. “You break into song wherever you are, especially after consuming copious amounts of beer.”

     “You’re just jealous of my superior voice. Are you ready to go down for breakfast?”

     “Just let me get my shoes and jacket,” she said from the other room.

     Wulf crept up behind her as Mercy slipped on her shoes. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him, leaning down to nuzzle the soft satin of her neck. Pushing her thick mane of hair out of his way, he nipped gently at the nape of her neck. She leaned back against him, her eyes closing. She reached back and cradled his freshly shaven cheek with her hand. Wulf pressed a kiss into her palm. Maybe they should catch a late breakfast.

     When his breathing turned heavy, he backed away from her neck but continued to hold her against his body, swaying her gently in his arms. “I want to make love to you right now,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. “I want to taste you on my lips, pull your nipples into my mouth, and fill you with me.”

     He felt her pulse race, her breath catch, and her body shudder. Enjoying her response to him, he pressed his full, aroused length against her buttocks.

     Slowly, he turned her around in his arms. “What I want to do with you, will require plenty of sustenance.” He turned her face up to his. “I intend to take a long, very long time.”

     “Hmmmm?” she breathed, her eyes heavy-lidded.

     He chuckled, delighting in her responsiveness. This was the woman who feared she might be frigid? Impossible.

     “Come on. Let’s get something to eat,” he said, chuckling at her dazed, dreamy look.

     The hotel’s small mezzanine restaurant was a gourmet’s paradise. The coffee, a rich roast of hazelnut and amaretto, filled the air with its heavenly aroma. Omelets were prepared directly at the table with a flourish by a server who whipped them into buoyant perfection. Sausage, so succulent and spicy, and bread light enough to float were only a few of the degenerate delights. Mercy's taste buds thought they’d died and gone to heaven. Every time she moved, a busboy refilled or replaced something. A far cry from the local Mickey D’s.

     “This hotel is so plain on the outside, but the inside…” Mercy glanced around the elegantly decorated gold and bronze room with its brocaded, thickly padded chairs, and other luxuries she was unaccustomed to. “Do you always live like this?” she asked, wondering if she could adjust comfortably to such a lifestyle.

     “Of course. You will, too, when you marry me. I travel a lot, and I want you to travel with me.”

     “Hmmm,” she answered, remaining noncommittal. How could she keep up with someone so sure of himself?

     As they left the hotel to walk to the bank, Mercy gazed longingly in the shop windows. Escada couture, Gucci shoes and bags, Waterford crystal, Hasselblad cameras, Belgian lace and chocolates reminded her of the window shops in Berlin.

     “We can stop any time,” Wulf told her. “We’re in no hurry.”

     Mercy shook her head. “No, I want to see this through first. Let’s get it over with.”

     They both halted in surprise at the ‘closed’ sign on the bank door. Neither had anticipated a national holiday on June 23rd.

     “I should have thought of this,” Wulf said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Europe has so many holidays, it’s hard to keep track of them all.”

     “What do we do now?”

     “A little sightseeing? Or would you rather shop?”

     Mercy thought about it for a minute.

     “Let’s go sightseeing. I can shop later.” As soon as she said it, she knew she’d probably violated some shopping code of ethics that was signed by every female at the age of six.

     Although the banks were having a holiday, the rest of the city was still hard at work. Making money appeared to be the national pastime of the Luxembourg people. In the town square, in the many gardens, and at the old cathedral, businessmen and women in suits mingled in outdoor cafes with tourists in shorts with cameras.

     On the way back to the hotel, Mercy slipped her arm through Wulf’s. He glanced down at her and smiled.

     “After we finish at the bank tomorrow, we’ll visit the Grand Ducal Palace.”

     “I can’t wait for you to be my own special tour guide,” she replied. She couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day; Wulf had even bought her a camera to capture the abundance of flowers that flourished in Luxembourg’s mild summer climate. A tingle spread through Mercy as she gazed into Wulf’s eyes. He’d been so sincere—maybe there was hope for them after all.

     They entered the lobby to find a message at the desk. Mercy’s heart skipped a beat. Anton, Wulf’s notorious boss, was waiting for them in the bar.

     Mercy had a moment to admire the dark mahogany paneling and comfortable leather high-backed chairs as well as an intriguing aroma of expensive tobacco before Wulf reached forward, grabbing the hand of a powerful looking man who rose to greet them.

     “I decided to see for myself what the hell’s been happening to you,” Anton said gruffly. “Sit down and have a drink.”

     “Anton! It’s good to see you,” Wulf said, clapping Anton on the back as he hugged his shoulders. “This is my fiancée, Mercy Fuentes. Mercy, this old scoundrel is Anton Steiger, my boss.”