The Ring (11 page)

I saw her once. She was incredible. I thought she was the most exquisite woman I'd ever seen. Ariana nodded.

She used to come upstairs to see us, in evening clothes and smelling of perfume. Her dresses made wonderful sounds as she crossed the room, the swishing noises of silk and taffeta and satin. She always seemed terribly mysterious to me. I suppose she always will.

Ariana looked at him with her big sad eyes. Have you thought about where you're going? Speaking to him in the whisper they had to use to converse, she seemed like a child asking him a secret, and he smiled.

More or less. I think your father's right. Switzerland first. Then maybe when the war is over, I'll see if I can get to the States. My father had a cousin there, I'm not even sure if he's still alive. But it's a start.

Won't you come back here? She looked shocked for a moment as he shook his head. Never, Max?

Never, And then he sighed softly. I never want to see this place again. It seemed strange to Ariana that he should cut himself off forever from what had been his whole life. But then, perhaps he was right to shut the door so firmly. She wondered if it was like her father's never reentering her mother's bedroom until the night before. There were places one simply never returned to. One couldn't bear the pain. When she looked up at him again, he was smiling gently. Will you and your father come and see me in America after the war?

She laughed softly. That seems a long way off.

I hope not. And then, without thinking, he reached out and took her hand. He held it for a long moment, and then she bent slowly toward him and kissed him softly on the top of his head. There were no more words needed between them; he only held her, and she gently stroked his hair. Soon he made her leave, telling her it was dangerous for her to be there. But the truth was, he was thinking the unthinkable while hiding out in his old friend's house.

Later that evening Walmar came to see him, and he looked far more tired and subdued than Max. He already had the travel papers and a German passport in the name of Ernst Josef Frei. They had used the picture from Max's passport, and the official seal they'd stamped on it looked real.

Quite a job isn't it? Max stared at it with fascination and then glanced back at Walmar sitting uncomfortably in a pink chair. What now?

A map, some money. I also got you a travel permit You can make it close to the border on the train. After that, my friend, you're on your own. But you should be able to make it he paused for a moment with this. He handed him an envelope filled with money, enough to keep him handsomely for several weeks. I didn't dare take out more than that, or someone might have wondered why.

Is there anything you didn't think of, Walmar? Max stared at him in admiration. What a remarkable old man Von Gotthard was.

I hope not. I'm afraid I'm a little new at this. But I think it might be good practice.

You really think of leaving? Walmar looked pensive. Why you?

A number of reasons. Who knows what will happen, at what point they'll lose control. And I have Gerhard to think of now, too. In the fall he'll be sixteen. If the war doesn't end soon, they may draft him. At that point we go. Max nodded quietly. He understood. If he still had a son to protect from the Nazis, he would do the same thing.

But it wasn't only Gerhard that worried Walmar, it was Ariana too. The flood of uniforms in We city worried him almost all the time. She was so delicately pretty, so enticing in her quiet, distant way. What if they were to harm her, to grab her, or worse, if some high-ranking officer were to take a fancy to his only female child? It frightened him increasingly now that she was older, and in a few months she would no longer be in school. Knowing that she was doing volunteer work at Martin Luther Hospital terrified him most of all. He sat there thinking while Max looked at his new passport again.

Walmar, what can I do to thank you?

Be safe. Start a new life. That's thanks enough.

It seems nothing at all. Can I let you know where I am?

Discreetly. Just an address. No name. I'll know. Max nodded. The train leaves from the station at midnight. Walmar fished in his pocket and handed him the keys to a car, In the garage behind the house you'll find a blue Ford coupe, an old one. It was Kassandra's, But I checked it myself this morning. Miraculously, it still works, I think the servants still drive it around from time to time to keep it running. Take it, drive it to the station, and leave it there. I'll report it stolen in the morning. You'll be long gone. We'll go to bed early tonight, so there shouldn't be any problem.

Hopefully by the time you leave at eleven thirty, everyone will be asleep. And that, my friend, takes care of everything except one thing.

Max couldn't imagine anything more. But Walmar had thought of one thing further. He walked quietly into Kassandra's bedroom and Kited two paintings from the wall. With his pocket knife he pried them from the frames that held them, and then sliced them carefully from the wood stretchers that had held them taut for twenty years. One was a small Renoir that had been his mother's, the other a Corot he had bought his wife in Paris on their honeymoon twenty years before. Without saying anything to the man who watched him, he rolled both canvases tightly and then handed them to his friend. Take them. Do whatever you have to. Sell them, eat them, barter them. They're both worth a great deal of money. Enough to start you on your new life.

Walmar, no! Even what I'm leaving in the bank here would never cover those. He had spent much of his money trying to find Sarah and the boys.

You have to. And they do no one any good hanging here. You need them ' and I could never bear to look at them again ' not after they were here. They're yours now, Max. Take them. From a friend.

Just then Ariana slipped quietly into the room. She was puzzled when she saw the tears in Max's eyes and then, when she saw the empty frames beside her mother's headboard, she quickly understood.

Are you going now, Max? Her eyes grew wide.

In a few hours. Your father has just ' I don't know what to say, Walmar. .

Wiedershen, Maximilian. Good luck. They shook hands firmly as Max fought back tears. A moment later Walmar left them, and Ariana stayed for only a few minutes. But before she left him to go to dinner, Max reached out for her and they kissed.

Dinner passed with the utmost propriety, except for Gerhard, who shot small breadballs at Berthold's retreating back. Reprimanded by his father, he grinned and shot one a moment later at his sister's back.

We're going to have to send you back to Fr+nulein Hedwig for your dinners if you continue to do that.

Sorry, Father. But despite his friendly chatter, he was unable to rouse either his father or his sister to a great deal of conversation, and eventually he, too, fell silent as he ate.

After dinner Walmar retired to his study, Ariana to her bedroom, and Gerhard to his pranks. She wanted to return once more to Maximilian, but she was afraid to. Her father had insisted that they must take no more chances of drawing the servants, notice. Max's escape depended on no one's knowing where he was, and their safety on no one's knowing where he had been. So she sat in her room for hours, and dutifully, at ten thirty, as per her father's orders she turned off her lights. But silently she waited thinking, praying, until at last she could bear it no longer, and at twenty minutes after eleven, she tiptoed softly down the stairs until she reached her mother's door.

She let herself in without a sound and found him waiting, as though he knew that she would come. He kissed her long and hard this time, holding her tightly until she could barely breathe. They kissed for one last long moment, and then buttoning his coat around him, he pulled away. I have to go now, Ariana. He smiled softly. Take good care, my darling. Until we meet again.

I love you. It was the merest whisper, as much spoken with her eyes as with her words. God be with you.

He nodded, the briefcase with the priceless paintings hidden in newspapers at the bottom clutched in his right hand. We'll meet again after it's over. He smiled as though he were going to the office. Maybe in New York.

She giggled softly then. You're crazy.

Maybe. And then his eyes grew serious. But I love you, too. And it was true. She had touched him, come to him in a moment when he needed a gentle friend.

And then, saying nothing further, he tiptoed softly past her to the door. She held it open, locked it behind them, and waved one last time as he tiptoed softly down the stairs. She quickly took refuge in her bedroom, and then at last she heard the sound of her mother's car driving swiftly through the gate.

Auf Wiedersehen, my darling. She watched from her window and stood there for almost half an hour, thinking of the first man she had ever kissed and wondering if they would ever meet again.

There was nothing evident in her father's manner the next morning that would have led anyone to suspect that something was amiss, nor in Ariana's when they shared breakfast. And that afternoon when the chauffeur reported solemnly that Frau von Gotthard's old Ford had been stolen, Walmar immediately called the police. The car was found later that evening, abandoned near the train station and unharmed. And it was slyly but amusingly suggested that Gerhard had been the culprit and had gone for a little ride. The police attempted to conceal their amusement, and Gerhard behaved with appropriate outrage when he was called. But the matter was left to the family to handle, the police were thanked, and the car was put back in the garage.

But I didn't take it, Father! He blushed hotly, standing facing Walmar.

Didn't you? Well, in that case, then I suppose everything is all right.

But you think I did!

It doesn't matter. The car is back in the garage. Please see to it, however, that neither you nor your friends attempt to ' er ' borrow ' your mother's car again. It was an attitude he detested taking, but there was no choice. Ariana understood it clearly, and she attempted to console Gerhard as she ushered him from the room.

But it's so unfair! I didn't! And then he stared at her. Did you?

Of course not. Don't be silly. I don't know how to drive.

I'll bet you did!

Gerhard, don't be silly! But suddenly they were both laughing, and they walked arm in arm up the stairs to their rooms, Gerhard convinced she'd done it.

But despite Ariana's jovial manner with her brother, Walmar saw that there was something much amiss. She was more quiet than usual in the mornings, and when she returned from school or her volunteer work in the evenings, she disappeared immediately into her room. She was difficult to draw into conversation, and at last, a week after Max had left them, she sought her father alone in his study, and her eyes were washed with tears.

Have you heard anything, Father? He knew instantly. It was just as he had feared.

No, nothing. But we'll hear. It may be some time before he's settled enough to let us know.

You don't know that. She sank into a chair beside the fire. He could be dead.

Perhaps. His voice was sad and soft as he watched her. And perhaps not. But, Ariana, he is gone now. Gone from us. To his own life, wherever that will lead him. You can't hang on to him. We are only part of the old life he has left. But it frightened him to see her, and the next words escaped him before he could make them stop. Are you taken with him, Ariana?

She turned toward him, shocked at the question. She had never known her father to ask something like that. I don't know. I ' She closed her eyes tightly. It's just that I was worried. He could have ' She blushed faintly and stared into the fire, unwilling to tell him the truth.

I see. I hope you aren't. It's difficult to dictate these things, but ' How could he tell her? What could he say? In times like these it is best to save our loving for a brighter day. In wartime, in difficult circumstances, there is a sense of romance that is often unreal and may not endure. You may see him again years from now and find him quite different. Not at all the man you remember from last week.

I understand that. It was why she so carefully avoided any involvement with the wounded men at the hospital where she worked. I do know that, Father.

I'm glad. He sighed deeply as he watched her. It was another turning point for him. Yet another fork in their ever more treacherous road. It could also be dangerous to love a man in Max's position. Now he is fleeing, someday soon he could be hunted by the Nazis. And if you attach yourself to him, they could hunt you, too. Even if no harm comes to you, the pain of it could destroy you, as in some ways the pain of losing Sarah almost destroyed him.

How can they punish people because of whom they love? She looked angry. How can one know beforehand which is the right side and which the wrong?

Her childish question, so na+>>ve, yet so right, brought the memories of Kassandra flooding back ' he had warned her ' she knew '

Father? Ariana watched him search himself. He seemed a million miles away.

You have to forget him. It could be dangerous for you. He looked at her sternly and her eyes never wavered from her father's.

It was dangerous for you to help him, Father.

That's different. Even though, in a sense, you're right. But I'm not tied to him with that same bond, the bond of loving. And then he looked at her more closely. And I hope neither are you.

She didn't answer, and at last he walked to his window looking out over the lake. He could almost see the Grunewald cemetery from his windows. But in his mind's eye, he saw her face. As she had looked when he had warned her. As she had looked the night before she took her life.

Ariana, I'm going to tell you something that I never wanted to tell you. About the price of loving. About the Nazis ' about your mother.

His voice was a gentle, distant sound. Ariana waited, baffled, staring at her father's back. It is not a judgment I make of her, or a criticism, I am not angry. I am not telling you any of this to make you feel ashamed. We loved each other deeply. But we married when she was very young. I loved her, but I didn't always understand her. In some ways she was different from the women of her times. She had a kind of quiet fire in her soul. He turned to face her then. Do you know that when you were born she wanted to take care of you herself, not to have a nurse? It was unheard of. And I thought it was silly. So I hired Fr+nulein Hedwig, and I think something happened to your mother. After that she always seemed a little lost, He turned away again, silent for a moment, and then he went on. When we had been married for ten years, she met someone, a younger man than I. He was a very famous writer, he was handsome and intelligent, and she fell in love. I knew about it almost from the beginning. Perhaps even before it began. People told me they had seen them. And I saw something different in her eyes. Something excited and happy and alive again, something marvelous. His voice grew softer, And I think, in a way, it made me love her more.