Chapter Twenty-three:
As August progressed, I did my best to shift my attention to the upcoming school year, sifting through the catalogue of sophomore classes. I would finish my studies of Latin in the spring, and I would need to practice speaking it to get prepared for my next journey through time. Beth and I exchanged a few messages discussing what art class we should take this time around; she wanted to continue with ceramics. I ultimately encouraged her to do so while I would sign up for fiber arts and fashion design, both of which should improve my sewing. Maybe I could actually create a dress or two that I could wear in the Middle Ages.
Despite my anticipation for new classes and the chance to reconnect with Beth, a gloomy mood settled upon me as the day of my departure drew closer. Hans and I were still not on speaking terms, and I had far too many topics I needed to discuss with him. Erika and I bemoaned Ina’s fate in grand detail when we got together at a beer garden right before she left for Vienna, and I very nearly spilled the secrets of the Torstein to her. My multiplying Teutonic burdens seemed to have coalesced into a slab of stone in my heart, eroding my optimism. When Hans finally confronted me on my balcony the Friday before I was set to leave for the U.S., I had no time to reveal all of my worries to him.
On that afternoon, I rested upon my favorite lounge chair, clad in my silver-splattered one-piece bathing suit and a pair of dark prescription sunglasses, alternating between napping and listening to a CD by Within Temptation, a Dutch band that I had recently discovered. Their music style reminded me of Tristania, harder music with female vocals interspersed with death grunts. One of the first songs on their album mentioned traveling time, which spoke too clearly to my uncertainties.
I was in the process of singing along to the female part in the song “Grace” when I began getting the impression that I was no longer alone on the balcony. I opened my eyes and saw Hans standing just a meter away from my chair, wearing black cloth shorts, sandals, and a Coca-Cola T-shirt. I sat up, removed my sunglasses and hit the stop button on my portable CD player, sliding my headphones into my lap. I blinked at him while my eyes adjusted to the late afternoon sunlight, unsure what to say. Fear began to creep up my spine as I waited for him to speak.
“Forgive me for my intrusion, Swanhilde,” he began finally, as I shaded my eyes with my left hand, “but I came up here to apologize for what I did on the night of your Pappi’s summer party.” He paused, looking down at me with an expression suggesting that he might be expecting a slap.
Relief flooded through my veins at his words. If he’s apologizing, maybe we’re still friends after all. Irritation also seeped into my heart, and I did not give him the kindest reply. “Well,” I began, laying my hand back down onto the chair since my eyes had finally adjusted, “it took you long enough.” I invoked my ice into my eyes out of habit, and his body came into clearer focus.
Hans did not look particularly surprised, but I saw his own eyes narrow at the sight of mine changing color. “I suppose you’re upset with me for ignoring you all these weeks.”
“A bit,” I agreed, though that was an understatement. “I thought you were never going to talk to me again. And I was starting to worry that I’d be on my own now with the Torstein and everything. I mean, I guess I could have said something to you, apologized, but I don’t know. You acted so—” I broke off, realizing that I was rambling and also rather frightened to go on.
He looked down at me darkly and supplied the correct word. “Distant?” I nodded after a moment’s consideration. “I suppose I should also apologize for my behavior toward you. I could have said something earlier, but I needed time, time to consider the repercussions of . . . everything.” He grimaced, his eyes darkening.
I was not sure if I really wanted to have this conversation, but I waved him to the other chair. “Sit down,” I suggested.
He remained standing. “You realize that what happened was a terrible mistake on my part. You are my employer’s daughter. I should never have touched you like that.” I opened my mouth to comment, but he lifted a hand for silence. “What happened will likely stay with you for some time, clouding your ability to truly see anyone else. It is for that that I apologize most, and with the greatest remorse. You should be spending your free time seeking decent college-age men, not fantasizing about men old enough to be your father.”
My mouth had gone dry at the truth of his words. My mind raced, trying to come up with something proper to say. At last I choked out an abject lie. “I . . . I’ll . . . get over it.” I smiled a horribly fake smile up at Hans.
He frowned and looked out across the gardens. “It was a dangerous thing from the start, tutoring you myself on the ways of the Teutons. I wouldn’t have done it at all had it not been your Mutti’s wish.”
He had told me that before. I likely would never have known anything about my Teuton blood—due to my father’s grand abhorrence—had it not been for my mother. Apparently at some time before her death she had come to Hans and requested that once I had reached a proper age, he should train me in Teutonic history and traditions. In spite of where this training had led, I certainly did not regret it.
“Well, I’m glad that you . . . taught me everything anyway,” I told him. “If it hadn’t been for you, I would never have found the Torstein.”
Hans’ lips formed a wry half-smile as he acknowledged this. “True. But we must both be cautious, or our friendship could lead into more dangerous grounds.”
I nodded, recognizing the truth of that. Already, with him standing on my balcony with no one else around, I sensed my desire for him springing to life again. I shoved it aside and asked him, “What then is left for us?”
Hans cocked his head at me and replied simply, “I offer to be your friend, as it has been, that and nothing more. I won’t kiss you again.” He smiled a bit and held his right hand out, an offer.
More than anything else, I noticed that he had not said, “I won’t touch you again,” or “I won’t dance with you again,” and that alone sent rays of hope shooting through my despair. I set my CD player and headphones onto the table to my left and rose from my chair to stand before him, formally accepting his proposal.
“In that case, I’ll be your friend as well, and I’ll try to keep my youthful lusts in check.” I grinned as I took his hand, glad that I felt confident enough to joke about such a serious matter.
His expression turned fierce, but I could tell it was feigned, and he ordered, “See that you do,” shaking my hand once, firmly.
My ice vividly sensed the heat of fire in his blood, so I stepped away before I did something stupid like throw myself into his arms. There were so many things I needed to tell him, but I had no clue where to begin. The devilish forces inherent to the Torstein and time travel? The Eihalbe and its counsel? The silvery acorn in the planter behind him? My fears that Ina had married a controlling priest?
When I finally opened my mouth to speak, I heard myself saying, “I think I’m coming home at Christmas.”
Hans looked taken aback, and his black eyebrows came together. “I thought you enjoyed spending last Christmas with the Fischers.”
“I did. It’s just that . . . there’s a lot I need to talk to you about . . . and I have to finish packing tonight.” I broke off, realizing how desperate that had probably sounded to him. Thinking fast, I appended, “And I have to start preparing for my next journey with the Torstein.”
Hans had leaned back against the railing, and he folded his arms across his chest when I broached that subject. “I saw the comment you made on your thread, and I read all the responses it generated.” He frowned, his dark blue eyes reproachful.
“You may be taking it too far at this point, Swanie. I’m sure you saw that two users have already brought up the fall of Muniche.” I nodded once and rubbed my hands against my bare thighs, trying to dry their nervous sweat. “It won’t be long before someone mentions Prince Otto’s discoveries and connects them with the topic itself.”
“You’re probably right,” I said, thinking back to the conversation I had with Marga several weeks ago. My topic had inspired her to think of the Torstein while other users had brought up familiar events like the Black Plague, the Viking raids, and Gutenberg’s invention of the printing press. “Do you think I should delete the topic?” I asked, suddenly feeling as though spies eavesdropped on us.
Hans sighed and let his arms fall back to his sides. “I’ll leave it up for another week and then delete it myself. I’ve been blocking a rash of bots lately, so it’s best to refrain from discussing sensitive topics, I think.”
I agreed with him and looked toward the silvery green planter again, wondering if I should bring that up before he vanished into oblivion like the Teuton priest he was. But then he thrust his right hand into the pocket of his shorts. “You’re leaving for the U.S. tomorrow, I know, and your twentieth birthday was Wednesday, so I should have given this to you earlier.” He pulled a tiny wrapped box from his pocket and handed it to me.
I accepted it and raised my eyebrows at him. “A birthday present? I’m pretty sure there aren’t any new Nightwish albums out right now.” He had gotten me their second album as a welcome home gift back in May.
The package was far too small to hold another Gothic metal album, and Hans chuckled tolerantly. “Just open it,” he advised.
I did, casting the wrapping paper onto the floor of the balcony, then carefully lifting the lid of the white box inside. I stared, and my hands began to tremble when I saw what he had given me. It was a necklace, a gold chain, and upon it hung a small golden locket shaped like an oval, scintillating in the sunlight. I could not find any words to say, as I took it from its box and held it up to see it better. It was beautiful, held closed by a tiny hinge on the left side, its borders decorated with tiny rose petals.
“I figured you could put some picture in it to remind you of home while you’re at college,” Hans explained. “Something Teutonic perhaps . . . or simply something you love.”
I already knew exactly what I would put into the locket, and I fought back a blush at the thought. I would wear it every day. And I would have to search through all of my pictures of Hans before leaving tonight, print one out on photo paper, cut it down, place it inside.
“Thank you, Hans,” I said as calmly as I could, placing the chain back into its box and closing the lid. “That’s really great, actually.”
Hans looked satisfied, and he acknowledged, “I knew you’d appreciate it.” I placed the box onto the table beside my lounge chair, and Hans turned toward the railing. That was when I realized that I had no idea how he had gotten onto my balcony in the first place. There was no way he had come through my bedroom. He never went in there.
He stood at the railing and traced the fingers of his right hand along the top of it, seemingly judging the distance to the ground. “Are you going to jump off like fire again?” I queried, moving forward to look over the side myself. Directly below us stood the back deck and the pool.
Hans raised an eyebrow and gave me a rather suggestive smile. “Want to come with me?”
I gasped in alarm, stepping back from the railing. The idea that Hans could sweep to the ground safely from the second floor balcony did not surprise me; he was fire, after all. But me, the ice princess? And in the daylight? “I don’t know. Someone might see,” I pointed out with a frown.
“Your Pappi won’t be home until five.” Hans’ tone sounded calculating.
That made me think of something else. “Why aren’t you still working?” I eyed his casual outfit in speculation.
“I finished early.” He glowered at me impatiently and held out his hand. “Are you coming?”
My lust for him had returned again, and I considered what might happen if I agreed. I would probably land in the pool, freezing some of it perhaps, but the exhilaration would likely end with my desire for Hans growing stronger than ever. So I shook my head slowly and declined. “Maybe some other time, after dark.”
Hans shrugged once and pulled his hand back. “Suit yourself.” He vanished over the side, and I looked over the railing to see him land somewhat gracefully upon a potted plant right beside the pool. The plant abruptly began to sizzle with a dark fire. I heard Hans grumble in annoyance, and he patted it a few times until the fire went out. I gave a cackle of laughter, and he smirked up at me. Not long afterward I went inside, thankful that my friendship with Hans was no longer in danger.
I put both Nightwish albums into my stereo while I zoomed around my room packing and sorting. Last year I had spent weeks getting everything situated. Now I no longer felt the freshman panic, so I had procrastinated on my packing. I had to chase Thunar out of my suitcases three times, his furry gray face appearing more wounded each time.
“Don’t worry, Thu, you’ll still have Lise to play with you,” I reminded him as I set him upon his cat tree. “And she and Basti will make sure you’ve got food and a clean litter box. Don’t forget, you’ll have my entire bed to yourself.” I kissed him on the nose, and he rumbled quietly in response.
About a half hour before dinner, a short knock at my door startled me out of my closet, where I stood thumbing through all of my fancy dresses. Last year I had brought only three, two of which I had worn to an orchestra concert and a Shakespeare play that the college had staged. This semester there was to be an opera, and in the spring a Ukrainian choir would perform a collection of folk songs. I had not yet decided which dresses to bring with me, but I vacated the closet and answered the knock at my bedroom door.
Sebastian stood there still dressed for work, holding a thin package out to me. “Happy birthday again, Swanie. This came for you today,” he said.
I tilted my head at the package, bemused. I had already celebrated my birthday with the people that mattered—my close family and friends—so it took me off guard to receive two more presents today. “Kind of late, isn’t it?” I inquired, taking the box from his hand. It felt light and unobtrusive, and when I looked at the return address, I saw that it was from Erika.
“The mail service from Vienna must be slow. You coming to dinner? Gregor’s setting up a sandwich platter.”
“Yeah, I’ll be down there in a few, but not for long. I’m packing like a Tasmanian devil right now.” Sebastian laughed and said that he would see me downstairs, and I carried the box to my bed after shutting the door behind him.
I slit the tape on the unremarkable box using an icy fingernail and retrieved the card inside. It was a print of one of Erika’s sketches of me in my Gothic fuchsia skirt, and I saw that she had clearly exaggerated the beauty of my face, hair, and bust. I snorted quietly and opened the card, which read, Dear Swanie, Don’t ever forget that women don’t need men’s approval. We are the conquerors who can please ourselves without making a mess. Happy Birthday. –Erika
I laid the card onto my bed and gave a slight shake of my head, unsure what my friend meant by such a message. But then I shook the box, and her gift slid its way out onto my bed, encased in a smaller package decorated with flowery ribbons.
She had gotten me a vibrator.