by Tricia Goyer
“Yes, you did it, and I have to say that I never would have guessed you’d just arrived in Bayreuth thirty minutes before you took stage, but since I was riding with you, I know better.”
“You can give us a ride? You have a jeep?” Betty asked.
“I don’t have one, but I can find one. Give me five minutes. I’ll ask around. There’s a whole pool of drivers out there, and I have a feeling any of them would think it would be a special privilege to give a ride to the star of the night.”
“Sure.” Betty forced a smile despite her weariness. “That will give me time to change.”
Frank offered a small wave. “Be right back.”
Betty hobbled to the dressing room. She hated getting back into her rumpled uniform, but she had little choice. At least her hair looked great, and her makeup too, even if it was hard to hide her exhausted eyes.
When she emerged from the dressing room, Mickey and Frank waited.
“Got a ride, Betty, whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks, Frank.” She turned to Mickey and shrugged. “Well?”
“Great job, kid. You really shined tonight. You were like Cinderella at the ball. And your voice is as pure as a crystal sea. I wasn’t worried one bit. My buddy Marv always comes through.”
Frank looked sharply at Mickey. “Marv? From HQ?”
“Yup, said he saw this little songbird when he was back stateside. Called me right away and told me to sign her. Gave his word that I wouldn’t regret it.” Mickey pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. “Also told me about you, kid. I told him I needed someone great to shoot my girls, and he said he had someone in mind.”
Frank nodded. “Did he now?”
Mickey placed the cigarette between his lips and was preparing to light up when a man rushed toward him.
“No light up in opera house, Mr. Mickey. You know the rules.” The man wore slacks and a button-up shirt that looked two sizes too large. His pants were held up with a belt, and he nodded and smiled as he spoke.
“Yeah, right, Oskar. A habit, you see.” Mickey tucked the cigarette back into his pocket. “Songbird, I’d like to introduce you to Oskar, our prop manager. He runs the place. Knows it inside and out.”
Oskar brushed his graying brown hair back from his wide forehead and then extended his hand. Betty liked him immediately. He reminded her of a younger version of her grandfather. Thin but strong, with large hands that looked like they were used to work. He seemed like someone you could count on to get the job done.
“Beautiful music tonight, yes. Great crowd.” Oskar nodded again.
“I agree. It was.” Betty looked around. “Oskar, I’d love a tour of the Festspielhaus. Not tonight of course—but this place looks amazing.”
“More amazing than anyone realizes.” He pointed a finger in the air. “We will make sure and see that this happens.”
“Yes, wonderful.” Betty blinked her eyes.
“Let’s get you home, Betty. You need some rest.” Frank gently took her arm and led her down the hall, outside to the jeep.
“Is—Irene coming?”
Frank shook his head. “No, she told me to tell you she’d catch up with you in the morning, but I asked Jimmy here and his date to chaperone. Even though I’m a gentleman, I didn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable. You know, an ‘appearance of evil’? Got a reputation to protect—I mean—not just mine.”
“Thank you.” Betty raised her eyebrows, made a mental note of Frank’s scriptural reference. She noticed her luggage was already loaded in the back of the jeep. In the front sat a soldier, and next to him was a beautiful blond woman. She nodded and smiled, and Betty wondered if she spoke English. By her guess, she was one of the locals—despite the non-fraternization policy. What she’d heard before she left the States was that even though the policy was still in place, no one really did much about it, except try to occupy the soldiers’ free time with activities and performances. Basically, the more often she sang, the less often the guys in the occupation zone would get into trouble. Or so she’d been told.
Betty settled into the back seat next to Frank, noticing he was still lugging around his duffle bag and camera bag.
How nice of him to see me home. Surely he’s tired.
The jeep rolled down a winding hill, away from town, through a park that the bombs had somehow missed. The park was like a fairytale land with tall trees, endless lawns, and a large golden moon that hung over it all. As they drove, she tried to imagine what it would have been like, living here a hundred years ago. Nothing much had changed, she supposed, except for her mode of transportation. Now she had a motorized carriage instead of a horse-drawn surrey.
“So what did you like most about singing the canteens?” Frank’s words interrupted her thoughts.
“The people, I suppose. Some came from nearly a hundred miles to help in the canteen. There was a stream of volunteers always coming and going, always making sure there were smiling faces to greet and feed the soldiers on leave or on their way to foreign locations. The guys were great—from all over the U.S.—but the best part was meeting folks from down the street that I’d somehow never become acquainted with. Everyone pitched in and did his part. Washing sheets, making beds, serving up meals—”
“And singing?” Frank said.
“Yes, and most of the time I felt bad because I had the easiest job. I just opened my mouth instead of rolling up my sleeves.” Betty yawned. “It was nice. The people were nice.”
“The complete opposite from here, huh?” Frank grinned.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that—”
“The rest of the troupe will warm up to you. Well, except for Kat. I think she’s too high on her horse to notice how rude she is.” He snickered. “I bet it’s hard to have so many egos in the same room. I suppose everyone’s threatened by the new girl at first, thinking she’s prettier or more talented.”
Betty laughed. “Is that right?” She shook her head. “That is far from the truth. I mean—”
“Actually, I disagree. Both are true. And for the others, well, they’ll have to get used to it.”
Betty turned to him. He was sitting just as close to her as that soldier on the airplane, but somehow this felt different. She cleared her throat, hoping he wouldn’t notice how unsettling his nearness was. “Well, sir, those are flattering words. You’re just the type of handsome soldier my mother warned me about.”
“I can say the same about my mother. I received plenty of warnings myself.” Frank snickered.
The jeep turned onto a circular driveway and up to a house. Betty couldn’t believe her eyes.
The house was a large rectangle with six steps leading up to the front door. It was stately and beautiful—more like a museum than a bunkhouse for traveling singers.
“Most of the main house was destroyed by bombs,” the driver explained. “But I hear the USO girls are in the annex that Hitler stayed in when he visited. It’s still intact.”
Betty placed a hand to her throat. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”
“Oh, your rooms are in good shape. The bombed part has been blocked off. There’s only one entrance—the front door—but as long as you don’t mind that half the house is open to the night air, the rest is good,” the driver said.
“No, not that part. The other part. Did you say Hitler stayed here?”
“He sure did. He’d come here often. A great fan of Wagner and friends with Winifred Wagner, Richard’s daughter-in-law. It’s because of Winifred’s pro-Nazi stance that she had to turn over her home to us. But Hitler’s not the only one who stayed in this home. All the Nazi bigwigs did. There are spas nearby, and when they came here, it seemed the war was far off. They came to relax and not think about the war for a while.”
Betty scoffed. “Sounds nice. Wish the rest of the world could have done the same.”
The driver parked the jeep near the front door. The German girl still sat by his side, quiet, smiling.
“Do you
know which room was Hitler’s? Which bed?” Betty’s eyes widened and she was suddenly more awake than she had been since her performance. The thought of sleeping in the same room Hitler had once occupied made her skin crawl.
“I heard the old beds are gone—they took out the larger ones for simpler cots,” the driver said.
“We could find out which room,” Frank said, “but do you really want to ask? If I were you, I don’t think I’d want to know. It’s frightening, don’t you think?”
“My father would keel over dead if I told him. My mother would insist I take the next airplane home.”
Frank chuckled and patted her hand. “If you tried, there’d be two hundred GIs blocking that plane.”
Would you be there too? She wished she had the nerve to ask. She looked into his eyes, seeking an answer in his gaze—but Frank quickly looked away.
CHAPTER SIX
Betty was thankful Frank had offered to walk her in. They’d made it just inside the door when the light switched on, startling her. Standing by the light switch was the beautiful blond singer named Kat.
“Hey, Songbird, didn’t expect you here so soon. Thought you’d be out with the others, living it up.” Kat held a long silver cigarette holder in her hand and, with the grace of a ballerina, lifted it to her lips and drew the smoke deeply into her lungs. Her hand shook slightly, and Betty assumed it was from the cold.
“You can set that luggage there. No guys allowed farther than the doorway. Mickey’s rules.” Kat flipped her hand toward Frank as if he were a vagrant she wanted to shoo away.
“Yeah, sure. Good rule.” Frank set down the luggage and took a step back. Betty’s heart warmed to see him eyeing the place, as if he was concerned for her safety.
Betty offered him a parting smile. “Thank you. For everything. I think I’m all set now. Glad we survived the flight and my first performance. What a day.” She blew out a low whistle.
“You can say that again. See you tomorrow most likely.” He snapped his fingers. “Gotta make sure I don’t miss any of this very important assignment.”
“Not tomorrow. Tomorrow’s a rehearsal day. Friday is our next performance. Maybe that will give you time to rest up. I know you worked so very hard tonight. I can imagine keeping up with us performers was nearly as hard as your work in the combat zones.” She jutted her chin, letting him know she was all too happy to play along.
“Okay, you got me.” Frank chuckled. “See you Friday then.” He offered Betty the same cute wave he’d given her when she was on stage.
“’Bye.” She gingerly closed the door, almost afraid to be alone with this woman. Even though Kat reminded her of one of the China dolls in Haggin’s Toy Store, Betty guessed there was more going on beneath the beautiful exterior. Irene had said Kat acted this way because she was a star, and Frank had implied the same thing. Betty wasn’t sure she agreed. Kat had a hard look on her face, but there was something else Betty saw in her eyes. It was as if Kat had been hurt too many times, and she made it clear she didn’t want anyone too close.
Well, Mama, here’s my chance to exercise that “gift” you’ve always said I have. I just hope Kat doesn’t end up agreeing with Dad.
Trying not to show how intimidated she was, Betty turned and smiled. “So how did you get here? Maybe I should have caught a ride with you.”
Kat shook her head and exhaled the smoke from her cigarette, blowing it toward the ceiling. “I walked. It’s only ten minutes at the most.” She looked away and Betty could see something in her eyes that resembled fear, but when Kat glanced back at Betty it was gone. “It would have been trouble, with all you packed. Did you think you were moving in for good or something?”
“You walked at night? In the dark? Alone?”
“C’mon, kid. The Nazis are gone. The trail’s mostly quiet. It’s no problem, really.” Kat rubbed her brow, and it sounded to Betty as if Kat was trying to convince herself with her own words. Something happened out there on the trail, something Kat’s not telling me.
“Are you sure—”
“So you want to see the room?” Kat picked up a suitcase and started down the hall. “Mickey says you’re bunking with me.” Betty picked up the other two suitcases and followed.
Then, as the woman sauntered away in front of her, an image came to Betty’s mind. It was that of an actress in one of those Saturday afternoon romantic films she caught once in a while in town. She’d carried a suitcase like that. Walking just like that. Suddenly, Betty knew where she’d seen Kat before and excitement pumped through her.
“Excuse me, are you Katherine Wiseman?”
The woman didn’t pause. “Do I look like Katherine Wiseman?” she called back over her shoulder.
“Yes.”
“Do I sound like her?” Kat asked, opening the last door at the end of the hall, stepping inside.
Betty followed her in, setting her suitcases down near the bed that was unruffled. “Yes, well, you do.”
“I sure hope I am.” Kat placed the suitcase on the floor by Betty.
“Did you dream of becoming an actress when you were a little girl?” Betty ignored the room, the tapestry on the wall, and the tall window. Instead she focused on Kat’s face.
Kat’s eyes widened and her forehead folded into a scowl. “I—I don’t know. No, actually I never thought of it when I was younger. I never really went to the picture shows.”
“Didn’t you have a theater in your town? I was lucky, there was one just down the street from my house.”
“It wasn’t that. We didn’t have much money.” Kat crossed her arms over her chest, but her face softened into a wistful look. “I’d always thought I would become a secretary like my mother. I never thought—well, that I’d make movies and sing.”
Betty nodded. “My mom never worked outside the home—until the war, that is. I wish I could have brought her here with me. She always dreamed of traveling. She would have loved to meet you, too, Katherine.”
“You can call me Kat. Especially since we’re roommates now.”
“Are you okay with that—with me being your roommate?” Betty sat on the bed and lifted her foot. Then she wiggled the shoe to pry it off.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Well, I can sleep in the hall—as long as I can take a pillow and blanket.”
“Are you kidding?” Kat smiled, and Betty hoped it was the beginning of a new friendship. “Honestly, I don’t mind. I just want Mickey to think I do. I can’t let him think I’m too happy, now can I?”
Betty didn’t understand that last statement, but she nodded as if she had. “Gee, I never thought I’d have a famous movie star as my roommate.”
“I’m not your roommate, kid, you’re mine. Until I head back for the States.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Got a contract with my studio to fulfill. Don’t have a choice. They need me for a new picture. Wonder who’s going to be my leading man this time? I hope he kisses better than Cary Grant. Kissing that man was like kissing a sponge.”
“Doesn’t your husband get jealous? I mean, of you kissing other men. I read about you getting married last year. He—what is his name?”
“Edward.”
“Yes, I saw a photo of the two of you in the newspaper. Edward is very handsome.”
“I agree. I wouldn’t have married him if he wasn’t.” Kat crossed to her side of the room. She unbuttoned her dress and slid out of it, putting on a silky robe over her slip. “He has other wonderful qualities too. There are a lot of handsome men out there. Edward’s the only one I’ve met who’s as kind as he is beautiful.” Kat flopped onto the bed, propped her pillow against the wall, and leaned against it. She looked relaxed, yet also introspective. She rolled her eyes upward, and Betty guessed Kat was thinking about her husband.
Betty put on her pajamas, then sat cross-legged on her bed.
“Is it hard, being away?”
“It’s been hard for everyone, not only me. War is war.”
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“Are you excited about seeing him soon? I bet it’s been a long time.”
“I saw him two months ago—” Kat’s voice trailed off. She shrugged. “Considering the way this world is, that’s not too long ago.” Her voice softened, and the hard set of her jaw did too. “It was only for one night. He was stationed in Paris.” She smiled. “But sometimes one night is enough.” She placed a hand on her stomach and glanced down.
“I don’t mean to meddle, but are you—in the motherly way? I mean are you expecting?”
Kat glanced over. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why would you ask that? I mean we just met. That really isn’t something you ask someone you just met.” Betty put her hands up in defense, as if she was blocking Kat’s wrath.
“You’re right. I’m so sorry. How rude of me. It’s only, well, because of your comment—and the look in your eyes. I’ve seen that look a lot lately. Most of my friends back home are already married and have babies.”
Kat glared at Betty for a moment, as if sizing her up. Then she flipped over onto her stomach, rested her chin on her hands, and kicked her feet up behind her as if she were twelve and enjoying a slumber party with a friend. It was a different Kat than the nose-in-the-air-actress she’d met earlier that day. “Do you promise not to tell? I’m hoping the next picture will wrap up quickly, before I show. I have to finish this last film. After that, I’ll be done with my contract and will be a free agent—no one will be able to tell me what to do anymore.”
“Of course.”
Then as quickly as the fanciful mood caught Kat, it left. She pushed her pillows back into their rightful place and reached over to the nightstand for her brush and sat up.
The moonlight cast yellow rays into the room as Kat sat at the edge of the bed, running a brush through her long hair. Betty could tell from the look on her face that Kat was done talking about Edward and the baby. Obviously, whatever was happening with her movie contract was enough to put Kat in a sour mood.
“Don’t you wonder who slept in this room before—before, you know, we took control?” Betty lay down, tucking her pillow under her chin.
