by Teddy Hester
Almost magically, a stone building looms, protected by ancient trees and undergrowth. Up two steps, and I unlock the studded wood door and enter, Jack behind me. “Leave the door open so there’s a little light.”
It’s dark inside, the air dank and musty. I love the familiar smell.
“Your family crypt?”
“Yes. We’re walking amongst my ancestors.” I lean closer to Jack and whisper, “Tread carefully. You don’t know who you’re stepping on.”
Golden eyes give me a sideways glance. “I’m the baby of four boys. It takes a lot to scare me. Ghosts aren’t on that list.”
I chuckle. “Well, that’s disappointing. I thought I’d give it a try. Only Birgitte and Alfred know it’s here, and they’re immune to ghost stories, too.”
He snorts. “There are always your future kids.”
Children. A little boy with dark hair and eyes. I’ve never thought of having children before. Now my empty arms yearn for them. Does Mick want children, too? “Maybe someday.”
Jack lays a hand on a stone box standing waist-high in the center of the mausoleum. “Who’s in the sarcophagus?”
“An early Sternau, before we were von Sternau. If you ever visit me again, we’ll bring flashlights so you can take a proper look. Every plaque on the floor represents a connection to the past. A reminder that we endure. Family endures.”
“Are your parents here?”
I walk to a spot on the stone floor. “Here. Buried under the same plaque. They lived together and died together. It seemed right that they end up together throughout eternity.”
He holds out his hand. I take it and receive a quick squeeze. Then we leave to rejoin the world of living things.
We sit on a stone bench that stands close to the water, between two trees, and soak up the ambiance. I will the miniature paradise to fill me with its beauty, and I feel pain and sadness seep out of my body to dissipate in the clean, fresh air.
I don’t know how long we share the silence before I know it’s time to depart. When I stand, Jack does, too. We walk back the way we came, out of the forest sheltering my oasis.
Jack finally speaks. “Beautiful and refreshing.”
I nod. “I spent a lot of time here after my parents died. It always made me feel better. At least for a while.”
“Maybe someday you’ll bring Mick here. He hides it pretty well, but I can see Moon’s death took a toll on him.”
“On many people.” An image of Moon hanging from a tree zooms into my mind’s eye, disturbing the calm absorbed at the pool.
When we come around the stables and past the garage, a silver SUV stands in the drive.
“More company? I thought there were only four brothers.”
“That’s right.” He purses his lips and waits by the outside door for me to unlock it. “I have a feeling you’re about to meet a couple of my ancestors.”
CHAPTER 15
Menuett
I’m about to meet Mick’s mother. Wearing jeans and an old sweater. That’s not the impression I want to make with these important new arrivals.
I grab Jack’s wrist. “I have to change clothes. If anyone asks, I’ll be right down.”
His laugh is warm and open. Unexpected. “Don’t worry. You’re fine. That little bit of tree in your hair is adorable.”
I gasp and feel around my head.
He plucks a pine twig and offers it to me. “They’ve been travelling all day, don’t forget.”
And then it’s too late, because he’s walked us out of the anteroom and into the main house.
They’re all congregated in the cavernous receiving hall. So many voices chattering at once pings off the stone floor and stairs, making it sound like Sternau’s hosting a convention.
I guess in a way, it is. In two days this house has gone from two people to…well, I don’t know. They won’t stand still long enough for me to count.
Jack squeezes my hand. “They’re harmless. For the most part. Hang tough.”
“They’re all so…pretty,” I whisper.
I can see where Mick gets his height. Both his parents are tall and slim. His father has silver hair with some black underneath. His mother’s shoulder-length hair is a lush mix of various shades of blonde.
And they’re wearing jeans. I grin up at Jack.
But he’s staring elsewhere.
A willowy redhead stands by his mother. He strides to her, and with one hand wrapped around the back of her neck and the other tight around her waist, Jack dives in for a bruising kiss. It’s so scorching, I have to look away.
Mick pulls me close to his side, an arm around my waist. If I’d said yes to giving our fake engagement a chance, would I be receiving a kiss like Jack’s giving that woman? I’m pretty sure I would. Hmm…I might be feeling a little envious right now. A man showing others what he feels for me? Declaring himself in front of his family? Yes, I might be feeling some envy.
“If Jack can contain himself around Jillian for one minute, Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet Menuett von Sternau.”
Jack grudgingly breaks off kissing his gorgeous wife and smirks.
Leaned against Mick, I feel it. I’m in the midst of his family. A circle of smiling faces is including me in their group. For tonight I’m one of them, and I’m going to let myself enjoy it. “Please call me Menuett. You have a very handsome family, Mick.”
*****
We end up in the kitchen, of course, though my once-cozy haven is now uncomfortably stuffed. I don’t know how they find so much to talk about, but the chatter is non-stop.
Along with all the other emotions swirling inside me right now, I miss Alfred and Birgitte. They should be here, meeting Mick’s family, getting to know them all and vice versa. Mick and his brothers are planning a feast, arguing about who’s doing what dish and how much veal to buy.
During the debate, I catch Mick’s eye. He takes a step back out of the fray and opens his arm to me. I love the gesture. When I scooch in close, he curls an arm around my shoulders and turns us away from the group for some privacy. “What’s up, Angel?”
I absorb his voice, letting it caress me. “I want Birgitte and Alfred here. Is there a way we can do that?”
He pulls back and grins. There are plenty of handsome men here, all with soft brown eyes, but his are the only ones that pull at me. He’s eating me up with his eyes now, and I realize how much I crave that attention. “You just killed my surprise. I knew you would want them here, Menuett. I do, too. It’s all arranged.”
Tears well, and my heart feels close to bursting. This man. This man. “It’s too crowded in here. He won’t fit with that brace on his leg.”
“Not a problem. The logistics are under control. I’m a trained engineer, remember?” he says, smiling.
I nod and return his smile. “Okay, Mick. I trust you.”
I’ve been a fool. He’s so much more than charm and a handsome face. And he’s beginning to take care of me and my feelings the way Alfred does.
*****
The men are still giving each other grief about tonight’s menu when they take the rented SUV to shop for food. Evelyn wants a long soak and a nap. And Cleo and Juliette need to catch up on business correspondence. So I go to the cottage for a much-needed talk with Birgitte.
“How’s Alfred?” I ask, settling in where she’s relaxing.
She has her feet propped up. Poor thing. I’ve visited her twice a day since Alfred came home, and this is the first time I’ve seen her resting. Caring for Alfred must be exhausting for a woman in her sixties. “He’s sleeping right now. And I’m resting up for tonight. You have quite a throng at the main house, don’t you? How are you handling it?”
“It was odd at first, having so many people around. But this family is so close, they work together almost like a machine. I finally sat back and let Mick and the others do everything.”
“Good. Just be part of a family while they’re here.”
“I’m glad you and Alfred will be th
ere tonight. As kind and welcoming as the DePauls have been toward me, they’re Mick’s family. You’re my family.” I stop and shake my head. “I’m not saying this right, but do you understand?”
“Yes. Sometimes the loneliest place to be is in the middle of a group of people. What’s really troubling you, Menuett?”
“Nothing. Not really. I’ve just been thinking about Mick. What to do about him.”
“Must something be done about the boy?”
“He has feelings for me.” This is so hard. All the thoughts and feelings are jumbled up inside, and I can’t seem to separate the strands into something coherent.
“What do you feel for him?”
“That’s the confusing part. More and more, I like him so much it hurts. Other times I wonder what in the world he’s doing and why.”
A tired giggle bubbles out of my adoptive mother. “Welcome to love, Liebchen!”
“Love? I always thought love was like a lightning bolt. It hits you, and you know it. Is love supposed to be this up and down muddle? Alfred affects you that way?”
“Oh, my, yes, almost every day! Maybe more so right now when we’re cooped up together and he can’t do much for himself. Blending the lives of two people takes constant work.”
“If it’s that much work, how can you tell if it’s worth it? How can you tell if it’s right?”
“Because I have more of the times I like him so much it hurts.”
Yes, I can see that. If there were more of those times, it might balance out the times when he frustrates, angers, or confuses me. “You know how I feel about love.”
“You equate it with loss. But, Liebchen, that means you’re letting fear rule your life. Letting the child who lost her parents shape the life of the adult.”
“Yes, I’m afraid of love and loss. Is that childlike?”
“No. But letting it rob you of a full and happy life is.”
When Mick leaves Sternau, I’ll feel loss. The pain of loss is already going to happen, so why not hold onto the chance for happiness with him instead?
“He wants me to go with him to the States to meet the dead pilot’s widow.”
“Ah.”
I wait, but she doesn’t say more. Her lips are pursed, and she stares at some nonexistent speck on the floor.
“What do you think of that idea?” I finally ask.
“What do you think of it?”
“I can’t go.”
“If it’s because of Alfred and me, stop. We’re getting along fine, and Alfred will be mobile again soon. He’s already been talking with Mick about rigging something in one of the golf carts so he can get around part of the estate.”
When did Mick do that? And why didn’t he say something? “Birgitte, here. This is an example of what I was talking about. Why hasn’t he told me any of this? All these plans, all these ideas, and he hasn’t mentioned a thing. You should hear him talk with his brothers about the airstrip he wants to build. If I hadn’t been walking by, he would have the thing built before I knew it was on the agenda! So irksome!”
Birgitte laughs out loud at that. “Oh, child! You’re more upset at being left out than anything else. Tell him that. I guarantee it’s never crossed his mind.” The volume of her voice drops. “I imagine a young man like that has known all sorts of women, but probably none he wanted to discuss things with until you. You must train each other to communicate.”
Interesting. She’s right. I don’t suspect him of keeping things from me. He’s just not used to using me as a sounding board. We began that during the week Alfred was in the hospital, but now I think we both run to Alfred rather than each other for estate issues. That’s ridiculous. And it’s not fair to any of us. I can change that immediately.
“What do I do about Dieter?”
“Do you have feelings for him, as well?”
I shrug. “He’s familiar. We’ve talked some about the future. He has expectations.”
“That you agree with?”
“If you’d asked me that before Mick came, I’d say yes. But now I don’t know.”
“Again—whose life are you living? Are you considering marriage with him because you want to spend the rest of your life constantly working on blending your lives? Are you considering it because he’s familiar and pressuring you? Are you considering it because of your parents?”
“He showed me a letter once. Our parents made plans for us to marry and merge our estates. It’s in their handwriting, so it’s something they put thought and energy into. I can’t just pretend it never happened.”
“Why not?” She sighs. “Liebchen, above all else, your parents wanted you to live a happy life. Now, figure out what will make you happy and don’t let fear keep you from doing it. My girl’s stronger than that.”
*****
Juliette swallows a sip of wine. “I love Riesling,” she purrs.
“It’s her favorite,” Leo confided, lifting his own glass. “When I told her about this trip, she couldn’t pack fast enough. And this is excellent.”
“It’s one of yours, I assume.” Tony leans toward his wife and points for her to pass him more chicken piccata. “It’s excellent with this chicken, but it would really sing with veal.”
Mick spears a cullet off the platter before Cleo passes it. “Too bad we couldn’t get any.”
Alfred’s wheelchair is rolled up to the informal dining table. A support for his leg extends under the table straight from the hip. I found out Mick built a ramp into the anteroom and wheeled him in. “Your son worked in the fields where these grapes grew,” Alfred says.
Tony stops slicing a bite. “He worked the vineyard?”
He makes it sound like Mick’s lazy or inept. I glance at Mick to see how he’s taking it. He lifts his fork and shrugs. “I sang songs and told jokes.”
Tony laughs. “That sounds more like it. We harvest grapes every fall, and we have to bribe him with beer to help out.”
My emotions simmer, heading to boil. It’s a mild, family joke, but it’s at Mick’s expense, and they’ve been doing it all night. “Mick’s being modest. Not only did he work, but he was able to increase the productivity of two workers. They enjoyed working with him so much, they ask for him every time now.”
Extraneous conversations around the table pause to listen to this one.
“He has a good way with workers. Motivational,” Alfred adds.
Mick squirms. “You know me, I just turned on the charm.”
Why is he being so self-deprecating? “Yes, you’re charming. But in the vineyard, you used your charm to make workers happy and more productive. Not to get something for yourself.”
Mick’s eyes scan the people around the table. “Okay, guys, thanks. But I didn’t save a wife from her abusive husband, generate electricity for thousands of families in the desert.” He brandishes his fork, pointing at people around the table as he lists their accomplishments. “I didn’t double somebody’s income, I didn’t create beautiful memories for newlyweds, or help launch a client’s new business. All I did was sing songs and trim a few vines.”
Evelyn’s eyes are shining, and she wears a calm, knowing smile. Adam lays his hand over hers on the table. “Tell us more about what Mick’s been doing this past month,” he says.
So between the three of us, Alfred, Birgitte, and I do just that. At some point, Mick sits back and listens, his eyes never leaving mine, a smile playing around his lips. It isn’t long before his family interrupts to ask Mick questions. When he can tell they genuinely seem interested, he delves into particulars. And they all listen.
Do they really not know how special he is? How many lives he touches in positive ways? Do they only see the jokester, the charmer, the daredevil? Maybe that's all he's allowed them to see for fear of falling short. If you don't set expectations, you never fail.
That explains why he didn’t argue when I called him out about manipulating people with his charm. That’s why he didn’t stand up for himself when I basically said he wa
s a hapless victim.
He believed me. It’s the way he sees himself.
And that breaks my heart. This lovely, vibrant man who told me up front that he had nothing to offer. I didn’t understand what he meant back then. Now I do.
The conversation shifts into business ventures and creative endeavors. Safe, happy territory. Evelyn catches my eyes and mouths thank you. I smile back at her. Maybe she’ll have ideas for what we can do to change Mick’s view of who he is. Alfred gives me a slow wink.
“Ready for dessert?” Mick asks the group during a lull. “Keep the party going, and I’ll be right back.” He skims a knuckle down my cheek, and with a coy grin, dashes to the kitchen.
“More wine, anyone?” Leo asks. He gets up to refresh glasses.
A voice booms over the renewed chatter. “Hallo? Anybody home?”
My eyes fly to Birgitte’s startled expression, and know mine must mirror it. Where did Dieter come from, and why is he here now, of all times? Now, in Mick’s proud moment?
He comes around the corner and blinks at the gathering. “Hallo, sorry to intrude. Any room for Menuett’s fiancé?”
Everything stops as abruptly and disturbingly as a record scratch. Oblivious, Dieter strides around the table and gives me a quick kiss on the mouth. I’m too shocked to say a word. I just gape at him like he’s a three-headed cow. I think it’s Jack who chuckles under his breath.
“It’s good to be home, Schatzi. I missed you.” He pulls out Mick’s empty seat beside me and sits. “Who are your guests?”
I’m angry and embarrassed, and wishing he were on the other side of the planet right now. Mick’s so happy, I don’t want anything to take it away from him.
Before any of us can gather our wits, footsteps sound, coming from the other direction.
“Here we go. You may have to let them sit for a few—”
Mick jerks to a stop mid-stride, dessert tray in hand. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but his face is a rigid mask.
“Mick! You’re looking well. I’m surprised to see you. Wait!” Dieter swings his pointer finger around the table. “This must be your family. How wonderful—a family holiday in Germany.”
