Stumble Stones

by Marilyn Baron

  If she had time to think, it would be interesting to analyze why she was so eager to fall back into her familiar pattern before the ink was even dry on her divorce papers. She and Polly would have to be on their guard.

  Chapter Seven

  Alexander

  He was rushing her, and he knew it. But the idea of marriage was very appealing. Maybe if they tied the knot aboard ship, and spent the next week living together in such close quarters, she would get used to the idea. Although he’d kissed her plenty, always when other people were around, to keep up the pretense, he was not acting a part. He had developed real feelings for Hallelujah.

  He didn’t delude himself that they would be lovers just because they had a wedding certificate, although he wouldn’t have objected to that turn of events.

  Hallelujah was sophisticated. She wrote dialogue for glamorous soap opera characters. Why would she be interested in hooking up with a boring hedge fund manager? Obviously Sigrid hadn’t been. Did Sigrid ever have feelings for him, or had he been just a placeholder until she could get back together with her ex-husband?

  And Hallelujah’s ex-husband sounded like a jerk. He wouldn’t blame her for not wanting to get involved with anyone ever again. But it had been wonderful sharing a meal with her at Focaccia’s last night. Looking across the table, seeing her laugh and gush over her linguine with white clam sauce, cooked al dente, just the way she liked it, he finally belonged to someone, and specifically to her.

  She seemed to have a lot in common with the Polly character she wrote for. She claimed to follow Polly’s lead, but from where he sat, Hallelujah was the director, the master of her own destiny. She fed Polly her lines, for heaven’s sake. Polly was nothing without Hallelujah. But that’s not the way she saw it. With Hallelujah, it was Polly this and Polly that. It was obvious she idolized Polly. But Polly’s character fueled Hallelujah’s insecurities. Why couldn’t she see she had so much more to offer?

  Since he’d first laid eyes on her, Hallalujah was all he could see. She was the woman for him. He had no doubts about it.

  Why had he chosen her, of all the passengers aboard the Alitalia flight? What was it about her? For one, she looked as if she could be trusted. Two, she was approachable. Three, she was drop-dead gorgeous. All that smooth sable brown hair flowing around her shoulders and those stunning blue eyes. He could hardly look away. She was one of those girls who didn’t realize how beautiful she was. Four, she was three sheets to the wind. That’s what he needed. Someone who wasn’t thinking straight. Otherwise, why would she have gone off on a motorcycle with him, a virtual stranger? Or a cruise, for that matter. Lucky for him she had succumbed. He had to give Polly and her adventurous spirit some of the credit. Certainly.

  He didn’t think his good fortune was just luck. It was more like fate. He’d walked up and down the aisle of the plane in coach, checking out faces. Nothing. Then he’d sneaked through the curtain to Business Class, and suddenly, there she was. He knew as soon as he laid eyes on her that she was the one. And tomorrow they would walk down the aisle. Maybe then their story would begin.

  He didn’t kid himself that it was forever. Just until they got out of international waters. But now that he had gotten to know her, he wanted forever. He just had to convince her. He had acted like he was in control, whisking her off on his motorcycle and onto a cruise ship, but the more time she spent with him the sooner she’d learn how rudderless and dull he really was. Hardly a word came out of his mouth that wasn’t investment speak. Sometimes, he even bored himself. Compared to the debonair Parker, he was a loser.

  Plus, he was playing a dangerous game, and now he’d involved her. He shouldn’t have done that. But he wouldn’t change a thing. He was just going to have to keep her safe, whatever it took.

  Chapter Eight

  Alexander and Hallelujah

  Alexander and Hallelujah sat shoulder to shoulder at the desk in their honeymoon suite. Although why anyone would need a desk on their honeymoon was confounding. But since their honeymoon was essentially a sham, a desk was rather convenient. Alexander had already checked the stateroom safe, again, to confirm that the diamonds were in there.

  Hallelujah was still wearing the white suit he had purchased for her at the onboard boutique. She looked amazing. He couldn’t help stealing frequent glances at her as his fingers slid feverishly across the keyboard. She was still wearing one of the flowers from her bridal bouquet in her hair. He resisted the urge to tuck a recalcitrant curl behind her ear, just for the feel of it. She was also wearing the platinum wedding band he’d picked out in the jewelry boutique onboard, another authentic touch. She had to be the most beautiful bride on the planet. And she was his bride, at least for the remainder of the cruise.

  The ship’s technology concierge had configured his wireless-capable laptop with software and full-time connectivity to the Internet so he and Hallelujah could access the ship’s network services from the privacy of their stateroom. In his business, he had to be connected to the world at all times, but he’d requested an exclusive ship e-mail address so he could communicate undetected. He was convinced that someone was monitoring his work and personal e-mails. Hallelujah was busy hammering out another script for Parker and Polly.

  A bottle of 2005 Louis Roederer Cristal Rosé champagne was chilling in a silver bucket at the far end of the table. They’d already had several glasses of champagne at a celebratory dinner at the ship’s specialty steak restaurant. He planned to toast his bride later, and, if he got lucky, steal a kiss or two or more. He wasn’t drunk enough to think she would agree to consummate their marriage, but a guy could always hope. She was already a little bit tipsy. And he was head over heels in love with her. Maybe it was the champagne loosening his inhibitions, but he didn’t think so. He’d never felt this way about a woman in his life. Not even Sigrid. In fact, Sigrid was slowly slipping from his consciousness. Whenever he closed his eyes and tried to imagine her, the only face he could conjure up was Hallelujah’s.

  He had kissed her after the captain pronounced them man and wife, and his reaction was off the charts. He hoped she’d felt something similar. It was their first post-nuptial kiss, and he didn’t want it to end, but she had pulled away just when he was warming up. Was it reluctance he’d read on her face, disappointment, or surprise? He wasn’t going to ask her in front of the captain and the witness, who he thanked before they walked out of the chapel on a white runner strewn with red rose petals.

  “Your idea about tracking down the person who paid for the stumble stones was a great one. I’m accessing the database now.”

  Hallelujah pressed her hands together. She would like to spend some time perusing the Stolpersteine database, learning the stories of the victims of the Holocaust—her people. She intended to do the research for her novel. Ever since Alexander had shared the story of the stumble stones outside his house, she had been intrigued and decided that the stumble stones would be the theme for the book. But she needed a story, a personal story, to put a face to the tragedy. Right now, Alex was only interested in one family—the Hirschfelds.

  “I found them,” Alexander said after a fifteen-minute search, reading the screen silently. Hallelujah moved closer, nudging his shoulder. “Apparently, Julian Hirschfeld was a well-known, highly regarded jeweler in Berlin. He ran a business that had been in his family for generations. He was the jeweler to various wealthy, noble, and royal families throughout Europe. It says here the Queen of England had been a regular client. He had a very lucrative business. Married Ana Brinker from Stockholm. He and Ana had two children, Hannah and Aaron. The family was deported to Auschwitz and died there soon after they arrived, in 1943. A woman named Eva Grandcoeur paid for the memorial stones. I wonder who she was? A relative, maybe?”

  “Does it give an address for her?”

  “Yes, it’s in Baden, Switzerland, which is a big wellness destination, known for its hot springs. She lives in some kind of inpatient clinic with thermal springs on Bäderstrasse,
sort of an oasis with sauna, steam bath, cool room, and thermal bath, and a wide selection of massages.” The idea of getting Hallelujah naked and alone in a thermal bath heated his blood. Maybe she’d go for a couples massage. He envisioned them soaping each other down in the bathtub. They were married, after all.

  He cleared his throat. “We’ll, uh, make a stop in Switzerland as soon as we debark from the ship. We can fly from Stockholm to Zurich and then take the train to Baden. Although you can’t always count on the schedule.”

  “Don’t the trains always run on time in Germany?”

  “That’s a common misconception. And besides, we’re talking about Switzerland. Eva Grandcoeur must have some connection with the Hirschfelds. She may know if they have any surviving relatives. I feel that we’re getting closer to solving this mystery.”

  “Are the diamonds still in the room safe?”

  Alexander’s eyes glanced at the set of drawers where the personal safe was located. He’d had an option of leaving them in a complimentary safe deposit box at the reception desk, but although his package was of special value, he felt better about keeping it stored in the safe in their suite, which he checked obsessively.

  “Last time I checked.”

  Hallelujah laughed and checked the time on her cell phone. “Which was what, ten minutes ago? You’re definitely paranoid, Alexander. No one on this ship even knows you have them.”

  “Well, someone knows. The night I brought the diamonds home from the jeweler’s, my house was robbed. That wasn’t a coincidence. Luckily, I had dropped them off in my safe deposit box at the bank, or they’d be gone. And ever since then someone has been following me. Like I told you at Fiumicino, someone took a shot at me before I left for the Berlin-Tegel airport. I think I have reason to be paranoid. Do you know how much those rocks are worth?”

  “I know you know exactly how much they’re worth, since you had them appraised. Probably a small fortune. But they’re consuming your life.”

  “The diamonds were found in my house, and they belonged to living, breathing people. A family whose lives were viciously snuffed out. I’m sure it had something to do with why those diamonds were hidden. That family deserves justice, and I’m going to get it for them. I feel obligated.”

  “You don’t have to tell me about obligation,” Hallelujah agreed. “I’m a rabbi’s daughter. I was raised on a steady diet of the Holocaust. That’s why I’d never step foot in Berlin. I don’t know how you can live there.”

  “Hallelujah, I’m German.”

  “I thought you were American.”

  “I was born in America. My mother and father were German. Berlin is a wonderful place. I’d love to show you my house after we get this all sorted out.”

  “There’s no way I’m ever going to Berlin.”

  Alexander frowned. “Berlin has an unfortunate reputation, with the Nazis, and the Cold War, the Wall, and everything.”

  “You’d better not tell your parents you married a Jewish girl,” she challenged.

  “Now you’re being ridiculous. That wouldn’t make a bit of difference to them.”

  “Well, it would to my parents. It’s a good thing this marriage is a sham.”

  Alexander blew out a breath. “You’re not even giving it a chance. We haven’t even—”

  “Haven’t even what—slept together?” Hallelujah stood up abruptly and moved as far away from Alexander as she could get within the confines of the suite. “You’re starting to believe this fantasy. You think we’re really married, don’t you?”

  “I have the proof right in the pocket of my jacket,” he said, fingering the marriage certificate the captain had provided.

  “You’re delusional if you think I’m going to sleep with you. You’re just a stranger I met on an airplane. I’m going to get off at the next port and fly back to Italy to start my new life.”

  Alexander got up from the office chair and came around to the back of Hallelujah’s seat.

  “Hallelujah,” he said softly, rubbing her arm. “There was a reason I chose you on that airplane. It was meant to be.”

  Hallelujah shook her head. “I used to believe in fate. I don’t anymore—and don’t come any closer.” She rose from the chair, walked away from him, and sat on the bed. He followed and sat down beside her.

  “Don’t you feel anything when I kiss you?”

  Hallelujah didn’t answer. If she had answered, she might have said, “I feel an explosion and I see stars.”

  “I know you did, and I’m going to kiss you again,” he announced as he put his arms around her.

  “Don’t,” she warned, without much conviction, leaning into him.

  He took that as a positive signal. “Hallelujah, I’m not Lloyd, and I’m not Parker. I would never hurt you or break your heart.”

  Hallelujah frowned. Alexander brought his lips up to hers and coaxed her mouth open. “Kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it.” He teased her tongue and kissed her harder. Her arms went around him, and she returned his kiss with a passion that surprised them both.

  “I’m not the type of girl who…”

  “You’re the best type of girl,” Alexander whispered. “You’re my girl.” He placed the palm of his hand on her cheek and rubbed her back in a steady rhythm.

  She melted against him. He removed her white jacket and started to unbutton her blouse. Her nipples hardened. He reached under her blouse and massaged her breasts. Hallelujah sighed. She was sinking deeper into the fantasy, buying into the fairy tale of It Could Happen.

  “I think I’ve had too much to drink.” Always a good fallback line.

  “I don’t think you’ve had nearly enough.” He cupped one breast and deepened the kiss.

  Should I stop him? Do I even want to? Polly, what are we getting ourselves into?

  Chapter Nine

  Julian Grandcoeur

  He was named for his grandfather, Julian, although the way his mother talked about her father, she didn’t seem to think much of the man. Then again, she didn’t seem to think much of her own son. The way she looked at him, as if she were expecting a monster to spring from his body at any moment. Always judging him. Always looking for a flaw. Always disappointed in something he did or said. Her indifference was not overt. But a child could tell whether he was truly loved.

  On the other hand, she doted on his half-brother and sisters. She adored them, with their straight blonde hair and blue eyes like their Scandinavian grandmother, Ana Brinker Hirschfeld. When he wanted to know more about her side of the family, she became secretive. But she had named his younger brother after her brother Aaron, and one of his sisters after her beloved mother, Ana. That was all he needed to know.

  Sometimes he felt like an odd duck to his siblings’ swans, like he didn’t belong in the family. He was short, dark, squat, and moody, what his teachers called “rough around the edges.” Eva’s other children were tall, lithe, and graceful. He was sure he must have been adopted. In fact, it was something of a family joke. And then, when he was forty, she finally admitted the truth. He was fathered by another man, not Hans-Peter Grandcouer. She hadn’t wanted to tell him, but he had been in a skiing accident and his father, his stepfather, was eager to donate blood, but his blood wasn’t a match.

  From the moment he’d learned of his true identity, he’d had the urge to meet his real father. His mother said she hadn’t heard from him since the war. She didn’t know if he lived in East Berlin or West Berlin, or if he was even living at all, for that matter. She didn’t sound as if she cared. They’d had quite a row about it.

  “You just left him, pregnant with his child, and ran off without a word?”

  His mother didn’t seem repentant.

  “I did what I had to do.”

  “Did you ever love him?”

  “I’m sorry to say I despised him for every moment of our marriage.”

  “And did you despise me too?”

  Eva inhaled a breath and cast her eyes down. “You are my child. Of
course not.” But they both knew she was lying.

  “Tell me about him. Tell me about my real father, the man you stole from me, the life you stole from me.”

  “You look just like him.” She had pursed her lips, in distaste, as if deciding how much more she wanted to reveal. But he had insisted.

  According to his mother, his father had been an evil man, a Nazi SS officer, who had sent her family to the death chamber. The truth hit him like a missile launcher. Not so much that his father was a Nazi but that he had Jewish blood running through his veins.

  “I’m sure my father was just following orders like all the rest of the German people during the war.”

  His mother reared up and slapped him, the first time she’d ever raised her hand to him.

  “Following orders? You don’t really believe that, do you? You are just like him.”

  Julian rubbed his cheek where she’d struck him. “I don’t know what to believe. You’ve been lying to me my whole life.”

  From then on he refused to speak to his mother until she revealed the entire truth, the name of his real father, and where they’d last lived. After he recovered from his skiing accident, he stole money from her purse and from her hiding place in the kitchen, cashed in all of his savings, and took the train to Berlin. After all, she owed it to him. And he was on a mission.

  From there, it wasn’t difficult to track down Herr Hoffman. His father was overjoyed to see him, stunned to learn that he had been married to a Jewess, was actually still married to her, furious to find out exactly who she was and that his wife was living with another man and had another family in Switzerland. He was convinced she had stolen the diamonds from the house when she left.