by Hope Franke
“I’m sorry young man,” she heard her papa say, “but lunch is over. I can get you a bun if you like.”
“I’m not here for the food.”
Eva stiffened, her spine like a cold copper pipe. Chills shot up to the base of her neck. She didn’t have to turn around to know who the voice belonged to.
She swiveled slowly. The sight of Sebastian Weiss standing in the middle of their small house church made her knees give out, and she lowered herself onto the nearest chair. She wasn’t imagining it this time. He was really there, in the flesh.
Her brain couldn’t compute. Sebastian Weiss belonged on stage and on TV. A crack in the universe had erroneously delivered him here.
Papa’s eyes, looking larger through the thick lenses he pushed up on his face, darted from Sebastian to Eva and back. His thin lips drew downward. “What are you here for then?”
Eva’s pulse surged, and she found it hard to swallow.
Sebastian pointed at Eva. “For her.”
Papa stared at the large tattoo on Sebastian’s arm, then to the earrings in his ears, and a soft growl escaped from his throat.
“It’s all right, Papa,” she said, her voice barely audible. “He just wants to ask me about a song I sang at open mic night.”
Papa bore down on their visitor. “What did you say your name was?”
“Sebastian Weiss.”
Papa’s eyes moved back to Eva, his bushy brows jumping. Then he grunted again. “Never heard of you.”
Eva knew that wasn’t true. Everyone in their small flat was aware of her fascination with Sebastian Weiss and his band, and they often teased her for it. Papa’s thick brows furrowed deeper but thankfully he turned back to the kitchen and left them alone.
Sebastian slipped into the seat across from Eva. “He’s scary.”
She nodded feeling like a pixie had suddenly stitched her lips together. Her papa may be scary, but he wasn’t the one who terrified her now.
The girl, Eva, looked like a frightened rabbit shrinking into herself on the other side of the table. She hid behind a swath of brown hair. Sebastian wondered if he’d made a mistake in coming. He liked her sound, but it wasn’t worth getting taken out by her old man.
“I suppose I should’ve called first,” Sebastian said, “but I didn’t have your number.”
Eva blinked.
“I thought maybe you could play me your song again?” Most musicians jumped at the chance to showcase their music to Sebastian with the hope that he could somehow pull strings to help them break into the industry. He had a collection of CDs that hopeful artists had shoved into his hands on tour. They stalked him in the lobby and ran after him as he climbed on the tour bus. They were almost as bad as the groupies.
The girl’s eyes popped even wider than they already were, if possible, at his request and he thought she was going to say no.
Finally, she spoke. “I guess.”
She didn’t ask if he wanted to record it or perform it and she didn’t have that eager, puppy dog expression like any other singer would have. It was like the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. He waited for her to retrieve her guitar, but then she didn’t move. Her eyes darted to the guitar sitting on the stand across the room as she rubbed her right thigh.
Right. Her gimpy leg. Was she self-conscious? Maybe she didn’t want him to watch her struggle across the room.
He waved toward the instrument. “Do you want me to get it?”
Eva stared back and nodded.
Sebastian sprinted across the small room and back and carefully handed her the guitar. She propped it across her lap, her knees peeking out from the hem of a light-colored skirt. “This isn’t mine,” she said. “I have a Duncan Africa upstairs.”
“Really?” Sebastian said. “I’ve heard good things about them, but never played one.”
“It’s amazing. The warm tone and resonance… I’m sure you’d love it.”
She smiled a little, like talking about guitars relaxed her, and Sebastian smiled back. She strummed and picked at the strings, and he recalled the melody.
She looked up from under long eyelashes free of mascara. “I’m kind of nervous. You’re you, and you’re so close.”
Her eyes were green and they sparkled when she spoke of him and something tweaked. Sebastian surprised himself by thinking that the girl was pretty. Not just cute, but pretty, in a very wholesome, natural way.
“Just close your eyes and pretend I’m not here. Pretend you’re at the Blue Note.”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes and a few seconds later began to sing. Her voice was clear as crystal and pure. No showcasing, no showing off. Just straight, honest, beautiful vocals. The lyrics moved him as strongly as the night he’d first heard them, but today, sitting this close to Eva Baumann, he couldn’t take his eyes off her soft, moist lips.
Idiot. He was glad she had her eyes closed. He could only imagine the blush that would spread across her face if she could read his mind right now.
She strummed the last note and opened her eyes. Sebastian broke into applause, filling the room with the sound of his appreciation.
“Do you realize how good you are?” Her face flattened with surprise and Sebastian believed that she truly didn’t. He inhaled in shock, not used to seeing true humility.
“Thank you,” she said. Her eyes flickered to movement over his shoulder and Sebastian turned in time to see Herr Baumann about to leave. The large man nodded at Eva, but narrowed his eyes when his gaze landed on Sebastian.
Her father was bristly, but Sebastian liked how he so obviously cared for his daughter. The man didn’t have to worry about Sebastian. Sure, Eva was sweet and pretty, but he wasn’t interested in her in a physical way. Despite her alluring lips, she wasn’t his type, and besides his breakup with Yvonne still stung too much.
Eva sat statue still, waiting for his next move. Sebastian understood his current popularity could be intimidating. He searched for a way to break the ice. “Nice place here.” Her eyes followed his gaze and he winced a little. There was nothing special about this room, not aesthetically anyway. “I mean, it’s good work that you and your family do. Have you lived in the Neustadt long?”
“Since I was thirteen,” she answered. “So, eight years.”
That made her twenty-one. He would’ve guessed that she was younger, maybe seventeen or eighteen. It was hard to believe she was only three years younger than he was.
“Nice.” He waited for her to ask him a question. When it was obvious none was forthcoming, he asked another of his own. “Do you have another song?” He wanted to know if she was prolific. Did she take songwriting seriously, or was she just lucky with one good song?
“I’m working on a new one right now.”
“Let me hear it.”
“Oh. It’s not really ready.”
Well, at least that meant she wrote seriously. “Play me a finished one then.”
She held his gaze. “I will if you will.”
Wow, he hadn’t expected that. Maybe the girl had some gumption after all. “You’re on. But first, you know what? I’d really like to see your Duncan Africa. Is it possible for you to let me try it?”
Eva’s green eyes flashed with a moment of anxiety, but then she nodded and handed Sebastian the guitar to put away. She reached for the cane hanging on the back of her chair—Sebastian hadn’t noticed it before—and pushed herself upright. She limped ahead of him and he followed her through a door that led to a hallway and up a set of winding cement steps. He found himself jerking an arm outward, afraid that she might fall, but kept his hands to himself.
It was a slow climb, but they arrive at the next floor, and Eva opened the wooden door to their flat. It wasn’t big. A living room faced the street and connected to a small kitchen that overlooked a quaint, overgrown courtyard. The flat was tidy, but lived in.
“No one’s home?” he asked. It surprised him since the door was unlocked.
“Mama’s in the kitchen downstairs
cleaning up. Papa had a meeting. Gabriele, that’s my sister, she’s in university.”
“You’re not in university?”
Eva paused, then answered softly. “Not yet.”
Sebastian wondered why, but he got the feeling it was personal and he didn’t want her to feel like he was grilling her. She opened the door to a room that housed two narrow beds. It clearly belonged to a couple girls by the way it was decorated with floral fabric and lace. He spotted the guitar propped up on a stand in the corner and whistled.
“That’s a beauty.” He caught her eye. “Do you mind?”
“Go ahead.”
He picked it up gently and examined the surface. “What kind of wood is it?”
“The back and sides are Indian Rosewood,” she answered. “The top is solid cedar.”
Sebastian whistled. “Nice.”
Eva sat on one of the beds and Sebastian claimed the chair by the guitar.
“Is this where you write?” he asked.
“Usually. It’s… easier if I stay here.”
Right. Sebastian couldn’t imagine Eva carrying the guitar down the stairs on her own. He ran his fingers along the strings, plucking out a familiar rift, closing his eyes as he absorbed the joy of it. The bright sounds rang from the wooden instrument like honey to his ears.
“I love that song,” Eva said.
His eyes popped open, and he remembered where he was. “It’s a crowd favorite.”
“I’m a fan of your band,” she added.
Sebastian grinned, and his eyes moved to the poster on the other side of the room. He remembered that photo shoot and that thousands of copies of that poster had moved in a week. Eva’s eyes darted to where he’d been looking, and she covered her face with her hands.
“I’m so embarrassed.”
“Why? I’m flattered.”
“I just don’t want you to think I’m like those groupie girls who follow you around.”
Sebastian studied her. “Believe me. You’re nothing like them. And I mean that in the best way.” And that was the truth. Eva was like a breath of fresh air. She didn’t want anything from him, didn’t expect anything from him. He found himself relaxing for the first time in days.
He carried the guitar over to Eva. “Your turn.”
She smiled brightly, and a strange quiver swirled in his chest. He lowered himself to the rug at her feet and waited. She pursed her lips together and looked up at the ceiling like she was deciding what she should play—a simple expression that on Eva was adorable. Sebastian shook his head. Where were these thoughts coming from?
Focus on the song.
He didn’t have a chance to hear it because they were interrupted by a gust of wind and the shocked expression of a girl with short platinum blond hair who stood frozen in the doorway. She wore form-fitting jeans, a breezy blouse, and her arms were full of books. Her green eyes, the only thing that connected her to Eva, moved from the stunned face of the girl sitting on the edge of the bed, to Sebastian and back again.
She squinted at them. “Did I just enter an alternate universe?”
Eva almost dropped her guitar. She’d lost all track of time and wanted to kick herself for the lapse. She enjoyed having the sole attention of Sebastian Weiss. What girl wouldn’t? It was a dream, a fairytale: she had to know it wouldn’t last forever.
But she hadn’t wanted it to end like this—with her beautiful, charismatic sister’s charm luring him away. Eva and Sebastian had shared a moment. She hadn’t imagined the admiration she saw in his gorgeous hazel eyes. Had she? She’d believed he was interested in her, at least as an artist. Maybe what they had wouldn’t have lasted to the end of the day, but it had a chance before now.
Sebastian stood and offered his hand. “I’m Sebastian.”
Gabriele set down her books on the dresser with the poise of the Queen of England. “I’m Gabriele, Eva’s sister.” She smirked and pointed to the poster of Sebastian on Eva’s side of the room. “Of course I already knew who you were.”
A red flare of mortification ignited in Eva’s belly, and she wanted to crawl under her bed. Not that she wasn’t already invisible. The scene had changed, and once Gabriele had stepped on stage, the spotlight had swung to her, leaving Eva blotted out by the shadows. If this scene were playing in a theater, Eva’s character would be slinking out of sight on stage right.
Except there was no way for her to escape now. Gabriele blocked the doorway.
Gabriele propped a hand on her hip, and Eva swore she batted her eyelashes. “You can imagine my surprise,” she continued, her eyes locked on Sebastian’s face. “Finding you here… in my bedroom.”
Sebastian jerked and looked at Eva, like he finally remembered she was there. “Eva was kind enough to show me her beautiful guitar.”
“It is beautiful,” Gabriele admitted. “Sadly, she won’t let me play it.”
“You have your own beautiful guitar,” Eva said. “I didn’t know you wanted to play mine.”
Gabriele laughed. “Just teasing.”
“Where’s your fiancé?” Eva asked pointedly. Seriously. Gabriele was preparing to be married soon. Did she have to flaunt her expert flirtation skills?
Sebastian’s gaze moved between the two sisters. “I should go.”
“Probably a good idea,” Gabriele said lightly. “Papa doesn’t approve of boys in our room.”
Eva rolled her eyes. Oh my heart. Just kill me now.
Sebastian surprised her by crouching in front of her so they were eye to eye. “Thanks for showing me your guitar and for playing your songs. You’re a great songwriter, and I love your voice. Keep it up.” He stood and grinned at Gabriele who hadn’t moved from her spot by the door. “I can see myself out.”
Eva may have taken Sebastian’s admonishment to heart if she hadn’t watched him brush past Gabriele in the doorway.
“Way to make room for him to get by,” she said once he was gone.
“Hey, it’s not every day you find a hot celebrity in your bedroom.” She snuggled close beside Eva. “Now spill. How did he end up here? Tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out.”
Eva sighed. No one was immune to Gabriele’s charm, not even she. “He saw me play at the Blue Note.”
“Wait,” Gabriele pulled back. “The night you finally performed? And you never mentioned this?”
“It seemed so random. And I know I already come off as a lovesick fan. I didn’t want to add to that.” Eva shrugged a shoulder. “I really didn’t think he’d follow through with his promise to look me up.”
Gabriele gaped. “He promised you that?”
“Yeah. Kind of. He really liked my song. I just thought maybe he had too much to drink. Then he got recognized and raced away.”
“Wow. Sebastian Weiss looked up my sister because he thinks she’s talented.” She squeezed Eva’s shoulders and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Cool story. One for the Baumann family history books.”
Eva felt her lips pull up. It was impossible to stay mad at her sister.
“Now that the surreal has passed,” Gabriele said, pulling out her cell phone, “it’s time to work on wedding plans.” She gave Eva new instructions and Eva shuffled over to her desk where she could order some of the decorations online. She only peeked at Hollow Fellows website once or twice. Or three times. Oh God. How was she supposed to concentrate on real life now? She closed her eyes and happily relived every moment that she shared with Sebastian Weiss that day.
“Eva!”
She jumped at her sister’s voice. “I’m doing it, Gabi, jeez.” Eva had a sinking feeling that her life had peaked that afternoon, and it was all down hill from here.
Mama called for them to come for Abendbrot, a light meal of buns, meats and cheeses they shared in the evenings. The hot meal was eaten midday, and on soup kitchen days, the soup was considered their hot meal. Eva set the table with four plates and the necessary cutlery while Gabriele grabbed the glasses, the sparkling mineral water and the apple
juice. Papa had already delivered the bread and quickly finished slicing a cucumber and tomato. This was a job Mama normally did, but Papa said she worked hard enough in the soup kitchen on soup days, and so he would oversee Abendbrot on those days.
Papa sat at his usual place at the head of the table with Mama at the spot to his right. Gabriele sat at the foot of the table and Eva beside her across from her mama. Papa cleared his throat, the sign that he was about to pray, and everyone closed their eyes and bowed their heads.
After the “Amen,” Mama lifted the bun basket and passed it around. “How are the wedding plans going?” she asked Gabriele.
“Good.” Gabriele sliced her bun and topped it with meat. “Papa, did you secure the Three Kings Church?”
He nodded. “I walked over this afternoon and settled things with the administration.”
So that was where he had gone while Eva was with Sebastian. Her papa stared at her, like he was just remembering the occasion as well. She looked down and picked at the seeds on the top of her bun, but her papa wasn’t thwarted.
“Who was that boy who came to see you today?”
“No one. Just a friend.”
Gabriele scoffed. “Just a friend? That was Sebastian Weiss, Papa. He’s gotten really big recently. On TV and the radio even. Eva’s got a poster of him on the wall of our room.”
“Gabi!” Eva hissed. What a traitor. She softened her expression and turned back to her parents. “He’s not even a friend. Just a musician I met at the Blue Note.”
Mama frowned and turned to her husband. “I knew it was a bad idea to let her go to a pub.”
Eva muttered, “Oh, God.”
Mama swung back to her. “Eva!”
“Sorry, Mama.” Her mother felt that God’s name should only be invoked if one were praying. “Oh my heart. But really, I’m not a child.”
Mama clucked. “We know that, but, you still need to use wisdom. Is this boy even a Christian?”
Eva dropped her knife. “We’re not dating for goodness sake. He just wanted to hear my song.”
