November Sky

by Marleen Reichenberg

  Our civil marriage was to take place at eleven in the abbey’s Gothic Hall, followed by a photo op for the press. Once the photographers were dispatched off the peninsula where the abbey was—if necessary assisted by the security people hired specifically for that purpose—Nick and I would exchange vows before our relatives and friends in the abbey church, followed by a champagne reception on the patio and a celebration at the Gothic Hall that would go into the night. It was all meticulously planned.

  In my parents’ bedroom, Anna, Mama, and Maren, an old school friend—and a trained beautician and hairdresser—put the finishing touches on my appearance. I took a peek at the full-length mirror on the closet door and was choked with emotion. I imagined it was how the ugly duckling must have felt when it was transformed into a swan and first saw itself reflected in the water. I hoped Nick would still recognize me when we met in the courtyard.

  My three chambermaids were finished and also moved to tears when my cell’s ringtone disrupted the reverent atmosphere. It was Hanna and she sounded . . . odd. Not the way you’d assume she’d act with the wedding event imminent: expectant, happy, and exuberant. Rather as if somebody had just died. No, I didn’t want to even think about that word. But I could tell by her tone of voice that she was worried.

  “Laura, I’m terribly sorry to disturb you now. But I must know if you’ve heard anything from Nick today. Is he with you, perhaps?”

  Why should Nick be with us? He should have long been on his way to the abbey with Hanna and his parents. I started to grow cold as ice despite the warm temperature in the room.

  “No, I haven’t heard from him. We’re to meet in Seeon in an hour. Hanna, what’s going on? Where is he?”

  The pitch and volume of my voice rose higher and higher as I spoke. I sounded like a hysterical drama queen just before her nervous breakdown, like in a romantic movie on TV—the angry woman, the fiancée of the male star, right as it dawns on him that his true love is actually the easygoing, ever-cheerful country girl.

  Hanna sighed. “Laura, don’t be upset. I’m sure he’s already on the way to you. He was supposed to go to the abbey with his parents and me in Jürgen’s car. But we haven’t seen him for two hours. He showered this morning, shaved, hurried into his wedding tuxedo, and was just going to pick up a bridal bouquet from the garden center. Of course, he went in that flying machine of his. We haven’t seen him since and he isn’t answering his cell phone. His parents aren’t worried. They think he’s gone straight to you to pick you up. We’re leaving now without him so we won’t be late. I only wish he didn’t speed so.”

  I pictured the wedding guests, city officials, and pastor waiting for us in vain. Mira would be the only one whose smile would get broader and broader. The press wouldn’t get any pictures of the bridal couple, but a juicy headline instead. The next picture I visualized took my breath away: Nick’s goddamn sports car wrapped around a tree off the road. And Nick in his tux, slumped over the wheel, a tattered orchid bouquet beside him on the passenger seat.

  I cursed myself for leaving him alone. But he’d been so well balanced, happy, and full of warmth in the last few months. Before going to bed the night before, we’d talked on the phone for a long time. He sounded blue.

  “If only it were tomorrow morning already. Darling, I miss you. The bed’s so damn empty and big without you.”

  I laughed at him. “Hey, you should be having a blow-out on your last night as a bachelor. Remember that life gets serious as of tomorrow morning. My father says the husband fights for supremacy in the first week of marriage, in the second for equal rights, and after the third it’s just raw survival.”

  I could have kicked myself as soon as I said it. How could I so unthinkingly crack jokes about “survival” with Nick? But he burst out laughing on the other end of the line and that lulled me into a false sense of security.

  “Laura, darling, I see we’re circling around and sharpening our knives. Mainly because you’re such a combative, domineering Amazon!”

  The phone call ended with some XXX-rated references to our approaching wedding night.

  Blissfully happy to have found such a wonderful man, I’d finally fallen asleep around two. I hadn’t the slightest worry that he might really be doing something different and would urgently need me at his side. Nobody but me had the faintest idea that Nick wasn’t always the humorous, beaming hero sparkling with charm that he appeared to be on the surface. He’d made me promise not to tell a soul about his nightmares or fits of depression, and said that as long as I was with him he’d do nothing stupid. But right now I wasn’t with him, and I tortured myself with terrible, secret fears I wouldn’t wish on any bride on her wedding morning. Hanna sounded so worried I wondered if she perhaps suspected Nick had problems.

  Mama, Anna, and Maren looked at me inquisitively after I said good-bye to Hanna, promising to let her know the minute Nick arrived. I tried to reach Nick but only got his voice mail.

  “Is there something wrong?” Mama asked.

  Though I thought I would die, I pulled off an amazingly good piece of play-acting. I put on a blasé face and gave a casual wink.

  “No, no problems. Just a change of plans. Nick probably couldn’t wait to see me and has already left by himself. He’ll presumably turn up very soon to pick me up instead of going with his parents and Hanna straight to the abbey.”

  Mama immediately protested vehemently because they’d had our old Passat Variant washed and profusely decorated with flowers, and it was waiting to take the bride and her family to the registry and the church. In different circumstances I would have been really sorry to disappoint her, but with my worry about Nick I didn’t give a damn if her nose was out of joint or if I didn’t join them.

  I was so desperate I offered the universe an absurd deal: If Nick actually showed up here unharmed in the next thirty minutes, I was prepared to forget my fear and make a tandem parachute jump. I thought I had to make a very big sacrifice so my prayers would be heard. Although Nick had never pushed me about it, I knew he’d be thrilled. At that very moment, I’d have done anything to have him standing before me, laughing . . .

  I was barely able to play the eager bride in front of my family. It was only through sheer self-control that I was able to listen to Maren’s saga of her chaotic wedding day, and dutifully laugh at the right places. Inside, I thought a botched wedding waltz and a ripped train on her dress due to the bridegroom’s poor dancing skills was ridiculous to get worked up about two years later. Maren should be happy that the groom had showed up for the wedding in good shape and on time.

  Twenty minutes later, I finally heard the desperately-wished-for engine roar, the crush of gravel in the inner courtyard, and a car door slam. I ran to the window. Nick was standing beside his car. He looked so elegant in his tux that I was bowled over. He held a gorgeous bouquet of delicate pink orchids. Seeing him took a huge load off my mind. I sobbed and gathered up my dress and its little train, rushed to the door, and flung my arms around his neck. He stretched out his right arm to protect the fragile flowers and pulled me tightly to him with his left. Profoundly relieved, I stared into his radiant face.

  “Nick, thank God! Hanna phoned to say you’d simply vanished. I was riddled with anxiety!” Then, feeling a little hysterical, something else occurred to me. “Oh, yes, and the very, very best wishes for your birthday. I’ll give you your present later. Maybe tonight, when we’re alone.”

  He pushed me away a little and surveyed me up and down, whistling in awe. “The fact that I have found you is my biggest present. You are a beautiful bride. I just spoke with the parents, and they’ve arrived. Hanna shouldn’t have called and driven you crazy, the old toad. I couldn’t stand being without you anymore, and besides, I wanted us to go to the church together.”

  He looked at his watch. “If we want to be on time, we’d better take off now. Are you ready?”

  I ignored
my mother’s strong protest that we were crazy to go in that uncomfortable car. With Nick’s help, I gathered up my dress and train, carefully slipped onto the low seat, and put the flowers wrapped in cellophane on my lap. I was so happy that he’d shown up that I would have gone in full bridal dress on the back of a bicycle with him if he’d asked me to. And in a way, it just seemed right that we should go to our wedding in the car that led to our first meeting.

  As we drove the short distance to Seeon, I realized that it was perfect October weather: The foliage on the trees sparkled in the sunlight. The green, yellow, and red hues stood out against a deep-blue, cloudless sky. The air was mild, but you could already sense a touch of the cold that would signal the end of the warm season.

  The photographer for our private wedding pictures was already waiting, along with some newspaper reporters and fans, who fell on us with cameras at the ready when we parked in the large lot and walked onto the narrow footbridge leading to the peninsula and the abbey. I hated it when total strangers hassled me, and I involuntarily slowed my steps. Nick put an arm around my waist and drew me toward him reassuringly.

  “Don’t worry. They don’t bite. It’s like with aggressive dogs. If they run at you, you mustn’t show any fear. Let’s go ahead and smile.”

  So I smiled, somewhat uptight at first, and then joyfully. It was fairly easy with Nick at my side. After the photo shoot on the footbridge, in a romantic gateway, and on the church steps, we had half an hour until the civil ceremony. We used the time to check into our room in the abbey hotel, where we finally had some peace and quiet. I took a deep breath and went out onto the little deck overlooking an unkempt romantic garden. The blue lake shimmered in the background. After all the hoopla, the pushy shouts of the press photographers telling us to move here or over there, and all the questions, I especially enjoyed some blissful peace.

  A rustling in the grass caught my attention, and I looked down. A raven, perched in the fallen leaves about ten feet away from me, had trained its dark button eye on me. I wondered if it was tame, because it didn’t seem shy. Though I felt silly, I spoke to it persistently in a calm, low voice. The bird was very still. I flattered it with mindless words: “Well, aren’t you pretty? Are you hungry? I’m so sad not to have anything for you.” I heard a key turning in the lock and the door opened. Nick had fetched our bags from the car.

  “Laura, who are you talking to?” he asked.

  The raven quickly turned and hopped a few yards away, disappearing under a thick bush. I saw that one of its wings hung down a little. Was it broken? But I forgot about the bird when Nick wrapped his arms around me from behind and tenderly kissed the nape of my neck. I felt warm around my midsection, as I always did at his touch.

  “Have you got your lover hidden somewhere around here?”

  “For sure. I bring him with me everywhere. Just in case you should grow weak tonight, he’s sleeping under our bed.”

  I turned to him, put my arms around his neck, and with pleasure breathed in the scent of his spicy aftershave. I snuggled up to him and he gave me a slap on the butt.

  “Me? Grow weak? You’re insane! Just you wait until we’re married. Then I’ll show you who’s master in this house.”

  I pretended to cringe. “Oh, then finally the appropriate technical aids will come into play?”

  He grinned seductively. “I would think you’d have realized I don’t need any aids to get you to beg for deliverance.”

  He kissed me ardently, and his hands ran all over my body. He shamelessly lifted the hem of my ankle-length dress, and his hands slid up my legs. He whistled like a construction worker when he felt the lace borders at the tops of my white stockings. It was difficult, but I tore myself from him and pushed him off.

  “Nick, we need to be at the registry official’s office in ten minutes. How would it look if we came late and all mussed up?”

  “Like we’d moved our wedding night up? I’m sure they’d be understanding, especially if they knew what you’re wearing under your long, modest dress.”

  Four hours later, I had become, both officially and with God’s blessing, Laura Vanderstätt. I could have hugged the whole world for joy when we came down the church steps after the ceremony. There our parents congratulated us, then came our siblings and friends, who—depending on their personalities—congratulated us sentimentally, effusively, or, like my little brother, with male cool. He took me forcefully in his arms and planted two fat kisses on my cheeks. Then he whacked his newly minted brother-in-law jovially on the shoulder.

  “All the best to you two. You’ve made a really nice catch. But one vital piece of advice: Take the book out of her hands when you’re in the bedroom. Otherwise she won’t even notice you’re there.”

  Chris came with her boyfriend, Richard, and she looked unusually elegant in a salmon-colored chiffon dress. She hugged me tight and said in a loud voice, “Laura, I wish you all the very best and am hugely delighted for you.”

  Before letting me go, she whispered in my ear, “You can dance at my wedding next year. Richard asked me to be his wife yesterday.”

  I beamed at my friend. She’d been looking so long for Mr. Right but to no avail. Now it seemed as if fate had granted us both personal happiness to go with our professional success.

  Not even Mira’s sweet-and-sour face when she equivocally wished me “Best wishes, Laura, and the best of all possible luck” could dampen my sense of well-being and euphoria. Her congratulations were like a threat; I sensed a sotto voce trailer: “You’ll need it.” But maybe I was simply prejudiced against Mira. Fortunately, she said good-bye right after coffee was served, excusing herself to go to a business meeting. Nick and I floated over the dance floor to the strains of our wedding waltz. My new husband dazzled with charm, high spirits, and pure joie de vivre, and I suspected that many of the women present secretly envied me.

  We celebrated until far into the night, dancing with abandon and laughing at my family’s slide show, which documented my life up to that very day.

  My parents, Anna, and Peter delivered commentaries, which they’d composed to accompany the individual pictures. Lars had disappeared upstairs with the baby some time before, where I imagined he was standing guard over a sleeping baby Elizabeth. I enjoyed every minute of the party until around midnight. After chitchatting with Chris and Richard in the courtyard for some time, I realized I hadn’t seen Nick recently, not since in the bar where he was playfully resisting his friends’ attempts to force a newly married man into a toast with tequila. I hoped he’d stood his ground despite their urging. I scanned the dance floor. He was determined to dance with every woman there at least once, and I wasn’t sure I could pick him out in the teeming crowd. But he wasn’t in the wildly rocking crowd dancing to “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.” Maybe he had succumbed to his friends’ urgings and couldn’t handle the liquor? I hurried to the men’s room, which Moritz was just leaving. I almost ran him down. He hesitated, and then gave me an impudent grin.

  “You’ve got the wrong door, Mrs. Vanderstätt. Or were you waiting for me because you’ve realized that I’d be the better man for you?”

  “Is Nick in there?”

  “Tell me, can’t you at least let your new husband go to the john by himself? We men need time to ourselves now and then.”

  I didn’t have the patience for dumb jokes. “Moritz, this is important. Is he in there?”

  He saw I meant business and said no. “All the stalls were empty. Nobody but me—”

  I left him in midsentence, gathered up my dress, and ran through the half-lit corridors up to our room.

  I hammered on the door. “Nick, are you in there?”

  No answer, so I fished a room key out of my brassiere. Nick’s was in his pants pocket, and I had one just in case. We’d been determined not to have any wedding night surprises that were a tradition for some Germans, such as a bridal bed f
ull of damp watercress seeds or pots of water on the honeymoon suite floor. I unlocked the door and was firmly convinced that Nick would emerge from the bathroom. No Nick. The room was empty. I stared at the lovingly laid-back covers and the heart-shaped chocolates scattered over the bed. The maid had obviously been back to turn down the bed. A cool draft came over my bare shoulders. The scented gardenias on the deck were opening, and I saw the door was half open. My newlywed husband had probably wanted a breath of fresh air before returning to our guests. I went outside, smiling. The little park before me went all the way down to the lakeshore, and was dimly lit by two antique-looking, wrought-iron streetlights.

  I whispered, “Nick? Where are you?”

  My eyes adjusted to the semidarkness in a minute, and when I saw a slight movement near the lake under a grove of tall trees, I ran to it. It was Nick, but he didn’t seem to register that I was there. He had his back to me and was looking up at the thick branches above. He took a decisive step toward the trunk. My heart immediately started racing when I saw what was dangling from his right hand. I took a deep breath and walked toward him.

  “Nick? What—”

  I stopped as he turned with a profoundly desperate look in his eyes. His shoulders drooped. He didn’t say a word, but I could feel the hopelessness and abysmal sadness around him like a black aura. Slowly, trying not to frighten him, I reached out a hand.

  “Darling, give me your belt. Please. You promised never to scare me again.”

  He stared me fully in the face in silence for what felt like an eternity, still with those awfully extinguished eyes, and then dropped the belt onto the grass and soundlessly began to cry. The belt was knotted into a noose. I smelled the alcohol on his breath and I put my arms around him and held him tight against me. I was dizzy with relief. I didn’t dare picture what he’d have done if I’d started looking a few minutes later.