"No. He suspects things, but he doesn't know anything."
Kurt looked at Amanda closely with eyes that revealed everything from curiosity and compassion to frustration and fear. He frowned.
"He got to you, didn't he? Karl got to you."
Amanda looked away as her eyes started to water.
"He did."
Kurt turned Amanda back toward him.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there to deal with him. I had no idea he had come to town."
"That's all right," Amanda said. She sighed. "I'm actually glad we had the chance to talk. We cleared the air and set a few things straight."
Kurt put his hand under her chin and lifted it.
"I don't know what he said to upset you. I'm not sure I want to know," Kurt said. "What I do know is that Karl will not have the chance to upset you again."
Amanda looked at Kurt with puzzled eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"He's leaving for Berlin next week," Kurt said. "He's returning to Germany with my mother."
"Why?" Amanda asked.
"My mother is ill. She has a rare form of cancer."
"Oh, Kurt. I'm so sorry."
"I know. I am too," Kurt said.
"Can't doctors treat her here?"
Kurt shook his head.
"They can treat her pain but not her disease. Her physicians give her three months."
"Then why is she going to Berlin?" Amanda asked.
"It's simple," Kurt said. "There's a doctor there who says he can cure her cancer if he can see her right away. We want to at least give him a chance."
Amanda wanted to say the doctor was a quack stringing the family along. She wanted to tell Kurt that a cancer diagnosis in 1939 was a death sentence and that it would be better for Johanna to die in America, surrounded by loved ones, than to return to Germany, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't deny anyone the peace that comes with hope.
"What does this mean for your father?" Amanda asked. "What does it mean for you?"
"We will both remain here, in the States, until Karl summons us to Berlin," Kurt said. "Our relatives there have already rented a flat for the family."
Amanda took a breath.
"Karl said nothing about this when I saw him. He didn't mention your mother at all."
"I'm not surprised," Kurt said.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you're an outsider and – to Karl – a meddler. I'm surprised he took the time to talk to you at all."
"I wouldn't say we talked," Amanda said. "We argued."
"It doesn't matter," Kurt said. "He wouldn't have told you anything under any circumstances."
Amanda looked again at the lake. She could see the rower in the distance. He had moved beyond a bank of fog that was fading into thin tendrils of dissipating cloud.
"Do you consider me a meddler?"
"No," Kurt said. "I consider you a mystery I want to unravel. I hope that at some point you will trust me enough to tell me the things you can't tell me now."
Amanda smiled sadly.
"I hope so too," she said.
"Do you have any more questions for me?"
Amanda gazed at Kurt.
"I do. I have one."
"What?" Kurt asked.
"When Karl was badgering me, insulting me, and trying to get under my skin, he told me something I hadn't heard before. He said you loved me. Is that true?"
Kurt blushed.
"It is. I think I've loved you since the night you called my father a Nazi apologist."
Amanda laughed softly and then looked at Kurt with wistful eyes.
"Me too," Amanda said. "I don't know what I can do with this feeling, but I feel the same way. I love you, Kurt Schmidt. I have for a very long time."
CHAPTER 60: ELIZABETH
Wednesday, June 7, 1939
Elizabeth heard the sound before she saw the sight. Walking up the stairs she cursed on a daily basis, she heard what sounded like sobs.
She wasn't sure who might be crying. She considered Amanda's voice and mannerisms to be indistinguishable from Susan's at times and, for that reason, considered them peas in a pod.
Elizabeth went first to Amanda's bedroom. She put her ear to the door, listened carefully, and heard nothing. She expected to hear nothing. Her granddaughter was usually out of the house by ten in the morning.
So she continued to the other bedroom. When she heard more sobs, she turned the knob, gently pushed open the door, and looked inside. She saw two things she hadn't seen in months: a daughter in tears and a sparkling white crystal.
"Susan? Are you all right?" Elizabeth asked.
"No," Susan said. "I'm not."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Susan wiped her eyes with a tissue and nodded.
"I think I do."
Elizabeth walked to the far side of the room and joined her daughter on a bench seat cushion. The bright blue cushion formed part of a window nook that measured six feet by eight and dominated an otherwise drab living space.
Elizabeth sat on the right side of the nook. Susan sat on the left. Professor Geoffrey Bell's white gypsum crystal occupied a space in the middle.
"What's wrong?" Elizabeth asked.
"A lot of things are wrong, Mom."
"Be specific."
Susan looked at her mother through red, watery eyes.
"I woke up this morning and realized what day it is. It's June 7. Bruce died a year ago today."
"He did," Elizabeth said.
"I've been crying for an hour. I couldn't figure out why until just a minute ago," Susan said. "I've never moved past that day. I've never really mourned my husband."
Elizabeth leaned forward and gave her daughter a hug.
"No. You haven't," Elizabeth said. "I've been waiting for these tears."
Susan pulled back and wiped her eyes again.
"I don't get it. I can go days without thinking about him, weeks even, and when I do think about him, I get angry. I get bitter. I think about what he did to me. So why am I crying now?"
Elizabeth put a hand on Susan's knee.
"You're crying now because you have to. This is the price of moving on."
"The what?"
"Listen to me, Susan. Listen to your mother, for once," Elizabeth said. "You had a husband. You loved him and cared for him for twenty-five years. You made a beautiful child with him. That kind of person does not just disappear from your heart or your mind overnight."
"I suppose you're right," Susan said.
"I know I'm right. It's hard to bury a husband. It's even harder to bury one who cheated on you. You have mixed emotions."
Susan took a deep breath.
"Sometimes I wonder if I could have saved my marriage. I wanted it to work. I really did. I don't know why it didn't. What did I do wrong?"
"You did nothing wrong," Elizabeth said. "You were a good wife. You did all the things a good wife should do and more. Bruce brought this on himself."
"Then why do I feel so bad?"
"You feel bad because you lost a spouse. Now you have to figure out a way to move on. You have to decide what you want to do with the rest of your life."
Susan smiled sadly.
"I guess I do."
Elizabeth pulled her hand from Susan's knee and picked up the crystal. She held it up to the light and admired its sparkle for a moment before putting it back on the cushion.
"I see you brought out your rock," Elizabeth said.
Susan nodded.
"I do every once in a while to remind myself that our stay here is temporary."
Elizabeth brought a hand to her chin.
"That's what's really bothering you. It's not Bruce or your alleged failings as a wife but rather that we will soon have to leave this place – a place where you've found a measure of happiness."
"That's part of it," Susan said.
"Does your anxiety about leaving have anything to do with a retired admiral?"
"You k
now it does."
"Do you like him?" Elizabeth asked.
"Yes. I like him."
"Do you love him?"
"Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know," Susan said. "All I know for sure is that Jack really likes me and can't understand why we can't continue our relationship into the fall."
"Has he hinted at anything serious?"
"Yes. He has. Jack has all but suggested that he would be willing to move to Chicago to keep me. He just has no idea of what that really means."
Elizabeth frowned.
"Do you think he'll propose?"
"I do. We're moving slowly but surely in that direction," Susan said. "Jack Hicks is an old-fashioned man, Mom. If he thinks the only way he can keep me is to propose before we leave, then he'll do just that."
"Have you told any of this to Amanda?" Elizabeth asked.
"No. I'm not going to either. She has her own problems. This is something I'm just going to have to work out by myself."
Elizabeth leaned forward and gave Susan another hug.
"I'm proud of you. You get smarter and wiser every day."
"I had a good teacher," Susan said.
Elizabeth smiled and retreated to her side of the nook. She put a hand to her heart when she felt a sharp pain ripple through her chest.
"Are you all right?" Susan asked.
"I think so," Elizabeth said. "I feel a little weak, that's all."
"Shall I call a doctor?"
"No. I'm sure it's just a passing thing."
CHAPTER 61: SUSAN
Thursday, June 15, 1939
Susan opened the text to the bookmarked page, found six paragraphs on naval aviation, and started copying the paragraphs, word for word, on a yellow legal pad.
She didn't mind the work. She found it educational. What she didn't like was taking four hours to do what a modern photocopier could do in four minutes. She stopped writing after the third paragraph, put her pencil down, and stretched her fingers like she was counting by fives.
"Is your hand getting sore?" Jack asked.
Susan laughed.
"It was sore an hour ago."
Jack stopped writing. He set his pencil aside and leaned back in his chair.
"Then let's call it quits. It's getting close to dinner time."
"I know it is, but let's finish," Susan said. "We have only two more books."
"Are you sure you want to continue?" Jack asked.
"I'm sure."
"OK."
Susan grabbed one of the two remaining unopened books and pushed the other toward her partner. She sat opposite him at a wooden table in the small study room of the Nassau Institute. She gave Jack a fleeting glance before returning to her work.
"When does this place close?" Susan asked.
"Five."
Susan scribbled a few lines.
"When does our favorite restaurant open?"
Jack laughed.
"Five."
Susan smiled.
"Then I guess we had better get moving."
Susan picked up the pace with her pencil and her pad. She needed only the promise of French food on a Thursday night to boost her productivity and her spirits.
She copied essential information on two more pages, grabbed the last book, and opened it to the first bookmarked page. She frowned when she saw more acronyms than verbs.
Susan started to ask Jack a question about a reference she didn't understand when she heard a knock on the closed door. She looked up just as Clark Abercrombie opened the door slightly and stuck his head through the gap.
"Am I interrupting anything?" Abercrombie asked.
"No," Jack said. "We're just finishing up. What do you have?"
"It's not what I have, but who. You have a visitor."
"Is it someone who can wait twenty minutes?"
Abercrombie laughed.
"No. I don't think so."
Susan lowered her pencil. The director of the Nassau Institute had her attention.
"Then send him in," Jack said.
Abercrombie smiled.
"I'll send her in."
Abercrombie opened the door and stepped aside to make way for the visitor. When the visitor entered the room with two official-looking men, the director joined them and closed the door.
"I'm sorry to impose, Admiral," the visitor said. "I just couldn't leave town without saying hello. Dr. Abercrombie told me you were in the building."
Jack shot up from his chair.
"I'm glad you didn't leave," Jack said. "It's a pleasure to see you again."
Susan rose from her seat and watched in awe as Jack stepped forward and shook hands with the visitor, a tall, stately woman in her mid-fifties. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.
"I see you're busy," the visitor said. "Are you working on your next book?"
"As a matter of fact, I am. I'm about halfway through it. What brings you to town?"
"I came to Princeton to dedicate a building at the university. I came here to see how Clark is spending the grant money we sent him."
"Has he squandered it already?" Jack asked.
"Thankfully, no," the visitor said. She smiled. "But he still has another year."
Several people laughed.
Susan cleared her throat.
Jack turned to face Susan, blushed, and then returned to the visitor.
"I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce my editorial assistant. Mrs. Roosevelt, this is Susan Peterson. She has been helping me with the book since December," Jack said. He looked at Susan. "Susan, this is the First Lady of the United States."
Susan stepped away from the table and shook Eleanor Roosevelt's hand.
"It's a pleasure, Mrs. Roosevelt."
"The pleasure is mine."
Susan paused for a minute and then spoke.
"How do you two know each other?"
"I met Jack at a fundraiser for literacy in San Diego five years ago," Eleanor said. "His late wife organized the event. We have corresponded regularly ever since."
Susan looked admiringly at Jack.
What else haven't you told me?
"He is quite the writer," Susan said.
"How about you?" Eleanor asked. "How did you meet our earnest author?"
"I met him at the library."
Eleanor laughed.
"I'm not surprised. He has a fondness for books. In fact, I believe the last time I saw him he was carrying a stack of military journals through the Library of Congress."
Jack chuckled.
"You don't forget a thing."
Eleanor smiled.
"I didn't forget that."
"Are you staying the night in Princeton?" Jack asked.
"I'm afraid not," Eleanor replied. "I must return to Hyde Park this evening. I have a speaking engagement there tomorrow morning."
"Do you have time for dinner? Susan and I were about to leave for a restaurant. I would love to have you join us."
"Perhaps next time. I will be back in the fall. We can catch up then. In the meantime, keep up the good work. The president is aware of your book and is willing to provide any assistance you need to get it published. We both look forward to reading it."
"I appreciate that," Jack said. "It means a lot."
Susan watched with interest as one of Mrs. Roosevelt's aides checked his watch and then whispered in the First Lady's ear. The other opened the door and walked into the hallway.
"Well, I guess it's time for me to go. My plane is waiting," Eleanor said. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Admiral. It was a pleasure meeting you, Susan."
"Give my best to the president, ma'am," Jack said.
"I will."
Mrs. Roosevelt shook two hands and then exited the room. The second aide and Abercrombie followed. Silence quickly filled the fifteen-by-twenty-foot chamber.
"Wow," Susan said. She laughed. "I didn't see that coming."
"Neither did I," Jack said.
"I'm impressed, Admiral Hicks, very impressed."
"You shouldn't be. She's that way with a lot of people."
"I don't care about them," Susan said. "I care only about the man in this room."
Jack smiled and nodded.
"You want to finish our work?" Jack asked.
The editorial assistant shook her head.
"No. I'd much rather get an early start on dinner," Susan said. She grinned. "I want to talk. I want to learn more about someone I'm just getting to know."
CHAPTER 62: AMANDA
Trenton, New Jersey – Saturday, June 24, 1939
"Do you know the history of this place?" Kurt asked.
"No, Mr. Schmidt. I don't," Amanda said. "Are you going to give me a history lesson on a night we should be snuggling under the stars?"
"Yes."
Amanda laughed.
"OK. Fire away."
Kurt slid closer to Amanda on their bench in a square brick gazebo. He pulled her close, kissed her head, and pointed to a two-story Georgian residence about thirty yards away.
"The Morris House was the de facto capital of the United States in 1798. Federal officials relocated most of their offices to this building when yellow fever swept through Philadelphia."
"Now how do you know that?" Amanda asked.
"I know it, Miss Peterson, because I read and because I have a deep and abiding love of this country," Kurt said. He smiled. "I love some of its citizens too."
Amanda kissed Kurt on the cheek and burrowed into his side.
"I hope so."
She gazed at the former capital of the United States and noticed that it was holding up nicely as a reception venue. More than a hundred people danced, talked, and laughed inside and outside the Morris House as they celebrated the union of Roy Maine and Dorothy Gale.
"Did you enjoy the wedding?" Kurt asked.
"I did. It was simple but elegant. I liked it."
Amanda meant it too. She didn't care for the stifling heat in the church or the hideous bridesmaid dresses, but she liked just about everything else. She particularly liked where Roy and Dot exchanged humorous vows and then lit candles in memory of beloved grandparents.
She had also enjoyed the reception. She had enjoyed eating cracked crab and baked salmon, sipping pink champagne, meeting Dot's friends from Bryn Mawr, and dancing to the lively music of the Franklin Four, a swing quartet from Philadelphia.
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