Charades (3 page)

     “Some man hurt or frightened her,” Hazel said, a bitter edge in her voice. “If I ever find the bastard, I swear I’ll kill him.”

     Wulf frowned. Although he hardly knew Mercy, he didn’t like thinking of her as injured or hurt. “Are you sure this will work out the way you planned?”

     “I was unsure right up until the time you walked into the office.” She clicked her tongue and smiled. “Were you faking that reaction?”

     “What reaction?” he asked.

     She dipped her head. “Nothing, I must’ve been mistaken. But Wulf,” she said, still smiling at him. “That accent?”

     “You should know the first thing you do with an opponent is disarm him. I’ve already adopted the accent for my negotiations with Ryder. There’s nothing better to take away her fear of me than my needing her. Hell, if nothing else, I’ll let her translate for me.”

     “But what about later, in Germany?”

     He snorted. “Hazel, we’ll be speaking German in Germany.”

     “Can you keep that accent going for a whole week?”

     He shrugged. “I’ve done it for longer periods of time. I’m good at languages. You know that.”

     His gift for languages had already helped Steiger Oil more than once. In business a lot of people dealt their cards from the bottom of the deck, it was just part of the game. But this was different. He wasn’t proud of his abilities at the moment; he felt manipulative and calculating.

     Wulf stood and paced back to the window. If he and Anton didn’t need this venture with Reveille Oil, he’d tell Hazel to go to hell. No, that’s not entirely true. Anton wanted the deal with Reveille Oil, but he was really doing it for his father. Jacob worshiped the state of Israel, and if the Organization could accomplish its goals, they would see that the money fell into the right hands. With his help, of course. Help that Jacob couldn’t avoid acknowledging. For as long as Wulf could remember, he’d striven for his father’s praise and approval. This time he might get it. He just had to ignore his gut reaction when he thought about deceiving an innocent like Mercy.

     Besides, Mercy wasn’t as innocent and naive as she seemed. She was a woman, and Wulf hadn’t trusted women since he found out how his mother had lied to his father. Was he any better, though? At least his mother had deceived his father because she loved him.

     He took a deep breath, praying for the first time in years that God would forgive him for the lies he’d already told, and for the ones he’d be telling in the future.

          Mercy decided to look on the coming week as an unexpected vacation. The Ryders’ nine-hole golf course was an intriguing prospect. She made a solemn vow not be scared, awkward, or uncomfortable during the next week. Unfortunately, she had no idea how to go about doing that. The attraction she felt toward Wulf was not only confusing but annoying and alarming. What would it be like to pretend to be his fiancée?

     She recognized all the signs of anxiety—the fluttering hands, the rapid erratic pulse, but most of all the breathlessness. In spite of all that, she couldn’t wait to see him. No logic to it at all, but since when had she ever been good at logic?

     Wulf’s fumbling with the language barrier—heavy accent, bad grammar, and laughable pronunciation—was almost as endearing as it was comical. He reminded her of a child trying to play the violin with a hacksaw. He needed her, and she needed to be needed. Hadn’t she worked with German students for just that reason?

     Taking deep breaths through her nostrils, her pulse raced as she scrambled to finish her packing. In spite of the incipient panic, only the thought that this must be difficult for him, too, propelled her as she tossed the final items into her suitcase.

     As Mercy pulled into the parking lot, she spied Wulf leaning against a car, his arms folded casually over his chest. He wore khaki slacks, a long-sleeved plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, and wire-rimmed aviator’s sunglasses. She stopped the car and watched spellbound as he unfolded his long length and walked over to greet her. The sheer physical awareness of his masculinity made her breath catch and her skin tingle with alarm.

     “Good morning,” she said, a little too cheerfully, stumbling out of her car and then cringing when she noticed she’d parked between the lines. “Oh, dear! Just a minute, I have to straighten this out.”

     Mercy jumped back in her car and rearranged it, her heart pounding. How would she ever make it through the week? She got out of the car again and opened the door to drag her suitcase and golf clubs out of the back seat.

     As he walked closer, her mind suddenly went blank. After “hello,” she hadn’t the slightest idea what to say. Following her yoga instructions, she took a deep, calming breath, swallowing to wet her vocal chords. Maybe, snatching at the first subject she could think of, they could talk about German literature.

     “Good morning,” Wulf said, taking her luggage and golf clubs out of her hands with an ease that made them seem weightless. “Are you afraid of small planes?”

     “Planes? What do planes have to do with German literature?” she asked, blinking up at him in surprise.

     “German literature?” he echoed in a puzzled tone.

     “I–I’m sorry. My mind was thinking of something else. What did you say?” She swept her hair back from her face. How in the world would she manage a whole week with this man?

     “Small planes,” he mumbled, a frown marring his forehead. “Single engine, turbo-charged, pressurized.”

     What was he talking about?

     Wulf shook his head, a fleeting impression of frustration on his face. “Are you afraid to fly in small planes?”

     “Oh! No, I don’t think so.” Should small planes scare her? She didn’t know. “I’ve never been in one,” Mercy said, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “A small plane, I mean.”

     “Would you like to fly instead of drive? I am commercial and instrument rated. I’m a very safe pilot.”

     His solemn, little-boy look won her confidence better than all the honeyed persuasion in the world. She smiled at him, feeling her face flush. “All right, yes.”

     “Good!” He beamed from ear to ear. “We will fly.” He threw her luggage and clubs into the back seat of his car and held the door for her. As he started the car he dialed his cell phone and talked rapidly to someone in German. Wulf smiled as he hung up the phone. “We have a Bonanza. Good plane. I fly Bonanza in Germany,” he assured her, as if that should relieve her mind.

     “That sounds great,” Mercy said, her earlier enthusiasm fading almost as fast as it had arisen. What if she didn’t like flying after all?

     “We will take off from Love Field. Are you sure this is okay with you?”

     “Sure,” she said, suppressing a nervous giggle. Giggling destroyed the grave image of herself she wished to portray to the world.

     He smiled broadly. “Almost forgot,” he said, and dug in his pocket and brought out a small jeweler’s box containing the largest diamond solitaire ring Mercy had ever seen. He held out his large hand. “Give me your left hand.”

     She gave him her hand and tried not to pull it back when a tingle skittered up her arm. The ring slid down to her knuckle, then it stopped. Wulf frowned. “Hazel gave me the measurement.”

     “Don’t worry.” She jammed it over her knuckle. “There.” She smiled at him, holding up her hand and meeting his grin of approval. Why did his look give her such a funny feeling in her stomach?

     He took her hand again. “We must agree on how we met.”

     Mercy tried to ignore how warm his hand felt holding hers. “I thought we’d just say we were introduced by a mutual friend. That way it wouldn’t exactly be a lie.” Any kind of deception made her nervous, but was it their particular deception that made her nervous, or the way he kept holding her hand? Studying his hand, she could see the strength in it. It appealed to a hitherto hidden, unknown, feminine part of her.

     “This is like the first date,
nicht wahr
?” Wulf asked, interrupting her thoughts. Playfully he shook her hand, reminding her of an overgrown, St. Bernard puppy.

     “Is this the first time you’ve ever been in Dallas?” she asked. Should she tell him he was holding her hand too long?

     “No, I am in Dallas last year when I planned this venture.”

     “That’s nice.” She gently slipped her hand out of his.

     “Okay then,” she said. “So, we met last year. That just about covers time for us to have fallen in love and gotten engaged. Love at first sight?” That was safe to assume. Any normal woman would be immediately attracted to him.

     “Love at first sight,” Wulf repeated, as though testing the thought. “I like that.” He nodded and his smile wrapped her in a warm blanket of approval.

     “Would you prefer we speak in German?”

     “No. I must practice my English. You will help me?”

     “Of course,” she promised. The glow of his smile knocked her stomach for a loop. She swallowed hard.

     The private plane area of the airport reminded Mercy of a Hollywood movie set. Once through the gated entrance, she saw nothing but men doing manly things—running the gasoline trucks, working on planes, or just standing by planes talking and joking with one another. Inside, men were behind the counter, all of them talking about airplanes or flying. Although the masculine territory gave her a shiver of discomfort, she managed to hide it. She was good at hiding things.

     Wulf pulled his car up to a beige-colored plane with red and blue stripes. After helping him stow their luggage and golf clubs in the back of the plane, she watched with fascination as he did his pre-flight check. He explained everything as he went, taking measurements of fluids, checking the prop for nicks, draining some gas, even inspecting the tires for wear before removing the blocks.

     He has to be an excellent pilot, she reassured herself. He’s so meticulous. She, on the other hand, was a study in contrasts. Great education, no practical life experience.

     Fifteen minutes after filing his flight plan they were in the plane and he rapidly went through another pre-flight checklist. After getting clearance from ground control, they taxied out toward the runway. Wulf gave her a set of earphones to wear while they waited for their turn to take off.

     With rapt concentration, Mercy listened to the conversations between the pilots and ground control as they flowed back and forth. She watched spellbound as Wulf scribbled down instructions on a little note pad strapped to his knee. The concentration contrasted vividly with the image she had from the day before. Where was the same hapless man of yesterday? Apparently not in the pilot’s seat.

     She was so riveted on what he did she forgot about her anxiety. She got the thrill of her life when he pushed the throttle forward and they zoomed down the runway quickly gaining speed until they lifted off and began to climb into the air. It was exhilarating, beyond anything she’d ever experienced before. Plain, mousy Mercy was having an adventure!

     Wulf maneuvered the plane with ease and soon she observed a larger plane, now far beneath them. Her heart skipped a beat, but Wulf stayed calm, speaking into his headset. He spoke a different language up here: vectors and flight paths, altitude and directions.

     Was it the novelty of doing something she’d never done before which captivated her so? Had she cut herself off from living so much that her fears owned her?

     Leveling off at ten thousand feet, Wulf turned to her. “Would you like to take the yoke?” He gestured to the funny shaped steering wheel of the plane.

     “Me? Oh, no!” she squeaked, shaking her head vigorously.

     He nodded and shrugged. “Next time.”

     Fat chance, she thought. “By the way,” she informed him, “did you know your accent almost disappears when you talk over the radio?”

     He turned and gave her a wide smile. “I suppose when I concentrate, I talk better. Remember, you promised to help.”

     “Sure, no problem.” Mercy sat back and stared out the window, panic setting in. Didn’t accents normally grow worse under times of stress, not better? All of a sudden she noticed that buildings and cars on the ground were very small. What had she been thinking to let Hazel talk her into this? She was alone in a plane with a man. All the doubts and fears of the last couple of years tumbled through her mind. She turned and forced herself to smile. Wulf nodded and turned back to the controls.

     Even with headphones on, the noise level in the cabin discouraged conversation. Mercy pulled out a novel from her voluminous purse to pass the time.

     Within two hours, they were circling the private landing strip of the Triple Bar X, the Ryder’s ranch in the hill country of Central Texas. The people standing by the hangar below looked like toy action figures. Clumps of trees surrounded water tanks and the area around the house. The adjoining pastures and tilled fields formed a patchwork quilt of greens, browns, and gold. Mercy caught sight of the Scottish golf course, but from this height, she couldn’t see anything unusual about it.

     Suddenly they were descending and she finally felt the plane bouncing slightly on the asphalt runway. They had landed!

     “Forgive me,” Wulf apologized once they rolled to a halt. “I wanted to make my landing more smooth since this is the first time in a small plane for you. The Bonanza is a good little plane,
ja
?” he said, his mellow baritone voice coated in excitement.

     He reminded her so much of a little boy she forgot her doubts and almost laughed. “No big deal.” Mercy touched his arm to reinforce her words. Her skin tingled where it made contact with his, feeling like a jolt of electricity, like touching a live wire. It nearly left her breathless.

     “It was not a squeaker.” His voice sounded so disappointed, she almost reached out to touch him again.

     “A squeaker?”

     “
Ja
, a squeaker. When the wheels touch down right on landing, you hear only a squeak. No bounce. Every pilot wants to land with a squeaker.” He motioned her to get out of the plane, then followed her out onto the large low wing and jumped after her to the ground.