Distractions (38 page)

look like it’s ever been used.” Giving a

wink, I picked up a piece of cheese that

was set on a platter along with sliced

meat and fresh pretzels.

Ingrid laughed heartily at my

observation. After pinching his hips, she

walked over to the table and placed her

hand on my shoulder. “I enjoy having his

handsome face over for dinner every

night. He keeps me company since my

children have all moved away. My

granddaughter,

Margaret,

will

be

devastated to know she has lost her

boyfriend.”

Glancing at Shepard, I didn’t

correct her assumption about me. I just

inquired about who Margaret was. She

plucked a photo from her refrigerator of

Shepard and a small girl of about four,

blowing bubbles in the sunshine. He

looked so happy; my heart was

overflowing, seeing him with her. I

cradled the photo in my hand lovingly. It

brought me peace to know that Ingrid

and Shepard had each other. She doted

on him as if she were his own mother;

their interactions were as natural as

breathing. I placed the photo back in its

spot after dinner and helped Ingrid clear

the table and wash the dishes. As I was

drying the last pan, she wrapped her

hand around my waist and looked

directly at Shepard.

“There’s something special about

this one, I hope I get to see her again.”

Giving a small smile, I turned back

around to the sink, feeling my eyes start

to water. Using my shoulders to wipe the

tears, I tried to be discreet. He came up

behind me and rubbed small circles in

my back to comfort me. Just then, Ingrid

pulled a clear bottle with a cork out of a

cupboard and set it on the table with

three shot glasses.

“What’s that?” I asked excitedly.

She replied with only one word,

“Schnapps.” Giving me a wicked smile,

both she and Shepard had an expression

on their faces, indicating that I was about

to have my ass handed to me.

Pouring the liquor to the brim, we

lifted the glasses, toasting, “prost”, then

slugged them down. My face puckered in

pain. Slapping the top of the table

repeatedly, I bounced on my tiptoes,

making the two of them crackup

hysterically. “That’s effing moonshine!

Schnapps, my ass, that’s Austrian hooch!

No wonder the hills are alive; you are

all trashed.”

She spilled some of the liquid on

the table, pouring another round while

still finding humor in my reaction.

I eyed the glass hesitantly, but

Shepard pushed it towards me with a

grin. “Your ass is taking care of me,

remember that.” The second one went

down a little better, yet still burned like

hell. I failed to taste the blueberries she

said it was distilled with.

Still holding his second shot in his

hands, Shepard leaned near to my ear

and whispered throatily.

“I like taking care of you,

remember?”

Fire from the alcohol began to

course through my body, causing my

cheeks to flush. This stuff was

dangerous, just like the situation I was

walking into. Ingrid poured another shot

and turned to Shepard. Holding up a

finger to indicate one more, we toasted

again for the last time before I started to

feel the effects. I knew I needed to get to

sleep before I passed out at the table.

Noticing I was weaving a little, he

excused us for the evening.

Ingrid hugged me tightly where I

could smell her soap and the odor of the

braciole she made us. Shepard kissed

her on the cheek and said his good night.

A tinge of sadness overcame me,

thinking that this could be my life. I

remained quiet as we walked through the

house up to the top level. I had yet to see

his bedroom and I was ready to pass out.

Opening the French doors, a large

platform bed was against the wall,

facing towards the window. The view

was comparable to that from the deck. A

simple wardrobe was against the other

wall with two shelves, serving as night

stands on the sides of the bed. I didn’t

notice it at first, but there it was. Resting

on the floor next to a music stand was

his violin. Bending down to pick it up,

my finger lightly touched the metal

strings. It looked a little dusty, like it

hadn’t been played in a while. Plucking

a cord, I could hear it was out of tune.

Without saying a word, Shepard

reached behind my head and pulled me

into a deep kiss. The room began to spin

as we collided into each other. At first, I

responded with everything I had been

holding back, then jerked away as

quickly. He gave me a confused look,

but I started to shake my head.

“Shepard, I can’t; it’s too soon.”

His hands went over his face,

rubbing his eyes. I knew this probably

just frustrated the crap out of him, and it

wasn’t that my body wasn’t screaming to

let him tear me apart. I could see it in his

eyes and feel it in his fingers, but time

had made us strangers, and I had to treat

him like one. The past two days had

created more turmoil in my soul than I

had felt in the past six years. I wanted to

believe Shepard would never hurt me,

but now I wasn’t so sure. I walked into

the living room and curled up on the

sofa. Shepard followed me and held his

hand out to lead me back into the

bedroom. Crawling onto one side, he

turned out the lights, leaving me to

undress in the dark. After a while, his

breathing regulated with a light snore.

Before

turning

my

back,

I

whispered aloud the small voice in my

heart. “You are going to be the death of

me.”

Chapter 35 - The

Big Picture

Dawn was beginning to crawl over

the mountains when I found Shepard

sitting on the deck, wrapped in a thick

fleece blanket, watching the city come to

life.

Rubbing my crossed arms up and

down, I walked towards the semi-

reclined chair.

“Do you have another blanket

somewhere so I can join you?”

Smiling playfully, he opened up the

cocoon he created around his body and

motioned for me to join him in the chair.

He sighed contently while holding me

snugly in his lap. I knew we would have

to get on the road soon in order to make

it to Lindau by nightfall, but for now, I

would soak in this moment to catalog in

my memory bank. The noise of morning

traffic

floated

up

the

hillside,

intermingling with birdsong and the

shallow breathing of Shepard against my

neck.

I could smell his spicy shampoo

and the strong coffee sitting in the mug

next to his chair, which meant he had

been up for some time. I waited for the

moment when he would break the

silence, but it never came. For nearly an

hour, we rested against one another and

greeted the new day with hesitancy.

Each sunrise meant one day closer to

going our separate ways. There was an

unspoken agreement that we would not

discuss the future; I think because we

didn’t want to admit the truth. As his lips

touched my shoulder, I leaned my head

against his. I wanted this every morning;

it was cruel knowing I may only have

this one, yet I savored every minute.

Before heading out on the road, we

drove back down to the city center and

parked near a bakery. Grabbing a

handful of the delectable pastries out of

the case and a coffee to go, we took a

leisurely stroll into the square and up the

hill to the fortress. Looking down over

St. Peters Abbey and the statue of the

large golden sphere in the Kapitelplatz, I

could still make out the figure of the

small man standing on top and the human

chessboard.

“We are all pawns in someone’s

game, aren’t we? Lucky him, he doesn’t

have to be a part of it.” I turned to

Shepard, hoping some inkling of emotion

would give him away, but there was

nothing.

“He’s not so lucky; how do you

know he doesn’t feel helpless, watching

it all go on in front of him and there is

nothing he can do about it?”

My

brow

furrowed

at

how

ridiculous that sounded. “Of course he

can do something; he can see everything!

He could shout down what people need

to do in order to win.” Taking a sip of

my coffee, I started down the hill while

looking out across the expanse of history

in front of me.

“Even if he told them, they

wouldn’t listen. He’s different; he’s not

part of the game.”

Stopping, I turned around. “What

are you talking about?”

Shepard had stopped and leaned

against the stone wall and pointed

towards the chessboard.

“The man above them – no one

would listen, they can’t see the truth.

They are so wrapped up in trying to

figure out what their opponent’s next

move is, they can’t conceive that maybe

there is someone who can see the big

picture. He can see every piece on the

board, and every game that is played.

It’s not just about him shouting down;

they have to let him know they can hear

him, and trust him. But submission is a

very hard thing for most people. They

need to feel like they are in control, even

if it is an illusion.”

My heart started to beat faster; I

could see Shepard’s pupils dilate as his

hand pushed the rogue strands of hair

back behind my ears and down my neck.

I closed my heavy lids as the tingle of

electricity caused by his fingertips

trailed straight to my center.

“It could be so much easier, Violet,

if they would just stop for a second and

listen.” I felt his lips brush against my

forehead gently before he backed away

and continued walking down the hill,

leaving me speechless.

The smile didn’t leave his face the

rest of the morning. After a few hours,

we stopped in the town of Ettal. A brick

wall lined the street, deceiving the

passerby as to what rested behind it. Set

against the Bavarian Mountains was the

stunning Ettal Abbey. Several monks

were taking a stroll in the courtyard as I

headed slowly towards the entrance of

the massive white church. It was unlike

anything I had seen before; I couldn’t

contain my excitement. Inside the

wooden doorway was an ancient stone

entryway into the church. Shepard

simply followed me as I took it all in,

nervously

approaching

the

quiet

sanctuary. A priest stood by the door,

greeting us in German much faster than I

could translate internally.

As

Shepard

began

to

play

interpreter, the priest intervened and

began to speak in English. I winked at

Shepard and began to follow the sweet

old man who took me on a tour of the

breathtaking chapel. It was started in

1330 on the fulfillment of an oath by a

saint, the stone entry part of the original

church. Over the centuries, it had been

added upon, which reflected the period.

I hadn’t noticed the varied architecture

until it was pointed out. In the center of

the massive dome was a beautiful white

dove, descending down through the

circle of painted saints. I pictured in my

mind a man lying on his back or

crouched upon perilous scaffolding to

create these incredible works of art.

Although I was overwhelmed by the

grandiose of the church in Munich, this

somehow was different to me.

Running my hands along the worn

wooden pews, I could feel the years of

prayers sent up to heaven and the weight