Hidden Away (8 page)

He turned and weaved his way through the mass of people, and I followed, once more feeling excited. We ended up at a table where Steffen, Marcel, and Leo sat, each with a girl next to him. Their eyes were turned toward the dance floor, and their bodies were moving in the seats.

“Why are you all sitting down? I told Kurt we had fun when we went out, but now I fear we’ll bore him to tears!” Peter turned and flashed me a smile and a wink.

I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “Oh, no!” he laughed. “Don’t tell me you don’t dance!”

I looked down at my feet for just a moment, then brought my gaze back to him. How I was going to answer that? I
didn’t
dance, but I didn’t want to disappoint him. The light in his eyes shone with laughter. I didn’t want to be funny to him. His gave me another wink.

Someone bumped into him from behind, and suddenly he was closer to me. All I could see were his beautiful lips. I felt my skin heat with a blush.

“You don’t have to dance,” he said quietly, “but please don’t think poorly of me when I do.” “I would never think—”

Peter cut me off by placing his hand on my elbow for just a moment. “I’ll come back, I promise. Until then, enjoy.”

I stood there as he headed back into the crowd. Leo kicked out a chair, and I very carefully positioned myself in it. My eyes were still glued on Peter’s strong shoulders as he disappeared in the mass. A snap followed by a hissing noise caused me to turn. Leo was holding a match to a cigarette.

I took in the table. Glasses of alcohol and packs of cigarettes littered it. It surprised me. Both drinking and smoking were seen in a poor light since Hitler came to power, but everyone was indulging openly. How could it be? My uncle had always said even though they weren’t forbidden, they might as well have been. It did nothing to further the German people. According to my uncle, the posters and restrictions should be enough for all decent Germans to follow the Fürher’s lead of abstinence.

Leo held out a cigarette to me, but I declined, just as I declined the invitation to indulge in the alcohol. Instead, I indulged by staring at Peter. He’d situated himself in the middle of the dance floor. He was so free as he moved to the fantastic music to which I’d never been allowed to listen. I’d heard it before it was outright banned, but I’d never seen it played, or people dance to it.

It was remarkable.

He was with a thin young woman in a green dress, practically throwing her about, then catching her. Music must’ve flowed through his veins. Not only was he an accomplished and talented musician, he was obviously very good at dancing.

For a moment, jealousy seared within me. Peter had more talent. He was a virtuoso who didn’t have to
think
about music. His body was a vessel for it. It moved through him—on stage and on the dance floor.

A voice sounded to my left. “He’s fantastic, isn’t he?”

I turned to Leo. He flicked his eyes off in the direction of Peter before bringing them back to me. He was nice looking with dark hair and even darker eyes, but nothing like Peter Waldenheim.

“He is.”

Leo took a deep inhale from his cigarette, then blew the smoke out toward me. I tried to avoid it by leaning away. Heavy laughter brought my attention to Marcel and Steffen, who were standing up with their ladies. With linked hands, they made their way to the dance floor to join Peter.

“He likes you,” Leo said softly. I thought I’d imagined it, but when I looked at him again, there was no mistaking the violist’s expression.

I wasn’t sure what to say to that or even sure what he meant. I couldn’t tell this man I barely knew that I fancied Peter, so I simply said, “I find him to be very nice.”

The look on Leo’s face did not change much, but there was a gentle shift into something knowing. It worried me. Perhaps I was transparent to everyone. But when I looked deeply into this man’s eyes, information that I couldn’t actually
know
exploded into my consciousness.

Leo was homosexual.

I glanced over at the girl next to him. She wasn’t sitting close. In fact, there was nothing indicating they were together at all. Her eyes were fixed on the dancing bodies. When I was once more studying the violist, a million questions raced through my mind, but I didn’t know how to answer them. No one in their right mind would ask, and no one valuing their freedom would answer. Still, I heard my own voice sound out. “Have you and he —”

“No!” Leo said with a smile and a loud chuckle. He leaned toward me, extending his left arm in the opposite direction to keep the smoke from billowing in my face. “He’s very particular.” Leo’s eyes scanned from my forehead to my bent body resting in the chair. He whispered, “He likes beautiful young things with blond hair and sharp features.”

The tickling low in my belly spread both ways. When it reached my head, I felt drunk, as if I’d consumed the alcohol I’d been warned against. When it reached my groin, I felt like I had only on a few occasions. I turned to the dance floor. Seeing Peter’s long body move in such rhythmic ways set my flesh alight. My skin was flush and raised in bumps. My heart beat faster than ever before as my mind invented stories of his body next to mine.

I bit my lip but couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Leo pushed a glass of something toward me. Finally, I looked away from Peter’s dancing form and stared at the liquid offered to me. Perhaps it would make me feel a bit better—not so uneasy or overly excited.

The risks of drinking seemed to outweigh any potential benefits, so I shook my head at Leo. His answering smirk gave me no more peace than his words. “No wonder he likes you. You’re so pure.”

After two long songs, Peter and his brunette returned to the table. The girl sat down next to Leo’s disinterested girl, and Peter chose a seat next to me. “Having fun?”

I could hardly look him in the eyes as I nodded.

 

He laughed. “Yes, I can tell. Sitting at a table is loads of fun.”

“No,” I said with a shake of my head. I decided if Leo was right, there was no reason for me to be intimidated by the great Peter Waldenheim. If he truly did like me, he might want to hear me speak more. “But watching you was fun.”

The devilish smile slid onto his face. Subtly, he moved his hands and repositioned his body. It took all the effort I could give not to jump out of my seat when I felt him squeeze my knee. Although it made me even more anxious and I bit my lip, I couldn’t help but grin a bit.

“Would you look at that,” he said, so softly that only I could hear.

Our eyes met, his hand squeezed again, and my smile blossomed. It obviously delighted him to see it. I could feel my face flush from embarrassment, but I didn’t lower my eyes. He removed his hand when Marcel, Steffen, and the ladies returned to the table. With his attention on the group, I couldn’t help but hope that Peter was secretly thinking of me.

He was just as amazing to watch socialize as he was to watch dance or play the violin. Incredibly charming, he managed to make everyone he came into contact with feel special and worth a million Marks. It was not only friends and fellow musicians he treated this way. Everyone seemed equally entitled to Peter’s consideration. He shook hands with fine-looking men, kissed beautiful women on the cheek, posed for photographs with soldiers. It was as if all eyes were on him, and he loved every person in front of him.

I understood how everyone felt because I felt it too. When his gaze would turn to me, I felt as though I was the only person in the room with him.

Over an hour passed in this way. I kept glancing at my watch, hoping Peter wouldn’t take offense. I also hoped he would leave soon, so I wouldn’t have to bring it up. Just as I steeled myself to bid everyone a good night, Peter said, “Usually we all go back to my place and play a bit.”

By “play,” I realized he meant music. As wonderful as it sounded to spend even more time with him—especially watching him work the violin—it truly
was
late now.

“Please join us,” he said before I could decline.

The muscles in my face contracted as I folded my hands tightly together. “Perhaps another night,” I responded.

He turned his whole body to me now. A hand moved to my knee again. I sat up straight. It was no longer hidden under the table, and fear of someone noticing the action and making assumptions washed over me.

“You like denying me, do you?”

With those simple words, the anxiety vanished. It no longer mattered that he was touching me in public. The playful words spoken in such a deep and rich voice sent my whole body into such a state! Even my toes tingled with excitement. I stumbled for something to say in return. I wished to be playful like him. I wished to let him know that I was worthy of his attention. That I
craved
it.

But what came out was a denial, as if I took his question quite literal and didn’t understand the underlying meaning. “N-no. Of-of course not. It’s just my uncle will be cross if I stay much longer. Truly, I’d love to—”

“Good. It’s decided then,” Peter interrupted, causing me to bite my lower lip as I listened. “Tomorrow instead of dancing—since you don’t dance—we’ll play music just for fun.” Peter removed his hand and sat up with a straight back. “Would you care for company on your walk home?”

Heat spread within me again as I pictured us walking alone through the deserted streets. I thought of how lovely it would be to have him press me against the cold bricks of my uncle’s apartment building, his lips against mine.

My uncle. What if he was waiting for me? Could I disguise my attraction for the famed Herr Waldenheim, or would my uncle just
know
how much I longed for Peter’s elegant fingers to touch my bare skin?

With that in mind, I once again declined Peter’s invitation. I wanted to tell him how it pained me to do so, but I couldn’t. I was frozen in fear that he wouldn’t understand, or worse, that he would tire of me. I was nothing of note to begin with, but denying him all he asked was sure to frustrate him.

He stood up when I did, shook my hand, and let his fingers graze my palm as it ended. “Until tomorrow, Kurt.”

I swallowed hard and looked toward the door when he said my name. It proved too much sensation to hear his voice, look at his handsome face, and feel the heat coming off his body. “Good evening,” I said in way of parting.

“Look at me, Kurt.”

Just as before, I complied with his simple command. Our eyes met. His deep blue was like an ocean waiting to crash over me. I couldn’t help but think that being swept away would be bliss.

“Until tomorrow,” he said again.

 

I made sure to push the edges of my mouth up as I once again replied, “Good evening, Peter.”

So lost in my thoughts, I was home in no time. As soon as I entered the sitting room, I heard my uncle. “And where have
you
been?”

It was late, and he should have been in bed. “I was with the others. We practiced and then we,” I started but then paused, knowing he would find issue with where I’d been. “We went to a club. An
approved
club,” I added, knowing he would need that bit of information; otherwise he might be even more upset.

“A
club
?”

“There were soldiers there,” I said, hoping this would help him put it in perspective. “It was a National Socialist Party band, you know.”

I kept my gaze trained on his feet. I couldn’t bear to see his expression. I’d learned very early in my stay that my uncle had certain expectations of me, and when I failed to meet those expectations the retribution would be swift and harsh— especially if he felt I had brought shame upon him in some way.

“You should be spending your time on music.
Every waking moment
, if I recall the conversation.”

“There was music there,” I said before truly thinking about the statement.

I could hear the crunch of the rug underneath his hard soled shoes. My breathing sped up, and my stomach tightened. It was not the same as when I was near to Peter. This was an entirely different sensation of fear. I knew what came next.

He struck me with the back of his hand. While the blow twisted my body, I remained upright. Many years had passed since he had the ability to knock me to the floor with a smack. However large I had grown, the discipline still had the same effect. As soon as I straightened back up, keeping my eyes lowered, I threaded my hands together in front of me and apologized. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Your smart mouth will be the end of you,

Kurt. You barely have skill as a musician. You cannot bake bread for the life of you. You are inept at all forms of socialization, and you
have
nothing. Nothing
I
haven’t provided for you. You’ll do well to remember you are much more tolerable when you don’t speak.”

“Yes, sir,” I said when he’d finished. It was expected.

His feet retreated, and I breathed a bit easier knowing he was no longer so close to me. “Now, what gave you the idea to attend a club?”

I found my voice. “Peter Waldenheim asked me to go. He’s very influential, and some of the others say he has connections to the Party in Berlin. I only went because I thought it would please you for me to be social with Peter and his friends.”

I knew I had made the right choice in telling him this when he cleared his throat. “Peter Waldenheim
is
well connected.” My uncle paused. When I heard the chair creak, I looked up and found him sitting. “If Herr Waldenheim is interested in helping you succeed, then I approve of you spending time with him. I should just like to know about it before you’re several hours late returning home.”

Although he said he approved, the tension in my body would not abate. It would not until I was safely in my room. “Tomorrow he would like us to practice later, if that is acceptable to you.”

“Yes, of course.”

 

I stood there for a long moment before he said, “You may go to your room now.”

My cheek smarted where he’d hit me. I was always grateful to leave his presence, even when he’d not struck me, but tonight, I was eager to clear my mind of anything other than Peter.

Leo’s assurance that Peter liked me gave me an overwhelming sense of hope and excitement. Remembering Peter’s hand on my leg sent shivers coursing through me. I imagined what his hand would feel like against my cheek, how different a caress would feel compared to my uncle’s fit of violence. I fantasized about Peter’s hands running down my chest, over my abdomen, sliding around to my back.