Mist on the Meadow

Mist on the Meadow

By

Karla Brandenburg

Mist on the Meadow

Karla Brandenburg

Copyright 2013 Karla Lang

This book is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other
people. If you would like to share this book with another person,
please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you
for respecting the hard work of this author.

No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any
information storage retrieval system, without the permission in
writing from the author

Any resemblance to actual people or events is
purely coincidental.

This is a work of fiction

For information, contact
[email protected]

Acknowledgements

My thanks go out to the members of my
critique group, who have worked novel alchemy on this with me. To
Firefighter Mike, who helped me with the fire scenes. To Kelly
Lynne, editor extraordinaire. Special thanks to Marilyn Cunat, who
provided the awesome cover photo background.

Story notes:

Although I’ve tried to include translations
of the German words immediately when they are used, here are some
German words you will encounter in this book, along with their
translations:

Liebling
 is similar to "sweetie, or
darling, or honey." In German, when "i" and "e" are together, you
pronounce the second one, so in this instance, you would pronounce
it "lēb-ling." 
Meine
 is "my" and pronounced with
the long "i" (since it is the second letter), or mī-na.

Kundigerin
 is the feminine form
of 
Kundiger
, which translates as an expert or "one who
possesses specialized knowledge." In its plural form, Germans add
"-en."

Eine
, translates as "a" or "an."

The German folk song, “
Du, du, liegst mir am
Herzen
” translates "you, are deep in my heart." (I'd be happy
to translate the whole song for anyone who wants to know the
lyrics).

Dumkoff
, well it's pretty much how it sounds
(i.e., dummy).

Gut Deutschish
 stock, this means she
comes from good German breeding.

Sprechen nicht
, this translates to "I don't
speak any (German)." "Ch" is pronounced with a "k" sound.

Fröhliche Geburtstag
. Happy Birthday!

Hüter des Geheimnisses
. Translate: keeper of
the secret. I'm going to send you to Google translate to figure out
how this is pronounced!

Ofenschlupfer. 
There is a direct
translation for this, but it is idiomatic, so this should be
translated to be understood as apple bread pudding.

Gesundheit
. Commonly used when someone
sneezes. It translates as "health," or "bless you."

Das ist
die Liechtensteiner Polka mein Schatz! Polka mein Schatz
! From
the Liechtensteiner Polka, the line says "this is the
Liechtensteiner Polka, my darling."

mein Schatz 
- my
darling/sweetie/honey.

At six-thirty on the pre-dawn December
morning, the temperature was at least ten degrees below freezing,
and the three miles Marissa Maitland had traveled hadn’t warmed the
car’s engine. The Chicago radio station faded and Marissa frowned.
Cooper Village was only 30 miles west of the city, and there wasn’t
any fog to disrupt the signal. She reached to adjust the dial and
held her breath. Outside, by the side of the road, she saw a
stag.

Deer weren’t uncommon, especially by the
woods, but this was a five-point buck, standing majestically in the
misty meadow, his breath producing white clouds from his muzzle.
She’d heard people refer to these as “moments of grace,” but to
her, they were “quiet moments,” when the whole world seemed to
stop. Marissa pulled over to the side of the road. Even if this
moment lasted only ten seconds, she didn’t want to take the chance
of wrecking her new car while she was distracted.

She threw the gear shift into park, eyes
locked with the stag while time slowed down. For that short space
of time, nothing else existed, just Marissa and the deer. She
blinked, as if she moved in slow motion, and the deer huffed
another white cloud. It nodded its head and the moment was over.
The deer retreated into the woods and Marissa was left with a sense
of anticipation. The quiet moments heralded Uncle Balt’s
arrival.

Marissa checked the empty road, deserted in
the early morning hours, and resumed her drive to work. With one
last glance toward the woods, she stopped at the traffic light at
the corner, which had predictably turned red. And then she was
jolted by the car behind her.

* * *

Wolf Harper slammed his fist against the
steering wheel. Now he would be late for his appointment with the
lawyer. He checked his rearview mirror. They were the only two cars
on the road. He flung open his car door and walked to the other
driver’s window where the woman behind the wheel flung her hands in
time with the muted words she shouted.

Wolf pressed his lips together, not sure if
he was more entertained by her reaction or angry at his own
carelessness. He rapped on her window and she turned abruptly. Her
face immediately flushed deep red. She opened the door and rose to
stand beside him, nearly as tall as he was.

“I’m guessing black ice on the road,” Wolf
said, struggling to keep the irritation out of his voice. “It
doesn’t look like there’s much damage, but if you want to exchange
insurance information . . .”

The woman tucked a riotous red curl into her
knit cap. Other curls broke free, red coils against the collar of
her navy blue coat. She marched behind her car and glanced at the
bumper to confirm his assessment.

“I guess it’s lucky they make bumpers more
resilient these days,” Wolf said. “Your car seems to have absorbed
the shock.” With a little luck, she wouldn’t detain him and he
could get to his meeting.

She looked at the front of his car, which
hadn’t fared as well. One of his headlamps was broken. “You have
damage,” she said.

“Nothing I can’t fix myself.”

She leveled striking, sapphire blue eyes at
him. “Do you want my insurance information?”

“I didn’t hit you on purpose,” he said.

She turned away and drew a deep breath. “I
know.”

“Are you hurt? Do you need medical
attention?” He’d hit her pretty hard, even if there wasn’t any
damage to her car. Wolf followed her back to her open door.

“I’m fine.” She slid behind the wheel and
another set of headlights approached behind them. Her eyes trained
on his once more. “Are you okay, or should we get out of traffic
flow and take care of the paperwork?”

Wolf scrubbed a hand across his mouth. He
didn’t blame her for being irritated, her car looked brand new. And
he was late for his meeting. “I’m okay,” he said.

“Then we’ll call ourselves lucky that it
wasn’t any worse.”

Wolf nodded. “I hope your day gets
better.”

* * *

Marissa walked behind the café counter, into
the kitchen. Angela DeMarco pulled a tray of caramel rolls from the
oven and turned her head to acknowledge Marissa’s arrival. “Becky
called in sick.”

“Fan-flaming-tastic,” Marissa said. She
shrugged out of her coat and yanked off her cap. “I guess that puts
me out front this morning.”

“You could call Noah in early.” Angela set
the rolls on a cooling rack and wiped her hands on her apron.
“Sounds like you started off on the wrong foot.”

“I got rear-ended on my way in.” Marissa
scrunched a hand around her unruly hair. Morning was the busiest
time in the café, and dealing with the customers was her least
favorite part about running the business. As much as she’d prefer
to spend all of her time in the kitchen baking, Angela loved to
bake just as much, and as an equal partner, she was entitled to her
turn, even if she was better at customer relations. “I’ll handle
the front. Thanks anyway.”

Marissa donned a
Mangela
-imprinted
apron, gathered her hair into a hairnet and glanced at the clock.
Not quite seven. A suit stood outside the door, hands stuffed in
the pockets of his overcoat and shoulders drawn up to his ears.
“I’m going to open,” she called to Angela.

“Ready when you are,” Angela replied.

The man smiled at her while she unlocked the
door and held it open for him. He stepped past her. “Cold enough
for you?” he asked.

“How about a cup of hot coffee?” Marissa
asked.

“That’d be great.”

He followed her to the counter while he
unbuttoned his overcoat. The guy looked to be about 45, and his
salt-and-pepper hair was still wet—comb tracks frozen in place. No
wonder he was so cold. He paid for his coffee and went to sit at a
table by the window, where he stared at the parking lot.

Marissa staged donuts and rolls on trays for
the display case. Angela appeared beside her with boxes of coffee
cakes. And then the suit rose from his seat to greet someone—the
man who had rear-ended Marissa’s car.

“What?” Angela asked, looking over Marissa’
shoulder.

“What, what?” Marissa replied.

“You gasped.”

“I did not.”

Angela nudged her with an elbow. “Not bad to
look at. Do you know him?”

She hadn’t paid much attention to him on the
road, but Angela was right. His hair was the color of ground
cinnamon and his eyes—yes, she’d noticed his big, round eyes—were
the color of chocolate drops. “He’s the guy who ran into my new
car.”

“How bad is the damage?”

Marissa shook her head. “No damage. It’s the
principle of the thing, you know? My first brand new car.”

Angela laughed. “Yeah, I get it.” She cocked
her head toward the parking lot. “More customers that you
know.”

Marissa squinted to see out the window and
smiled. Right on cue.

“Isn’t that your Uncle Balt?” Angela asked.
“He can always cheer you out of an off day.” Angela nudged her once
more and disappeared into the kitchen.

Mr. Black Ice walked up to the counter.
Marissa pasted on a smile when the surprise widened his eyes. “What
can I get for you this morning?” she asked.

“A new headlight?” he said, and then he
smiled.

“Fresh out of headlights. I can offer you a
muffin?”

“Coffee. Black.”

Marissa poured him a cup and rang up the
sale. The man saluted her with his cup and walked over to meet the
suit while Uncle Balt and her mother walked through the door.

“
Liebling
!” Uncle Balt greeted
her.

Marissa stepped around the counter and
wrapped her great-uncle in a hug. “I knew I’d see you today.” She
hugged her mother and whispered in her ear, “How did he talk you
into coming in so early?”

Her mother shrugged. “He was anxious to see
you.”

Uncle Balt waved a hand across his face.
“Pish. I wanted one of your famous cinnamon muffins.” He pulled his
money clip from his pocket and handed Marissa’s mother a couple of
bills. “Here, Bonnie, you take care of the business. I’ll find us a
seat.”

Marissa’s mother followed her to the counter.
“You look out of sorts.”

“I got rear-ended this morning. No big deal.”
Marissa shot a glance at Mr. Black Ice. She set a couple of muffins
on plates and dispensed two glasses of orange juice.

“Are you okay?”

“No damage.” Marissa raised her eyes to look
at the offender and locked eyes with him. Why was he staring at
her?

Her mother kept her voice low and raised her
eyebrows toward Uncle Balt. “It happened while you were driving?
The quiet moment? Is that why you got rear-ended?”

“No, I pulled over when that happened.”

“But it happened.”

Marissa heaved a sigh. “Yes.”

Her mother shook her head. “You’d think it
was coincidence, wouldn’t you—the way that deer shows up every
time?”

Uncle Balt approached the two customers and
extended a hand. “Baltazar Gutzman. My great-niece owns this
establishment, her and her friend. You should try the baked goods.”
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “You could get fat just
smelling them, and they taste,” he raised two fingers to his mouth
and blew a kiss, “out of this world.”

Marissa rolled her eyes. He’d gone straight
for Mr. Black Ice. How did he know?