November Sky (4 page)

He turned to face the oncoming danger while continuing to talk, unfazed.

“I’ll think of something. Just come on down, then we can drive away together.”

“Come down now?” I said.

Chris had gotten hold of herself somewhat. She took the receiver out of my hand, told Nick I’d be out right away, hung up, and gave me a shove.

“So get going. You heard him—he’s waiting for you. He’s parked illegally because of you. Go on before he gets mad about the ticket and changes his mind. I’m coming, too, because I want to know if this character is for real.”

She was determined to drag me outside, but as usual, when a man showed any interest in me, I had a weird reaction. I shook her hand off.

“I can’t do it!”

Chris looked like she wanted to deliver me to the local psychiatric hospital on the spot. I hastily came up with a halfway plausible excuse.

“I’ve got to freshen up my makeup.”

She rolled her eyes but conceded defeat. “OK, but I’m going out to help him with his scofflaw attitude.”

In reality, I simply needed a few seconds to myself to sort out my conflicting feelings about seeing him. At the bathroom mirror, I quickly took out my hair clasp and combed my shoulder-length hair. I put on lipstick and took a deep breath. I was pleased by his ambush, but at the same time I wondered what he thought he’d achieve. Why did he want to see me again? Surely, I would only bring back unpleasant memories.

When I stepped tentatively out of our office building, I saw Nick bent over the hood of the Corvette writing something. Then he stood up and handed a pen and a piece of paper to the waiting meter maid. She took them, stowed the paper carefully inside her jacket pocket, gave him a beaming bow of the head, and walked off.

Chris was standing close to Nick on the sidewalk, her back to me. In her high-pitched voice, she said, “Don’t let yourself be put off. She can be free today, no problem. Laura’s a little shy, you know. If I know her, she hasn’t a clue—”

She broke off abruptly. Nick had seen me coming, and I could have sworn he’d interrupted her stream of words with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. But I didn’t have time to worry about that, because his closeness was giving me heart palpitations.

He took off his sunglasses and offered me his hand with delight.

“Laura, nice to see you again. Your colleague squealed on you that your whole afternoon is free. Get in, and we’ll have a ride to the Schliersee.”

I threw Chris a chastising look. Her zealousness to get me together with a man was going a little too far. Since when did she plan my time off? And what was that curious episode with the meter maid all about? They don’t normally look so relaxed when they’re giving someone a ticket. I took Nick’s hand, ignored the peculiar shudder across my shoulder blades from his touch, and without thinking the words said, “Did you just bribe a police officer? Give that parking-ticket lady a big check so you could park here?”

I cringed under Chris’s shocked, accusing gaze. What had possessed me to snub him like that? I wouldn’t have been surprised at all if he’d jumped into the car and driven off in a rage, tires squealing. I could only blame my crabbiness on my total discombobulation in his presence.

Nick, unlike my business partner, stayed above it all and gave me a cheery grin. I’d guessed right, he said, and then he asked me to please get in right away before the meter maid realized the bribe was too small. He gallantly held open the door, and after a moment’s hesitation, I sank into the leather seats, which were the same color as the car. With its hypermodern cockpit, stretched hood, and sharply raked windshield, the car seemed like a spaceship. Nick sat down next to me, put his sunglasses back on, and got out his transmitter fob. Before he could wake up the motor with an impressive roar, Chris stuck her head in the open passenger window to remind me that we’d carpooled that day, so Nick would have to drop me off at home later. She also reminded me that we wouldn’t be seeing each other until Monday—she was off to visit her latest Internet acquaintance in Cologne.

I feigned regret, but her absence came at an opportune time. If I knew Chris, she would have spent all day Friday and possibly the entire weekend bombarding me with questions and phone calls until I told her everything about my time with Nick, down to each minuscule detail.

Chris loudly wished us a safe trip, adding softly so only I could hear, “So long, Princess No-Name.” Furtively, I raised my middle finger.

Noting my unladylike gesture, she stepped back with a laugh, waved, and covered her ears as the car surged forward, pushing me back in my seat. Despite my opinion about his speed on the night I’d first met him, Nick’s driving was breathtaking in the truest sense of the word. A line from the American writer Martha Grimes occurred to me: “A man at the wheel of his car is like a peacock holding the wheeling fan of its plumage in his hands.”

As he deftly handled swift lane changes in busy traffic, he managed to chat as easily as if we were sitting on the subway. Again, I did most of the talking after he’d spurred me on with his clever questions about my training and my work with Chris. But I firmly intended to find out something about
him
this afternoon.

Each time we stopped at a red light as we drove through the city, I had the uncomfortable feeling that everybody was staring at us. It seemed that his flashy car caused excitement even in mundane Munich. Presumably, people wondered what on earth I was doing in the passenger seat. I relaxed a little when the Inner City was behind us, but when we hit the autobahn I stared at the speedometer needle like a hypnotized bunny with terrified eyes. It climbed to dizzying heights. I had no interest in being in a crash and ending up with the car on its roof again. You shouldn’t tempt fate twice.

I thrust myself up in my seat and shook my head. “Hey, we were talking about a trip, not a kamikaze mission. I’m only twenty-six, haven’t made a will yet, and would dearly love to see my thirtieth birthday. Now I know that the car takes off like a rocket. Besides, you’re not only endangering us but the others on the road. Can we go a bit slower?”

I could see that he was really concentrating, and as his face grew dark for a second, I wondered if I’d annoyed him. I wanted to bite my tongue off. Why had I acted like a sour old schoolmarm? No wonder he was mad. But I must have been mistaken, because he apologized at once.

“Sorry, you’re right. We’ll turn off up ahead and go cross-country. And I promise that you’ll be able to enjoy the view of the mountains in total relaxation.”

With that, he took his foot off the gas pedal, and we crept along at a snail’s pace once we got onto the rural road. The corner of Nick’s mouth twitched as he asked if that speed was acceptable. As I was about to offer that he might well give it a little more gas so we wouldn’t come to a
complete
stop, we were passed by a honking, beige Mercedes driven by an elderly man, who shook his head to indicate we were crazy. We looked at each other and burst out laughing.

From that moment on, I enjoyed the unplanned trip with him to the fullest. We drove straight to the Schliersee, idyllically situated between Lake Tegernsee and the Inn River valley, and through the village by the same name on the east bank of the lake. Nick gave me a vivid account of Georg “Girgl” Jennerwein, a poacher buried in the cemetery there who was sort of a Bavarian Robin Hood because he rebelled against state authorities and died under mysterious circumstances from a bullet wound at twenty-nine.

“He was as old as I am now,” Nick said, ending the story.

“How come you know the story so well?” I asked.

“Because about five years ago they made a film that a coll—er—a buddy of mine was in.”

I winced. Some of his friends were film actors. Once again I was painfully reminded that Nick’s world wasn’t mine. I really had no business being there beside him, and my euphoria over this beautiful day, the wonderful landscape, and the lake glittering in the sun was tainted by a faint sadness. I still had no idea why he’d come to see me, so I simply asked him why. He’d parked the car on the edge of a lush, green, flower-bedecked meadow outside the village and looked at me searchingly.

“Can’t you figure it out? Why does a man want to spend time with a woman?”

My meager experience made me assume a man’s intentions were to fawn all over the woman, physically satisfy himself with her, and then, cold as ice, drop her afterward. But I couldn’t give him that answer.

Apart from my own hang-ups, I actually didn’t have the feeling that he was looking for a one-night-stand. I felt amazingly comfortable in his presence, his reckless driving notwithstanding. No,
comfortable
wasn’t the right word. I liked Nick—much too much. Secretly, I admitted that I enjoyed his company and felt a tiny ray of hope. At the same time, I was terribly afraid of a new disappointment and tortured myself with doubt about his intentions. I decided to be as honest as I could.

“What does a man like you want from an average woman like me? With your looks, this car, and the charm you shower about, you can have almost anybody you want—certainly much more beautiful and interesting women than me. You really don’t have to apologize for the way you acted after the accident. I realize you were angry and agitated at first. And I didn’t behave so politely, either.”

He shook his head. “You really think I’m spending the afternoon with you because of a bad conscience? You didn’t exactly give the impression you were interested in seeing me again. I wanted to see
you
again, by all means, but didn’t dare ask for your phone number. Mainly because I’d just been rather insolent and was afraid you’d give me the brush-off. Laura, I memorized your license plate and wanted to manufacture a lie for the vehicle registration center to call them up and get your full name and address. But fortunately, your classmate was generous with his information when I told him about our ‘accidental’ meeting and that you’d steered me to his shop.”

He grinned and then did a perfect imitation of Moritz, even replicating his mischievous facial expression. “Oh, yeah, little Laura Lassberg. Damn near married me. Got a job in Minga now, still lives alone.”

He continued in a normal tone of voice. “I’m really happy that you live by yourself and didn’t marry him. He’s a nice guy but wouldn’t have been right for you. I was duplicitous in asking him for your business address, saying I wanted to send you flowers. He immediately shoved your business card in my hand and asked me to give you his best.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or annoyed at Moritz for his interference. Yet to be completely honest, gratitude prevailed. But I still didn’t understand why Nick was interested in me. He read my face and laughed at my slow-wittedness. Then he suggested a short hike to a waterfall in the vicinity, where he promised to explain everything in detail and tell me all about himself. The day really was gorgeous, and because I very much like walking in nature, I agreed. But just then my stomach growled audibly, and I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. My face burned with embarrassment. Great! Now my image as scaredy-cat, killjoy, and glutton was signed, sealed, and delivered. But Nick surprised me once again. Without comment, he got out of the car and retrieved a large picnic cooler and a blanket from the trunk. I couldn’t believe it as I watched him spread the blanket on the meadow.

“I’d almost forgotten our picnic. I thought it would be a lot of fun to eat out in nature instead of a beer garden—they’ll all be full in this weather anyway.” He pointed to the cooler. “See if there’s anything that appeals to your taste buds.”

Minutes later I was sitting beside him on the blanket, enjoying the sweet scent of meadow flowers and biting into a delicious smoked-salmon baguette with honey mustard and sliced pickles. I wondered for the nth time if Nick and this wonderful afternoon were for real or just a dream. The cooler was brimming with beautifully prepared open-faced sandwiches, crudités, diced cheeses, and a Tupperware container of sliced melon. We enjoyed the meal heartily. Although it was still spring, the sun was so warm that it felt like summer. Apart from our conversation there was silence all around us, occasionally broken by the chugging of a tractor or the gentle mooing of the cows in the meadow behind us. I watched the delicate cirrostratus clouds moving over the blue sky and ate with relish the last morsel and swallowed it down. I asked Nick why he was so darn sure I’d actually go on a picnic with him.

“It was just a hope. If need be, I’d have eaten it by myself so as not to antagonize Hanna. She’s the sweet soul of our household. Her biggest fear is that I might starve.”

I’d finally discovered a little more about him. He lived with his parents in a house in Grünwald. (He really said “house,” not “apartment,” and my inner eye envisioned one of the villas that sat in park-like settings behind wrought-iron fences. I’d admired such homes on my occasional strolls through that elegant part of the city.)

“Since getting out of school, I’ve lived upstairs. Mom and Pop use the rooms on the ground floor. Hanna lives in the granny house and takes care of the everyday stuff. She’s been with us for a long time. My parents have to travel a lot professionally. They spend most of the year in Marbella. My progenitors and Hanna more or less combined forces to raise me. Hanna’s from Vienna, strict on the outside but soft as butter in the sun. But she did drill manners into me.” He laughed. “If she ever found out how I behaved toward you after the accident, she’d knock my block off. I didn’t tell her about the mishap, of course. I defused the story of how we met by simply making up something about a breakdown. She hates the Corvette, anyway, and lives in constant fear that one day I’ll ‘run myself over’ with it—her words.”

I instantly liked the woman. She hadn’t plucked her worries out of thin air, by any means.
Mishap
was a good euphemism for the fact that a whole host of guardian angels must have intervened so Nick would escape from the accident without a scratch—and I told him so. He shrugged, staring at the sparkling surface of the water, and what he said next shocked me.