Staff Nurse in the Tyrol (16 page)

“Take it easy, Greta. You should be thanking Sonia. She did a very good job, and they have gone away quite happily. Anyway it was Otto that they were after, not Stefan.”

Sonia moved uneasily. “Did Stefan get away all right?”

“Yes, but I will not tell you where he has gone!” the other girl flashed at her, and then her manner softened. “It is not that I do not trust you. I think now that you mean well, but you do not understand the cunning ways of the
Polizei.
It is safer for you that you do not know the answers. He has gone ... far away ... and perhaps I see him before too many days have passed. I think I leave St. Anton quite soon. It is not wise that he returns, and I cannot bear to be without him,” she added simply.

“I understand,” Sonia said softly. “Would you like me to stay on for you tonight?”

The other girl shook her head. “I thank you,
but ...
you understand ... it is better that I work. Sleep would
not come...”

Michael moved toward the door. “Don’t worry too much, Greta. Stefan will be all right. Come on, Sonia ... off to bed with you. I have some hopes that way myself. Tell Night Sister to call me
if...”
He yawned without apology.

Sonia followed him through the ward doors and began to fumble with the tapes on her gown. Michael undid them with a quick gesture and then patted her absently on the shoulder before yawning again.

“Off you go, and remember—no more strange men under your bed!” He ambled off, still yawning.

Sonia stifled a sound, half laugh, half sob, and then turned off toward her own corridor.

It was a gentle but determined knocking on her door that finally awakened Sonia. She struggled up through the clinging veils of sleep and opened heavy eyes.

“Come in,” she called drowsily, not yet remembering where she was.

“Good morning. Fraulein. Sister Therese trusts that you have slept well. She would be pleased if you come to the ward, but not to hurry yourself, if you understand.”

Wide awake now, Sonia struggled to sit up. She stared at the ward maid in dismay. “Tell Sister Therese that I am most sorry and will be with her very soon.”

The maid smiled reassuringly. “I tell her.”

Sonia scrambled out of bed and dashed cold water on her face. She could see the clock
now ... t
en o’clock, it announced accusingly. As she began to dress, she realized that there was a different feel in the air. The sun shone as brightly as ever, but that frightful heat of the past few days had gone, and there was coolness in the breeze that ruffled her hair. Gratefully she thought of the wards and the fretful children. What a difference it would make to them!

There came another knock on the door, but it was Greta who entered this time. Her face was drained of all color and very weary, but there was a steadfast look in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“I think perhaps you would like a cup of coffee. Sister Therese thinks also that you be hungry, so I brought these rolls and butter.
She tells me to join you if you do not mind.” Greta stood there hesitantly, holding her tray with its two cups, jug of steaming coffee and hot crusty rolls.

Sonia smiled warmly at her. It was impossible to be angry with this girl whom love had made so vulnerable at last.

“There’s nothing I would like more.” She made a place for Greta on the bed.

Together the two girls drank the hot coffee and munched the rolls in a comfortable silence.

“Has anything happened?” Sonia was almost afraid to ask.

Greta shook her head. “Nothing has happened ... nothing at all.
Stefan ...
I do not know. I can only pray. So far the good God has been merciful. Come. It is time we go to the ward.”

“But you were on duty all night!” Sonia protested.

But Greta only smiled sadly. “Sister Therese understands. She too has known such waiting. Perhaps if word comes ... I rest this afternoon.”

The two girls walked side by side through the corridors and finally stood in front of Sister Therese, awaiting her instructions.

She smiled gently at them. There was nothing in her manner to indicate the ordeal of these past days, or the fact that she had been working more hours than seemed humanly possible. She directed Sonia into the side wards to help with the patients and took Greta off with her to help with the main ward.

Already there was a different feel in the atmosphere. There were sounds from the children that suggested laughter mightn’t be too far off.

As Sonia went into the first side ward she saw that Michael was there. He was bending over a small boy whose head moved restlessly against the restraint of the iron lung’s foam rubber collar. For a moment she wondered what he was doing, and then watched his hands adjust the mirror that was fastened above the boy’s head. As she came up behind him she heard the strains of music. It must be an accordion, she decided. Then, she too saw the reflection in the mirror of a man dressed in the traditional white shirt and
Lederhosen
of the musician. Not even the bulk of the accordion on its wide shoulder strap could disguise that arrogant carriage. Even as she stared in disbelief one hand came up in a gay salute that tossed a kiss in their direction.

The small boy’s mouth trembled in a smile as he whispered, “Papa! You came!” Then eyes dropped in contented sleep and all restless movement ceased.

Michael moved casually toward the window, looked out as if surprised, and then tossed a silver
Schilling
at the player’s feet. Sonia watched Otto pick it up, kiss it and then put it in his pocket before moving off with a little bow toward the other wards nearer the gate.

“Surely it’s far too dangerous for him!” Sonia found herself whispering.

Michael shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps—but who knows? The boy’s recovery may depend on that glimpse of his father.”

There was no smile on his face; he was unshaven, and his eyes looked as if he hadn’t slept for weeks.

Sonia walked away toward the next cubicle. She went slowly and reluctantly. Part of her longed to linger and comfort the weary man who stood there in the window, almost swaying on his feet because he was so tired. Perhaps she had been wrong in her defiance after all. Her hands had been useful during the worst of the polio epidemic and no one would deny her that accolade, but was she still needed? Perhaps for a while, but that would be all.

Greta had Stefan now, and her proud heart would learn to let another lead her into gentler ways of love. And Michael? How plain he had made it that he didn’t want her here. True, he had said he would be worried about her safety if she remained, but it had been an impersonal sort of worry. Now and again she had caught a glimpse of some warmer feeling, but it never
lasted ...
irritation with her stubbor
n
ness had always blotted it out like mist on the mountain or ice on the hill tarn. For a moment homesickness flooded through her, leaving her weak and shaking before she determinedly pulled herself together and went in to the next patient.

Day followed day and still Greta waited. Her face had grown thin, making her eyes appear twice as large. She obviously wasn’t
sleeping ...
at least only in brief snatches ... and the slightest sound made her start and tremble. Then one night, just as she and Sonia were doing a final round, the ward maid came tiptoeing in.

She tugged at Greta’s sleeve and when the other girl looked around in annoyance, laid a small brooch on the palm of her hand.

Greta stared at it in horrified disbelief and then snatched it rudely. “Where did you get this?” she demanded.

The maid shrugged her shoulders. “A man tells me to give it to you without fail. He says you will understand the message and to say nothing.” Very much on her dignity, she began to withdraw.

Greta ran after her, tears streaming down her face. “Ingrid, I am sorry. I have been so worried.”

Sonia watched the two and then waited for Greta to return. She was almost afraid to ask a question, but Greta forestalled her.

“It’s all right, it’s all right. It means that Stefan is safe in a place we both know of. Perhaps quite soon I can go to him there.” She mopped the happy tears away, the careworn look seemed to leave her face at the same time, and her eyes were the brightly-lit eyes of a girl in love.

Greta’s happiness spread over Sonia for as long as they were together, and she could listen to the other’s excited chatter of what the future might hold for them. But once Greta had gone, Sonia looked around the emptiness of her room with disgust. How long was it since she had been anywhere but here, or the wards for more days than she cared to remember? With resolute fingers she stripped off her uniform and began to look in her wardrobe for something pretty to
wear ...
a dress that would help her to forget the scenes of sickness and sadness that had been her lot; a dress that would remind her of happier events.

Her hand touched the dress with the yellow roses and then lingered. She had worn it for Stefan, and now he had gone away. She hesitated and then took it out. She might as well wear it. There hadn’t been one she had worn specially for Michael, nor was there likely to be one. She was astonished and annoyed to see tears glinting in her eyes when she brushed her hair. Why on earth should there be tears? Not for
Stefan ...
he had touched her sympathy, but never her heart. They couldn’t be for Michael. One didn’t cry for one who seldom noticed one’s existence.

The night air had a cool sweetness that soothed the senses. The
dark bulk of the mountains seemed friendly, and the stars glimmered with a softness that had been missing on those hot stifling nights. The moon moved slowly into its position at the top of the mountain pass, and its rays cast a silvery glitter across the green, sleeping forests. Sonia’s eyes rested on the glory of the panorama and knew then that she wasn’t yet ready to leave this
lovely country. She would see it through
—
she would stay for
her chosen time. If at the end of her year at
St. Anton’s ...
She refused to complete the thought and walked steadily down the drive toward the gates. She would have a coffee at the little cafe. She might even be bold enough to take a tram into Innsbruck and walk along Maria-Theresienstrasse to gaze at the glittering shop windows.

The crunch of heavy footsteps on the gravel roused her from her musings. Visitors walked softly and shyly as if not sure of their right to be there. Nurses trod with a busyness that hinted at so much still to be done and so little time in which to do it. Even doctors’ shoes conveyed a reassurance through the heaviness of their tread. But not these. Sonia moved instinctively into the shadows at the side of the drive. Her dress blended with the moonlit paleness of rose bushes, and she knew a moment’s security until she saw who passed her.

She recognized the man who had been with the police Kapitan, and there was another police officer with him who was a stranger. Then she saw the Kapitan himself. He was speaking to someone she could not see at first until the little group moved into the circle of lights at the gates. Her heart seemed to stop beating as she recognized Michael. Not even the fact that Michael walked a little apart from the Kapitan could reassure her.

She found herself running forward. Some primitive caution kept her feet on the grass verge, so that they made no betraying sound. She was crying and at the same time calling his name; “Michael! Michael, why are you with them? Where are you going? Michael, come back! You must come back!”

Only the fact that no one in the group seemed to pay any attention made her realize that she wasn’t shouting aloud. But before she could emerge into the light, Michael had turned as if to glance back at the hospital. She could see him become aware of her presence. The warning on his face was unmistakable and she couldn’t fail to understand the words his mouth was forming soundlessly.

“Go back
and ...
don’t worry.”

Then he had turned back to the Kapitan with some remark, and the four men moved out through the gates toward a waiting car.

Numbly she listened to the slam of the car doors, the starting up of the engine, the engaging of the gears, before it moved away to be swallowed up in the darkness.

Sonia was never sure how long she stood there. She only knew with a certainty that would stand for all time that she loved Michael, and he had been taken
away...

CHAPTER TEN

At long last Sonia moved. There had to be something she could do. At least she could go to the police station and tell them she was responsible for bringing the child in. She stopped—but they already knew that, she recalled with despair. She realized that she couldn’t possibly know why they had taken Michael away. She could go over to the wards ... oh, what was the use? They could have taken him directly from the residents’
quarters...

A hand touched her arm and she stifled a shriek.

“Fraulein! Fraulein!”

It was only a whisper, but as the man moved out of the shadows she could see that it was Otto. But it was no longer the worried father that confronted her. It was the arrogant man who had so frightened her that night at the cafe, but this time she greeted him with frantic eagerness.

“Otto! You must help! They have taken Michael!”

“Fraulein ... quietly! Someone might hear you. Come into this corner behind the gates. It is important that we plan quickly, but it is also of the utmost necessity that we plan wisely.”

There was enough confidence in his voice to calm a little of Sonia’s fears as she followed him into the sheltering darkness.

“We talk here, Fraulein. Tell me what has happened ... from the very beginning. I arrived too late to see no more than the Herr Doktor stepping into the car.”

Sonia pulled herself together. “I can’t tell you very much—only the
Polizei
walk with Michael to the car. They did not hold him, but they walked closely to him. The Kapitan was talking to him, but not angrily. But why would they take him? He has done nothing wrong! Otto, we must do something,” Sonia ended passionately.

Otto nodded in agreement. “Sure we shall do something. It is not necessary for a person to do wrong to be taken away by the
Polizei,
Fraulein.” There was much bitter feeling in his voice. “It is important that we follow to the
Polizeiwajchzimmer,
but we must go to the right one. The one at Berg-Isel by the
Stif Wilten
is the nearest, but it is not the principal one.”

“What about the one at the station?” Sonia interrupted. “I saw it when I was leaving the train. But what if we follow? What can we
do ...
what can anyone do?”

Otto put a hand on her shoulder and spoke as though soothing a frightened child. “That is my part, Fraulein. Can you tell me what the Kapitan looked like?”

Sonia fished into her memory. “Tall, young, but old enough to be the father of three. Very proud of his smart uniform as a boy is
proud. Pleasant to look at. I do not know
—
”

“Fraulein, you have told me enough. It is time that we departed if we are to accomplish anything.” He hesitated. “Last time you came in my car because I had need of you, but I think you were afraid. This time you will come because you have need of my help, and I think that you are not afraid.”

Sonia put her hand on his arm. “Please hurry.”

Otto led her out of the garden through a small gate that she didn’t remember ever having noticed before. She stumbled a little as they began to walk quickly along a forest path. She could see only the outlines of the trees and an occasional patch of silvery light where the moon penetrated the screen of branches. They came into a clearing where a car was waiting. Two men came toward them. Otto began speaking, his swift sentences tumbling out, but Sonia could make no sense of his words. It wasn’t German, that was all she could be sure of.

At last he turned back to her. “We take another route and perhaps we arrive soon enough. The police are most certain to have gone by the Sillbrucke. From your description of the Kapitan I think that he has come from the station and not from the Berg-Isel
Polizeiwackzimmer.
We go by Amraserstrasse, and I think that it is quicker. The police route will, of necessity, be slow. There are what you call the road
blocks...”

Sonia followed Otto into the car, and the two men got in front. The vehicle bumped over rough ground for several hundred yards, and then she saw the highway glinting whitely in the moonlight. She recognized the road by which she had gone to Igls on that long-ago June holiday with her friend. But there wasn’t to be time for conscious thought as the driver wrenched the wheel around and sent them across the highway into a narrower road at a speed that made the tires squeal in angry protest. Another corner was taken far too fast, and then they were traveling along a broad street. A few lights still shone in the windows of the tall houses and reminded her that it was still before midnight. “Amraserstrasse,” Otto murmured into her ear.

He leaned forward and touched the driver and the man began to slow down. Then he stopped the car but left the engine idling as if to convey the impression that they were merely waiting for a friend.

“Over there, Fraulein.”

Sonia followed the direction of Otto’s pointing finger and recognized the police station. But her heart sank. Standing outside was the car that Michael had been taken away in. It must be the same. It had the same slinky, evil blackness.

She tried to hide the shudders that shook her, but Otto must have noticed. He patted her arm.

“Fraulein, do not lose heart so easily. See? The door is opening. Watch closely.”

Sonia stared toward that brightly-lit doorway until her eyes smarted with tears. Why did they have to stand there talking? Why couldn’t they come down the steps so she could see for certain that Michael was still with them?

She kept her eyes fastened on that little group. They were coming down the steps now.

Sonia felt Otto tense beside her and realized that Michael was coming directly toward them. Then he saw her and his surprise was ludicrous.

“Sonia! In the name of heaven what are you doing here?” He looked past her, saw Otto, and spoke to him furiously in German.

Sonia could understand just enough to realize that Otto was getting the scolding of his life, compunction made her put out a restraining hand.

“Michael, we only wanted to make sure you were safe,” she pleaded.

He stared at her as if he thought she had taken leave of her senses. “Are you quite mad? I told you at the gate not to worry. But oh no, you can’t stay at the hospital where at least one or two people can understand you. You come into Innsbruck with a man that any strolling policeman would give his right hand to arrest. I suppose if anything had happened, you could have convinced the police that you’d only come along for the ride and there was no reason at all why you shouldn’t be locked up—or worse.”

Michael paused for breath, and Sonia glanced apologetically at Otto. To her amazement he didn’t look upset or displeased. He merely shrugged his shoulders and gave her a whimsical sort of smile.

“I suggest, Herr Doktor, that since you so plainly do not trust us to take care of the Fraulein, it is better that she goes back to the hospital with you. It is wise, perhaps, that we make ourselves ... how do you say
it ... scarce.”

Sonia found herself being bowed out of one car with fitting ceremony and bundled into another with irritable haste. There was scarcely time to wave to Otto before Michael got in beside her and slammed the door with unnecessary violence.

She heard him speak to the driver in a low tone, and to her surprise the car reversed and then turned down a side street.

“Michael, I thought we were going back to the hospital,” she ventured presently.

“We were, but we’re going to have some coffee first and decide what to do about you. This sort of thing can’t go on, you know.”

How grim his voice sounded and so unfriendly. Why couldn’t he say something nice? After all she hadn’t enjoyed the terror and anxiety of the past couple of hours.

“Michael, there’s no need to do anything about me. I’m quite capable of managing my own affairs.” How stiff and prim that sounded. She wished she had kept silent.

“We’ll see about that,” Michael said briefly.

The car was slowing down now and Sonia could see a small cafe.

“Out you get, Sonia.”

Michael took Sonia by the arm and led her into the cafe. He had obviously been there before as several of the patrons nodded and wished him good evening. The proprietor came bustling toward them.

“Good evening, Herr Doktor. What can I offer you and the Fraulein? Coffee? Hot Milk? I go to bring it with my own hands.”

He hurried off and Michael fished out a packet of cigarettes and lit one very deliberately.

There was a feeling of rigid control about his every movement that made Sonia want to shout at him: All right! Scold me if it will make you feel any better, but don’t expect me to leave. I’m staying at St. Anton until my year is up whatever you say. So there! But somehow she managed to bite the words back, blink away the tears that still threatened, and watch Michael with a detached calmness as he accepted the tray of coffee from the talkative proprietor.

At last he pushed the cup her way and looked at her very searchingly. “Sonia, why on earth did you run such risks?”

If he had sounded angry she might have been all right, but his very gentleness overwhelmed her.

“Because
I ...”
She stumbled and was lost. The tears poured down her cheeks.

“Sonia! For heaven’s
sake...
”
Michael began and then took her in his arms.

At last Sonia managed to check them and drew long shuddering breaths. She was dimly aware of the proprietor hovering with a glass of wine and of the sympathetic glances from the other patrons. She drew comfort from the fact that Michael was keeping them at a distance with a fiercely protective gesture. Then she was trying to gulp down the sweet coffee and to tell herself that sugar was good for shock anyway.

Michael picked up his own coffee with barely concealed relief and began to drink it thirstily, as if all this emotion had parched him. He saw that she had finished hers and refilled her cup.

He smiled at her ruefully. “Why did you have to do it, Sonia? I didn’t ask to fall in love with you.”

She frowned slightly as if she hadn’t heard the words properly and then stared anxiously at him as if expecting him to snatch them back again.

“Michael, you can’t
mean...”

He interrupted her impatiently. “You don’t have to bother your pretty head about it if you don’t want to. I’m used to being on my own, and I daresay I can continue. It was just that—oh, I don’t know how to say it. I found myself missing you when you weren’t there. When I saw you tonight, God knows what I thought. I only knew that I loved you and I wanted to look after you.”

“Michael...
”
There was something in the way in which she said it that made him glance at her closely.

“Sonia, you don’t mean you love me as well? You can’t! I’ve bullied you, made your life a misery, and treated you like a child. I haven’t even much to offer you. This job doesn’t pay much, but I like it and want to see it through. I may wander back to England in time although I swore I never would. You’ll want to see your parents, and I suppose I should look in on mine ... Mother said Father hasn’t been so well. Sonia! Tell me
quickly...”

But there was no need for her to put it into words. The expression of utter joy on her face was enough. Then his arms were around her, and he was holding her close and murmuring words of love, the words she never thought she’d hear him say.

She was full of a gay, excited happiness now, and it seemed to communicate itself to the other inmates of the cafe in spite of the lateness of the hour. There was the clinking of glasses as the proprietor brought out bottles of wine, so that all could drink to the young couple. Judging by Michael’s heightened color Sonia decided it was just as well she couldn’t understand all the German phrases that were being tossed back and forth across the room. Michael left to return with the taxi driver, who was given a drink.

How long they sat there Sonia was never sure. They were alone in spite of the friendly people around them, but they were not lonely. There was so much to talk about now that all the prickly barriers were down. Sometimes Michael was full of rueful laughter when she confessed how frightened she had been of him when he had said this or done that. But he never took his eyes from her. At last they became aware that the cafe was empty except for the proprietor, who was sitting behind the counter, his half filled glass beside him, his hand clasping the carved bowl of his pipe, a smile of patient tolerance on his face as if remembering that he too had been young and in love once.

Michael scrambled to his feet. “Sonia! It’s hours past your bedtime. Come on, darling. We must be going.”

Hand in hand they walked through the sleeping streets, across the swiftly-flowing River Sill, its milky waters ghostly in the half darkness, up toward the forest-clad slopes of the hills that cradled St. Anton’s Hospital. And high against the sky, where the stars were already paling as dawn approached, the mountains flung their protective cloak around the valley where the lovers had found their love. Tiredness had left Sonia now and she felt as though she could walk for hours. All uncertainty had departed.

As if reading her thoughts Michael drew her to a standstill before they went through the gates of St. Anton.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and swung her gently to face him. “Are you quite sure, Sonia? If not, tell me quickly before I’m more in love with you than I am this very minute. I think I could bear it today, but not tomorrow.”

Sonia silenced him with a swift kiss. “Of course I’m sure, darling. And look! It’s tomorrow already!”

Together they turned and watched the first hesitant flush of dawn creep down the mountainside and knew with final
certainty that their tomorrows had just begun.