Part 19 (1/2)

”It's incredible; there are no words to describe what I am feeling right now.”

”Violet, I'm sorry for earlier. I was out of line. I didn't mean to say that about you; you're not broken. If anyone is, it's me. That's still not an excuse, though. I was wrong.”

He walked to the edge of the deck with his hands laced in his hair, breathing out deeply. I knew he was struggling just as much as I was. Our emotions were running out of control and we were taking them out on each other. Stepping softly behind him, I placed my hand in between his shoulder blades and pressed lightly. His head dropped before he turned around and held the sides of my face in his hands.

He dipped slightly and held his lips against my forehead. ”Thank you.” As he reached down to hold my hand, we started to walk towards the balcony.

”Where are we going?”

Shepard started to laugh as he led me out of the house and over to the small path next door.

”Next door to my neighbor, Ingrid's. I ran over there to pick up my mail and she doesn't believe I have a girl with me. I told her we would come over, so I hope you don't mind. She wants us to join her for dinner.”

Trusting that Shepard wouldn't put me into another panic inducing situation, I didn't resist. He didn't knock as we came around to the door, simply yelling that we were there. A small older blond woman with sparkling blue eyes rounded the corner with enthusiasm. Looking me up and down, she turned to Shepard and wagged her eyebrows.

”You brought me a live one. Come, let's get some coffee.”

I instantly loved her. She was warm and inviting, the way you imagine every grandmother should be. Her house was covered wall to wall with photos of her loved ones. Handcrafted quilts folded delicately were placed across the arms of her sofa and rocking chair. Two fluffy cats slept curled up together in a basket full of yarn skeins. The smell of simmering tomatoes permeated the air, causing my stomach to rumble. Shepard moved about the kitchen with her, grabbing dishes to set the table.

”This is why your kitchen doesn't 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 a.s.sumption 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 suns.h.i.+ne. 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 gla.s.ses.

”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 a.s.s handed to me.

Pouring the liquor to the brim, we lifted the gla.s.ses, 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 moons.h.i.+ne! Schnapps, my a.s.s, 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 gla.s.s hesitantly, but Shepard pushed it towards me with a grin. ”Your a.s.s is taking care of me, remember that.” The second one went down a little better, yet still burned like h.e.l.l. 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.s 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 c.r.a.p 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 coc.o.o.n 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 p.a.w.ns 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 a 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 pa.s.serby 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 ma.s.sive 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 ma.s.sive 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 of those looking for peace. I did not offer up a prayer of my own. I didn't need to; they were all being answered.