Chapter 7
Taking great care, Newkirk slowly, carefully climbed down the drainpipe and reached the bottom. Briefly, he remembered the nights in London, slinking from rooftop to rooftop on various misadventures during his misspent youth and where those adventures had led him. Clearing his head from the wool gathering, he looked around for any signs that he'd been noticed, ducked behind the adjacent outbuilding, and made his way to the tree he'd seen earlier. He was at the tree for about ten minutes before he heard a noise like someone trying to avoid making noises on a carpet of leaves, a few steps and then every so often a crunching sound. If this guy's tryin' ta be quiet, 'e's bleedin' failin', he thought disgusted. His night vision was perfect, so he saw the guy stumbling along the edge of tree. Newkirk shielded his eyes when he saw the two brief flashes from the lampe. Then a brief darkness, and another two flashes. He gave a low whistle and the sound came closer to the sprawling oak.
"I hear that West cigarettes are grown without nicotine, so they're supposed to be better for you. I've hunted for them everywhere, but I guess I'm not a very good hunter," Newkirk whispered.
"They are getting scarce; I think it's been six months since I've seen a pack. This is my last one, but I let you have it, even though Boss have a better taste to them," Bruno supplied. "Here have this pack; I'm sure I can get more and you'd like to try them once you try them." He takes out a pack of average looking cigarettes and hands it to Newkirk, along with a brand new lighter.
"Danke. I'll bring them with me on my trip home. Next time, I'll see about returning the favor if possible."
Bruno looked like he wanted to say more, but he followed the script as it written. Hopefully, next time he'd find out more about his elusive contact. He looked up, but noticed that no one was there. Shrugging his shoulders, he carefully made his way to the path and home. He had a lot to report.
Slowly, the evening crowd dwindled in number. Gretchen hardly noticed. She had too much on her mind to pay attention to the few remaining people. Heinrich seemed to get the hint that she was preoccupied with other matters and soon stepped in with vigor to finish the remaining orders. He knew from experience that whenever Gretchen busied herself in the kitchen that something was on her mind, and obviously, for the time being, she had decided not to share. He was certain that eventually she would talk to him about whatever it was that was troubling her; until then, he had best leave her to her thoughts. He paused for a moment, watching her begin the breakdown process for cleaning and closing. She was a handsome woman, and he never understood why she refused to remarry. There had been two or three possibilities, but she'd turned a blind eye.
Wool gathering will get you nowhere, he thought to himself as he called Astrid, the night barmaid, to get the last order. She will talk when she is ready and not before then, he decided to himself. In silence, they cleaned the stove, pans, counters, floors, and sink. Finally an hour and a half later, the kitchen was spotless and ready for use tomorrow morning.
Heinrich, grabbing his coat, hat, scarf, and gloves, said, "Guten Nacht, Gretchen, liebe. I see you tomorrow morning bright and early, ja?"
She grimaced and replied, "Ja, bright and early, Heinrich. Take care going home," she said softly as she watched him escort Astrid outside. Gretchen noticed that Bruno, the bartender, had left as soon as the bar was closed. He didn't really socialize much after work, or even during work, for that matter. He was very much a loner, that one, but he worked hard and was good for doing the lifting she and Heinrich couldn't do. Wiping her hands on the bottom of her apron, Gretchen took the steps to her room with trepidation. True, she chose this course of action...mainly because it was the only thing she could think of doing to get the money quickly. She'd picked the gentleman because he seemed just that-a gentleman despite being in the army. Mein herr, as she began to think of him, did indeed have nice, kind eyes that were a remarkable shade of green. With his newly trimmed hair, he looked almost too young to be in the service-of any kind. However, the way he carried himself belied his youthful appearance. This man had seen and done things that would haunt him most likely for the rest of his life. She rolled her shoulders to work the kink out of her back.
Her rooms were private and located directly behind the reception desk which locked at night. She went to the front door, locking it tight before curfew, so she wouldn't be bothered tonight by the night watchman. Moving back towards her rooms, she stepped into the silence which had ruled them like Hitler had ruled Germany for the past ten years or so; the oppression was almost too much, especially in light of events to come. Firmly, she shook her hair loose from its bun, stripped of her clothes which she then meticulously put into the laundry basket, and moved to the bathroom to shower. She tried not to think about what it was she was about to do. The previous experiences she'd had were not something on which she wished to dwell, and after each time, she swore it wouldn't happen again. The first time she had done this was the worst. She remembered crying silently, shedding no tears throughout the whole ordeal. The man hadn't been rough, but he hadn't been the most gentle of men either. She had showered for what seemed like the longest time until the hot water was running ice cold. Then, her tears had come.
One does what one must to survive, she thought firmly. She stepped out of the water spray and toweled her hair dry. Quickly, efficiently, she patted her skin dry and then dressed in a black skirt that stopped just short of her knees, a wrap-around blouse that tied in the front and accentuated her bosom. The teal color of the blouse went well with the black skirt and set off her eyes. Lightly, she applied lipstick of deep red, a slight stroke of blush, and smoky shadow on her eyes. Mein Gott in Himmel! I have turned into a painted lady, not a bad looking one, but still...she thought as she finished putting her hair in a tight chignon. Squaring her shoulders, she walked briskly up the stairs to see Mein Herr.
She arrived at the door, knocked briskly, waited for a few minutes-hours, and then knocked again. After about ten minutes of standing in front of the door, she pulled out her master key, opened the door, and lightly stepped inside. "Mein herr?" she called softly. Hesitantly, she made her way into the room and looked around. The bathroom door was ajar, and there were noises coming from it. She paused, not wanting to see more than she was ready, and then she heard it. Soft snoring issued from the bathroom. She went to the bathroom and found him soaking and sleeping in the tub. Stepping back, she knocked on the bathroom door and waited for a response. She cleared her throat rather more loudly than normal, which brought about the expected results.
While Gretchen getting ready, Newkirk made it back to his room with almost ridiculous ease. He locked the window and drew the shades. Sitting on the bed, he swiftly removed his socks and boots, stripped out of his uniform, placed his pencil sharpener under the edge of the mattress on the right side of the bed and the smaller knife from his left arm in his right boot, and secreted the pack of cigarettes and the lighter in the false bottom of his carry-all. He hung his uniform on the suit rack next to the closet, and then went into the bathroom. He glanced at the tub, stepped into the shower, ran ice cold water, almost by habit, and showered quickly. Finally he drained the tub, and on a whim, he turned on the spigot as hot as the water could get and filled the tub with soapy bubbles. Slipping silently into the tub, he groaned in pleasure as the hot water, enveloped him in its liquid embrace. Damn, a man could get used ta this, he could, he thought, sinking lower into the tub. Blimey, I could almost die 'appy, he thought as he blew through the soap bubbles. He determined to soak only for a bit, but a bit turned into ten minutes, and into twenty minutes, and before he knew it, he was snoozing in the watery comfort of the tub.
The knock on the door, followed quickly by the clearing of the throat brought him to instant wakefulness. "'Cor," he breathed out breathlessly. Then he remembered his assignation for the evening. Damn, he thought as he scrambled from the tub, I didn't want to greet 'er in the all together. He wrapped a towel around his waist, dried himself off the best he could with another towel, and observed that a feminine arm was projecting through the door holding a soft robe of blue. Laughing to himself, he accepted the robe with a muffled "Danke" followed by, "I'll be right out, Frau Hoffman."
She caught herself smiling when she heard him quietly laughing at himself. Maybe this will bearable, she thought. Her breath caught in her throat as she remembers the glimpse of him sleeping in the tub. Maybe it won't be so bad after all, she smiled.
Newkirk stepped out of the bathroom, wearing the robe... With an air of embarrassment, he ran his hand through his damp hair, stopping short as he took in the vision which stood in front of him. 'Cor Blimey! Wha a looker! he thought as he just stared at her. She is gorgeous. "You're exquisite, Frau Hoffman, simply exquisite. Danke," he managed before she turned away.
"It has been quite a while since I dressed up for anyone, mein herr-"
"Please, Anton, not mein herr. My name is Anton Brauer. Are you quite sure you wish to do this, Frau Hoffman?" he asked trying to read her face like he would a deck of cards. Unfortunately, her poker face was almost as good as his because he could see none of the trepidation that had been displayed while she was in her rooms. Instead, all he could see was the determination, resolution, and slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and he wondered at that. If the situation was reversed, he doubted that he would be smiling, even slightly. Crackers, that's what I am, bleedin' crackers. I came 'ere ta do a job, and ta 'ave a nice time with a lady, but I end up turnin into bleedin Andrew, he thought as he shook his head with a slight smile of his own. That boy is goin 'ave a bad influence on me.
Gretchen saw the smile and the gentle shake of his head as he moved to the closet for his uniform. She panicked for a brief moment and moved forwards to intercept him. "Anton," she whispered, "Gretchen is my name, and ja, I am sure."
A little later, she curled into his shoulder amazed that she felt so comfortable with what just occurred with this man. He took his time to make sure she was satisfied as well as seeking his own satisfaction, and he was passionate, yet considerate at the same time. She leaned into his neck, grazed her lips against his ear, and sighed contentedly. He turned his head to her and smiled a generous smile, "Mein liebe," he whispered as he ghosted a kiss on her shoulder. "Tired?"
"Mmmmm," was all she could reply as she settled herself close to him.
She felt him shake with quiet laughter. It seemed he found humor in oddest times, she thought as she, too, laughed quietly to herself.
"So you are relaxed, ja. Serh gut. It is nice to see you smile," he rained feather light kisses on her eyes, cheeks, and the tip of her nose, "I try to please," he said. He yawned widely and said, "I'm tired, too," as he settled himself around her. His arm rested protectively over her side, meeting the other underneath her neck. She was enclosed in his embrace, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt safe and was almost glad for this present situation.
He didn't drift off to sleep until he was sure her breathing was regular and steady. Then, he allowed himself to recall the evening as a whole and decided that all in all, it was a very pleasant, productive evening. He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face, and a beautiful woman in his arms. What more could a man ask for, he thought before he surrendered to sleep entirely.
