Stained Glass and Regrets
The Church of St Ia was a fine old gothic pile of stalwart Anglican gloom, filled with local marble, properly unpadded hard wooden pews, some truly outstanding examples of eighteenth-century stained glass — and, at the moment, a misplaced German General brooding darkly in the last row. His wheat-blonde, (respectfully hatless), immaculately combed head swiveled sharply as the door creaked open behind him, ready to chastise whichever hapless grunt had dared disrupt his solitude, but the words died on his lips when a tall Korporal marched in with the General's own mistress's arm clutched firmly in one paw.
"Liebchen!" Schultz cried out automatically, then spat out the command to the Korporal to leave them. As the door closed again behind the soldier, Schultz strode swiftly across the marble floor, then halted abruptly two steps away. Rose had neither moved nor spoken, and was staring at him warily, almost as if she didn't recognize him. "Rose? Is that you?"
Rose sighed, then shook her head in disbelief that he was actually here. "Yes, Karl. It's me, Munchkin," she added, confirming her identity with the use of her own private nickname for him — not for his size (he was two or three centimeters taller than herself), but for the way she'd first butchered the German pronunciation of Munich, his home town. He'd teased her terribly, and it had become their private joke. "What are you doing here?" she added, bewildered.
He stared, his eyes rounding in amazement. How could she not know? "I came for you!" he declared earnestly. "I only want you back!" As she continued to stare, he pressed on, waving a hand dismissively. "I don't care that your father is with the Resistance — yes, I know who he is. I don't care if you've been involved with this business of your doppel. I don't care if you've been giving him information. I will protect you from all of that. I don't care whether you left on your own, or he kidnapped you. All I want is for you to come back to me."
Her eyes had grown round in return, her jaw dropping open in disbelief. "You have got to be joking," she replied breathlessly.
"Does this look like I am making a joke?" He pulled a tiny box out of his uniform pants pocket and opened it to show her the contents. A huge diamond caught the dim light, shattered it into sparkles and tossed it across the babtistry font. Taking the last two steps, he reached a tender finger and pulled up her chin, dragging her eyes from the bauble to meet his again. "I want you to marry me, Liebchen."
She was flabbergasted. After everything that had happened in the last few days, the last twenty-four hours... All she could think of was If he'd asked me a week ago, I would have leapt at the chance. Now... Her head began to shake No of its own accord, in negation or disbelief she hadn't the wit to say.
"I know I'm almost twice your age, Liebchen," he continued pleading his cause. "I know we are from completely different backgrounds," he rolled his eyes at his own words, "and I know that's a ridiculous understatement. I don't care. You have made me so very happy these past five years. I thought you were happy, too." He paused, then probed gently, "Weren't you happy?"
Was I? Despite what she'd told her father the day before, it hadn't been all bad. Very little of it was, in fact. The mistress of a General had many perks, that was certain: fine food, clothes, jewelry, a house, a car, the ability to travel freely, enforced respect from the occupying forces — on the surface, at least. And her singing, too. A life of comfort. And if she married him, all that would only get better.
But was that what she really wanted?
What about Dad? What about the love and affection, the support and caring, of her own father? What about the memory of her Mum? What about forgiveness for her sins against both of them?
And what about her self-respect?
How could a comfortable life, with a man she was fond of, but didn't truly love, make up for all of that?
Her eyes had drifted down, staring at the ring and all it represented. Now she raised them to meet his again, and he saw the answer within them before she even spoke. "I'm sorry, Karl. I can't marry you. Yes, I was happy... but it's not enough. It's not what I need."
"If you walk out that door without me, I can no longer protect you," he warned. "If you are picked up with him, or your doppel, you will be tried, and you will be shot. There will be nothing I can do."
"I understand," she nodded.
"I don't!" he cried. "How can you turn away, and for what? Was it all a lie, all along?"
"No, Karl! It wasn't a lie." She was feeling her way through the discoveries as she spoke. "In the beginning, it was a way to escape a nightmare, that's true. But I was happy, with you. But now... This... This is a way to find a dream."
"A dream? Of what?"
She was silent for a long minute, her eyes unfocused. He couldn't know it, but behind them, a vision of herself was parading through her mind: a parallel self, strong and assured, who wanted something so badly, who loved someone so much, that she shot herself through parallel worlds, in and out of wars and disasters, to find him again. She wasn't sure what the problem was now between them, but there was no doubt of the strength and courage of that other Rose.
And she wanted to be that strong, that brave, too.
She focused once more on her former lover's face. "A dream of myself."
He still didn't understand, but he knew finality when he heard it. He reached out with one hand to caress her cheek one last time, stepping closer on impulse to kiss her goodbye. She put both hands gently on his chest, not pushing him away, and then slid them softly down to his waist...
… and came up with his pistol, sliding it out of the holster on his belt. She didn't point it at him, but held it between them for him to see, then took two steps backwards, holding the gun in both hands and pointing it at the marble floor.
He was flabbergasted, staring at this woman transformed before him. Then he shook his head. "You won't shoot me." His voice was sure, stating a fact.
A tiny, knowing smile teased her mouth. "I won't have to. Will I?" she asked, confirming rather than querying.
He gazed at her for another long, silent moment, then took a deep, sighing breath, deliberately letting the gun go. "You gave me five wonderful years, Liebchen. I will give you five minutes. But that's all I can give you."
Nodding, she began turning towards the front doors, but he stopped her. "Go out the back doors," he told her, dipping his head towards the altar and the priest door into the sacristy beyond. "There's no one out that way."
Tears unexpectedly prickling at this last gesture of his love, she whispered, "Goodbye, Karl," for the last time, then began walking down the aisle, tucking the pistol into the back of her pants.
She only made it a few rows away before he called out, "Rose!" When she turned, he surprised her by tossing her the box with the ring. "Keep it. Wear it to remember me by. I don't want it anymore."
She managed to react fast enough to catch it, then simply nodded again. There was nothing left to say. Almost running through the nave, she slipped through the sacristy door and closed it softly behind her. Then she leaned against it for a moment, catching her breath against the unexpected pain in her heart. She did care for him. She just cared more for herself, and her Dad.
Stuffing the ring box into her pocket without looking at it, she was startled to feel a vibration there, a soft buzzing reaching her ears at the same moment. She pulled out the object emitting both — the transport disk. The light on one side showed it had finished recharging. Finally, something's going right! She pulled her watch out and slipped it on her wrist, feeling the tingle of the disguise dance across her skin. She turned towards the outside door, but the row of coat hooks caught her eye. Hanging amidst the choir robes was a large plaid woolen shawl, which she quickly exchanged for her light blue jacket, wrapping the wool around her and covering up her shirt. The jeans and shoes would do; they were utterly unremarkable.
Transformation complete, Rose slipped out into the afternoon sun, and slunk swiftly through the deserted graveyard to the next street over behind the church, turning south out of the wrought iron gate. If she hurried, perhaps she could still catch Dad at the Monument — and perhaps have time to say goodbye to Mum's double — and hers.
She got a block away before she ran into trouble. Coming out of the shadow of the high wall surrounding a garden, she almost froze. There, not ten steps away, walking directly towards her, was the same patrol she'd run into before. Headed by the same beefy Korporal.
She took a deep breath, and forced her feet to keep going, lifting her head brazenly and walking straight towards the soldiers.