When Stars Light the Sky (The Women of Midtown #2)

Chapter 27

27

O CTOBER 1916

Benedict arrived at the Anhalter Bahnhof well ahead of the appointed time to meet the Gerards’ train. The ambassador had sent a telegram instructing him to bring the largest carriage to take them home. Apparently, Mrs. Gerard had spent so much time shopping in New York that they bought an additional trunk just to accommodate her purchases.

No mention had been made of Inga.

It had been six weeks, and Benedict hadn’t received a single telegram or letter from Inga. Had she passed her citizenship test? According to the ambassador, unsympathetic judges were notorious for springing trick questions on immigrants they didn’t want to pass the test. With the hostility toward Germans these days, Inga might have faced an uphill battle attaining her certificate. Foreign-born or not, Inga understood what it meant to be an American citizen more than most.

If Inga failed the test, or a small-minded judge blocked her out of spite, Benedict would personally figure out a way to call that judge on the carpet.

If she came back.

He continued pacing in the waiting area outside the steel-girded terminal that stretched across four city blocks. It was always loud in here, with steam engines barreling into the central concourse, the noise echoing off the iron-and-glass vaulted canopies.

One end of the terminal was reserved entirely for departing troop trains, but even here in the civilian section, signs of the war were everywhere. A one-legged soldier hobbled with the aid of crutches, and another had bandages covering half his face. Countless women were swathed in black, and the men wore black armbands. Though the nearest front was five hundred miles away, the shadow of war was growing darker over Berlin.

The one o’clock train from Hamburg arrived precisely on time, triggering a mild rush of anxiety. If Inga wasn’t aboard ... well, he couldn’t really blame her. She’d been homesick for New York and a normal life ever since arriving in Berlin. Why should she come back and endure their awkward marriage? He’d figure out how to explain her absence to the Germans, but he would miss her.

Quite badly.

When the passenger gates finally opened, businessmen and soldiers on leave came rushing through, heads down, faces serious. Benedict scanned the crush of people on the other side of the gate. It was hard to make anyone out amid the dense crowd, and Inga was short.

Far back on the platform, Ambassador Gerard helped his wife pin her wide-brimmed hat atop her head. Benedict frowned. There was no sign of Inga, only Ambassador Gerard helping his wife fuss with her hat.

“Benedict!”

He jerked his attention to the passenger gate. The voice sounded like Inga, yet he couldn’t see her anywhere. But that cheerful voice had to be Inga. Then a dainty hand reached above the crowd, dancing and waving at him.

He grinned as the top of her head popped above the crowd. Just a fleeting glimpse of blond curls and a radiant smile as she hopped up and down to make eye contact with him. Tension unknotted from his shoulders. There was no cause for this sudden rush of joy because they still had nothing more than a marriage of convenience, and yet ... everything was a little brighter with Inga around. Today was a little brighter knowing she was there.

He shoved both hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t do something stupid like sweep her into an embrace she probably wouldn’t welcome. It took a few more moments before she finally cleared the throng of passengers and made it through the gate. She paused about ten feet away, facing him but standing stock-still.

What was she waiting for?

He was about to head toward her when she lifted a piece of paper, holding it proudly before her with both hands.

It was her citizenship certificate.

His chest filled with pride. He knew she could do it! Suddenly she was in his arms. He buried his face in her neck and lifted her high. “Congratulations,” he said.

She returned his embrace, hugging him tightly. Maybe it was wrong to cling to each other in the middle of the Anhalter Bahnhof, but if there was anywhere on earth two people ought to be able to embrace each other, it was at a train station.

“Well, well, well,” a blustery voice said, and he reluctantly untangled himself from Inga as the Gerards approached. The ambassador was the man who would someday sign off on their annulment, so groping Inga in front of him was a bad idea.

“You had a safe journey?” he asked the ambassador, trying to get his breath under control. Inga leaned over to slip her certificate safely back into a leather binder. Citizenship records were filed at multiple government offices so there was no worry if it got misplaced, yet he predicted Inga would pass that slip of paper down to her children and grandchildren.

“Yes, yes,” Ambassador Gerard replied. “Mary did her best to spend me into bankruptcy, but that’s what I get for leaving my wife unattended in New York City.”

Benedict noticed Inga’s delightful new traveling suit for the first time. The wool was a robin’s-egg blue with ornate trim along the lapel that looked like it came from a medieval tapestry.

“You’ve been shopping as well,” he said to Inga, who flushed in pleasure.

“Mrs. Gerard was very generous,” she replied.

Benedict arranged for a porter to wheel their luggage out to the street, where the trunks were strapped to the roof of the carriage. He slipped inside the carriage with Inga. “Congratulations again. Was the test difficult?”

“Not the written part, no. The spoken part, however, was dreadful. The judge asked me the most unfair questions, but in the end he decided I managed well enough to pass. Thank you for the encyclopedias! They were a great help, and I’ll return them as soon as we get home.”

He’d never heard Inga refer to Alton House as home before, and he liked it.

“Oh, I bought you something in New York,” she said, rummaging through her canvas satchel. Hopefully, whatever she’d bought wasn’t too expensive. He hadn’t thought to buy anything for her, and she didn’t earn enough to splash money around on gifts.

Inga held the sack before her like a prize. “A pound of candy corn,” she said. “My friend Katherine is a dentist, and she says candy corn is nothing but pure sugar. You should be ashamed , Benedict.”

“I’m not,” he said as he took the sack from her, amazed she’d remembered his long-ago comment about his guilty fondness for candy corn. “Are you sure there’s a pound in here? It feels a little light.”

She shrugged. “I had to sample it to see what all the fuss was about. It’s sinfully good, isn’t it?”

“It’s awful,” Mrs. Gerard interjected. “I told Inga she needs to upgrade her standards.”

Inga laughed. “Never! I’m a lowbrow girl and won’t ever change.”

Benedict didn’t want her to change either. He once considered her to be shallow and silly; now he understood the value of Inga’s lighthearted optimism.

After delivering the Gerards to the embassy, they had a rare opportunity of complete privacy on the short ride to Alton House, and Benedict intended to take advantage of it.

“I like that shade of blue on you,” he said with a nod to her suit. “The color matches your eyes.” He’d never had a favorite color before, but he did now, and this was it. The cornflower blue flecked with hints of silver and gray was the exact color of Inga’s eyes.

She flashed him an alluring smile. “Did you miss me?”

“Ridiculously so.” The answer was instinctual, even though he was surprised by it. Inga flirted all the time, but this felt ... different. Her gaze seemed warmer and uniquely focused on him. He picked up her hand, thrilled that she made no move to pull it back. He stroked a thumb along the soft kidskin leather. “New gloves?”

“They’re too tight,” she said.

“Then let us dispose of them.” He pinched the tip of her index finger and tugged. She made no objection, and he moved to her middle finger to give it a pull, then the ring finger, and finally her pinky. He wiggled the glove from her hand and tossed it onto the bench.

Amazingly, she extended her other hand for the same treatment. Now he knew she was flirting with him. This was playing with fire, but he couldn’t help himself. He locked gazes with her, enjoying the way she smiled into his eyes as he divested her of the second glove. This time she was the one to toss the glove aside.

“Much better,” she said. It might be his imagination, but the blue of her eyes seemed to have deepened a shade.

He lifted one of her liberated hands and kissed the back of it. When was she going to stop him? He breathed in the scent of her skin. Apples. Yes, it was her favorite apple soap from New York. It was his new favorite scent in the world.

He lowered her hand but couldn’t bear to release it. “I’m glad you’re back home,” he said, holding his breath and awaiting her response.

“I’m glad too.”

A quiet sense of elation filled him, and she let him hold her hand the entire ride back to Alton House.