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

Chapter 39

39

Inga quickly learned that the Infanta Isabella had two classes of passengers: first class like the Gerards, and everyone else who would be staying in steerage.

Her inside cabin had no window and only a few feet of floor space between the bunkbed and the wall, but it wasn’t too terrible. A cabin steward provided a pallet for Inga to unroll on the floor of their snug cabin. A tiny electric night-light anchored to the wall made it feel cozy as she stayed up late talking to the other women.

Unfortunately, the conversation soon turned to her relationship with Benedict. Inga hadn’t seen him since their conversation in the marketplace, and she was still heartsick about it.

“I thought you and Benedict might have made a go of it,” Nellie said from her position on the top bunk.

“We all thought so,” Mrs. Barnes added. “Opposites attract, isn’t that what they always say? My husband and I were like chalk and cheese, God rest his soul. That didn’t stop us from having sixteen good years together. I think you and Benedict would make a fine match.”

Deep in her heart, it was exactly what Inga wanted, but it was also terrifying. They eventually got along smashingly well together and supported each other in the twilight world of Berlin. That time was over, and they were heading back into the real world.

She angled up on her elbow to see the others. “Benedict’s career is going to take him all over the globe. What if he gets sent to someplace like Peru or Japan? I couldn’t even find those places on a map. The only reason I didn’t humiliate myself in Berlin was because I could speak the German language and understood the culture. I would be an embarrassment to Benedict anywhere else. I care for him too much to burden him with a wife who’d rather read the gossip pages than diplomatic briefings.”

“Couldn’t you stay in New York while he was posted overseas?” Nellie asked. “A lot of diplomats leave their wives at home.”

It wasn’t the kind of marriage she wanted. Over the past few months her affection for Benedict had grown into something far deeper and lasting. He made every day more interesting, and she was a better person when she was with him. She had grown to love him, but there would be no point in a marriage if they couldn’t live together and share their lives.

“No,” she finally said as sadness settled over her. “I want a real marriage where I can wake up in my husband’s arms every morning.” Like she had with him in Rosendorff.

Nellie perked up. “Why don’t you wait and see where he gets posted next? Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe it’ll be Canada or England.”

Perhaps, but there was no telling where he’d be sent in the years ahead. If they were to marry for real, she would have to follow wherever he went. His career would be her career. His home would be her home. If she was to join her life with Benedict’s, she would need to support him fully, and do so gladly.

And she feared she couldn’t do it.

Benedict spent his first morning on the Infanta Isabella locked in a breakfast meeting with Ambassador Gerard and the staff of the American consulates who had been posted in Frankfurt, Leipzig, and Munich. They gathered in a private dining room to compile a report on their impressions of Germany during the final few months before things had gone awry. The men at the far-flung consulates had starkly different experiences than what he’d known in Berlin. War shortages and public discontent were far worse away from the capital, so it was a sobering discussion.

By eleven o’clock the outline of their report had been drafted. They planned to reconvene after lunch to complete the job. While the other men headed to the smoking room to relax and enjoy a cigar, Benedict went on the hunt for Inga.

He checked both dining rooms, the bowling alley, and walked the promenade deck. He even peeked into the ladies’ tearoom, but she wasn’t to be found in any of these places. He finally spotted Mrs. Barnes sunning herself on a lounge chair on the aft deck and inquired after Inga’s whereabouts.

“That nice Officer Romero offered to show her the wireless room,” Mrs. Barnes answered. “That was hours ago, so I don’t know if she’s still there.”

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Inga had managed to get a special tour. He asked a crew member to show him to the wireless room. The area was off-limits to the passengers, so it took a bit of haggling before he was granted an escort to the wireless room, which was tucked behind the bridge.

Most of what he’d seen of the Infanta Isabella had been pure luxury, yet there was nothing grand about the steel hallway with low ceilings and dim lighting leading to the wireless room. Cables tacked along the top of the hallway passage connected the wireless to the ship’s antenna.

He grinned at his first sight of Inga in the wireless room. She wore a pair of headphones and sat behind a long counter loaded with communications equipment. Radio gear, switches, coils, and sounding equipment were packed into the windowless room.

Inga noticed his arrival and tugged off her headphones. “Mr. Perez is teaching me how to locate alternate frequencies at sea. I’ve never done this before!”

It was so like Inga to take delight in everything around her. “I’d like to watch,” Benedict said, and Perez nodded before instructing Inga to put on her headphones and dial in a new frequency. The instructions were incomprehensible to Benedict, but Inga carried on a perfectly lucid conversation with the technician in the chair next to her.

How could Inga ever consider herself stupid? She tapped a message without even looking at the telegraph sounder. Infinitesimal movements on her fingers tapped out a stream of dots and dashes, communicating with a ship miles away.

“Can I send a message to a friend in New York?” she asked once she finished her message.

“Not directly,” Mr. Perez said. “This equipment has a range of only about a hundred miles. We’d have to send the message through a daisy-chain of ships to reach New York.”

“I figured as much,” Inga said, her shoulders sagging a little. “It seems like the closer I get to New York, the more homesick I become. Isn’t that strange?”

“We can do it,” the technician rushed to say. “Tell me what you want, and we can send it together.”

Inga shook her head. “I couldn’t ask that of you. The world is at war, and I don’t want to clog up the frequency with chitchat. Thank you, though.” She briefly touched the technician’s knee before turning her attention back to the transmitter. The technician leaned in so close to Inga it looked like he might fall off his chair.

Benedict tamped down the surge of jealousy. Inga was more interested in the equipment than the technician sitting just inches away, so he had no cause for jealousy. But with each passing hour, he felt her slipping a little further away.

The technician twisted a dial and started listening to whatever was coming through his headset. “Hey, I think this message is in German,” he said, and Inga perked up, her face intent as she listened.

“Yes, it’s German,” she confirmed. “I’ll translate.” She reached for a pad of paper and began writing the message out, letter by letter. The fact that Inga could understand the message meant it wasn’t confidential information because those were sent in secret code, and yet Inga’s expression darkened as she continued transcribing.

“Is it anything important?” the technician asked.

Inga nodded slowly. “It’s from a German reporter stationed in Washington,” she said, still transcribing. “He’s sending a message to the Berliner Tageblatt .”

It was the most influential newspaper in Berlin. With so many German immigrants now living in the United States, the Berliner Tageblatt always carried plenty of news from America.

Finally, Inga set her pencil down and turned to face Benedict. “The reporter says that the wife of the German ambassador in Washington had rotten fruit thrown at her when she attended a luncheon. The president apologized, but Ambassador Bernstorff is incensed at how his wife was disrespected.”

“They threw fruit at her just because she’s German?” Perez asked, and Benedict shook his head.

“Countess Bernstorff is an American,” he said. “She was born in New York, not too far from where the Gerards once lived. She is good friends with Mary Gerard.”

“I’m not sure if it makes it better or worse that the ambassador’s wife is an American,” said Inga. “What an awful thing to happen to anyone.”

Benedict remained silent. Inga was leery of making their marriage permanent, and if they did, they’d face similar problems. Ambassador Bernstorff had always been looked at askance while in Germany because of his American wife, but it was one of the reasons he got the top job in Washington. It was hoped that his wife’s legendary charm might buy goodwill with her fellow Americans. It had been working until the Lusitania went down. Now the couple were regarded with suspicion by people in both countries.

“Inga, can I persuade you to accompany me on a stroll?”

It was time for them to decide their future, no matter how potentially painful the conversation might be.

Questions swirled as Inga accompanied Benedict onto the main deck. How could people be so horrible to a fellow American simply because she was married to the German ambassador? There were many reasons Inga feared she’d be an inadequate wife for Benedict, and now she needed to add her German heritage to the list. She settled her hands on the ship’s railing and gazed at the towering white clouds billowing on the horizon. At the moment they looked harmless, but things could change so quickly.

“Once we’re in Washington, do you know how long it will take to get your next assignment?”

“It will probably come within a few weeks,” he replied.

“Do you have any say as to where they send you?”

“Very little,” he said, looking out at the same bank of clouds. “The irony is that the higher you go, the less freedom you have. I’m ready to be promoted to an ambassadorship, and that means I need to accept a position wherever one opens up.”

It was as she’d feared. “It sounds as though you have no freedom at all.”

The salty breeze ruffled his hair as he stared out to sea. “The soldiers in the trenches don’t have freedom. My job is easy in comparison.”

A chilly wind from the north sent a shiver through her, and Benedict stepped behind her, opening his coat to draw her against him. She savored their closeness, his arms wrapped around her middle. They probably shouldn’t be seen embracing this way, but nobody was around on this part of the deck, and they had such little time left together. She reached back to cup his jaw, and he pressed a kiss to her palm.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” she said.

He leaned down and kissed her neck. “You’ve done a great deal for me as well. Inga...”

There was a long pause, and all her senses went on alert. Benedict was rarely at a loss for words, and she sensed he was about to say something very important. If she weren’t such a coward, she would turn around to face him, but it was easier to keep staring at the sea and the white clouds in the distance.

“Inga, we’ll be home soon,” Benedict began, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. “I don’t want an annulment. I love you, and I want us to be together always.”

He gently nudged her to face him, but she couldn’t. She clasped his arms, holding them tight so he couldn’t turn her around. The clouds on the horizon blurred, and she had to blink back the sting of tears. Their wonderful friendship was in its final hours, and its loss would linger with her forever.

“Benedict, I would be a terrible diplomatic wife. Look what happened the one time you took me to the opera.”

“You were still new,” he said. “And it’s a mistake I know won’t happen again.”

She swiveled in his arms to meet him face-to-face. “Yes, but I hated the night even before everything went downhill. I didn’t know how to make conversation with grand ladies. You can dress me up in fancy clothes, but I’ll always be a peasant in their eyes. I’m not like Mrs. Torres or even Mrs. Gerard. They love mingling with upper-crust people, but that’s not me. I would be an embarrassment to you.”

His expression was sorrowful as he caressed the side of her face. “Never,” he said. “I’m proud of you, and I love you.”

This might be the most beautiful, painful moment of her life. She loved him too, although confessing it would only make this conversation more difficult for them both. “I don’t think I could ever be the kind of wife you need. I’m sorry—”

“Shhh,” he said soothingly. “Don’t keep telling yourself something that isn’t true. I love you, and we’re a good team, Inga. I have faith in you. We still have time to make this decision. Let’s wait until we’re in Washington before you decide.”

She drew a ragged breath. Dear, sweet Benedict. Still holding out hope that she would change her mind, but that wasn’t going to happen. She loved him too much to saddle him with a wife who would forever hinder his dreams.

And yet they could still savor this perfect hour, out at sea on a lovely afternoon, cradled in each other’s arms as their wonderfully unique love story entered its final hours.