4. Harper
Chapter 4
Harper
She slips another bite of schnitzel into her mouth and her eyes roll. “Oh, wow…”
“Good, huh?”
“Excellent. But I am in Germany. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Try this…” I cut off a small piece of my sauerbraten— a pot roast pickled in a sweet and sour gravy. I hold out the fork, but she leans forward with her mouth open, like a little baby bird.
I slip the fork into her mouth. “How’s that?”
“Every bite is better and better.”
“Heinrich and Helga are the third generation to run Rheinlander Haus. Everything is authentic.”
“Bastian!” comes from a smiling woman as she exits the kitchen’s swinging doors.
“Sorry…” he mumbles, and I wonder for what.
She comes over and he jumps from his chair to turn for the outstretched arms. Her thin body seems to have super human hugging strength and he lets out a long grunt.
“And who do we have here?”
“Helga, this is Harper.”
“Well, well, that’s not a German name. UK?”
“American.”
Helga’s eyes dart to me. “ Hallo, Fr?ulein. Ich bin Helga. Wie geht es Ihnen heute ?
Bastian looks at me like it’s a test.
“ Hallo Helga. Mir geht es gut, wie geht es dir ?” I tell her I’m good and ask her how she is.
Helga whistles. “This one has some Deutsch skills, Bastian. You should keep her. I’m good, my dear. I have something special for you tonight.”
“We’re not together. And I’m not sure I could eat more than?—”
Bastian’s eyes widen and clearly, I’ve made a faux pas. Never turn away free food. She’s inviting me into her family.
“Actually, Helga, on second thought, I haven’t eaten food this delicious in my life and I’d be a fool to turn down your amazing offer.”
“ Ja du würdest. Kluges M?dchen .” She confirms my suspicions that she believes it’s a very smart move to accept, and her smile tells me that all has been forgiven. “I will be right back.” She pats my cheek.
Bastian sits and seems like he’s relieved.
“Did I pass the test?” I ask, taking a drink of my beer.
“I think you did.”
There’s a little bit of pride in this small accomplishment. Today has been such a shitshow that even this feels like a monumental feat.
“So what do you do for a living, besides saving Americans?” I ask.
He leans back and seems to be thinking which makes me wonder a little. “I’m a consultant for the Bundespolizei , federal police.”
“Interesting.” I lean forward, intrigued. Is he a spy? A foreign agent? “What do you consult on?”
“Here you go!” Helga lowers a plate of probably six different kinds of dessert and my mouth waters instantly. I don’t have a sweet tooth, but I do enjoy indulging once in a while.
“I don’t know where to start…” My eyes canvass the offerings.
“Should I help you?” Bastian asks with that smirk.
I’m liking this little cat and mouse we have going on. I know he was shocked when I opened my mouth to be fed. It just felt natural, not forced and I didn’t have to ask to taste his dish. He offered.
Something Last Guy didn’t do.
The list is way too long of what he didn’t do. The only thing he did do were play video games and leave his socks laying on the living room carpet. My carpet. The fact that I invited him to move in after only two weeks is my bad. Big bad. But he didn’t have to be my worst nightmare. I stuck it out for a year, thinking I could…
Don’t even think it.
Change him. Ugh. It’s not possible. Being a psychologist, I should know better, but I truly think I wanted to be loved. Just loved.
But I won’t rush into anything. Learned a lesson there and I’ll keep remembering.
Never forget.
But a little vacation fling can’t hurt anything, right?
I open my mouth like a little bird.
He slips a forkful into my mouth. “One of my favorites… K?senkuchen … I believe you call it cake of cheese.”
I chew and it’s not as sweet as an American cheesecake. It’s almost savory, but maybe with honey instead of cane sugar, and there’s a shortbread crust. It’s the perfect fluffy treat.
“That’s incredible.”
“Glad you like it, Harper,” Helga seems to appear out of nowhere.
I realize I was staring into Bastian’s eyes. They’ve turned stormy. Like he’s brewing something behind them.
“Yes, yes,” I say sitting up straight. “Amazingly light and fluffy.”
“Glad you’re enjoy it.” She leans down and whispers something into Bastian’s ear and he laughs.
I don’t ask while she’s there, but as soon as she leaves, I lean forward. “What did she say?”
“She said that you have good taste.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but I think she meant in men.”
I laugh. “We’ll see. You’re still on probation, officer.”
His smile fades. “I’m not an officer, I only work with the police, Harper.”
It seems I’ve touched on a sore point. He sets the fork down.
“I’m sorry, Bastian. I was just trying to make a?—”
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“Maybe we should call it a day.”
“And leave these sitting here… we’d be relegated to cleaning dishes in the back.”
“Well then…” I pick up the fork and use the edge to cut a hunk off another dessert and hold it up to him.
Before taking it, he announces, “ Schwarzw?lder Kirschtorte .”
“Black Forest cake,” I offer knowing that Schwarz is black and Kirsch is cherry. And I’ve definitely had Black Forest cake before. My grandmother was a hundred percent German, Helga reminds me of her so much, caring and almost smothering, in a good way.
He chews it and his eyes roll. “The best.”
“I heard that!” Helga calls from the kitchen.
And we both laugh as we continue to feed each other the remaining delicacies: Dampfnudeln mit Vanillesauce - a steamed yeast dumpling smothered in vanilla sauce, Zwetchenkuchen – fresh plum cake, and Bienenstich - bee sting cake.
“What was your favorite?” Bastian asks, wiping his lips with the white napkin embroidered with what look like leaves and berries.
“It’s so hard to choose! You go first.”
He leans back. “I think there’s one more dessert I’d like to try.”
“Ugh, I don’t think I could try a single bite of anything else.”
“It’s really a treat.”
I’m intrigued. “Okay, what is it?”
He leans across the tiny table and his lips hit mine, softly, gently, like the brush of a feather. He pauses. “Just as I thought, you are the best sweet in the house.”
“I heard that, too!” Helga yells out.
And we laugh.
But inside, the butterflies are starting. Bastian isn’t just smart, he’s cocky, and he’s probably something I shouldn’t even start…
But God, I want to… bad.