Chapter Twenty-Four Gertrude
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gertrude
One day until the Oceanus is torpedoed
I woke from a brief morning nap to terrible stomach cramps.
My entire body twisted into a knot that strangled the breath out of me.
Breathing in and out, I rose from my bunk and tried to straighten.
My stomach convulsed. I gripped the side of the bunk and kept breathing in and out.
Finally, the cramp passed, and I was able to uncurl and inhale deeply.
I checked my gown and was relieved I wasn’t bleeding and that my water hadn’t broken. I said a prayer of thanks. It wasn’t time for the baby. I had at least another month.
“You cannot come now. You must wait. It’s not safe yet.”
The baby went very still suddenly, and I wondered for a brief second if something had happened to the child. I waited, and when the child kicked, I relaxed.
I carefully removed my gown, poured water into a pitcher, and dabbed a clean cloth into the water.
I wiped the cloth over my distended belly, which looked as ripe as a fresh peach.
I washed the sweat from my body. I stepped into underwear and then a skirt with a drawstring that rested above where my waist had been.
I wasn’t the prettiest girl in Vienna, but there was a time when I’d taken great pride in my appearance.
There weren’t many young men in my district, so I’d been a little surprised when Alfred entered the bookshop on a cold Thursday in October.
Alfred carried himself with a bearing few men possessed.
He didn’t approach the counter but stood back, examining a novel.
“May I help you?” I asked.
He didn’t look up. “Have you read this novel?”
“Yes. But I think it might be too romantic for your tastes.”
He lifted his gaze and then slid the book back onto the shelf. Without looking up, he asked, “And who are you?”
“Naida.”
“An unusual name.”
“I’m named after a Greek river god. My uncle is fond of the classics.”
He met my gaze and studied me closely. “It’s lovely.”
I was flattered. He was one of the most beautiful men.
Uncle Eric came out of the back room and introduced himself. “Can I assist you, Herr Gruber?”
I was surprised my uncle knew his name.
“I’ve heard you carry rare books,” he said.
“From time to time we have a few,” Uncle Eric said. “May I ask how you found us?”
“Word travels. Show me what you have.”
My uncle hesitated and then moved behind the counter and reached to the shelf underneath. He presented the German author Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s title The Sorrows of Young Werther, originally published in 1774. Sigrid had sold him the book days before.
“Have you read it?” Alfred asked my uncle.
“No, but my niece has.”
Alfred looked at me. “Do you think I would like it?”
“It’s a serious book, but I think you’re up for the challenge.”
A smile flickered before he refocused on my uncle. “How much?”
Despite my uncle’s customary caution, he named his price. The markup was sizable, but our rent was due, and the stove needed to be repaired.
Alfred’s brow rose. “Is it worth the price?” he asked me.
“It’s a rare and valuable book. It would be welcome in any well-stocked library.”
“Ah, then I must buy it.” He reached into his wallet and counted out the required number of schillings.
I wrapped the book in paper and handed it to Alfred. “Thank you, Herr Gruber.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Naida,” he said.
My cheeks had warmed with a tingling glow. Young boys and old men had often flirted and talked to me, but never had a man as seemingly important as Herr Gruber shown interest. “And you, sir.”
Alfred tucked the book under his arm and left the shop and climbed into the back seat of a gleaming black car.
“How did you know his name?” I asked.
As Uncle Eric counted his money, he said, “Herr Gruber is a very powerful man and well liked by the Germans.”
“How do you know he’s not a spy?”
“I don’t. That’s why I sold him a German book.”
“Who told him about us?”
“I would guess the selkie. She has many connections.”
Herr Gruber didn’t return for two weeks, and when he did, he brought me a book of sonnets and fish scraps for Grimm.
I was enchanted. The next time he entered the shop, he brought me Mozartkugel, a chocolate confection.
I was convinced of his affection. So, I found the good luck coin my mother had given me.
She’d always imagined I would carry it on my wedding day. I took to wearing it in my shoe.
Herr Gruber soon invited me to dinner, and over the weeks, he took me to several fancy restaurants.
I felt like a princess. He sent me flowers, in early winter no less.
At a dinner in November, another woman, dressed in a dark silk dress, approached our table.
She carried herself like a queen and barely glanced in my direction when she spoke to Alfred.
He stood and kissed her on the cheek, and after he introduced me, he’d immediately turned to her.
The two had talked for several minutes. I felt invisible.
That night when I returned to the bookshop, I found my uncle waiting up in his worn chair, a book in hand. Grimm slept on his lap. “Is he all that you hoped for?”
“More than I could have dreamed of.”
He pulled off his reading glasses. “But you look worried.”
I thought about the stunning woman in black. “My father left my mother. Did it break her heart?”
His brow furrowed. “It was a terrible blow. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t want Alfred to leave me.”
“I don’t think he would do that. He’s enamored with you.”
“But I’m not like Alfred and the people in his world.”
“Perhaps that’s why you’re so special to him.”
The snows fell in November. The city grew more tense, and many businesses closed, but my uncle refused to leave. But Herr Gruber didn’t return in November or December. With the coin always pressing against my skin, I waited, watched, and imagined him with the lovely blond.
Uncle Eric knew I was disappointed, but neither of us spoke about Alfred Gruber.
With each passing day, I grew more determined to win him over.
On a cold January evening, I walked to the Danube’s riverbanks.
I thought of the river gods my mother had once told me about.
The Roma revered them, but they had great powers and could be tricksters.
So, I removed my mother’s coin from my shoe.
The current was choppy and fast, and the fish jumping.
I clenched the coin in my fist, and, ignoring her warning, I made a wish. “Bring Alfred back to me. Make him love me forever.”
I gripped the old coin. The current churned, swirling faster near the shore and splashing droplets on my shoes.
Wishes are dangerous, the river whispered.
“I know what I want.”
Be careful what you demand, the water whispered back.
“Alfred is different. He must love me forever,” I said. “I don’t want to lose him to another woman.”
The water teased the shore, rolling in and out. You don’t know him.
“I do. I do.”
And then I tossed the coin into the water. A cloud passed in front of the full moon, shrouding me in shadows.
Alfred returned to the shop two days later, carrying a lavish bouquet of roses. He asked my uncle for my hand. My uncle agreed. My wish had been granted. Alfred was bound to me forever.
Now as I lay in my ship’s bunk, I realized the river had been right. I’d known nothing about the darkness lurking inside Alfred.
I skimmed my fingers over the brand above my breast. My mother’s and the river’s warnings haunted me. My wish had become a curse.
My belly tightened, but this time the sensation came and went quickly. I lay very still, smoothing my hand over my belly. The baby wanted to come, but it would have to wait a little longer.
In the room next door, I heard the deep timbre of William’s voice and Sigrid’s melodic responses. Sigrid had brought Alfred to me. And she’d followed me to this ship. The threat was so close and present now. Alfred’s hold on me remained.
An hour passed, and I heard them leave the room. All our lives now rotated around the meals. More passengers left their rooms and walked toward the dining room.
When the hallway grew very silent, I rose and finished dressing. I left my room and hurried to the toilet. When my bladder was empty, I rearranged my clothes and washed my hands.
As I stepped into the hallway, Dr. Brooks was walking away from his room toward mine. He had a pipe in his mouth and was trying to ignite his lighter. When he couldn’t turn spark into flame, he cursed.
He looked at me sheepishly. “I’ve never had much luck with fire.”
I took the lighter and shook it as I’d done countless times for my uncle so he could light his pipe. I rolled my thumb over the flint. It sparked, and a flame danced to life.
“Ah, you’re a miracle worker,” Dr. Brooks said.
“Men strike too hard. It takes a softer touch to tease the flame to life.”
Dr. Brooks accepted the lighter back. However, he closed the lid, extinguishing the flame.
I shifted my stance, the weight of the baby feeling heavy against my bladder.
“Are you feeling all right?” Dr. Brooks asked.
I walked toward the stairs, mindful that Sigrid might be listening. “Uncomfortable. But I’ll be fine.” When concern deepened the lines on his face, I shifted the topic. “What trick or game will you bring to dinner tonight?”
“I was thinking about a spirit board.”
“What is that?”
“According to legend, it’s a way to contact the other world.”
Alfred would have been appalled by such talk. “That sounds very dangerous.”
“Depends. Are you afraid of the dead?”
“The living concern me more.”
He chuckled. “Very wise. I’m not afraid of meeting anyone who has crossed over. After all, what can they do?”
“Then why contact them?”
“There are many in the living world who are very curious and believe all the answers in this world can be answered in the next.”
“The dead have seen more than the living.”
“True.” And then, a roguish grin. “Amazing what you can learn. People tend to talk about intimate issues that they never would otherwise, over a spirit board or a deck of cards.”
I smoothed my hand over my tight belly, willing it to loosen. “What’s the most scandalous thing you’ve learned?”
He smiled. “A woman told me her husband was worried about the ghost of a man he’d murdered.”
“Oh, my. What happened to him?”
“I heard later that he was arrested.”
“Ah.”
“Join me for breakfast, and I’ll share more stories from the cards and board.”
“That’s very kind.” I slowly climbed the stairs.
“I’m being selfish.” He gripped my elbow. “I’m now terrified that your baby is going to fall out and hit the floor if you do not sit down.”
Even as my lower back ached, I said, “The baby is staying in place.”
His hold tightened. Maybe it was the pipe or his gentle voice, but he reminded me of my uncle. I didn’t pull away, realizing I needed human contact. I spent so much time in my own thoughts.
He carefully guided me to the dining room and toward a table by the window. He pulled out my chair, and before I realized it, I was sipping coffee, with toast and eggs on the way.
“Are you always this charming?” I asked. “You’re good at getting your way.”
He pulled a deck of cards from his pocket. “I am very good at that.”
After we had eaten and our dishes were cleared away, Dr. Brooks carefully shuffled the cards and then set them in front of me. “Cut the cards.”
I halved the deck and then rebuilt it. “This is a different deck.”
“I purchased this deck in Port of Spain from a woman who claims to be a witch and a seer.”
I watched as he laid three cards face down. His answers were always smooth and at the ready. “Is this game supposed to be fun, or are you looking for more secrets?”
“You’re nervous.”
My mother’s warning about the river gods surfaced. Be careful what you wish for. “I am perfectly calm.”
“I suspect you’re nothing but. You’re a woman willing to take dangerous chances.”
“I don’t look very dangerous.”
“Which is why you are.” His smile softened the charge.
He flipped over very ornate cards, all featuring aquatic scenes—waves, open water, lakes, and rivers. The first was a large wave crashing on a man. The second was a river splashing over jagged rocks. The third was a sun rising over the ocean.
“You’ve been through a great deal,” he said.
“You could say that about anyone on this ship. In Europe. The world.”
“Very true.” He tapped the River card. “You’ve known heartbreak.”
“Again, like everyone else on this ship.”
“But your past nearly broke you in two. And you fear its return.”
I stilled. I was careful that I didn’t show any of my feelings to him.
“I’m not your enemy, Frau Werner.”
Frau. I wouldn’t use the very German-sounding form of address when I arrived in the United States. I threaded my fingers. “I didn’t say you were.”
“But you look at me and everyone on this ship as if you’re worried.”
“Worried about strangers? Not so uncommon for a woman alone.”
“You’re careful to keep your counsel, and the only people I’ve seen you speak to are me and the young US sailor.”
And Sigrid. “He joined me on the deck.”
“And you were comfortable with him because he was likely very unaware of your past.”
I rested my knitted fingers on the table. “My past isn’t perfect but hardly noteworthy. And it’s over.”
“Is it?” He shook his head, his eyes sharpening with a cunning that I hadn’t seen before. “Who is chasing you, Frau Werner? Why do you always look so afraid?”
“I’m a widow traveling to the United States. I want to escape the war.” I leaned forward. “Why would a book dealer care about me? I am nothing. Why are you so curious?”
He grinned. “I’m inquisitive by nature.”
At that moment, Sigrid and William entered the dining hall. Both were well dressed and looked perfectly polished. My gaze dipped, but I watched them closely under hooded eyes.
“Do you know them?” Dr. Brooks asked.
“Their room is next to mine.”
“Ah. So, you have heard the fights.”
I stilled. “Excuse me?”
“They aren’t a happy couple. I’ve seen the way he controls her interactions.”
“You’re quite in the know, Dr. Brooks.”
There was that grin. “Again, details matter in the book-trading business. And I do enjoy watching people.”
“And who else on this ship have you been watching?”
“I watch everyone. All the time.”
“That makes you sound like a spy.” There were many spies in Vienna. Ever since the civil war a decade ago, neighbors had often turned against neighbors. Everyone watched their words because the most traitorous could look the most innocent.
He laughed. “Now who would want a simple man like me as a spy?”
“Isn’t that the point? It’s important to blend in.” Could Alfred have more spies on this ship? I didn’t know Dr. Brooks and needed to remember he was not my friend.
The amusement from his face never faded. “I have underestimated you.”