and leaned forward for another kiss.
Their plan was to have lunch around noon, but the skiing was so good and the daylight so fleeting that they kept going, pausing only for an occasional nip of the hot, sweet cider. Then, just as the lowering sun finally peeped through the clouds, Liesl cried out in dismay.
“What’s wrong?”
“My left binding. It’s broken.”
They stopped for a look. It wasn’t promising, and in resting they realized that the air was growing colder. Kurt got out the first aid tape and tried to rig a binding sturdy enough to get them home, but it snapped within a few yards.
“What now?” she said.
For a change, it was his turn to set the tone, and he relished the opportunity. He scanned the sky, the trees, and a nearby crossing to assess their probable location and their best options.
“We must be pretty close to the Wannsee by now. If we head southwest, we could have a bite to eat down on the beach, then walk to the S-Bahn stop. If it gets dark, I have my flashlight.”
“I like that idea. Lead the way.”
“You use my skis. I’ll carry yours.”
He half expected her to object, but she seemed touched by his gallantry. She slid along up front while Kurt kept pace at a brisk march, and sure enough they soon emerged from the trees at the south end of a strip of snow-covered sand along the waterfront. It was Europe’s largest inland beach, and on hot summer days it was packed with sun-bathers and umbrellas. Today, with an icy west wind blowing in off the water, the strand was empty.
“It’s quite romantic,” Liesl said. “A perfect place to watch the sunset.”
They ate their late lunch in companionable silence while seated on a large stone lapped by small waves. They saved the chocolate for last. Neither had eaten any sweets for more than a week. Kurt exulted in his weariness, feeling that the day had been a huge success. He cupped his hands around the last cup of warm cider and leaned toward Liesl’s lips as she snuggled closer.
Then his attention was drawn to the whine of an engine coming from across the water. A small boat was headed their way, its running lights already burning in the deepening shadows of 4 p.m. Whoever was at the helm was watching through a big pair of binoculars.
“Not the police, I hope,” Liesl said with a note of worry.
“We are trespassing, I suppose, even though we came onto the beach south of the fence. But it’s not like they charge admission this time of year. Still…”
He stood up and squinted across the water. A voice called out from the boat.
“Kurt? Is that Kurt Bauer?”
“Yes. Hello, Erich!”
“Erich Stuckart?” Liesl asked.
“His family has a villa just across the way. They’re probably visiting for the day.”
She tightened her grip on Kurt’s arm.
“He’s always seemed nice enough. Although I can’t say I’m a fan of his father’s.”
Erich swung the wheel around just before he would have run aground. He throttled back on the engine, and the boat settled into a gentle rocking motion a few yards offshore.
“And Liesl Folkerts, too, I see!” He said it with an air of revelation, reminding Kurt uneasily of what Erich had said about her at the party. “Skiing on the beach, are you? Can’t say I’ve ever heard that recommended. Of course, boating’s not the sanest activity on a day like this, either. I’ve got little tracks of ice on my cheeks from the tears the wind caused. All very masochistic. I could hitch you up to the stern and pull you across the Wannsee if you liked?”
That coaxed a laugh out of Liesl, and Kurt relaxed.
“Her bindings broke, so we came down for a rest,” he explained. “We were just about to walk over to the Wannsee Bahnhof.”
“The Nikolassee stop would be closer from here, but even that’s about a mile through the woods. Why don’t I give you a lift farther across the water, to shorten the walk?”
“That’s kind of you,” Liesl said.
“No problem. I’ll just beach this crate, and you can climb over the side.”
He gently maneuvered the boat into place, just close enough for Liesl to make it aboard without soaking her feet. Kurt handed over the rucksack and both pairs of skis, then joined Erich at the helm, where his friend pulled a leather-covered flask from inside his coat.
“A little fuel for the trip back,” Erich said. “Part of Dad’s secret stash of cognac from the Paris pushcart express. Not that you should breathe a word of it to him, of course.”
“My lips are sealed. So what brought you to the villa today?”
“The whole family’s here. My dad had some big appointment nearby so he decided we’d all make a day of it. Unfortunately it’s boring as hell. Nothing to do but sit there staring at the boar heads lined up on the wall. And it’s cold as a cave, or will be till he gets the fireplace going.”
“So you decided to warm up with a little dash across the waves?”
“Yes. I’m brilliant that way aren’t I?”
Erich flashed his goofball horsey smile, gritting his teeth into the biting wind as he revved the engine back to full power. They headed down the shoreline. New tears were already streaming from the corners of his eyes.
“You know,” he shouted above the noise, turning so that Liesl could hear as well, “if you two were interested, it would sure help warm the place up if you could stop by for a while. By now they should have a fire going, and afterward I could give you a lift home in my dad’s car. He’s got the ministry ration allotment, so gas isn’t a problem. It would be quicker than taking the S-Bahn.”
Kurt sensed potential trouble in the arrangement and was on the verge of saying no. But when he glanced at Liesl she nodded. Perhaps she was more tired than he had realized.
“I’d like that,” she said. “And thank you.”
“Splendid! Then let’s change course. Hold on!”
He turned the wheel sharply to starboard, and they leaned into the sweeping curve, heading west toward what remained of the dusk, a faint glow in the bare treetops along the far shore. So much for keeping his two worlds apart, although Kurt supposed they were bound to have collided sooner or later.
“I heard yesterday that congratulations are in order for your sister,” Erich shouted. “When’s the wedding?”
“No date yet. Depends on when he’s posted to the front, I guess.”
Liesl gave him a look, and Kurt felt like a fool.
“Wedding?” she said. “Traudl’s getting married and you haven’t told me?”
“Well, it’s not really a sure thing until the background check is finished.”
“Nonsense,” Erich said. “He was probably just afraid you wouldn’t approve of his new in-laws. Bruno’s an SS man. Spit-polished and shiny, with all the lightning bolts. Very fearsome. Except to Traudl, of course.”
Leave it to Erich, even in jest, to zero in on the real reason Kurt had kept the news from Liesl. He didn’t dare look at her.
“Well, I’m sure that if he’s all right for Traudl,” she said awkwardly, “then he’s probably a fine young man.”
Later, when Kurt would look back on the progression of the whole disastrous evening, he would decide that this was where events had begun to veer off course. Not only did it wreck their earlier sense of ease, it primed them for what turned out to be their most fractious disagreement.
“So what was your dad’s urgent business?” Kurt asked, hoping to change the subject.
“See that big white villa on the far shoreline, dead ahead?”
“The one with the huge lawn?”
“That’s it. Normally it’s some sort of guesthouse for visiting security police, but this morning there was a big powwow there. Or
