“He’ll probably call the hotel,” Christy whispered, leaning over and invading Sierra’s thoughts.
“Am I that obvious?” Sierra asked.
“He really liked you, didn’t he?” Christy said.
Sierra smiled timidly.
“He knows where we’re staying and what our plans are for the rest of the week. He’ll call. You’ll see,” Christy comforted Sierra.
The taxi slowed and stopped only a few miles from the train station.
“You want how much?” Marti said when they climbed out. Sierra and Christy gathered their luggage as Marti counted out the money.
Twenty minutes later in their hotel rooms, she was still muttering about the cab. “I’ve never paid so much for a cab!” She checked her watch and motioned for the girls to go to their room through the common door. “We have only forty-five minutes before we meet the school’s director. You two hurry and get ready. I’m going to freshen up now.”
Sierra stretched out on the wide bed with the fluffy, white comforter. “Freshen up? I’d rather take a nap.”
“No,” Christy said. “We have to stay awake, remember? Maybe you should try to wake yourself up with a quick shower.”
“You go ahead. I’ll just take a little catnap.”
Christy jumped into the shower, and Sierra floated on her cloudlike bed. She remembered how good it felt to have Alex look at her with such admiration and how warm his hand felt as it covered hers.
“You’re next,” Christy said, tapping Sierra’s foot and interrupting her dream.
“And you’re cruel. I was about to get to the good part of my dream.” Sierra rolled over, snatched a pillow, and, through bleary eyes, tossed it at Christy.
“You missed. Come on. The shower felt great, and clean clothes are going to feel even better.”
Sierra dramatically peeled herself off the bed and staggered toward the bathroom. “I’m never going to make it.”
“Sure you will. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be ready in five minutes.”
“Right.”
Sierra forced herself to snap out of her drowsy state. The last thing she needed was to invoke Marti’s wrath. Sierra’s shower in the blue-and-white-tiled stall was speedy, mostly because she didn’t wash her hair. It was easier to pull back her mane than to wash and try to tame it. She smiled, remembering how Alex had said she had beautiful hair. He was a unique guy. Sierra turned to face the water, letting it pour over her face. When she finished her shower, she did feel better. Christy was right.
Pulling on a pair of clean shorts and a knit shirt, Sierra opened the bathroom door with a grand “Ta-da!”
Christy stood in the middle of their small room wearing a dress and trying to towel-dry her hair.
“Don’t tell me I’m supposed to wear a dress,” Sierra said.
“I’m sure it doesn’t matter what you wear. I just know how my aunt expects me to dress. You’re fine.”
“This time, maybe,” Sierra said, tossing her dirty clothes over the back of the chair next to the writing desk. “But if we go anywhere that requires nice clothes, I don’t have anything with me. Not even my gauze skirt. It ripped. Remember? That’s why I borrowed your dress for Doug and Tracy’s wedding.”
“Don’t worry about it. You look fine. I’m sure we’ll manage to do some shopping before we leave Basel.” Christy rummaged through her backpack and pulled out a small, over-the-shoulder leather purse. “Do you have your passport and everything? The school is back over the border in the Black Forest. We’ll probably need our passports.”
“I’ll get mine,” Sierra said.
Marti’s long fingernails tapped on their common door. Sierra reached for her leather slip-on shoes and grabbed her backpack.
“Ready, girls?” Aunt Marti called out, then opened the door. A pouf of strong fragrance rushed in ahead of her. “Sierra, you’re not dressed yet.”
“I told her what she had on was okay,” Christy said quickly. “She doesn’t have anything but shorts and jeans. We need to go shopping while we’re here.”
Marti seemed to brighten. “That’s a marvelous idea. Perhaps we can squeeze in a few shops on our way back this afternoon.”
Sierra made a mental note. When in doubt, tell Marti you want to go shopping.
“Christy,” Marti said, turning her attention to her dutiful niece, “you’re not going with wet hair, are you?”
“It’ll dry on the way,” Christy said, heading for the door. “I have our room key, Sierra.”
Marti and Sierra followed Christy to the elevator.
“This is a nice hotel,” Christy commented as they waited for the elevator to reach their third floor.
“It’s not bad,” Marti said. “Rather plain but clean. Efficient, like so many of these European places. But for the price I’m paying, I expected larger rooms at least.”
“I think it’s fine,” Christy said. She flipped back her hair, and Marti looked put out.
“You girls and your long hair. I can’t believe you’re going out with it sopping wet. What is taking this elevator so long?” Marti tapped her foot impatiently.
Just then the bell above the door rang, and the doors opened. There stood Alex.
“Hello! I was coming to see you,” he said.
Sierra smiled at Alex, then glanced at Marti. Sierra noticed Marti’s face turning a shade of burgundy.
“That was very nice of you, but we must leave. We are in a hurry.” Marti brushed past Alex and entered the elevator, where she pushed the button for the lobby. “Come, girls.”
“Hi,” Sierra said softly as she moved past Alex. He reached over, and his fingers touched hers for the briefest moment.
“Sorry, Alex. We’re on our way out,” Christy offered, trying to smooth things over.
“Yes, to the Schwarzwald Volkschule—I mean, the Black Forest People’s School. My cousin has lent me his car for the afternoon. I thought I would drive you,” Alex said. He stood outside the elevator while the three women remained inside.
Marti slapped her hand on the button to close the elevator door. “No, thank you,” she said firmly, not looking at Alex as the doors closed.
Sierra turned from Marti and, in disbelief at what was happening, looked at Alex. “I’m sorry,” she said as the doors clanged shut and the lift took them rapidly down.
“You’re sorry?” Marti looked at Sierra in shock. “Sorry for what? Sorry that you told a complete stranger where we were going? Yes, you should be sorry. I can’t believe you girls were so foolish!”
“And you,” Marti said, turning to Christy and pointing a long finger at her. “You know better than to do such a thing. Why didn’t you stop your young friend here from divulging all our private plans?”
“I was the one who told him where we were going,” Christy said firmly. “You’re not being fair, Aunt Marti. Alex is a very nice guy. He’s only trying to help. You even said the taxis are far too expensive. How else are we going to get there?”
“We shall take a cab, of course. One can never put a price tag on safety. Accepting rides from complete strangers while we’re halfway around the world would be foolish. Now, if Alex is in the lobby when these doors open, I want you both to ignore him. If he persists, I shall notify the hotel management.” Marti let out a huff as the doors opened.
Alex was nowhere to be seen. Sierra was glad for his sake. She feared what might have happened to him if Marti reported him. At the same time, Sierra felt sorry for herself. She was sure Alex wouldn’t have the guts to show up again and risk offending Marti a third time. Sierra would probably never see him again. Unless …
No. Sierra shook the thought from her mind. It wouldn’t be right to sneak out to meet Alex somewhere. It was obvious, however, that he wanted to see her again. He had flirted with her, letting his fingers brush against hers. It had felt wonderful.
Maybe I could sneak down to the hotel lobby tonight and somehow get a message to him to meet me there, Sierra schemed.
We could stay in the lobby—it wouldn’t exactly be the same as sneaking out.
Before she got too carried away, Sierra reminded herself that she was Marti’s guest. Sierra’s parents had given her “the talk” on the phone before she came, reminding her to be honest and respectful to Marti. Mr. and Mrs. Jensen had said, “We expect you to respond to Marti the same way you would to us when it comes to making decisions. This is not a time for you to test your independence, Sierra.”
Yeah, but if my parents were here, they wouldn’t mind. They would like Alex, Sierra rationalized.
Marti flagged a cab, and she, Christy and Sierra rode the twelve miles to the Schwarzwald Volkschule in silence. Sierra’s heart and head were anything but silent, though. Why should she have to follow the rules if the person she was supposed to obey and respect wasn’t being fair?
Sierra was sure that if she were traveling with her mom instead of Marti, this whole embarrassing mess never would have happened. Mrs. Jensen would have liked Alex immediately. Sierra just knew her mom would understand if she had to bend the rules a pinch to get around Marti, the tyrant. That is, if Sierra ever had the opportunity to bend those rules.
Her mind spun with possibilities. She and Christy did have a separate room. Maybe Alex would try calling. He wouldn’t give up so easily. And Christy would have to be on Sierra’s side. Quickly, Sierra concocted a plan. It was risky, but she had to take some chances.
She had to see Alex one more time.
five
“AND THIS IS THE COMPUTER ROOM,” said Mr. Pratt, the school’s director, as he completed the tour of the Schwarzwald Volkschule. He was a large, friendly man, and Sierra liked him the moment they met. She had a feeling Christy liked him, too, which was good. First impressions counted, especially when Christy needed to make a decision quickly. And the fact that Mr. Pratt was so likable probably made Christy feel better about the school.
“All assignments are to be turned in on disk. Those students who have laptops, of course, prefer to use those, but our equipment is available to all the students,” Mr. Pratt continued.
“Very impressive,” Marti said, admiring the rows of tables laden with computers. “This certainly is a fine institution. I must admit I didn’t expect everything to be so modern.”
“Well, Europe has been a bit slow to adopt the idea of individuals owning computers, but our school has been blessed with several generous donors who are very committed to keeping us state of the art and accomplishing our educational goals. We offer accredited college courses and require a hands-on practicum.” Mr. Pratt checked his watch. “Please excuse me. I was expecting another guest this afternoon. He might be waiting in my office.”
“We won’t keep you,” Marti said. “You’ve been gracious to allow us this much of your time. Although I’m sure Christy will be eager to see the dormitory situation. May we schedule another appointment to tour the dormitory?”
“We can do that right now, if it’s convenient for you. Let me stop by my office a moment on the way out.” Mr. Pratt turned off the lights and let them down the long, quiet hallway.
“How many students will be starting here in the fall?” Christy asked.
“We currently have close to 800 registered. That is the most we’ve ever had. Of course, for many of them, this center is only a place to keep their files.”
“What do you mean?” Marti asked.
“We have several schools, which we call ‘on location.’ The students are registered here, but all the course work and professors are at various ends of the earth. For instance, we have fifty students enrolled in Israel and nearly one hundred who will study anthropology in Australia. Over a third of our student body studies on location.”
“I didn’t realize that,” Christy said. “Can you tell me about the orphanage in Basel?”
“Yes, of course. You will be going there tomorrow, won’t you? I believe they’re expecting you at ten o’clock.” Mr. Pratt opened the door to his brightly painted office and invited them inside.
“We’ll need directions to give the cab driver,” Marti said, stepping into the room.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sierra noticed someone sitting on the sofa against the wall. The person stood to greet them.
“Or I could drive you,” the deep voice said.
“Alexander!” Mr. Pratt exclaimed. He rushed forward and began to speak to Alex in rapid German. The two exchanged warm greetings.
Sierra felt her heart flutter. She quickly turned to catch Marti’s shocked expression.
“Please excuse me,” Mr. Pratt said. “I haven’t seen this young man for several years. He’s been living in Moscow. Alex, I’d like you to meet—”
Before Mr. Pratt could finish the introduction, Alex interrupted him. “We’ve already met,” he said, his eyes fixed on Sierra. “Perhaps you can give Christy’s aunt some comfort. Let her know I am not such a strange person.”
“Oh, I never …” Marti fumbled. “I mean, it was a strange situation, that’s all. One can never be too safe these days, you know.”
“I can assure you,” Mr. Pratt said with an arm around Alex, “this young man is upright and dependable. You have no cause for concern regarding him. As a matter of fact, let’s take a tour of the dormitory, and then you ladies can join us for coffee.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” Marti said. “It isn’t necessary.”
“I insist,” Mr. Pratt replied. “I’d like you to be my guests.”
“Thank you,” Christy said.
At least one of them was thinking clearly enough to respond graciously to Mr. Pratt’s invitation. Sierra was too happy to even talk. She couldn’t contain her smile.
Alex looked pleased, too. He casually fell into step beside Sierra as they marched down the halls, went out the school’s front door, and walked across the street to the dormitory. Mr. Pratt explained that it was one of five large houses run by the school. Students ate together in the main dining room and, every Saturday morning, each student was expected to assist in chores around the house.
As they took the tour, Alex stayed by Sierra’s side, taking his own tour of her life. The two of them hung back slightly from the others as Alex asked questions about Sierra’s family, her school, her job at Mama Bear’s Bakery, and her “hobbits.”
“My hobbits?” Sierra asked with a giggle.
“What you like to do for fun,” Alex explained. “For example, do you ski?”
“Yes.”
“That is your hobbit, then.”
“You mean my ‘hobby.’ Yes, skiing is kind of a hobby for me. Actually, I like most sports, thanks to my dad and my four brothers.”
“And what are your favorites?” Alex held open the door for Sierra as they exited. She liked being treated like a princess.
“My favorite sports? I like hiking and backpacking.”
“Oh, then you are going to like Switzerland very much. We must go for a hike together.”
Sierra looked up at him. A wayward strand of his dark hair was just beginning to break free from the pack to form a curl. He reminds me of Paul, Sierra realized. Not in looks, but in manner. They both had strong personalities. And Alex looked at her the way Paul had when they first met. But Paul was older—definitely too old for Sierra. And he was far away in Scotland. Sierra was in Germany with Alex. Why was she thinking about Paul? And why would she want to compare Alex with anyone? He was unique and wonderful, and she loved that he was paying attention to her.
Mr. Pratt led them down the street four short blocks past a tidy little garden alive with columbine, sweet peas, and cherry tomatoes strung up against a low fence. He stopped at the front door of a tall, narrow, timber-framed house and said, “Please make yourselves welcome. You are my guests.” He then opened the door and called out something in German.
A stout, stern-looking woman appeared before them, wearing an apron over her skirt and blouse. It seemed to Sierra that the woman was staring at them a little too obviously as Mr. Pratt spok
e to her in German.
“Is that his wife?” Sierra whispered.
“No,” Alex whispered back. “She died many years ago. This must be the housekeeper. He is asking her to prepare something of a meal for us. She is arguing that he didn’t give her enough notice. He is going to see what there is to eat.”
Sierra suppressed a giggle. It was fun having a personal interpreter. It was even more fun having him whisper in her ear.
Mr. Pratt directed them into the living room, saying he would join them in a moment. The four of them sat down. Alex, Sierra, and Christy perched on the sofa while Marti selected the winged-back chair. The living room was small but tidy. A picture of a canal and an elaborately carved bridge hung on the wall above the mantle in an intricate gold frame.
Sierra was gazing at the picture when Alex leaned over and said, “The Bridge of Sighs. In Venice, of course. Have you been there?”
“No.”
“I have,” Marti spoke up. “My husband, Robert, and I were there many years ago. It is a lovely city, isn’t it, Alex? Overpriced accommodations, of course, but the food is good, don’t you think?”
No one said anything. It seemed they were all too startled by this sudden change in Marti’s treatment of Alex.
“My favorite, of course, is Paris,” Marti plunged on. “No other European city compares. The food, the shopping, the museums …”
“Then you would like Moscow very much,” Alex said. “It is a masterpiece of a city. When it comes to museums, nothing compares with the Hermitage in St. Petersburg. You must come for a visit.”
It seemed to Sierra that Marti bristled slightly. There was no mistaking her body language. The thought of visiting any part of the former Soviet Union did not appeal to her one bit.
Fortunately, Mr. Pratt arrived with a plate of cookies in his hand. His cheeks were flushed. It appeared he was more in command at his school than he was in his own home. “Please forgive me for leaving you like this. Frau Weber will be right in with the coffee. You do all drink coffee, don’t you?”