Chapter Five
Lys Bauer cautiously approached the front door of Ingo Hertz's cottage. She clutched the package in her hands with a death grip, trying to relax but failing miserably. For goodness sakes, Lys, just leave the package on the stoop!
She tiptoed up the cottage steps. A gust of wind whipped by and the door creaked open. Ingo's house was dark inside, but it was strange the door wasn't locked.
"Ingo? Are you home?" She pushed open the door and peered into the darkened interior. A muffled thumping noise was coming from his library. "Is everything all right?"
Normally, Lys would never consider trespassing into another's home. But she couldn't help but worry about Ingo.
He'd seemed exhausted lately, with dark circles under his golden eyes. Of course, he had no idea that she watched him from afar. Even though the two of them attended school together long ago, as adults their relationship had changed.
She was too shy to approach him, and Ingo seemed immersed in his work. But sometimes she caught him looking at her with such longing...it took her breath away. She wished she could rummage up the courage to talk to him, but the best she could do was sneak this gift to his door step.
At least he would know how much she appreciated the beautiful figures he left for her. The little packages she found were the highlight of her day. Each figurine was lovingly crafted from a variety of woods, pale birch, warm cherry, rich mahogany. Ingo was an incredibly talented wood worker.
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Lys had secretly hoped Ingo would attend the Silvester celebration at the Lady's Auxiliary Lodge. She assumed he was at Dag's Bar with his friends, but she took extra care with her appearance just in case. Unfortunately, he didn't show.
Instead, she was forced to avoid that irritating Per Adler all night.
She stuffed the package into her satchel and crept into the chilly house. "Ingo, where are you?" As her eyes acclimated to the darkness, she spied a figure lying on the floor of the library. "Oh! Ingo!"
She rushed to the body and pushed him onto his back. An overwhelming stench of spirits inundated her senses, just as Ingo let out a loud snore.
"Hmm. Too much partying last night with your friends, I guess." She brushed a heavy lock of russet hair from his forehead and let her fingers linger for a moment on his face.
An empty flask lay next to him. Lys reached for it just as an old, thick book bounced along the floor, knocking into her hand. It popped up and down a couple more times, then settled next to her with a sigh.
"My goodness, that looks like the Zauberwort Buch. I haven't seen that since my school days." She picked up the dusty book and flask and set them on a table next to Ingo. An odd assortment of papers and objects littered the table top, surrounded by the burnt-out ends of candles. She picked up a mother of pearl button lying atop a scorched calendar sheet.
That's funny. This looks like a button from my favorite cardigan.
"Uhhhhh.....where am I?"
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Lys jumped back at the scratchy sound of Ingo's voice. He rolled to the side, then pushed himself up slowly into a sitting position. "Lys? Is that you? Am I dreaming again?"
He dreams about me? "I...I'm sorry to just barge into your house, but the door was open, and I wanted to make sure you were okay..." she babbled.
"Oh, that's all right, truly. Sorry you found me asleep on the floor. I assure you, I don't make a habit of it." His rubbed his eyes then stared up at her, licking his lips nervously.
She reached out her hand. "Here, let me help you up.
Should I make you a cup of tea and honey to settle your stomach?"
Ingo reached for her, and she could barely contain a tremor. His hand was strong and rough and warm. He squeezed her hand gently as he stood up on wobbly legs. She focused on the thread-bare rug on the library floor, embarrassed for him to see her blush.
"Lys?" He didn't let go of her hand.
"Yes, Ingo?"
"What are you doing here?"
"Oh!" Her eyes flew up to his face. "I forgot. I brought you something. A...a thank you for all of the lovely figures you've been leaving for me." She took a deep breath as she rattled on. "I love the animal carvings with the mothers and babies.
They're beautiful." She looked back down at her feet, finding it hard to breathe as Ingo stared at her with his intense golden eyes.
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"You brought me a gift?" Ingo asked softly, taking a step closer to her. She could see his dirty work boots next to her clogs.
She reached into the satchel strapped across her chest and pulled out a package, wrapped in tissue and ribbon. "I hope you're not disappointed." She peeked up at Ingo's face and found him shaking his head.
"I could never be disappointed with something you brought me. Never." He seemed reluctant to release her hand, giving it one last squeeze before he reached for the gift. He shredded the wrapping and pulled out the scarf she'd knitted for him. It was dark blue, a color she noticed complemented his russet colored hair nicely. Unfortunately, it was a bit lopsided since it was her first attempt at knitting. There were a few dropped stitches, too.
"I...love it. Thank you. Did you make this?" Ingo eyed the gift with a questioning look.
"You don't know what it is, do you?" She bit her lip.
Ingo shot her a small smile. "No, no. Of course I know what it is." He cleared his throat. "It's a...pot holder, right?"
Lys blushed and shook her head. "No...not a pot holder."
"Uh, a placemat?" His eyes were laughing at her.
She giggled. "Not exactly. Keep trying."
Ingo held the garment up in front of him and turned it side to side. "I know. It's a blanket for my cat."
She grinned and looked back at her feet. "My first try at knitting. Helene assured me it was so easy, but the scarf is a bit uneven...I'm sorry..."
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"A scarf!" Ingo shouted the words and quickly wrapped the woolen fabric around his neck. He tied the crooked ends together, and she had to admit the color did look wonderful with his sparkling amber eyes.
"The next one will be better, I promise."
"It's perfect. I love it."
Ingo stepped closer to her and reached for her hand again.
Butterflies fluttered in the vicinity of her heart, and she could scarcely breathe.
"Lys, would you like to stay for a cup of tea and honey?"
She nodded, afraid her voice would crack if she spoke. As Ingo led her into the kitchen, she heard the Zauberwort Buch clucking behind them like a mother hen.
Kiana straightened the wizard hat on Tyler's head. "That looks great, Ty. Why don't you help yourself to some punch and Harry Potter cookies?"
"Thanks, Kiana. Old Man Brock told me he could get me an autographed copy of Harry Potter for a birthday gift this year.
What do you think about that?"
She laughed and ruffled the boy's crop of red hair. He pushed a pair of round plastic spectacles up his freckled nose and smiled at her.
"If anyone can do it, he can."
Tyler bounded off to the refreshment table, and Kiana continued pushing the book cart along the narrow aisle of the children's section. Brockman's Books was filled with happy children today, giggling, chatting, reading at the colorful furniture scattered throughout the front of the shop. Mr.
Brockman wanted the tables next to the tall front windows, so 66
the kids would have plenty of light. Strands of multi-colored Christmas ornaments dangled from tacks on the walls, and paper Chinese lanterns hung haphazardly from the tall ceiling.
"Ki-annna! I need some help over here!"
She laughed as Janie Murphy waved her arms frantically to get Kiana's attention. The young girl was dressed in a Seuss-inspired Thing One outfit, and her twin brother Ryan was somewhere as Thing Two.
"Hi Janie. Love your outfit, sweetie. What can I do for you today?"
"Mr. Brockman keeps telling me to sound out the words.
I'm trying, but some of these words are about a gazillion miles long, and they are just too hard...." Janie's eyes filled with tears as she tapped the book in front of her. She crooked her finger and Kiana leaned down as she whispered solemnly,
"Ryan's a better reader than me."
Kiana scooped the tiny girl into her lap and propped the book up on the table. "I don't believe that for a minute. You and Ry are both great readers. Okay, what seems to be the problem here?"
Janie pointed to a word and hiccupped. "That one. I don't get it."
"Remember what Mr. Brockman told you. When you see a big word, try to break it up into little bits. It's easier to figure out that way. What's the first part?"
Janie's forehead creased. "C...cat. Like a cat?"
Kiana smiled. "Great. What's next?"
"Er....er....pill, like a pill you take when you're sick?"
"Good girl. Just like that. Keep going."
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"Cat...er...pill...ar."
Kiana nodded encouragingly. "Now say it a bit faster. Let the parts all flow together."
"Cat...er...pill-ar, cat-er-pillar. Caterpillar! That's it! I got it!"
Kiana gave Janie a squeeze. "See, that wasn't so hard.
You'll be reading chapter books in no time."
Janie smiled crookedly at Kiana. "I'll bet Ryan can't read the word caterpillar. I'm gonna challenge him to a read-off."
The slight girl jumped off Kiana's lap and raced to find her brother.
Behind her came a chuckle. Kiana glanced up to see Mr.
Brockman shaking his head as he loaded more books onto the cart. "Nothing like a healthy bit of sibling rivalry to get those kids reading."
She smiled and stood up to help Mr. Brockman organize the cart. "I love the costumes. Did you see Anna dressed as Cinderella? So cute."
He nodded. "You better run and get a gingerbread man before they're all gone, Miss Grant."
"I'll stop over after I finish with these books. Almost done."
The old man slipped a pair of reading glasses down his nose and peered at her intently. He wore his usual uniform, saggy cardigan sweater with the buttons misaligned and trousers with suspenders. At his neck was a crooked bow tie, his signature fashion statement. The children added to his collection every year at Christmas time.
"Hmm. You seem to be....well, glowing today. Did you have a nice New Year's celebration?"
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"Glowing?" Kiana blushed to her roots, remembering her kiss with Oskar Klaus. "Um, it was fine. I'm not really into those crazy drinking parties. I went to a cocktail party in my apartment building." She took a deep breath. "I met some...uh...nice people."
The storekeeper clucked and raised an eyebrow. "I can see that. Glowing a nice golden color today. Usually it's darker.
Bronze and shadowed. You've really lightened up."
Kiana was used to Mr. Brockman's strange mutterings. She just laughed and shook her head. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes to help with story time. Let me just shelve these books."
"All right." Mr. Brockman continued to stare at her as she left, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
She steered the cart along the wooden floor, which creaked and groaned like an old woman. The farther she moved toward the back of the shop, the more quiet and peaceful it became. This was her favorite part of the store.
Dark and silent. Comforting. It smelled like books, musty and old, hiding secrets, encompassing a history of readers within the stained pages. Yellow light reflected onto the cracked walls, cast from ancient Art Deco sconces, probably close to a hundred years old. She loved the pattern of the books lined up on the dark shelves, slices of every color of the rainbow, like a treasure chest filled with gems.
She stopped near the last row, listening to the hum of the lights. It was here she felt safe and secure. Even as a young girl, living on Oahu, the place she loved most was not the beach or the cliffs or being submerged in the crystalline 69
waters. It was curled up on the ratty orange sofa in the local library of Lahika, a stack of books spilling onto her lap. Nancy Drew, and Laura Ingalls, Island of the Blue Dolphins, A Wrinkle in Time. She read all of them and more.
The sea breeze used to blow into the open, screenless windows, ruffling her long hair as she lost herself reading. It was only when twilight made it too hard to see, and Mrs.
Kawaha, the librarian, gently removed her fingers from the pages that she remembered where she was. She would fill her sack with books until it strained under the weight, seams pulling, sharp edges banging into her back as she trudged along the dirt road. Each step away from the Lahika Library was bittersweet, propelling her closer to "home," which could change on any given day. A tent on the beach, a hammock behind a bar, sometimes curled under a palm tree. She never knew who, if anyone, would be there, or what would be happening, and so she meandered slowly along the dusty streets putting off the inevitable.
Kiana sighed thinking about her conversation with Trish.
For eight years, she'd been on the mainland. For eight years she'd worked hard to leave her past behind and build a solid, structured life. Losing herself in a kiss with Oskar Klaus on New Year's Eve was the last thing she needed. She knew damned well, and from bitter personal experience, what guys like Oskar Klaus were like.
Although...for a few moments at the party, he'd almost seemed different.
But she knew his type. That whole mellow boarder vibe, free love, no attachments, no worries. Just like Tom. Well, 70
she wasn't stupid. She'd learned her lesson. Mai ho'okaumaha ko'u hoaloha. ( Don't worry, my friend).
Yeah, right.
She did not want to reflect on Trish's worries that her soul was shriveling up in this polluted city, still craving a sunny paradise. Kiana was satisfied with her life in Manhattan. She had her job, a steady income, her volunteer work with the children. She would never admit to her roommate that she dreamt of Oahu almost every night. Surrounded by the heady scent of frangipani blossoms, swimming in the warm waters with green sea turtles ( Honu lu'au honu), burying her toes in the cool sand at night as she watched the sun set at Kahana Bay. She felt at times trapped within her cocoon of heavy coats and hats and scarves, desperate to break free, desperate to feel the flow of the water beneath her board and hear the rush of the surf in her ears. For now, she had to be content with walks in the park and melancholy dreams.
The jingle of bells heralded more visitors to the bookstore.
Mr. Brockman must be pleased with the turn-out for his New Year's party. Kiana shivered once. She needed to ignore the burning memory of that midnight kiss with Oskar Klaus, and get back to work.
Easier said than done. Never in her life had a kiss affected her in such a way. Every nerve ending in her body had suddenly come alive last night, blazing with heat and sexual awareness. Oskar's lips were both gentle and coaxing, strong and insistent, promising things she had never experienced.
She'd never shared a kiss like that with Tom; she had always held back with him, as though she knew subconsciously he 71
wasn't to be trusted. She could not believe she'd been so forward with Oskar, a man she barely knew. The passion had welled up in her like a fireball wanting to escape. And that scared the hell out of her.
Good thing she wouldn't be seeing Oskar Klaus again.
Oskar pushed open the door to Brockman's Books and was greeted by a jangling brass bell. He pulled off his Oakley sunglasses and laughed out loud at the sight in front of him.
Mr. Brockman certainly knew how to celebrate New Year's Day in high style. The shop literally vibrated with noise and commotion. Kids dressed as wizards, Darth Vader, and revolutionary war soldiers skirted past him on the way to a table piled with candies and sweets. The old man stood in a corner surveying the action, reminding Oskar of a monarch keeping watch over his kingdom.
He had to admit, that as far as kingdoms went, Brockman's Books was pretty damned cool. There was just something about it, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, that felt good in here. The stacks reached back forever, promising never-ending adventure. The smell of furniture polish, yellowing photos on the walls, and old cracked fixtures breathed a long-ago aura into the space, something that appealed to Oskar quite a bit.
Dressed in his "Sunday finest"—Seuss hat, slouchy jeans, Doc Marten tie-up boots, and a raggedy old Eagles concert Tshirt—O figured he'd fit right in with the party.
His gaze raked over the crowd until he spotted his prey.
Sure enough, Kiana was right in the thick of things, kneeling beside a kiddie table. She'd traded her mousy evening attire 72
for jeans and a baggy sweater, and was sporting a new pair of decorative eyewear. Two pencils jutted out from the bun on the back of her head.
He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching her giggle with a young girl. There was no uptight or uncomfortable vibe coming off her today. She seemed relaxed and happy, really in her own element here. A boy dressed as a pirate snuck up behind her and gave her a hug. Kiana turned with a laugh and high fived the kid as he showed her some sort of craft project.
"Can I help you, young man?"
Oskar gave a start to find Old Man Brockman standing directly in front of him, with an odd expression on his face.
His head was cocked to one side, as though taking Oskar's measure. Those two bushy eyebrows drew close together.
"You look familiar....been in before, haven't you? As I recall, you're partial to poetry and biographies, right?"
Oskar laughed. "Yeah, I like pretty much everything.
Mostly I just enjoy browsing in here. You have some great stuff."
"You're a bibliophile, I can tell. You get that funny smile on your face when you find something that strikes your fancy."
Mr. Brockman scratched his chin. "Any particular reason why you smell like salt water, son?"
Oskar's eyebrows shot up. "Uh, you can smell that? I thought I was the only one."
The old man nodded. "Yep. Smells like you just came from the beach. And I can hear music, too. Like a ukulele. You got one of those ipods on?"
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Oskar shook his head. "No, sir. I can't believe you can hear that. No one else can. Do you...uh...hear the waves, too?"
Brockman crossed his arms. "It's fading. But yes, I can hear that, too. What are you thinking about? Whatever it is, it's eliciting some strong reactions. Usually people don't broadcast so strongly."
"What do you mean, broadcast? I'm having some pretty intense dreams, too."
Brockman's eyes narrowed. "Are you now? What's her name, young man? Only thing that usually gets that much of a reaction is a woman."
Oskar's eyes darted quickly to Kiana. "Well, actually, I am sort of interested in a woman. She volunteers here. Kiana Grant."
Brockman's demeanor changed in an instant. He stepped closer to Oskar, scowling fiercely. "Not sure what 'sort of interested' means exactly, but Miss Grant is a real treasure.
You better have the best of intentions as far as she goes..."
Oskar held up a restraining hand. "Honestly, Mr.
Brockman, only the best of intentions. I just met her last night and I really enjoyed her company."
"Hmmm. Last night, you say? You must be the reason she's glowing nice and golden today. Your aura's got a bit of zing to it, too."
Oskar had no clue what the old guy was talking about, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.
Brockman took in Oskar's bright green hair, scruffy clothes and shoes. "You don't look her type, if you don't mind me saying so."
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"Yeah, well, don't judge a book by its cover."
Mr. Brockman's eyes grew wide and then he tipped back his head and roared with laughter. He slapped Oskar on the back, with a surprisingly strong grip. "I don't believe you just said that. A little bookstore humor, eh? So, what is below the cover, Mr.....?"
Oskar sighed. "Oskar Klaus. My brother Gregor is Kiana's neighbor."
"Klaus, eh? That's a nice German name. Your brother's the financier for Klaus Enterprises, is he not?" Mr. Brockman regarded him with an odd look on his face.
"Yeah. What's with the interrogation anyway?"
The bookseller raised his chin. "I'm the closest thing Kiana has to a father, so you'll have to indulge my paternal instincts."
"All's on the up and up, Mr. Brockman. I met her last night at a party and we had a cool talk. I'm hoping she'll go out with me today."
Mr. Brockman nodded. "Well, good luck with that. She isn't so trusting of new people, especially men. Truth be told, she's due for a little fun. I was happy to see that golden glow about her this morning. Sometimes I think this city is crushing her spirit."
"What do you mean by that?" Oskar asked.
Mr. Brockman shook his head. "She's from Hawaii, you know. Not sure if she's made the adjustment to city life. Her aura is filled with the colors of the sea, but lately...." The old man shrugged. "I've watched that glow dim a lot over the last couple of years."
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Oskar frowned. "Do you have any idea what's going on with me? Why I'm hearing ukulele music and smelling salt water?"
Brockman looked at him and smiled a lopsided grin. "Well, son, maybe you can tell me. What the hell do I know?"
Before Oskar had a chance to inquire further, a small boy dressed in a Star Wars costume ran up to them. "I need some help, Mr. B. My bookmark doesn't look so hot."
Oskar checked out the kid's outfit and nodded in approval.
"Cool costume, little guy. Darth Maul, right? I love his double light saber."
The boy looked up at Oskar and smiled. "Cool Seuss hat, big guy. Me, too. Look!" He pulled a light saber out of his belt and passed it to Oskar.
"Very nice. Phantom Menace is my favorite Star Wars movie. I love the fight scene with Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon Jinn.
They had some seriously sweet moves."
The boy's eyes lit up. "I learned all the moves. My brother John and I can do the whole fight. We watched that scene about a million times!"
Mr. Brockman raised an eyebrow. "What seems to be the problem with your bookmark, Andy?"
"I can't figure out how to make the light saber. I want it to glow."
"Here, let me see," said Oskar. He held up the construction paper and nodded. "I have an idea." He glanced at the craft table in front of him. "How about using some of that neon silly string for the laser part of the saber, and then tin foil for the base?" He turned to Mr. Brockman. "Is it okay if I help Andy 76
with his bookmark? I think we can make a fine saber with this stuff."
The old man smiled. "Sure enough. I can use all the helping hands I can get on a day like today."
Oskar plopped down on a stool by the table. "Okay, kid, let's get this thing put together. You're gonna have the most amazing light saber bookmark in the store."
"Thanks, mister. What's your name?" Andy started to collect his supplies.
"Oskar." He held out his hand for a shake. "Nice to meet you, Andy."
Andy giggled and shook Oskar's hand. "Nice to meet you, too. Your green hair is cool. I wore this costume for Halloween and dyed my hair red and black. My mom hated it, but I think it looked awesome."
Oskar laughed. He reached for some silly string and caught Kiana's eye from across the room. She was staring at him slack-jawed. He gave her a quick salute and a wink. She blushed and shook her head in confusion.
Keep her guessing, Oskar. Let her come to you.
He wasn't used to playing games with women. They usually flocked to him with no effort on his part. But he had a feeling Kiana would run as fast as she could if he came on too strong. Hell, she disappeared fast enough last night. He was still reeling from his weird out of body experience when he realized she'd vanished from the apartment.
Today, he would bide his time until the moon goddess decided to assuage her curiosity. Anyway, one of his favorite activities in Glasdorf was organizing parties for the elves and 77
their families. He always got a big kick out of the kids. He was actually looking forward to doing the craft project with Andy.
"All right, little man. Time to make a rockin' Darth Maul bookmark." Andy fist bumped Oskar and they got to work.
Oskar smiled to himself, wondering how long it would take Miss Kiana Grant to meander his way. And if she'd be glowing.
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