Before Emi could answer, Christian was underwater again, and she watched him as he swam choppily through the pool and then pulled himself up, heading toward a reclining Kurt.
That evening, Emi watched the emotionless guard check her and her mother’s names off the list yet again, then she ran to the water tower in her best pair of shoes. She’d been on the German side plenty of times before. It was impossible not to crisscross the camp, for while the houses were grouped together by nationality, the public areas like the Japanese market and the German bakery were built close to one another.
She saw Christian standing near the chapel, looking slightly guilty. His blond hair was combed and he was in what looked like clean clothes. She watched him for a moment, staring along the dusty road trying to spot her coming. She was happy that she had reached him without him seeing her arrive. She liked to be the one to startle him.
“Is it a real surprise?” she asked as she approached.
He turned around to look at her. “I think you know what it is by now. But let’s just pretend you don’t. Come on.” He motioned for her to follow him across the road to the chapel.
“Is the surprise in the chapel? Is the door open in the evening?” she said, trying to look past him. She knew it was a piano, she couldn’t imagine what else it would be, and she felt silly for not looking in the chapel before.
“Yes, it’s in the chapel,” Christian said, reaching for both her hands and holding her still.
“Is the surprise that you’re going to try to convert me?” Emi said, walking in.
She let Christian lead her to the back of the chapel, where he started to open a little door to a storage closet. He hesitated, put one hand over her eyes, then opened the door wide. “It’s an empty chapel with an out-of-tune—”
“Piano!” Emi exclaimed, pulling his hand away. “I was hoping it would be.”
“You knew it would be,” he said, opening the dusty black lid. “But thank you for acting surprised.”
She pushed past him and sat down on the bench, leaning over and placing the side of her face on the keys. “How did you find out it was here?” She had played so many pianos in her life, but she was as excited to play this cheap one as she had been to play antique Steinways in Austria.
“I asked O’Rourke if there was a piano at camp and he laughed at me and asked why I hadn’t been to church yet. I guess it’s played on Sundays and then rolled back in this closet. Sorry I didn’t figure that out before, but I did get permission to come in here this evening. I told him it was so I could play, so let’s hope he doesn’t ask me to give a recital or anything.”
Emi ran her fingers across the keys and played a few chords.
“Is it okay?” Christian asked, sitting down next to her.
“It’s very out of tune, and it’s not the grandest piano I’ve ever played, but it’s perfect.” She hummed a few bars, then launched into a well-known Mozart tune. After a few chords she stopped and said, “That doesn’t feel right. Not when you went to all this trouble. I’ll play my very favorite for you.” Her favorite. The song Leo always asked for. She didn’t know if it was she who loved it or if it was her favorite because it reminded her of him.
She put her fingers on the keys and then started to laugh, lifting them again.
“It’s funny, I haven’t played the piano in over a year. I feel like I’m breaking a law.”
“Who cares if we are,” said Christian, pushing on one of the keys.
Emi moved his hand away and began the familiar piece, much slower and more emotional than the Mozart. She felt Christian’s eyes on her as her thin fingers stepped easily across the keys. When she was finished, she rested her hands in her lap, her eyes alight. “Chopin, Opus Ten, étude number three,” she said, before he could ask. “It’s been my favorite for a long time. It’s not very hard to play, but difficult to perfect, so that’s why I keep playing it. Plus, everyone seems to like it.” The Hartmanns, at least, did.
“Play it again,” Christian said, placing her hands back on the keys.
“The same one?” said Emi grinning up at him.
“Yes, please.”
“There’s orange dust everywhere,” she said, blowing on the keys. “You can really see it on the black keys, like sand between someone’s teeth. You can’t escape it. Even in here.” She wiped some off with her shirt hem and launched into the étude again, elbowing Christian out of her way. He stood up and watched her from above, and when she was done, she exhaled happily. Emi played five more pieces and finished with a jazz song by Cole Porter. As soon as she had stopped playing, Christian lifted her up from the bench and held her close to him, humming the tune as they started to sway.
“Isn’t it illegal to dance in church?” asked Emi, looking around and tipping her head back.
“No,” said Christian laughing. “What gave you that idea?”
“I don’t know. Churches always seemed quite stiff to me.”
She rested her cheek against his shoulder as he hummed “I Get a Kick out of You,” which she’d just played.
“If you had to fight for one side, who would you fight for?” Emi asked as he held her tight, starting the song over again, adding the words in.
“The Americans, of course,” said Christian, looking into her eyes. “I’m American.”
“The Americans? Would you?” she said surprised. “You’d fly over Germany and drop bombs on your relatives? Or fly over Japan and drop them on mine?”
“I never thought of it that way,” he said, slowly. “That’s depressing.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“I just feel more American. I feel ninety-nine percent American. It’s only recently, with what’s happened to my family, that the one percent slipped away. I’m angry at this country now, at the government, at O’Rourke. All this,” Christian said, looking around the simple chapel, “is an awful thing to do to innocent people.”
Emi was about to answer when they heard a loud bang behind them. They turned around and looked, paranoia growing between them, but there was no one there.
“It must be outside,” said Christian, “but let’s leave anyway. We’re probably pushing our luck with the time.” They slipped out the back and, clasping hands, ran toward the orchard out of instinct.
Safely hidden in the trees, Emi collapsed to the ground. “Today was very memorable,” she said, looking up at Christian and smiling. “Thank you for that surprise. For a few moments I forgot where we were.”
He fell to the ground, too, rather clumsily and took Emi’s hand. “It scares me how much I like you,” he said. “I know I’m not supposed to say things like that, and I never have before, but caution seems like a ridiculous line to follow in here.”
“I’m glad you like me,” she said happily. She stretched out her legs so her feet were resting in his lap.
“Oh,” he said laughing. “You’re glad I like you? There’s nothing there on your end?”
“You’re not bad,” she said, before she sat up and kissed him gently on the mouth.