“What?”
He looked at her. “My real name isn’t Knut. It’s Kurt, actually. And my family name isn’t Holgersen. It’s Nordstrum.”
“Kurt…?” Her eyes dimmed, not understanding. “Why would you let me believe it was—”
“Listen to me, it’s important to me that you know that. And you’re right, I’m not an engineer. Though I did study to be one before the war. I can’t tell you any more. So please don’t ask. Just … just know that if we should ever be lucky enough to really meet in Vienna, after … in a different way, just know I would feel it had all been worth it.”
“That what would all be worth it, Kurt…?” She saw the turmoil etched onto his face and reached for his hand. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about.”
He shook his head. He couldn’t explain any more. “Just the war. Things I’ve had to do. Everything.”
“What have you done? I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t. Just forgive me for having been deceptive with you. It was not my intent. But now I have to go.”
He drank in the sight of her face, the liquid shimmer in her eye, the dapple of color on her cheeks. He slowly leaned toward her. He placed a kiss on her lips. Softly. With everything he felt in his heart. He lingered for a second or two, squeezing her hand.
When he pulled back there was not pleasure in her eyes, but worry. “Kurt, you’re scaring me a little with how you sound.…”
He got up and threw a few bills on the table. “Remember, Natalie—the stern. It’s very important to me.” He smiled. “One day when we see each other again, in Vienna, you can tell me about the view. Remember how we met, your hat; this will make us even.”
“Even…?” She looked up at him with a question in her eyes.
“Well, not quite even. You’ll see.”
He got up, before his heart broke in two and he changed his mind. At the door, he took a last look at her that would have to stay in his mind forever, and went outside.
71
An hour later, Einar stopped the car and looked at Nordstrum with a cast of concern. “There is no way you can tell her, Kurt.”
On the short drive back to Diseth’s with the car they’d managed to procure, an old Volvo sedan with a stubborn engine, Nordstrum shared with his friend what was in his heart. He’d been sullen since leaving Natalie so abruptly an hour ago, knowing he was putting her life at risk. Einar had seen that something was clearly troubling him.
“You know that, don’t you? Her grandfather is a guest of the Nazis. There is no telling where his loyalties lie. Or hers, for that matter. You may trust her, but do you know, for sure? And do you entirely trust him?”
“I trust that I do not believe she would betray me, Einar.”
“Maybe so. But would she understand? Without telling her everything behind it. A few days ago she may have been a card-carrying Nazi for all you know. Diseth has a friend too, who’s scheduled to be on the ferry. He asked me whether he could warn him and I told him no. He can’t. He vouched for his friend as well, but the problem isn’t simply that friend, it’s who knows what friends he might tell, and then those people.… If word gets out, where does it go from there?”
“I understand all that, Einar. As long as you understand I may well be sending her to her death.”
“You’re not sending her, Kurt. Life is sending her. And even if you are…?” The engine was running and a man with a cart of fish wobbled by. “Look, I see you have feelings for her. And I know you’ve been wounded in your heart a long time. But hers is only one life. One life measured against thousands. Possibly hundreds of thousands. I know what it is you’re feeling. I have people I love too. And I don’t know what I would do, if it was Marte, or her sister. But I do know what you would tell me. Which is exactly what I’m saying to you. You simply cannot jeopardize this for a person you may never see again. Who you’ve only known for what, two days…?”
Nordstrum let a long blast of air out of his nostrils. It didn’t seem like there was any more to say. He knew Einar was right. There was no telling how Natalie or her grandfather would react. And even if she kept his secret, there was no guarantee her grandfather would as well. Or how she might react to having to be part of a secret that would likely result in the loss of dozens of lives.
Still, he felt he loved her.
Yes, he’d had to do the hard thing many times. It had cost him Anna-Lisette. And his father, who had been rounded up by this Lund simply because of the path Nordstrum himself had taken. And even Hella. He’d grown used to it.
Reluctantly, he gave his friend a nod.
It was dark now. They continued on in the car and pulled to a stop in front of Diseth’s shop. He was a soldier. Those were the choices he had had to make. It was war and he had let a random person dig her way inside him. He knew it was foolish. Afterward, there would always be time for life. But for now …
They sat for a moment.
For now, he had to forget they’d ever met.
“There are lifeboats, Kurt.” Einar looked at him. “People will come from the shore. You calculated that in how you prepared the charges. I only mean to say there’s hope. You’re not just putting her up against a wall like the Nazis did Anna-Lisette. Besides…” Einar opened the driver’s door and cast his friend a smile, “you probably won’t survive planting the explosives anyway.”
Nordstrum gave him a laugh back. “You’re right. I told her to sit in the stern. That the view was best there.”
“Then you’ve done what you can. The rest is just war, Kurt. It’s in God’s hands. Not ours.”
“God hasn’t always been so kind to me,” Nordstrum said, bringing Anna-Lisette and his father to mind.
“Well, he’s kept you alive, hasn’t he?” Einar looked at his watch. “Now let’s relax. It’s five fifteen. You have only a few hours to prepare. And I, I’m afraid, have to catch the six-thirty train to Oslo for my aching appendix. Trust me, I wish I could stay with you.”
Nordstrum nodded. “I feel better knowing you’re far away. Marte too.”
“Thanks.” Einar squeezed his shoulder. “I wish you luck, my friend.” He put out his hand. “We’ve said that many times now.”
“Yes, we have. I wish you luck too,” Nordstrum said. “And whatever you do, remember, make sure you watch what the hell you say when they put you under anesthesia.”
*
Larsen arrived around 9 P.M. with his rucksack and his skis. He seemed a wreck. “I had to sneak out into the woods behind my house,” he said. “They’ve put a car in front.”
“Are you sure you weren’t followed?” Nordstrum pressed.
“As far as they’re concerned I’m soundly asleep after being up all last night loading the rail cars. But what I do regret is I’m missing my bridge evening. I haven’t missed my Saturday night bridge game in over three years.”
“I’m afraid they’re going to have to find a new fourth,” Nordstrum said.