"like sands through the hourglass so are the...Days of our Lives"

Christyne's

"The Teens" Fan Fiction Site

"You’re really aren’t going to tell me where we’re going, are you?"

"Mike - why do you have to know? Just enjoy the adventure of it all. You know, my worst fear is I’ve kept this secrecy going for so long, there’s no way where we’re going can live up to the billing."

"Is part of the "adventure" cruising for miles on this hot bus filled with people wearing wet wool? I’m suddenly remembering Mrs. Holcomb’s fourth grade classroom. Every time we came in after recess having played in the snow, we’d put our damp scarves and mittens in the long closet along the wall of the classroom near the metal radiator pipes. Within ten minutes the humidity would rival anything in a tropical zone. The entire room would smell like a herd of sweaty sheep."

"I remember Mrs. Holcomb. You had her in fourth grade, too? I didn’t know she had taught that long."

"That long? Carrie, I was only six years ahead of you in school."

"Oh, I know. I was just surprised you had her for a teacher. Mrs. Holcomb has taught school at Jefferson Elementary awhile because she was my dad’s teacher, too. I liked her, didn’t you?"

"Yeah…yeah. She was great with kids. I heard she finally got a promotion to principal."

"Yes. Mr. Teague enlisted in the army and she had the most tenure. A lot of women are getting jobs with more responsibility what with men joining the service."

A lively conversation ensued about women and the work they were doing for the war effort at home. They were flying cargo planes, riveting aircraft, building jeeps in factories all across the country. Carrie wondered if they’d be able to go back to complete domesticity once the war concluded now that they’d had a taste of being a part of the workforce, earning money and respect for a job well done.

"Don’t you think they’ll want to resume staying at home and caring for a family?"

"Sure, a lot of them will but not all…Mike, pull the cord. This is our stop."

Once it emptied itself of the couple, the bus pulled away leaving them alone along the side of the road. Across the street trees lined an uphill driveway to a gate surrounding large stone buildings.

"Okay…now what? Is that the place you wanted me to see, Carrie?

"That’s it. Isn’t it magnificent! You were the only person I’ve ever thought about when I came here and I wanted to share it with you."

"Really? What exactly is it about a gray, cold-looking stone edifice that brings me to your mind…and what can I do to change that image?"

"Oh, stop. Wait until we get inside the compound and you’ll change your mind. Come on."

Crossing the snow-covered road Mike and Carrie hiked up the hill to the entry gate Carrie in the lead pulling Mike along by the hand. As crowded as the ferry, subway and bus had been getting to Fort Tryon Park, they were surrounded by silence as they trod the icy-patched sidewalk. The crunch of the snow beneath their boots resounded through the archway leading to the entry of what Mike had seen on a sign identifying the building as "The Cloisters". They paid a small fee and began to walk beneath the massive, curved ceiling protecting them from the elements. They were directed by the finely detailed map in their brochures to the first of the five buildings along a corridor appointed in splendidly carved stone pillars of gothic design.

"Mike, what do you think now? Didn’t I tell you this was someplace special?" Carrie said in a hushed tone.

Mike had been reading the pamphlet as they walked along, learning The Cloisters was a series of five buildings brought from Spain and France dating back to the fourteen and fifteen hundreds. Each represented a style of architecture of the period and included various chapels, gardens and most importantly housed art works dating from medieval times. His interest grew with each paragraph read. Carrie duly noted in sidelong glances that Mike was hooked as he always was about anything to do with history. It was one of those areas of interest she had shared with him since they’d first known one another.

"Wow! Carrie, there are tapestries here that I’ve seen photos of in books before. Which room do we go to see them?"

"It’s down this way," she said at the same time pointing toward a long corridor leading to yet another room.

"Come on, Carrie."

Mike took her by the hand as he now led the way. Smiling to herself at his little boy eagerness, Carrie knew her idea to come here had been one of her more brilliant ones. Touring the Empire State Building, skating on the Rockefeller Center rink and going to the movies had all been wonderful but they were things everyone else did in New York. This had a more limited audience – you came here only if you truly had an interest in what it exhibited and would only bring someone with you who shared that interest - otherwise, it was like the Inquisition - pure torture.

Soon they began looking at the Nine Heroes tapestries as they hung in all their splendor along the walls depicting three Hebrews, three Christians, and three pagans. Joshua, David, Judas Maccabeuse, Godfrey of Bouillion, Arthur, Charlemagne, Julius Caesar, Hector and Alexander the Great each were splendidly woven into life by threads of the crafter’s design. They proceeded to the more famous seven tapestries of the Unicorn. Carrie stood before the most illustrious of them, "Unicorn in Captivity". The white mythical creature lay surrounded in the forest by a wooden fence - chained to its posts.

"I’ve read one theory this depicts that the unicorn is forever chained to humanity unable to be free. Another interpretation is he represents love and its magic within the heart represented by the wooden fence."

"I think it’s the latter. He looks content, not sad to be where he is – as though he’s found peace at last" Mike said looking at the tapestry as he spoke.

"Me, too," Carrie said. "This is my favorite room. All those stories I read about knights, King Arthur and fair maidens come to life in here. In this room they exist somewhere other than on the page of a book. I brought you here not only because I knew you’d like the artwork but because as my knight in shining armor when I was a girl, you belong in here, too."

"Carrie..."

"No, let me say this. Sometimes, when everything else in my life was spinning out of control, you were the calm. I was a damsel in distress and you would just…know. You were my paladin taking me to a place where there was harmony, light, stillness…I was in a safe world, cloistered with you, if you will, when you spent time with me. I could never describe in words that place of serenity, beauty and strength you took me to. It only existed in my mind and heart, until I found this place. I knew I had to share it with you. So...here it is."

"I, uh---you…Carrie."

"It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything."

"I honestly don’t know what to say. The strange thing is I feel at peace here, too. I’ve been thinking ever since we started walking through the halls that the best things – architecture, tapestries, legends, withstand everything time and circumstances throw before them. Maybe…"

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe, that’s true of great loves, too."

Carrie didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. She stared into Mike’s solemn face, reached for his hand and held it tightly. As it always was between them, each knew what the other felt and no spoken words could come close to those feelings. They turned and continued to tour the other buildings before stepping out into a long covered walkway whose canopy was stained glass.

"I’ll bet the light shining through that is spectacular."

"It probably is. I don’t know. The strange thing is every time I come here it’s overcast just like today."

"You’re kidding. Maybe we’ll come back here next…June and see it then."

"I’d like to see it with you. I’ll mark my calendar when we get back to the apartment to hold you to it."

"Fine by me."

Parallel to the rainbow-glassed ceiling hall was an open courtyard. Carrie cut in front of Mike and ushered him to the sizeable, barren plot of ground. The shrubs were denuded of their leaves, revealing the thorns of their branches. The ground was frozen at least a foot deep and wouldn’t be an inviting world for any self-respecting plant until at least early April.

"Why are we coming out here?"

"I just wanted to tell you what it will be like when we come back in June. They plant all sorts of herbs, flowers and plants that existed during medieval times. The fragrance from the rosemary, thyme and lavender alone makes it a heady experience. See the stone bench? That’s where I sit and gaze at the colors. It’s so beautiful then, even in the overcast."

"It’s hard to imagine that at the moment. I have to tell you it’s chilly with the breeze coming through that archway. My feet are…"

"Shhh…"

"…numb. What are you shushing me for?"

"Shhh…shhh….shhh"

"You sound like Gran’s lawn sprinkler when you make that noise…."

"Shhh!"

"What?" Mike asked in a perturbed whisper.

"I heard a noise. I can’t tell where it’s coming from when you keep talking, " Carrie whispered in a tone she usually used in the movies only when she absolutely felt it necessary to say anything.

They both stood as rooted to the ground as the shrubbery nearby so their feet wouldn’t make any noise either as both listened for another utterance. A full thirty seconds passed but there was nothing.

"Carrie, the only sound you’re about to hear is my teeth chattering. It’s really cold out here. Let’s head for the bus stop. It’s almost two thirty and we need to get back"

"Oh, all right. I could have sworn I heard….there, there! Can you hear it?"

"Yeah, it’s coming from over in the corner," said Mike as he pointed to his right along the wall.

They slowly began walking in the direction of the sound.

"It’s right there in the shrubbery, Mike. Be careful."

Bending down to where the thickest, thorniest part of the hedges were, Mike bent over to more accurately pinpoint the origin of the sound. As he did so, it was repeated only louder and more plaintive.

"Mike, it’s a kitten and it’s trapped in there."

"Maybe it’s not trapped - just hiding."

"Not by the sound it’s making. It can’t get out. We mustn’t leave it there. It’s too cold. Please, Mike, see if you can get hold of it."

"Carrie, that’s all thorns. I don’t know if I can get back that far."

"Please try. Please?"

"Okay, you’re right the little thing shouldn’t be out here. We can take it to the caretaker."

Mike got down on his hands and knees and reached through the thorny barrier nearly reaching the frightened feline only to have it back away farther from his outstretched hand. Two more tries only drove the animal to further retreat. Finally, Mike lay on his side, removed his glove and stretched his arm to it’s fullest length, grasped the squirming creature and carefully brought it back through the brambles despite it’s piercing vocal protests. He handed the kitten to Carrie, rose to his feet and brushed the snow from his army long coat.

"Oh thank you Michael, you’re wonderful."

"Well, you know us knights – be it damsels or kittens - we come to the rescue."

"Yes, you do and I love you for it."

Carrie lightly kissed Mike nearly crushing the bundle of fur between them until it made its presence know with another yowl. "Oops! We nearly crushed it."

"Her, Carrie. It’s a "her". Now, we’d better find the caretaker."

They hunted for nearly twenty minutes to no avail. They were the last people to be there. Even the ticket seller had left and they had only to lock the gate behind them and the museum would be closed for the day.

"Mike, we have to take her with us."

"No, absolutely not. How are we going to conceal her on a bus, subway and ferry? They don’t allow animals."

"Well, we’re not leaving her here. Do you really think she’s one of the museum’s cats?"

"Actually, no. She’s pretty small - probably just about six weeks old. Her fur is all matted with thorns and grease – like she’s been under a car. She looks undernourished. I don’t think they’d let her starve if she was a kitten of a cat who lived on the grounds."

"That settles it. We’re taking her with us. We just have to figure out a way to smuggle her back to the apartment with us."

"We do?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I was just checking. Come on, according to the schedule the next bus should be here within a couple of minutes. That’ll give me time to work on a smuggling plan."

"Have I told you how much I love you, Michael Horton?"

"Yeah, yeah - now I’m even breaking the law for you. How did I let you talk me into this?"

Carrie looked at him with a smile that came from her heart through her eyes.

"Never mind, I know how."

Reversing their earlier journey, the conspiratorial couple hid their stowaway inside Mike’s buttoned up coat. People might have noticed the shifty gaze they displayed as they looked around them to see if their guilt was as apparent to others as it was to them. One just did not bring an animal onto any form of New York City transportation. To their amazement the "felony" went undetected. The kitten made no sound as it slept within the warmth of Mike’s coat until they arrived back at the apartment.

"We need to sponge her down, Carrie, and get as much of the dirt and oil off her as we can before she ingests it trying to clean herself. It will make her sick. I’ll look her over and see what kind of physical shape she’s in."

Carrie spent the next half hour watching Mike treat the trusting kitten as he cleaned her, checked her eyes, ears and vital signs while handling her with the care he would have given equally to any of his patients. Mike’s dedication to tending those in need of his skills knew no limitations. Just when she thought she couldn’t love him any deeper, he would prove her wrong.

"I was right. She hasn’t been eating – I can feel the ridges of her vertebrae in her back – that’s a symptom of malnutrition. Her heart’s strong, no cloudiness in her eyes, she’s able to hear and we know she’s got a good set of lungs. I think the next thing is to try to get her to take some nutrition. Got any tuna?"

"Uh-huh. Are you going to try to feed her those big chunks?"

"No, just drain the oil. Have you got an eyedropper?"

"I’ll get it out of the medicine cabinet."

Carrie returned to the kitchen with the eyedropper, opened the can of tuna and drained the liquid broth onto a saucer.

"Carrie, hold her and let me put the filled eyedropper on the edge of her tongue to let her get a taste of the tuna juice. She may not take it at first."

Mike gently but firmly pushed the edge of the filled eyedropper into the side of the kitten’s mouth. She began licking at the contents without hesitation.

"Guess she proved you wrong, huh?"

"Yeah, look at that tongue go to work. Okay, keep feeding her small amounts to match her pace. We’ll try a little warm milk, too. It’s not that long since she was weaned. I’m beginning to think she either got separated from or something happened to her mother."

All the while Carrie fed the kitten Mike stroked the cat’s head as he talked to Carrie and the cat. When he felt Carrie had the feeding situation under control, he warmed a small amount of milk in a pan and encouraged the kitten to try it as well.

"Here, Kitten, give this a try -almost like Mom used to make."

"I swear, Mike, she responds to your voice. Every time you say something she starts to eat."

After ten minutes Mike halted feeding her any further.

"I’ll clean up the milk pan and put the tuna in a dish."

"You will not, Mike. I’ll do that. Since you have the magic voice, why don’t you take her from me and see if she’ll purr. Oh, look, Mike. Her little tummy is round."

"I guess we can add to her chart that there’s nothing wrong with her appetite either. Okay, hand her over and I’ll take her into the living room while you put things away."

After finishing putting the washed pan in the cupboard, placing the remaining milk and tuna juice into jelly jar glasses, Carrie headed out the of kitchen for the living room. What greeted her eyes brought an instant smile. It was a moment she decided she would share with no one but Mike. Still tired from some of the sleep he’d missed over the past four days, Mike had stretched out on the sofa and fallen asleep on his back. With his right hand across his stomach, his left lay across his torso gently curled around the kitten’s back. She nestled contentedly with her nose touching his chin as she slumbered.

"If you two don’t make the perfect couple, I don’t know who does. I guess I know who my competition is now."

As if the kitten knew what Carrie was saying, she shut her eyes tightly forcing herself to sleep more deeply but not until she ran her tiny, rough pink tongue along Mike’s jaw. Both continued to sleep like babies.

"Mike…Mike…it’s time to wake up."

Leaving his dream of walking through the garden at the Cloisters with Carrie, Mike slowly opened his eyes while he stretched. Looking down at his chest he saw the kitten attempting to stay in her favorite spot as her "bed" began shifting.

"Hey, sleepy head. We both drifted off, huh?"

"Yes, you did. You and Guinevere each took cat naps."

"Guinevere? Is that what you’ve decided to name her? And, the companion question is, you’ve decided to keep her?"

"Yes to both of the questions. She should have something regal sounding since we found her at the Cloisters and what could be more regal and medieval than being named for Arthur’s queen? Did you have something else in mind?"

"I hadn’t really thought about it but I like it. Oh, boy - look at the time. I need to head for the station. I thought maybe I’d see Jenn before I go."

"She’ll probably be on the seven o’clock train so she can spend the most time with Jack. I understand how she feels."

"I do, too. Here, you’d better take her highness so I can sit up. I never thought of myself as a mattress before."

"Apparently you’re quite good at it."

"Apparently so. Boy, my back is still not loosened up. I think I’ll be putting ice skating on hold for awhile."

"That makes two of us."

They stared at one another as seconds ticked by thinking the constant banter could keep them from having to end the weekend.

"Well, I better get my coat on and head back to the post. I have early rounds tomorrow."

"Yeah, I have to be in the newsroom fairly early myself."

Mike got up, walked to the foyer and began the ritual of putting on his jacket, long coat, gloves and hat. He reached down for the duffel bag and then turned to face Carrie as she held Guinevere.

"I don’t want you to go. I don’t want all this time to be gone."

"Carrie, I don’t want to go either but we knew I’d have to get back to Fort Dix. I’m not that far away."

"Anywhere but here next to me is too far away."

"I keep thinking of what all has happened between us these four days. It’s a beginning for us, Carrie."

"A good beginning, Mike."

"Jenn’s gonna be surprised."

Mmm…somehow, I don’t think so."

"Yeah, me neither."

They both grinned at the thought of Jennifer’s face when she learned her wishes were finally coming true about her best friend and her big brother. The joy faded from their faces in unison.

"I have to go."

"Okay."

"Hey, don’t start crying. I’ll call you tomorrow."

"I’d like that."

"Take care of Guinevere. Feed her every six hours for a few days and she’ll be fine."

As Mike gave Carrie instructions he began stroking the kitten’s head until she purred for the first time.

"I think she’s really more your cat."

"Then you have to take care of each other for me."

"I hate to say this but if you don’t leave, you’ll miss the train."

Mike opened the apartment door and pushed his duffel bag before him. He turned and gently laid the palms of his gloved hands on either side of Carrie’s face, gently brought her mouth to his while never letting his eyes leave her gaze. When their lips met it was a kiss that deepened as moments went by.

Both their minds played a montage of the things they had done together the past four days that had now brought them to this final moment. Mike broke away first, slung his bag over his shoulder and began walking down the hall. Carrie set Guinever down on the floor and began to close the door when something pushed against it.

"Mike!"

Staring at her he dropped the duffel bag, wrapped his arms around Carrie and crushed her lips against his with a fierce but heart-stopping kiss that only grew with intensity. Carrie returned his embrace and was lifted off the floor by Mike as he brought her body closer to him. His hands wandered up and down her back seeking a way to bring her entire being into closer proximity with his. Neither of them could seem to make themselves break away this time. Mike gently lowered her to the ground in her stocking feet as usual, he’d already noticed she always had her shoes off in the apartment, and stepped back with a determined look on his face.

"I love you, Carrie Brady. Don’t you ever forget that."

Mike shouldered his bag, strode down the hall, descended the steps and left the building while a stunned Carrie placed her fingers against her lips as she successfully closed the door this time. She picked up Guinevere and walked to the window to watch Mike disappear up the street.

"Guinevere - - I am in love that handsome, blond soldier and now I know, I’m loved by him in return.

Carrie smiled, petted Guinevere and turned from the window.

"Helloooo, anyone around?"

"Hi, Jenn."

"Hi, where are you, Carrie?"

"In here."

"In where?"

"My bedroom. I’ve got someone I want you to meet."

"Are you sure you want me to meet them in your bedroom?"

"Yes, Jenn, I’m sure. Is Jack with you?"

"No, we came back so late he went straight to another train leaving for Fort Dix. Let me hang my coat up, put my bag in my room and then I’ll be right in."

Jennifer noticed there were no signs of her brother around the apartment as she walked through the living room to her bedroom. She had really hoped giving Carrie and Mike a weekend together free of her presence would ignite those longing-to-be-fanned flames she was certain existed. Why were they the only two people on the planet who refused to see they were meant for one another? Well, she’d just have to work a little harder setting up circumstances to bring them together. Maybe she could enlist Jack’s help encouraging Mike while she worked on Carrie’s attention a bit more.

Jennifer walked down the hall to Carrie’s bedroom more resolute in her quest to make her brother and best friend find one another …or else!

"How was your …awww, where did you get the kitten?"

"This is who I wanted you to meet. Isn’t she adorable? I named her Guinevere after King Arthur’s queen."

"Where did she come from?"

"We found her at the Cloisters earlier today. She was trapped in the brambles in the garden. It was so cold…"

"We?"

"What?"

"You said ‘we found her at the Cloisters’. Who was with you?"

"Mike."

"Oh, he was?"

"Yes, Jennifer," Carrie sighed, "Mike was with me."

"Did you spend the whole day together or just the afternoon?"

"The whole day."

"Really? The whole day?"

"Uh-huh. Look, she’s got the prettiest white fur but you couldn’t tell until Mike got all the oil and dirt off her. She was a mess and hadn’t eaten in days. We had to…."

"Did you spend just today together? I know Mike had a four-day furlough like Jack."

"No, not just today."

"Well, how many other days did you spend together?"

"We spent every day together."

"Friday, Saturday and Sunday, too? That meant Mike had to commute every day from the post on the train."

"No, he didn’t have to commute."

"I don’t understand. If he didn’t commute where and how did you two meet every day?"

"Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jenn, why don’t you just strap me to one of the dining chairs, change the bulb to a higher wattage in the desk lamp, shine it in my eyes and do this interrogation the right way."

"Well, I wouldn’t have to interrogate you if you’d just confess to what happened between you and my brother. It’s not like I’m a disinterested third party. He’s my brother and you’re my best friend."

"I’m sorry, Jenn. I guess I have to start getting used to sharing things with you about Mike."

"And that would be because?"

"Oh, honestly, Jenn, you’d make a terrible spy. Subtle questioning is not your forte."

"So don’t make me embarrass myself any more. Spill!"

"All right. After you and Jack left for the train station for DC…how was it, by the way?"

"It was great. Jack’s parents were wonderful to me. We went to see some of the monuments. They took us to the Senate dining room for lunch one day. Their house in Georgetown is beautiful. Carrie, I know now Jack is the one that was meant for me. He’s everything I want. He’s funny, kind and smart. Most of all he looks at me in a way that leaves me weak in the knees, you know?

"Yes, Jenn, I know."

"Oh, Carrie!! Do you mean what I think you mean saying that? You…Mike…together?"

"Will you promise to remain calm if I answer that question?"

"No, I’ll do no such thing. If you say what I think you’re going to, I’m not sure what I’ll do. Of course, if you answer the opposite way, I don’t know what I might do to YOU. You’ll just have to take your chances."

"I can’t believe you, Jenn. Hand me the eyedropper and that eggcup of warm milk on the night table, will you please? Mike told me I have to keep feeding Guinevere at regular intervals until she gets stronger. It’s supposed to be six hours but she’s been meowing so I think I ought to try feeding her a little."

For the moment the girls concentrated on their newest roommate’s needs. Jennifer held Guinevere while Carrie imitated the eyedropper technique she had seen Mike use a few hours earlier to feed the kitten. Ten minutes later Guinevere once again became quiet and closed her eyes gently nodding in Jennifer’s cradling hands until her head dropped in complete slumber.

"I hate to put her down. I don’t want to wake her," Jennifer whispered. "You think you’re clever, don’t you? This is one way to make me stay calm. So…no more ducking my question, Carrie. Did you and Mike finally see what everyone else does? Please, tell me "yes’. What made you two finally realize you could be more than friends?"

"You seem to think you know the answer already, Jenn. Oh, all right, Mike and I have decided we want to be more than friends…and, we think, we have the beginning of a romantic relationship. We do want to…"

"Yes, yes yes!! I knew it! I knew if Jack and I left you two alone something would happen."

"Jenn, don’t jiggle Guinevere up and down so much. She does have a full tummy and you’re going to make her sick. Hand her to me and I’ll set her on the bed. Honestly, you’d think we were getting married instead of just dating."

"You’re dating! Carrie, I’m so excited for you and for Mike. When he complimented you at the Thanksgiving table and said he’d envy who ever you prepared a special meal for, I told Jack later on I knew the light bulb had finally gone on in my brother’s head. Wait a minute. If he didn’t commute here from Fort Dix every day, where did he stay?"

"Well…actually…he umm…stayed here."

"Here? In the apartment? With you – just you and Mike?"

"Put your eyes back in your head. It wasn’t anything like what you’re thinking:"

"What am I thinking?" Jennifer evilly grinned at Carrie.

"You’re gonna drag this out of me, aren’t you, or we’ll never get any sleep before we have to go to work in the morning. It’s like this…Mike left right after you and Jack did."

"Huh? I thought you said he stayed here?"

"Will you let me finish and then everything will be perfectly clear. I thought you wanted me to tell you what happened"

"I do, but you’re taking too long."

"Well, I wouldn’t if you didn’t keep interrupting me. Jennifer Horton, you are without a doubt the most curious person I know. You and Guinevere should get along fine – you have that in common. She’s already explored all over the apartment, getting into every cupboard…"

"Carrie, stop torturing me!! If Mike left right after we did, how did he happen to come back and stay with you all weekend in the apartment?"

"Okay - he had a room reservation at a hotel in Manhattan so he could spend the rest of the weekend going sightseeing. They didn’t hold his reservation, he couldn’t get another room and thought he’d have to go back to the post. He came here to get warm because it was freezing outside and have some pie and coffee. I thought it was silly to make him go back to Fort Dix when he could stay here and sleep on the couch. He accepted the offer to stay the weekend and that was the beginning."

Carrie went on to relate, for the most part, what all they had done together and some of the conversations that had taken place. Jennifer sat on the bedroom vanity chair absorbing every minute detail Carrie related. She listened with genuine concern when Carrie told of Mike’s pulling back on occasion when things became somewhat intimate.

"I don’t know, Jenn. He’d just change moods. I could see in his eyes he wanted to kiss and hold me but his body would back away. I’m not vastly experienced but I know Mike so well, it was just obvious to me something was bothering him."

"I wouldn’t worry about it, Carrie. Mike just wants to, like you said, take it slowly. He’s always cautious – you know that. He takes everyone and everything into consideration even when he’s contemplating minor changes in his life, so you can imagine how much more that comes into play now that he’s falling in love. Hey, Carrie, don’t blush, you know that’s what’s happening. It’s partly his training as a doctor - looking at all the options before he makes a final decision how to proceed and, it’s his personality, too. When he cares about someone he wants to do the right thing by them always and that couldn’t be more so than with you. He’s thought the world of you since we were all kids. I know his feelings have always run deeper than he let on to everyone, of course, we all knew anyway, and he just wants it all to be right between you."

"I swear, Jenn, I never, ever thought Mike would give me a second thought. He was always so perfect and I was, well, less than that. I feel like I’m really starting to live. I don’t know how else to describe it. He makes me believe I’m the only person in the world when we’re in crowds on the street when he looks in my eyes. I just want to do what will make him feel as wonderful as he makes me feel."

"Carrie, you already do. I just was beginning to get exasperated that you both were going to let your chance to be together slip by. Oh, Carrie!! I’m so happy for you and for Mike, too."

Jennifer hugged her best friend and each girl then reached for a tissue to dab at the happy tears both exhibited.

"So, I guess it’s safe to say you and Jack are getting serious?"

"Yeah. I love him, Carrie. I know it’s the real, lasting kind of love. His family welcomed me and made me feel like a daughter the moment I walked in the door. We’ve decided that we’re going to Salem at Christmas for ten days so Jack can meet the family and they can get to know him."

"Are you sure you want to do that to him? I mean, there’s a lot of Hortons and only one of him. I’m getting an image of Custer at Little Big Horn, here."

"It took some convincing, I’ll admit, but Jack’s feeling that before we make any sort of final commitment, he should meet my family and get their approval."

"Final commitment? Are you talking marriage?"

"Um-hum, we discussed it on the train rides to and from DC. I know it seems sudden but given how long it’s taken for you and Mike to just start dating, anything would seem rash. Please, don’t say anything to Mike. I want to be the one to tell him. I think he’s going to be upset at first - - just that protective older brother mode of his."

"I won’t tell him, Jenn, but don’t wait too long. I’ll feel uncomfortable knowing something so important and not sharing it with him."

"We plan to tell him over dinner the next time Mike and Jack both have leave for the day. I think that’s in about two weeks. We can make it a foursome one night before we go back to Salem. You are staying in New York through the holidays like you planned?"

"Yup - Mike has duty at the base hospital but will probably have Christmas Eve off for us to share. Are you really, really sure you want to get married before Jack probably goes over seas?"

"That’s one of the things we had to talk about. We had to decide if we should wait until he gets back from the war but we decided we’d rather spend whatever time we can together and not waste a moment. Who knows how long he’ll be gone?. We know the allies will win but no one’s putting a timetable on victory. I want to be with him in every way, you know, Carrie?’

Blushing slightly, Carrie looked at her friend. "I understand. Well, I’ll support you both in your decision. Only you two know what you want and how you feel."

"Thanks you, Carrie. I have a plan to make the interrogation go easier on Jack in Salem. I told him to concentrate on winning over Gran and the rest of the family will fall in line."

"Sounds like a plan. Well, it’s late and I have a day of research ahead of me tomorrow. I have to bone up on the International Red Cross’s activities in Europe plus work on the order of my questions for the interview with Baron Von Amberg. I do not want to come off as an idiot."

"They got it set up for you?"

"Oh, that’s right. You weren’t here. The editor at the European news desk knew a diplomat who’s spoken with the Baron’s assistant and called me Friday morning to give some background on the guy. They are going to let me do the interview. I still don’t know what to expect. No one seems to know what he looks like. With a royal title and all I’m expecting to meet a distinguished looking, older-typed of gentleman. I have this picture of someone like Winston Churchill or Josef Stalin – that age group."

"I’m proud of you and you’ll do great. It is late. Better get ready for bed. I’m glad we both had such life-altering weekends, Carrie."

"Especially you. Let me take Guinevere and put her in the kitchen. I thought she could sleep near the gas stove and get a little heat from the pilot light." Gingerly lifting the kitten from the bed, Carrie took her into the kitchen and placed her in a dishtowel-lined breadbasket, cleaned the egg cup and found herself smiling as she unplugged the coffeepot remembering vividly how it had played a part in her romantic weekend.

An hour later Carrie awoke to scratching on her bedroom door. Drowsily pulling herself up from her first hour of sleep, she opened the door to see a small white blur race into her room. Guinevere climbed her way up the comforter using all the claws she possessed until she reached the plateau of the bed. Plunking herself down and rolling into what appeared to be the size of a tennis ball in the dim light of the room, she promptly went to sleep though still purring. "I see. This is how it’s going to be. All right, just for a couple of nights and then you start sleeping full time in the kitchen. Just stay at the foot of the bed."

Carrie snuggled beneath the warmth of the bedcovers and the sound of Guinevere’s steady, gentle purr lulled her back to dreams of Mike and a dance by firelight within minutes.

Wednesday, December, 1st, 1943

The telephone rang on Carrie’s desk interrupting her practice of the interview questions for at least the twentieth time since arriving at the newsroom.

"NBC War newsroom, Carrie Brady speaking."

"Hi, Carrie Brady speaking."

"Hi, Mike. I was getting worried. You’re late."

"What do you mean?"

"Well Monday and Tuesday you called me by 10:30, it’s 10:35."

"Hmmm…think I’m being a bit too predictable? I guess I just like planned spontaneity. Seriously, am I interrupting your morning?

"Not a chance, Doctor. You’ve made my mornings all week."

"Wow, I’m glad to know that. I’ve got surgery in about fifteen minutes but I wanted to wish you good luck at the luncheon meeting today with the Baron. Are you all ready to dazzle him with your brilliant interview questions?"

"Mike, I have practiced them all morning but I’m still not comfortable about meeting European royalty - much less eating and conversing with him for a couple of hours. I changed my outfit seven times this morning trying to find just the right look that will convey professionalism and I still have to fight the temptation to go out and spend a few ration stamps to buy a new outfit."

"Carrie, you look beautiful in anything."

"Thanks, want to join us? At least there’d be a friendly face at the table."

"Will you stop worrying? I have all the confidence in the world in you. The Baron will be charmed, take one look at you and tell you anything you want to know. Just imagine you’re talking to Shawn, your grandfather. You’ve told me you think they’re in the same age range, right? Just speak to him in the same way you would him."

"Except Grandpa doesn’t own a castle, have a title or influence world leaders. Other than that, I’m sure they have a lot in common."

Mike chuckled into her ear on the phone giving her a chill of delightful proportions.

"That’s the attitude to take. If everything else fails, remember, I love you. Gotta go – time to scrub. I have late duty at the hospital so I can’t call you later to hear what happened."

"That’s okay, I have an evening to volunteer at the USO. I won’t be home until after eleven, probably. I’ll hear from you tomorrow around 10:30?"

"I think I’ll be unpredictable...10:45. Oh, how’s my patient doing?"

"Don’t get me started. She’s taken over the place. She always takes her half out of the middle of my bed at night. She’s put on weight and has Jenn and I completely under her paw."

"Your bed? I thought you were going to keep her in the kitchen."

"She refused to sleep there beginning the first night. Guinevere has very definite ideas of her own. Anyway, the short answer is she’s thriving."

"You just need to be a little firm with her and let her know what her place is. I’m glad she’s doing so well. Good luck, today. I love you."

"Thanks, Mike. I love you, too."

Carrie placed the receiver on the phone only to have it immediately ring again. The editor had a final question to add for the interview and wanted to see her in his office. After meeting with him it was 11:20 and time to give her makeup a once over. She looked at herself with a critical eye in the long mirror of the ladies room.

She wore a heather gray, single-breasted, two-piece wool suit, pastel pink blouse with the top button open on the collar, her last pair of gray silk stockings and gray suede pumps. The curls were massed as usual on the top of her head. She reapplied the tulip pink shade of lipstick to her lips and, as if for good luck, she lightly rubbed the ever-present pearl pendant between her thumb and pointing finger, took a deep breath and turned to go.

She arrived at the restaurant only five minutes before the prearranged meeting time. It was filled with business people making deals, dates or dishing gossip. The tables were arranged in an encompassing circle around a dance floor used in the evening. Carrie found a waiter and asked where her reservation was. He looked at the seating chart and pointed directly across the way from where she stood.

She would have to walk among the tables already occupied to the one the waiter had designated as hers. This place would be expensive she thought. Carrie saw the menus being held by the patrons had tassels hanging from the bottom. The rule of thumb was if a restaurant had a tassel hanging from the menu, add three more dollars to every item on it. Fortunately, her editor had approved for NBC to pick up the tab.

As she approached her table she realized someone had mistakenly sat down at it. The stranger looked up at Carrie as she stared at him.

"Excuse me, sir. This table is reserved today."

The interloper was a young man in his late twenties, dark brown hair, green eyes, well-groomed and dressed in a hunter green, three-piece suit, white dress shirt with a tie in alternate Hunter green and chocolate brown diagonal stripes. He rose to his feet as Carrie spoke until he stood approximately six feet, two inches tall. Despite the height disadvantage Carrie was prepared to stand her ground and make this man leave before her guest arrived.

"Yes, I saw the sign," he said in soft-toned voice, smiling and showing no sign of making a move.

"Well, this is my table. I have a very important business luncheon and you obviously can’t be a part of it. I’m sure the restaurant will find you another table to dine at."

"Who are you meeting?"

"That really isn’t any of your business, quite frankly. You don’t even know who I am to be asking me that kind of a question. I will tell you the gentleman probably will not approve of your being here. He is a man of position and political influence."

"Sounds interesting and who might you be?"

"That’s really none of your business either. I don’t want you here when the Baron arrives. You simply have to leave as of…"

"The Baron? Did you say the Baron?"

"Yes, he’s an elder statesman and a member of Swiss royalty so please may I ask that you allow the waiter to assist you to another table? This is a very important luncheon for me and I would like to make a good impression."

"I’m impressed with you."

"Thank you , that’s nice of you to say but I really have to insist that you leave now."

"You still haven’t told me your name."

"Look…all right. I’ll tell you my name and then will you go, do we have a deal?"

The young man smiled and nodded his head.

"My name is Carrie Brady. There, satisfied."

"I’m happy to make your acquaintance. Won’t you sit down, Miss Brady? I’ll have the waiter bring us menus."

"No…no…what are you doing!!"

"I’m preparing to have lunch with Carrie Brady. Before I do, let me introduce myself. My name is Kurt Schwengel."

Carrie paled at the name. "Kurt Sch…Schwengel. You’re…"

"Yes, Miss Brady, I’m the Baron Von Amberg."

"No, you can’t be …you’re…you’re not…"

"Old? It’s all right, Miss Brady. It happens to me all the time. People just seem to assume because I’m a Baron, I have to totter into the room. Won’t you please sit down? It will look rather odd to be having lunch and conducting an interview standing the entire time."

The Baron pulled the chair out while Carrie seated herself. She noticed the expensive gold watch he wore, no doubt, Swiss made. He returned to the opposite side of the table, sat and motioned for the waiter to bring two menus. Carrie looked at the handsome face, athletic build and easy carriage of Baron Von Amberg while he remained unaware of her stare. It would have been so easy to take him for any young American man. She realized he spoke with no accent - like an American. So far, none of her suppositions about him were right.

"Well, Miss Brady, shall we order and then begin the interview?" Kurt asked and smiled at the conclusion of his invitation. "What would you like to ask".

Suddenly, all of Carrie’s interview questions were erased from her mind by the unexpected visage of the Baron Von Amberg. She began to formulate new ones as she watched the young man order lunch. This wasn’t going to at all the way she had planned, however, something told her it was going to be better.

Waiting for You - Chapter 12

The waiter arrived with the menus, gave one to Carrie and Baron von Amberg and left them to peruse the entrees before he took their order.

Carrie had completely lost all desire to eat since humiliating herself moments before. Staring intently at the menu she pretended to be carefully selecting the perfect luncheon from those offered. When it was possible to do without his awareness, she raised her eyes to the horizon of the menu to more closely study Kurt Schwengel.

He was tall. Even when sitting you knew he was above average height. Despite the broad shoulders and muscular upper arm build Carrie could detect even through the suit jacket, he carried himself well, almost gracefully evidenced in just the few gestures he had made upon Carrie’s arrival. He appeared to have had a haircut quiet recently and every brunette hair was in place. The part on the left side was done with precision. It wouldn’t surprise Carrie if he had a trim weekly. That might also account for the extremely clean-shaven face and the buff on his fingernails that reflected light. Perhaps he had a personal barber whose role in the barony was to make sure Herr Schwengel always looked his best in public. Image would seemingly be important for royalty and perhaps more so for a young man who wished to be taken seriously in European and American diplomatic and social circles.

There was a kindness in his manner. As insulted as he could or should have been at Carrie’s tirade, he appeared unruffled and, though she hated it, amused at her bantam-hen-protecting-the barnyard antics. His smile - that was another quality she noticed. It was genuine, not fake or rehearsed as she had seen on other political figures. The demeanor he displayed was one of self-assuredness without being cocky or arrogant.

"Anything in particular you like?"

"What?" Carrie noticed the baron was looking at her again in that direct manner he had displayed when she arrived at the table. Had he picked up on the physical inventory she had been making?

"I asked if there was anything in particular you like," Baron von Amberg repeated.

"What do you mean?" Immediately Carrie realized the defensive tone in her voice

"I’ve never been to this restaurant before and since you chose it, I thought perhaps you were familiar with the menu and had an entrée or two to recommend."

"The menu? Oh, the menu. Well, I’ve never been here before either. My boss recommended this place because they have a variety of things for…well, never mind…it doesn’t matter, now."

"For what, Miss Brady?"

"Baron von Amberg, I …"

"Could it be they have items that favor the…digestive tract of senior statesmen? I noticed the stewed prunes, bran muffin and poached egg special they serve for breakfast." Looking back down at the menu, he continued, "Gee, I can’t make up my mind which to order - the tangy cottage cheese and peach medley or throw caution to the wind and have the chipped beef on toast. Nah, you can’t always play it safe. I’m having the chicken soup and melba toast - I’ll risk the chance of a pummeling my stomach lining with their blandness."

Staring at him in total disbelief Carrie listened unsure as to how serious he was. Suddenly, Baron von Amberg looked up at her with his direct gaze for what seemed an eternity and then smiled. Another attribute she could catalog – witty.

"Is there a trapdoor somewhere I could just fall through?""

"Miss Brady, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I told you this happens to me all the time. There is this preconceived notion that I must be at least seventy and in delicate health."

"Guilty as charged. I admit, you’re nothing like what I expected. I mean that in a positive way."

"Thank you, Miss Brady. I have to admit you aren’t what I expected either. I was sure you’d be the hard-boiled, Rosalind Russell-type of reporter – wise-cracking, tough as nails and not needing shoulder pads – just naturally square-shouldered."

"What? Oh, my lord. Where did you ever get an idea like that?"

"Because those are the type who usually are sent to interview me. I guess their editors figure they won’t be shy about talking louder in case I’m also hard of hearing along with maybe having to cut up my meat for me."

Unable to contain herself Carrie began to giggle

"That’s why it was a nice surprise once I realized who you were. I thought this was going to be a refreshing interview only to suddenly have you attack me for taking your table reservation. Boy, I’d hate to cut in front of you in a ration stamp line at the grocery store."

"Okay, okay, I guess I did come off a little strong. I was afraid I’d be late to my first important interview after all the preparation I’d done and when I saw what I thought was a guy trying to take a table that didn’t belong to him, I got a bit …well,"

"Rosalind Russell-ish?"

"Not exactly - maybe a little. I guess I did come off kind of strong but I did so much research and with this being my first chance at an interview of some significance, well, when I saw someone jeopardizing that by taking over the table, I got territorial, I admit."

"Oh, just a little."

"No, a lot. I’m sorry, Baron von Amberg."

The Baron sat up in his chair and clasped his hands in front of him on the table striking the pose Carrie thought he probably did when he negotiated with other diplomats at highly polished conference tables.

"I have an idea, Miss Brady. Let’s begin this luncheon all over again from this moment. I have looked forward to doing this interview as much as you. I did read up on you a bit before coming here and I was impressed. I’d like to help you get the chance to prove you’re a journalist to your superiors and I think you might be the one to change the perception many have of me as a fossil from the land of cheese and watches. Is it a deal?"

He unclasped his long fingers and extended his right hand to Carrie across the table. Carrie dropped her eyes to the silverware on the table before slowly raising them to meet that steady gaze she was beginning to grow accustomed to. She reached across and placed her right hand in his. Immediately, she was aware how tiny hers was compared to his. He had a warm, solid handshake.

"It’s a deal, Baron von Amberg."

"Good. One more thing, however, I prefer you call me Kurt. We are almost the same age and it’ll more comfortable, I think, for the interview."

"I…all right…Kurt. I’ll agree to that term if you will agree to call me Carrie."

"Carrie, it is. Now that we have that settled, do they have a menu of entrees for active adults below age seventy?"

Carrie smiled and pointed to the reverse side of the menu Kurt held. After perusing it for a few minutes, they were both ready to order. The waiter returned upon the baron’s motioning to him and their preferences were written down. When the waiter had gone Kurt leaned back in his chair again, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair with his hands once again clasped before him.

"Since we have a while before the meal comes, would you like to begin the interview?"

"If you’d like. I do have quite a few questions to ask. Well, actually, I DID have a lot of questions to ask. Some of them I have to toss out now that I’ve met you."

"Really? Give me an example."

"I…don’t…really think you want to know. They’re based on some of the articles I read about you, which I realize now, were written by interviewers who never met you. They made up the entire piece."

"Okay, you really have me intrigued now, Carrie. Please, ask me one you had based upon your research. Humor me."

"Baron, I.."

"What did you call me?"

"Kurt, this is…oh, all right. The first one was ‘Did you ever meet Queen Victoria and if you did, what was she like’?"

Kurt stared at her for what seemed an eternity before raising his left hand to his forehead covering his face from her view. He remained quiet and as unmoving as a Rodin sculpture for a minute or more. Carrie, certain she had finally insulted him once too often, began to reach for her purse knowing either she or he would conclude this debacle of a luncheon engagement in a moment or two by rising and leaving. She saw him slowly raise his eyes staring intently at her above his fingers while his shoulders began to shake. His hand dropped and she was greeted with a smile that erupted into laughter. Unable to contain her own sense of how ludicrous the question was, she began to giggle herself. Just as each one came close to regaining composure, they’d look at the other and begin a fresh round of laughter.

"Carrie, I wasn’t even born until 1914. Queen Victoria had been dead for thirteen years!!"

"Well, I know that now but none of the articles I read listed your date of birth. If you were in your seventies the way they portrayed you, it would have been a perfectly good question to ask, admit it."

"If you put it that way, yes, it would have been a good question. Well, in addition to a good laugh you’ve already learned the correct date of my birth. That’s more than the writer did who wrote your ‘research’ article."

"True. Would you mind if I just asked you some off-the-cuff questions rather than refer to my notes?"

"Ask away."

"You’re a Swiss diplomat and yet I don’t detect an accent when you speak English. You sound like an…"

"American? Yes, I know I do. My father was Swiss but my mother is American. He was twenty- two years older than my mother. She’s from a wealthy Chicago family who decided to send her to study in Europe. My father met her at a party given by mutual friends. They married a year later and I was born two years after that. Mother was twenty-three and Father was forty-five."

"But living in Europe I should think you’d sound more like your father."

"Shortly after I as born World War I war broke out and my father, to protect both my mother and me, insisted we come to the States. Mother went home to Chicago to her parents’ rather imposing home along the North Shore Drive. Father didn’t come to collect us until 1918. We returned to Europe and lived on my father’s estate on the outskirts of Zurich. We were just settling in when the influenza epidemic swept through the city as it had done the rest of Europe after the war. My mother and I were both ill for almost a month. Father, being involved with the International Red Cross, which was called upon to provide services during the epidemic, toured medical facilities across the continent rather than being at home. I know my mother resented him being gone after we’d just arrived. Finally, he returned to Zurich and was struck down with a severe case of flu himself. He died only ten days after being home."

"I’m so sorry, Kurt."

"Thank you, but I have to say I barely knew him. Mother was devastated and, I think, riddled with guilt for having resented Father’s absences because of his diplomatic duties. After his funeral she determined to run the estate as a sort of penance and sent me back to the States to be with my grandparents while she concentrated on running the barony. I went to public schools at my mother’s insistence, played baseball and football and generally did all the things an American kid does growing up in Illinois."

"Did your mother come to visit you on occasion?"

"A Christmas now and then but there was always something urgent needing her attention in Switzerland so she never stayed any length of time. After I graduated from high school, my grandparents gave me a trip to Zurich as a present to spend time with Mother before I started college at Harvard in the fall. We were strangers. The only time she seemed to talk to me was about the estate, our role in the International Red Cross and my father. I came back to America sooner than planned just because it was so uncomfortable."

"Harvard, I’m impressed."

"Well, I was a good student and Harvard had the business school my mother felt would best train me for taking over the barony. I actually liked it there. I was on my own and making friends with people who had no idea of my background. I was just a regular guy, with money, of course. It was Harvard, after all. I got my degree, did an extra year of post-graduate work and realized I couldn’t delay returning to Switzerland any longer. I knew by birth it was my homeland but I was an American in every other way."

"Did you ever consider not going back?"

"No, I always knew I’d have to return. I owed it to my father’s legacy and my mother’s dedication to his memory. She had allowed me to have a fairly carefree childhood with my grandparents, whom I adored, but it was time to assume my responsibilities - I was twenty-three. In Switzerland all males are required to serve time in the military between twenty and forty-two and, as a citizen, I had to fulfill that obligation as well. In 1936 I took the Queen Mary to England and after crossing the channel took trains to Zurich. Already on that journey I could feel the tensions rising throughout Europe. Mother had written about Hitler’s appointment as Chancellor of Germany in January of 1933."

"But, if you hadn’t lived in Europe, how could you sense the tension? You really didn’t have anything in the past to compare it to."

"I know, but I did. People everywhere I went assumed I was American. More than once as I sat next to someone in a train car, they’d ask me if the United States was prepared for the coming war. I was startled the first time someone asked me but it made me aware of the conversations I overheard all along the way to Zurich. Europe knew this was coming long before we faced it, Carrie."

"I’ve heard that same thing in letters my friend, Lucas, has sent me. He’s stationed in England and I was surprised when he wrote to me what you’re saying - saying the British knew it was coming even though Chamberlain assured them it wouldn’t. So, you and your mother - did you become reacquainted?"

"It was awkward but with time, yes, we did. I admired her for the strong, innovative businesswoman she had become. My father, I believe, saw that in her long before she ever knew it about herself. The barony’s financial assets had more than doubled and her influence in the International Red Cross was renowned across Europe. We spent long days touring the estates’ dairy and meticulously going over the financial records so I could learn every aspect of the business. That’s really what Mother did – she made the barony a thriving business. All was going well until March 1938. When Hitler annexed Austria into his plan as a part of a new Germany, Mother determined I should return to the States."

"Why? Switzerland is a neutral country."

"Mother believed Hitler’s occupational government would make note that both she and I are possessors of dual citizenship and that being Americans could eventually make us a target. She gave me letters of credit to transfer large sums of estate funds to American banks, appointed various employees of the estate to accompany me and insisted she remain to run the barony in Zurich while I established a base of operations in New York. I couldn’t talk her out of her plan though I tried for weeks."

"Kurt, that was five years ago. Have you seen or talked to her since then?"

"Oh, yes – frequently, that is, until about six months ago. She gave me letters of introduction to various diplomats in Washington and I’ve been working with the Red Cross here since my return. After one such meeting with a Swedish diplomat he told me on the sly that mother had been hiding political refugees on the estate and smuggling them out of Europe when she could. Apparently, she’s not the only one doing so. There was a "visitation" by the authorities one night and in the morning my mother had disappeared when the servants arrived to begin their workday."

"My God, Kurt, are you assuming the Nazis are detaining her?"

"It’s what I believe but I can’t prove it. It’s like she’s …vanished. That’s why I want to become more highly visible now. Thousands of people are disappearing, Carrie, and there are rumors the Nazis are committing atrocities on unimaginable scales. As a diplomat, I can speak to the political arena to get the word out, use my status being from a neutral country along with moving about Europe at times as a representative of the International Red Cross and tracking down these rumors - see if they’re really true."

"But, you’ve said you could be in danger yourself because you’re an American as well."

"I know but with dual citizenship, it’s a chance I’m willing to take. I’ve already begun tracking down RAF pilots held in POW camps and made sure they’re receiving their mail from families, proper medical treatment if they’re wounded and accounting for them if they’ve been listed as missing or, heaven help their families, dead. So far, nothing has happened to me. I have to do this, Carrie."

While Kurt had talked Carrie noticed the passion in his voice and gestures. Never, when she had contemplated this interview, had she imagined the caliber of man the Baron von Amberg would be. He was extraordinarily dedicated to his beliefs and compelling in his arguments.

Lunch arrived and the animated conversation –for that’s what it was, now – no longer just an interview, continued. Two hours later it was as if they had known one another for years. The roles had reversed when Kurt asked her about her childhood and upbringing. They realized they had grown up less than two hundred miles apart. She told him all about her family, schooling and friends. Finally, the waiter discreetly slipped the check onto the table near Kurt. Carrie reached for the check only to have Kurt quickly remove it from her grasp.

"Kurt, the network is paying for the meal as part of the job assignment."

"No, no - - this was far more pleasurable than business."

"Yes, I agree, but my boss will ask for the check when I get back to the studio."

"Tell you what. I’ll let you pay for lunch if I can return the favor and buy you dinner one evening, soon."

"That’s very nice of you to offer but…I’m…"

"Seeing some one?

"Yes."

"Ah, I was fairly certain someone like you would have a ‘suitor’. Is it someone at the studio?"

"No, it’s some one from back home I’ve known almost all my life. He’s a doctor in the army stationed at Fort Dix."

"A doctor. Gee, that would be tough for me to compete with. I’d like to meet this guy."

"You would? Why?"

"I’d like to see the lucky one who has you as a part of his life."

"Kurt, you really are a diplomat – you know how to say all the right words!"

"It’s easy when they’re meant. I thought when I came here today this was going to be another one of those interviews where I’m politely listened to and due to my age not taken seriously. Not only do I think you will do a wonderful job with the interview but I feel as though I have the beginnings of a new friendship."

"I feel the same way, Kurt. It’s been a wonderful afternoon. I’ll type up the interview, send a copy to your office for review and, if you agree to the correctness of the facts as I state them, the network will run the feature one night next week. Robert Trout will probably read it on air and the follow up will most likely be an interview with you at the network with him live in the studio."

"Perfect and I’m sure I’ll love what you do with the interview."

"Well, don’t rave about it until I send it to you. I do think we have a certain image of you to correct."

"I hope so – I’d like to not have any more Queen Victoria questions thrown my way."

"When I’m finished, they’ll be asking you if you’ve ever thought of dating Princess Elizabeth!"

"Hmm…she’s a little young for me, Carrie, I think she’s only seventeen and from what I hear, she’s interested in that Mountbatten fellow from the Greek monarchy, Prince Phillip, I think his name is. How about Ingrid Bergman, instead. She’s beautiful and Swedish - another neutral country."

"Well, I’ll see what I can do."

:"Thanks. That’s what I call a friend."

Carrie paid the bill, they rose from the table and sauntered out the restaurant and down the street talking about "Casablanca" and other movies each had seen. Coming to an intersection they realized this was the place they would separate.

"I’ll talk to you soon about the follow up interview."

"You seem pretty certain this is going to be a go, aren’t you?"

"Yup, the subject matter is hard to resist. Kurt, what you have to say about these rumored disappearances will certainly be newsworthy. I only wish we had eyewitnesses, films or documents we could present."

"I know – that’s what I wish, too. Maybe, if the interview gets to the right person, we can start building evidence to present to the world."

"I’ll do what I can. Thank you for meeting me. Good bye."

"Thank you for believing me. I’ll see you soon."

He took her hand and shook it, turned and walked away from Carrie. She stared at his disappearing back and thought if anyone on the street looked at him, they’d see a young American businessman, not yet in uniform, some might even be questioning why he wasn’t, probably walking back to his office. What she knew was that Kurt Schwengel, Baron von Amberg, was a young Swiss/American diplomat with a dedication to do his part for the war effort - to speak for those who had disappeared without a trace until someone heard them through him. She also believed someone new had become a part of her life today -a friend. If Mike weren’t so completely entwined around her heart, Kurt might have had a chance. She kept wondering if she had a friend who would be perfect for him.

She smiled for she knew Mike would most certainly roll his baby blues if he knew she were busy matchmaking the way his sister always did. Too bad Jennifer was taken now. She’d have been perfect for Kurt. Jennifer loved causes, too, like making sure her brother and best friend were a couple. She also was the one who signed up new voters, wrapped bandages for the Red Cross, another connection she would have had with Kurt, and bought war stamps and bonds constantly to support the war.

She headed back to the studio and reached her desk just at the telephone rang.

"NBC War News Department, Carrie Brady speaking."

"Hi, it’s me. This is the third time I tried to reach you to see how the interview went."

"Hi, Mike. I just got back. It went very well. He’s nothing at all what I expected. He’s charming, intelligent, dedicated and, frankly, easy on the eyes."

"Carrie, are you suddenly developing a thing for septuagenarians?"

"What? No, Mike, don’t be silly. He’s only twenty-nine years old. Those articles I read about him were completely erroneous. Maybe they had his father in mind though his father died in his late forties. Anyway, I’ll tell you all about it when I see you next time. Speaking of which, when will that be?"

"That’s another reason I was trying to reach you. I have duty straight through the next two weeks - no pass off the base for me. I know you and Jenn were setting up dinner with Jack and me for some special occasion though you haven’t told me what it is. I don’t think I can make it until the weekend they leave for Salem."

"But, Mike, that means December 18th. That’s two and a half weeks from now. I thought we were going to shop together for presents for Jenn to take back to Salem for the families from both of us."

"Carrie, I’m sorry, it can’t be helped. I can’t tell you how really sorry I am but it’s just the way it is. You know, they didn’t have to give me the four-day leave at Thanksgiving because I’d only arrived here a few days before so I can’t really complain about them expecting me to fill in while others have furlough for the holidays."

"Jenn will be disappointed, too. I know, I’m being unreasonable but I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Carrie. Let’s make plans for the 18th and 19th, okay? I’ll stay and sleep on the couch so we can have the whole weekend. We can help Jenn and Jack get all the stuff on the train for home. Actually, I need to be sure Jack gets ON the train. I think he’s getting nervous about meeting the Horton clan and with good reason. Funny, the guy jumps out of planes several times a week but is petrified at the thought of meeting Grandpa, Grandma and hordes of Hortons."

"Well, it’s kind of like leaping into something, too, meeting with your future …umm...did you say the weekend of the 18th. That sounds good to me…because with this…"

"Carrie, back up. Meeting with your future what?"

"What?"

"You started to say Jack was meeting with his future…oh…wait a minute! Don’t tell me that’s what this dinner is all about that you and Jennifer have been planning."

"I thought you wanted to get together..."

"Carrie, do you remember that time I caught you and Jennifer planning a surprise birthday party for me and you knew I didn’t like surprise parties?"

"Yes, but what’s that got to do with having dinner with Jack and Jenn?"

"Because, when I cornered you and asked what you were planning, you had the same tone to your voice you have now. You start to go up about an octave higher than usual when you try to hide something."

"I am..." Carrie cleared her throat and tried again, "I am not hiding something. I’m merely allowing Jennifer to plan the evening."

"Meaning she’s making you keep mum until she has a chance to soften me up first. He’s asked her to marry him, hasn’t he…Carrie…Carrie?"

"I’m here. Mike, I think this is something Jenn should talk to you about."

"I knew it. I’ve seen how close they are. Why does she look at me like the "big, bad brother"? You’d think I was opposed to the whole thing the way she acts."

"You aren’t? I mean, you really like Jack and think he’s the right guy for Jenn?"

"Well, I admit at first I wasn’t receptive to Jack…"

"Oh, tell me about it. That night in the USO nearly brought on the second ice age with the looks you kept giving him."

"Anyway, I see how he is with Jennifer. I look at her and she’s happier than I ever remember seeing her. I just wish she’d trust me to be fair."

"She does, Mike, it’s just that she loves you so much and wants your approval and I think worries what she’d do if you didn’t give it."

"Yeah, I can see that. Okay, I’ll talk to her on the phone one night this week and I’ll have chow with Jack and talk to him as well since we can’t do the dinner."

"Oh, Mike, that’s wonderful. I love you, you’re the best!"

"Well, I owe her for never giving up on getting us together, too. She wanted what was best for me, which is you, so how can I do anything but want the same for her?"

"You see? That’s one of the reasons I love you so much."

"One of the reasons? Care to elaborate on a few of the others?"

"Sure when I see you the weekend of the 18th."

"Well, okay!! It’s a date. This is going to be the longest seventeen days of my life. I love you, Carrie."

"I love you, too, Mike. See you then."