“Some kids can get into things that they shouldn’t, terrible things. The Swiss army probably saved my life, and it definitely saved my soul.”
Flicka gripped his hands. “I’m glad. I’m glad you’re the man you are.”
Dieter said, “I want you to have this. The Alpine Decoration is my heart and my soul, the essence of who I am. No matter what happens, I want you to know who I am.”
“I know who you arenow.That’s all that matters.” But she was inquisitive, and she asked a question that maybe she shouldn’t have. “Was your name Dieter Schwarz, before?”
He shook his head, his blond hair glistening in the sunlight.
“What—what was it?”
He swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not that person anymore. I picked a name as far away from my old one as I could, a typical, boring Swiss name,” he smiled, “even somewhat Germanic.”
“I don’t care what your name is or was,” Flicka said. “You’ll always be myLieblingwächter.”
He kissed her, his mouth slowly working over hers, and he whispered, “And you’ll always be myDurchlauchtig.”
Spring arrived, and with it, London sprang back to life. They were young and in love, and they spent every moment they could outdoors in the sun together. When they couldn’t be outdoors, they made love in their apartment, refusing to believe that life wouldn’t always be carefree. Even while Flicka worked like a demon on the annual charity ball she threw every year and Dieter wrote his M.B.A. thesis, they drowned in each other every moment they could.
