Dieter pulled Flicka’s hand, drawing her behind him. His back widened as he settled and lifted his hands into fighting positions.
Flicka drew Alina closer, readying herself to scoop upthe toddler and run if Dieter told her to.
When the figure got a little closer, however, the shadow seemed smaller and slimmer than a person you might think of as a threat.
A woman’s voice shrilled, “Raphael!”
In front of her, Dieter straightened.“Maman?”
Flicka jumped. Had Dieter just said,Mother?
When the shadow reached him, light spilling out of the airplane door behind Flicka touchedthe woman. She stopped in front of him and stared up at his face. Her head came up past Dieter’s shoulder, which meant she had to be relatively tall. Her hair shone silver and gold in the dim light. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were large with what might have been disbelief, vulnerability, or anger.
She asked, “Raphael, is it you?”
Dieter’s shoulders slumped, and his voice sounded almostsad as he said,“Oui,”and he continued speaking in French. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s been more than ten years.” Her eyes were still huge on her face.
“I couldn’t call. You know why.”
“Is it you? Really, is it you?”
Dieter spread his arms apart, a huge, muscular wingspan.“Maman,you know it’s me.”
The woman launched herself and grabbed Dieter around the neck, sobbing. Her fists flaileduselessly against his shoulders, striking him as he held her and whispered something too low for Flicka to hear.
Flicka stood back and held Alina’s hand.
The blond toddler looked up at Flicka and then back to her father and the woman hanging around his neck and beating on him. The wariness in the toddler’s green eyes and the bend in her little lips suggested that she had not seen such a displayby an adult before.
Flicka shrugged and waited, still standing on the steps leading up to the airplane.
The woman sobbed, holding onto Dieter’s shoulders. He murmured to her, stroking her back.
Flicka wondered if she should take Alina into the private terminal, though it was dark in there. The brisk air was chilling Flicka’s skin, and she was starting to shiver.
The woman looked over Dieter’sshoulder and saw Flicka standing there, holding Alina’s hand. “Raphael, is this Gretchen?”
Flicka snapped her mouth shut because she only then realized she had been staring at the two of them with her mouth hanging open nearly an inch.
And what was she going to say to that?
Dieter set his mother back from him and turned.“Non, Maman.This is Flicka,” his gray eyes met hers, “my fiancée.”
The woman looked at Dieter sharply. She might be overwhelmed with emotion at the moment, but shrewd intelligence snapped in the woman’s eyes. “Valerian said her name was Gretchen.”
“I have a lot to tell you, but this is Flicka.”
The woman detangled herself from Dieter and peered at her. “Flicka von Hannover? Of the Shooting Star Cotillion and the German Hannovers?”
Flicka glanced at Dieter,unsure of what to say.
Dieter said, “Yes.”
Sophie said to her, “We met, briefly, at the Shooting Star Cotillion two years ago.”
“I remember.” Sophie Mirabaud had been briefly introduced to Flicka at the London cotillion, but she hadn’t attended any of the other events for her nieces’ debuts. “So nice to see you again.”
