He smiled and left Mr. Brewer heaving angry breaths behind the inn. It shouldn’t please him so much to make his betrothed’s brother mad, but it did. He would apologize later, when they were brothers, and could perhaps laugh about this moment.
After that remark, the urge to tell others subsided. Days passed without him wanting to blurt out the news every time he saw Onkel Peter. Even when he met with the other climbing men of Zermatt at the tavern, he felt no urge to speak about his pending nuptials. They drank and ate and joked, and all was as it usually was.
It was night, but warm, and the grass was healthy and green. He swayed as he walked up to the inn, full of beer and camaraderie. His body was warm too, and the smell of the freshgrass that would eventually be reaped into hay at the end of the summer felt like home in the best way possible.
They might even try an early climb, in mid-July rather than late July or early August, as the weather was improving faster than anyone had anticipated. It would make it easier for more teams to have a crack at the mountain this season.
Still. Preparations first, then climb the mountain. Climb the mountain, then marry the girl. Yes. Then bed her. He fumbled with the door latch. The place was dark as it should be at the late hour. He hoped that perhaps his Onkel or Tante had laid out his pallet. He stowed his hat and boots in the closet by the door and entered the dining room to find . . . her.
Delightful, yes, but difficult. He was in no presence of mind to keep his hands to himself, or the rest of his body in control.
“What did you say to my brother?” she demanded.
Oh, her eyes were very angry. He stopped and blinked, trying very hard to clear his mind and focus on her. Hair was down and flying about. Eyes: very passionate, but not in a way that beckoned him. Cheeks: pink. Lips: thin and pressed together.
“You,” he declared, very sure of himself, “are mad at me.”
She threw her arms in the air. He was fairly certain that was disgust. But should he not be proud to have discovered her anger? He thought it was well done of him, considering his inebriated state.
“You told my brother that we are engaged.”
He took a breath to respond, but his English wouldn’t come out. Nor would it process her words either. Her words stuck in a circle, running over and over on a loop that he couldn’t comprehend.
“Marriage, Mr. Vogel. You told my brother I was marrying you.”
Marriage. Yes! He understood that one. “Ja, gut. Das ist richtig.”
“I don’t know what you are saying. So yes, you told my brother I would marry you?”
Karl decided gestures were better than words, so he nodded his head, which was largely a mistake. The room tilted and he stepped sideways to keep himself up right. He found the wall and leaned against it for safety.
“Why would you say that? What am I supposed to do?” She began to pace.
“Du bist sehr schön,” he said, sighing. It was true. Simple, but true.
“English Karl, English. I don’t speak German. Dear God, I wish I did.” She put her hands on her hips, which accented the curve of her waist. It made him think of her sitting on his lap, and the feeling of cradling her ass in his palm, and how nicely it fit there.
“Englisch, ja.” He would teach her German at some point. Not now. It was night, and he was drunk. “You.” Why was his mouth so dry? “You are very pretty.”
She looked at him as if he had just said the most outlandish thing possible. But he was quite certain of his conviction.
“It’s true.” He slid his back down the wall to the floor, which was much safer.
“Get some sleep,” she said, shaking her head. She disappeared, and he closed his eyes, not caring if he slept on his pallet or not.
But then she was in front of him again, holding a cup out towards him. “Drink some water first.”
He glugged the water down, grateful, watching her as he did so, unable to be ashamed or coy about his love for her. Oh,did he love her? He had not thought of it yet. But perhaps yes? This was also very fun to think about.
When the cup was empty, he handed it back to her.
“I’ll get you another, and then I’m leaving. Do you understand? And you go to sleep. We’ll speak in the morning.”
“Ja,” he said, his tongue suddenly feeling very thick in his mouth. His eyes closed, and when he awoke, stiff from sitting upright on the floor, the cup of water was next to him, and his pallet was spread out next to the fire.
**
Justine was exhausted and confused. She had assiduously avoided her brother for days, which wasn’t too hard since he was always down at the other hotels, looking for someone to play cards with. Her mind kept going over that confrontation where Francis had asked ifitwere true.
