Songbird Under a German Moon (37 page)

“So you have to tell me.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “How did you figure out what Oskar was really up to—especially the part that all of his motives centered around his desire to be known—remembered?”

Frank ran his fingers through her hair. “I thought of it when I was in his house. There were those photos of famous singers and musicians. And I thought about how hard it would be for him to be behind the scenes all the time. Sometimes I feel that way—to a much lesser degree. The images I capture move people, but no one looks at the byline. There are all types of behind-the-scenes stuff. I'm okay with that, but obviously, Oskar wasn't. He took care of everything and made sure the productions could go on, but he never received his reward. He heard the applause, but it wasn't for him. He knew the opera stars, but to them he was a nobody.”

She closed her eyes, enjoying the touch of Frank's fingers through her hair. For the first time, she realized how tired she was. “So how did you think to tell that story about Monet's paintings? That's awful, by the way. Poor man.”

Frank chuckled, surprising Betty.

“I made it up, every word.”

“What? Tell me you're joking!” She sat up and looked at him, noticing a sparkle of humor in his eyes.

“That's the truth, Betty. I made it up. The whole truth is that Monet destroyed the paintings himself. A few days before the exhibition, he went through and slashed them all with knives. He said they were rubbish. But according to the critics, they were his best work.” Then he tapped the tip of her nose. “Artists, I hear, can be very temperamental.”

“That's so sad.” She leaned back against him again. “What a loss.”

“I know. It's a shame. Sometimes we don't realize what we have until we destroy it.”

“It sounds like you're not talking about Monet's paintings anymore?”

“No, Betty. I'm talking about us. I'm sorry I told you that I didn't care, and that I had used you.”

“Frank, I could see how you felt every time you looked at me.”

“Well, I want to be perfectly honest from now on, so there's something else I need to tell you. Something I've hidden from you. And I promise it's not a fraulein.”

“You're making this sound serious.”

“Well, anything I keep from you is serious, right? And it's important to me.” He sighed. “What I've been trying to say is that those days when I didn't come around, I was actually taking classes—high school classes. Betty, the truth is I never finished. I was so eager to do my part in the war that I dropped out and joined. I didn't think much of it until the war was over. Then—well, then I really started thinking about it when I met you. A man needs to think about the future.”

“Oh, Frank, is that what you've been worried about? Don't you see that I care for you—respect you—for who you are now?”

“So you don't think any less of me for being in high school?” he asked.

Betty grinned and stroked his face. “I've never met a high school boy like you before. Good thing there weren't any around Santa
Monica. I might have never have come over here to Germany—and found you. And I would have never experienced such a kiss, under a German moon.”

“What kiss?”

“This one,” she said, leaning up and pressing her lips to his.

There was standing room only at the Festspielhaus. Two months had passed since their last show. It had taken that long for the place to be cleared of all danger, and the GIs seemed ready for holiday entertainment.

Betty watched as Irene chased Billy around the stage in a short skit they'd dreamed up. They circled around the other musicians, to the edge of the stage and back, a real cat-and-mouse chase.

Then, in the middle of it, Billy paused and turned to Irene. “What do you want,” he asked, “a chocolate bar?”

The soldier's roared with laughter, and Betty did too.

After that was over, Mickey announced the last number of the night, performed by Wally's band. They played a jazzy piece, and Betty reached over and grabbed Frank's hand, swinging their arms to the beat. Today, he'd told her before the show, Art had volunteered to get the photos, and Frank was just around to stand by her side and clap the loudest—something Betty actually enjoyed.

She couldn't help but study Frank's face more than she studied the show. After Dierk was jailed, Betty had written home and told her family about all the danger wrapped around her first week in
Bayreuth—but she spent even more time writing to tell them about the handsome soldier she'd met. Her mother's letters were now coming regularly, and Mother stated that Frank indeed sounded like someone worthy of Betty's heart.

Betty had been even more surprised to receive a letter from Frank's family. She smiled, remembering how Frank's mother had stated that if Frank waited too long to suggest marriage that Betty might consider asking
him
. Betty hoped it wouldn't come to that, but she had always dreamed of a Christmas wedding.

The jazz number ended, and Mickey headed out to wish everyone good night. He'd barely gotten started when the soldiers interrupted his words.

“Songbird, Songbird.” A chant rose up, filling the large room with men's voices.

Betty turned to Frank. “What are they saying?”

“They're saying your name, darling. You better head out there. I don't think they're going to stop until they get another song.”

“What should I sing?”

Frank smiled at her. “Do you think it matters?”

“No.” Laughter spilled from her lips.

Betty moved onto the stage with quick steps, feeling her skirt swishing around her knees as she walked. Cheers rose up when the men saw her, and when she placed a finger over her lips they quieted down.

“Tonight I'm gonna sing a special song, for a special guy…”

“Me!” a GI in the back shouted.

“Me!” another said.

“Me too!” Shouts erupted around the room.

Betty rested a hand on her hip and looked toward the orchestra. “‘It Had to Be You' please, Wally? For…”

She swept her arm, waving it in front of the whole audience. “For all these guys and especially for—” She turned and pointed to where Frank stood on the side stage—or rather where he had been standing. “You.” Her brow furrowed, seeing he was no longer there.

The music started, and she no longer had a chance to worry where Frank went. She had an audience to entertain.

“It had to be you—” she sang.

Cheers erupted, and Betty tried to continue singing, but her words were interrupted by the noise. She paused and placed her hands on her hips, noticing that many of the guys were pointing behind her. Betty turned and gasped as she saw Frank there—a smiling Frank, dressed in a white suit and kneeling on one knee.

He held up his hand and in it a simple gold ring glimmered under the spotlights. The music continued playing, the crowd continued cheering. Betty could see Frank's lips moving and while she hoped he was saying what she thought he was saying, she couldn't hear his words.

She leaned down, moving her mouth close to his ear. “What did you say?”

He stood, grabbed her, and pulled her close. “Betty…”

She didn't think it was possible, but the cheers behind her grew even louder.

Frank leaned closer, nearly shouting into her ear. “Betty, will you marry me?”

Betty stepped back slightly and nodded. “Yes!” She wasn't sure if he heard her, but she was sure he understood, because he placed the ring on her finger. Then a smile filled Frank's face, and he swept her up, twirling her around in a circle.

Finally, she felt her feet touch the ground. Frank stepped back and then he turned her back to the crowd.

She knew she had a song to finish.

Betty took a deep breath and waited as Wally picked up where she'd left off.

“It had to be you…”

Heart-stopping suspense...
entwined with soul-searching romance...
set against a historical backdrop readers will love!

Summerside Press™ is pleased to announce the launch of our fresh line of romantic-suspense fiction—set amid the action-packed eras of the twentieth century. Watch for a total of six new Summerside Press™ historical romantic-suspense titles to release in 2010.

N
OW
A
VAILABLE IN
S
TORES

Sons of Thunder

BY
S
USAN
M
AY
W
ARREN

ISBN 978-1-935416-67-8

Two brothers love her—but only one can have her heart.
Sofia Frangos is torn between the love of hotheaded, passionate Markos, and his younger brother, quiet, intelligent Dino. Markos longs to honor his family, Dino wants to forget the tragedy that drove them from their Greek home to the shores of America. One brother offers the past she loves…the other, a future. Which “Son of Thunder” will she choose? From Chicago's sultry jazz-era clubs…to Europe's World War II battlefields…to a final showdown on a Greek island, the
Sons of Thunder
discover betrayal, sacrifice—and finally…redemption.