Songbird Under a German Moon (8 page)

“Are you sure—”

“So you want to see the room?” Kat picked up a suitcase and started down the hall. “Mickey says you're bunking with me.” Betty picked up the other two suitcases and followed.

Then, as the woman sauntered away in front of her, an image came to Betty's mind. It was that of an actress in one of those Saturday afternoon romantic films she caught once in a while in town. She'd carried a suitcase like that. Walking just like that. Suddenly, Betty knew where she'd seen Kat before and excitement pumped through her.

“Excuse me, are you Katherine Wiseman?”

The woman didn't pause. “Do I look like Katherine Wiseman?” she called back over her shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Do I sound like her?” Kat asked, opening the last door at the end of the hall, stepping inside.

Betty followed her in, setting her suitcases down near the bed that was unruffled. “Yes, well, you do.”

“I sure hope I am.” Kat placed the suitcase on the floor by Betty.

“Did you dream of becoming an actress when you were a little girl?” Betty ignored the room, the tapestry on the wall, and the tall window. Instead she focused on Kat's face.

Kat's eyes widened and her forehead folded into a scowl. “I—I don't know. No, actually I never thought of it when I was younger. I never really went to the picture shows.”

“Didn't you have a theater in your town? I was lucky, there was one just down the street from my house.”

“It wasn't that. We didn't have much money.” Kat crossed her arms over her chest, but her face softened into a wistful look. “I'd always thought I would become a secretary like my mother. I never thought—well, that I'd make movies and sing.”

Betty nodded. “My mom never worked outside the home—until the war, that is. I wish I could have brought her here with me. She always dreamed of traveling. She would have loved to meet you, too, Katherine.”

“You can call me Kat. Especially since we're roommates now.”

“Are you okay with that—with me being your roommate?” Betty sat on the bed and lifted her foot. Then she wiggled the shoe to pry it off.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Well, I can sleep in the hall—as long as I can take a pillow and blanket.”

“Are you kidding?” Kat smiled, and Betty hoped it was the beginning of a new friendship. “Honestly, I don't mind. I just want Mickey to think I do. I can't let him think I'm too happy, now can I?”

Betty didn't understand that last statement, but she nodded as if she had. “Gee, I never thought I'd have a famous movie star as my roommate.”

“I'm
not
your roommate, kid, you're mine. Until I head back for the States.”

“You're leaving?”

“Got a contract with my studio to fulfill. Don't have a choice. They need me for a new picture. Wonder who's going to be my leading man this time? I hope he kisses better than Cary Grant. Kissing that man was like kissing a sponge.”

“Doesn't your husband get jealous? I mean, of you kissing other men. I read about you getting married last year. He—what is his name?”

“Edward.”

“Yes, I saw a photo of the two of you in the newspaper. Edward is very handsome.”

“I agree. I wouldn't have married him if he wasn't.” Kat crossed to her side of the room. She unbuttoned her dress and slid out of it, putting on a silky robe over her slip. “He has other wonderful qualities too. There are a lot of handsome men out there. Edward's the only one I've met who's as kind as he is beautiful.” Kat flopped onto the bed, propped her pillow against the wall, and leaned against it. She looked relaxed, yet also introspective. She rolled her eyes upward, and Betty guessed Kat was thinking about her husband.

Betty put on her pajamas, then sat cross-legged on her bed.

“Is it hard, being away?”

“It's been hard for everyone, not only me. War is war.”

“Are you excited about seeing him soon? I bet it's been a long time.”

“I saw him two months ago—” Kat's voice trailed off. She shrugged. “Considering the way this world is, that's not too long ago.” Her voice softened, and the hard set of her jaw did too. “It was only for one night. He was stationed in Paris.” She smiled. “But sometimes one night is enough.” She placed a hand on her stomach and glanced down.

“I don't mean to meddle, but are you—in the motherly way? I mean are you expecting?”

Kat glanced over. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why would you ask that? I mean we just met. That really isn't something you ask someone you just met.” Betty put her hands up in defense, as if she was blocking Kat's wrath.

“You're right. I'm so sorry. How rude of me. It's only, well, because of your comment—and the look in your eyes. I've seen that look a lot lately. Most of my friends back home are already married and have babies.”

Kat glared at Betty for a moment, as if sizing her up. Then she flipped over onto her stomach, rested her chin on her hands, and kicked her feet up behind her as if she were twelve and enjoying a slumber party with a friend. It was a different Kat than the nose-in-the-air-actress she'd met earlier that day. “Do you promise not to tell? I'm hoping the next picture will wrap up quickly, before I show. I have to finish this last film. After that, I'll be done with my contract and will be a free agent—no one will be able to tell me what to do anymore.”

“Of course.”

Then as quickly as the fanciful mood caught Kat, it left. She pushed her pillows back into their rightful place and reached over to the nightstand for her brush and sat up.

The moonlight cast yellow rays into the room as Kat sat at the edge of the bed, running a brush through her long hair. Betty could tell from the look on her face that Kat was done talking about Edward and the baby. Obviously, whatever was happening with her movie contract was enough to put Kat in a sour mood.

“Don't you wonder who slept in this room before—before, you know, we took control?” Betty lay down, tucking her pillow under her chin.

“I've thought of that, but I don't like to ponder it long.”

“Hitler could have slept in here. This very room.” Betty sat up slightly, leaning on her elbow.

Kat again placed a hand over her stomach. “Don't say that. I'm feeling ill as it is. I've been all over Europe, and we've been in some harrowing situations, but every time I'm in this house, I have a bad feeling. Evil lived here too long, I suppose. It worries me—”

“What worries you?”

“Well, like something bad's going to happen. I can feel it.” Kat stopped brushing her hair. “You know what they say, don't you?”

“No, what?”

“This place is haunted. Some of the other girls say they can hear footsteps at night. They say they hear someone—or some
thing
—walking in the rafters…and below us too.”

“How do you know it's not just hoodlums trying to find hidden treasure?”

Kat lifted a thin, penciled eyebrow. “Could be, but I wouldn't put it past those Jerries to stick around—to haunt us even after they're dead. There're lots of rumors going around. Sometimes I can feel it too. It's as if someone is here, in this house, watching us.”

“Really?” Betty sat up, planted her feet on the floor, and curled her hands into fists, trying to lighten Kat's doomsday mood. “I'd be willing to go toe-to-toe with any Nazi ghost.”

Kat didn't answer. She didn't smile. Instead, she placed her brush on the nightstand and got into bed.

Betty padded over to the dressing table, poured fresh water into a basin, and brushed her teeth and washed her face. Just talking about ghosts gave her a sick feeling. Her stomach rumbled and she realized part of the reason she didn't feel well was the fact she hadn't eaten since they took off in London. The other part, though, was because Kat was right. Being in this house brought an icky feeling, and joking about it didn't help. Betty turned off the light and hurried to her bed, thankful for the moonlight that brightened the room so it wasn't completely dark.

Even though she was exhausted, Betty lay awake awhile, trying to comprehend everything the day had served up. It was unlike any day she'd ever experienced. She also had to admit she was sad that Kat would leave soon. Betty could tell that most of the other girls in the troupe gave Kat a wide berth, but she had a feeling that if they spent enough time together, Kat could become a friend.

Betty rolled to her side. “Kat?” she whispered.

“What?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Are you sure it's only one? All you've done is talk. I'm glad I'm leaving in a few days. If not, I'd request a different roommate. A girl needs her beauty sleep, you know.” Even though Kat's words were sharp, her tone was gentle.

“Just one. I promise.” Betty took a deep breath. “How do you know if you've found the right guy? With all of them out there—”

“Do you like someone, kid? Heaven knows you have a good shot of winning his heart if you do. There's a one-to-a-thousand ratio of American girls to soldiers around these parts. And as you know, the soldiers aren't supposed to fraternize with the German girls—”

“I sort of like someone. But I'm not sure. He's so mature, so professional. And he's a soldier. My mother told me soldiers are bad news.”

“Edward's a soldier, and I don't mean any harm by this, but I think your mother is wrong. The fact that a man signs up to fight is commendable. The ones you should watch out for are those who were too chicken to join, who hid back home with ‘safe' government or production jobs.”

“Yes, that's true, but this guy's really great and—well, do you think I'd have a chance of him liking me back?”

Kat was silent for a moment, as if she was thinking. “Well, you're not Betty Grable beautiful, but you're not hard on the eyes either. So if some soldier around here isn't interested, he's either married or he's devoted to some broad back home who's good at writing sappy letters.”

“Yeah, well, I promised my mother I wouldn't lose my heart to a guy too quickly. She says if I want to make something out of myself and get more than bit parts and walk-ons in Hollywood that I'll need to be married to my work.”

“It's true. Hollywood has its demands. When I told my boss that I wasn't renewing my contract, he about blew his top. My agent told
me he didn't invest so much in me for me to walk away. But I'm not concerned anymore with what he thinks.” Kat sighed. “I'm ready to be with Edward, to live like a family for once. I couldn't have been happier when I heard the war ended. To me it meant Edward was going to make it through. And that, to me, is better than any applause or seeing my name in lights—guaranteed.” Kat's voice began to fade. “Still, you shouldn't jump into things too hastily. You're young, give yourself time. If I were you I wouldn't even consider dating until my job with the USO was up. Enjoy what you have. Enjoy the music.”

“Yeah.” Betty snuggled down in her blankets. “You're right—I'll wait. I'll give myself time.”

“So, where now, Bub?” the driver asked when Frank got back to the jeep.

“Well…” Frank took off his cap, ran a hand through his hair, and then returned it. “I'm supposed to room with my friend Art Spotts. He's a photographer like me. But I don't have much more info than that.”

The driver nodded as the German woman snuggled closer under his arm.

“Ah, yes, I think I know where to start. There's a house where all the artsy types hang out. If they don't know who your Spotts friend is, I don't know what to tell you.”

The driver took them into the town of Bayreuth, and for the first time Frank understood the magnitude of the war's destruction. Half of the buildings, at least, lay in rubble. The other half looked as if they were damaged in some way. It was strange, seeing up close what he'd photographed from above. He'd seen the bombs they'd dropped and their explosions, and he was more surprised by what still stood than by what had crumbled.

They turned onto a side street, and as the jeep's headlights swung around the corner, the light reflected off the eyes of a small
group of people—men, women, and children—huddled under a makeshift tent in the middle of the rubble in what appeared to be the shopping district. A little bit down the road, another group slept inside a building in which the front had crumbled away—most likely from a near-miss by an American bomb.

“What's going on? Who are these people? Why are they sleeping outside?” Frank asked, even though he knew the answer. He'd seen many displaced persons all over Europe. He also knew, though, that one of the best ways to get information about any area is to play dumb tourist. People often liked sharing what they knew. He'd gotten more than one bad guy to spill key information in his or her role as tour guide. Not that he thought his driver had anything to hide—Frank was just warming up. Getting ready for the assignment he still didn't understand completely.