The Sky Beneath Her(10)

“Yes. A cousin.” That was the story I’d given the administrator at the Salvadoran embassy in Lisbon when I’d handed him two gemstones from my cache.

He held out his hand, indicating he would follow. “And where are you from, Mrs. Werner?”

I traced the underside of my slim, now tight, gold wedding band with my thumb. “Innsbruck,” I lied. I didn’t offer that I was alone, but I assumed he’d already determined that.

“Frau Werner, do I hear hints of Vienna?” he asked.

“No, I have never had the pleasure.” I focused on my accent. As a business titan’s wife, I knew how to make meaningless conversation from the smallest details.

He seemed kind, but I didn’t trust either my first impressions or his story. Many now lied easily. “What is the rarest book you have held?”

Carts ladened with fruits and vegetables rumbled past us. An army jeep honked. A sailor shouted orders to another. More nicely dressed passengers gathered at the gangplank. I scanned the crowds, searching for anyone who might be staring at me.

“A volume of Shakespeare. The Tempest. A Vienna broker brought it to my attention. I still get a thrill when I think of that robust volume.”

I’d owned a similar volume once. Sweat pooled under my swollen breasts as I walked. “How old was it?”

An easy smile held no hints of bravado. “This was part of thirty-six plays published in 1623.”

How many of those exact copies still existed? A couple of hundred? “America was a fledgling colony that year, and King James sat on the throne of England.”

“And in your country, Leopold V was archduke of Austria.”

Dr. Brooks had a way of easily ingratiating himself. A good salesman, I knew, had to be friendly. “You must be a student of history.”

“It’s a requirement of the job. Sounds as if you know our history too.”

The distant past was filled with strangers and no emotional attachments. Recent history and current events were far more charged. “Yes.”

I was slightly winded when we arrived at the base of the gangplank. My hand on the railing, I stared up at the narrow metal trail. This mountain would carry me away from Europe.

“May I assist?” Dr. Brooks asked.

Pride had me lifting my chin as I stepped off the dock onto the incline. “I am fine.”

The ascent was slow but steady, and Dr. Brooks walked unhurriedly and patiently behind me. When we reached the deck, I paused to catch my breath and to glimpse my last view of Port of Spain’s white one-or two-story buildings threaded along the water. Green mountains rolled along the horizon, reaching toward a vivid blue sky.

“A beautiful city, no?” I sounded breathless.

“It is. But you’ll find New York City more to your liking.”

“And why is that?”

“Vienna has more history, but New York City teems with energy and life. I suspect you don’t mind a challenge.”

“I couldn’t compare your city to Vienna. I am from Innsbruck,” I corrected.

“Ah, right. My mistake.”

A crewman dressed in a dark uniform walked up to us. I removed my ticket and visa from my purse and handed them to him. He studied the papers and then me before offering both back to me. I met his gaze as I donned a not-too-expectant smile.

“Welcome aboard, Mrs. Werner. I am Chief Mate Riggs.”

“A pleasure,” I said.

Dr. Brooks plucked a slim black leather wallet from his breast pocket and presented his papers. Whereas I questioned and double-checked each decision, Dr. Brooks never hesitated, as if he expected the world to make space for him.

One glance at Dr. Brooks’s face, and the chief mate’s eyes lit with recognition. “Welcome aboard again, sir. Did you find any rare books in port?”

“Not last night,” Dr. Brooks said easily. “The rare ones are hard to find.” He nodded toward me. “May I introduce Frau Gertrude Werner? We made our first acquaintance on the docks moments ago.”

My distended belly had stretched my once-trim body into a painfully awkward shape. When I took a step toward him, the swaying ship forced me to stagger. Dr. Brooks steadied me.

“Thank you.” Nervous and tired, I felt my Central European roots sloshing between my words.

Since the Germans had taken over Austria in 1938, many Austrian Jews were fleeing to the United States. The Jews and Roma who denied the country’s dark turn were either in hiding or being rounded up and transported to camps.

“Your husband isn’t on the manifest,” Chief Mate Riggs said.

“My husband died in Salzburg last year,” I said carefully.

The story was very plausible and not easily challenged. Thousands of good Austrian men had died in the last few years.

He nodded his head. “I am sorry for your loss.”

My cheeks warmed. “Thank you.”

“We have another Austrian on board. I’ll tell the captain to introduce you two at dinner tonight.”

Another Austrian wasn’t a surprise, but still I was wary. “Thank you.”

Dr. Brooks shifted the weight of our cases, reestablishing his grip. “We were both lucky to get tickets for the voyage. I believe I purchased the last ticket.”

“We’re always willing to accommodate loyal customers,” Chief Mate Riggs said.