Unedited
11:30 am December 9th 1914, Berlin
I stamped my foot like a five-year-old having a strop and the soldier took a step back in shock. I cannot be in Berlin at the beginning of World War One! I was going to get killed! I was an English girl in a German city, I was the enemy! Then I began the waterworks, full on crying, falling into the snow that was falling round my feet, burying my head in my mittens, far from caring that the material made my face itch. Likewise, I regretted the decision to fall to the floor as a burning sensation was spreading round my knees as they connected with the cobblestones beneath me, my knees cracking slightly at the contact on the uneven surface.
"Ma'am? Bist du ok?" He knelt down next to me, bringing his head down lower to try look at my face, which was buried in my hands.
"Do I look ok?" I cried, "I'm English! Why haven't you killed me yet, I'm an imposter."
"I have to get answers from an imposter before I kill them." He actually chuckled, he had the audacity to laugh at my terrorised state.
I sniffled pathetically, but managed to look up at him, narrowing my eyes. He got the message immediately that I didn't find it funny to laugh in a situation like this. His expression fell straight again, back to his emotionless state like he was when he held me at gunpoint only moments earlier. He stood straight like a ruler was against his back, puffing out his chest and bringing his legs together, trying to show some authority and looked down at me, clearing his throat.
"Come with me."
Usually I would have put up a fight, told him to bugger off and leave me alone, but this man was a German solider with a gun; I was simply a tourist with a handbag full of sugar glazed nuts in a very, very foreign world. So like any one who didn't want to get killed, I obeyed, taking the hand outstretched to pull me up from the mound of snow I was sitting in, getting very, very cold.
The first thing I noticed was that, beside I had sat in snow for the last few minutes, his hands too were cold and calloused, but, it hadn't been the first thing I noticed about him. His rough and raw skin ran from the base of his palms all the way to his fingertips, but much smoother, red tinted and cold bitten skin ran over the rest of him, over his now apologetic, young face that first caught my attention. It really brought me to my senses, giving me the sense of realism about how young these boys were when they went to war. But now I just stared at his hand, shocked by what I felt.
"A little German cold won't hurt me." He smiled before I felt every muscle in his arm contract and hoist me onto my feet in one swift movement. When he smiled small dimples appeared and creases at the edges of his lips round his cheeks. The smile was hiding something though, and it was most likely something a girl like me or, anyone like me from the future would never understand about the hardships of a soldier.
We stood a meter away form each other; of course I couldn't help my self and stare at the man in front of me. My gut, once again was flipping and twisting with my stomach as his eyes stared right back at me. Compared to the rest of him: his pale face delicately dotted with freckles over the bridge of his nose or his lips that were chapped and raw or even his nose that was progressively turning redder and redder as time out here in the cold went on, the features I'd observed in the few minutes since we met, his eyes were the only feature that spoke 'Boy' to me. I grimaced, I also needed a way to get rid of my gut; can I take out an operation to have it removed?
Our hands were still intertwined his strong grip still holding me upright as I stood in a moderate state of surprise. We were quick to release them, the man quickly rubbing his palms against his trousers. I looked down at my feet, twisting my hands together as I bit down on the inside of my cheek.
Abruptly he turned on his heels, the not so shinny boots clicking at the heel, and walked towards a small hut further down the smooth pavement that separated the cobblestones. A dim light lit up the small space and a table was set in the middle, two garden chairs with worn tapestry pillows on the seats either side. The man took the one facing the door, shifting round the edge of the table as it took up a lot of the space in here, and gestured for me to take the other seat. I did so quickly, wrapping my coat further round me as the temperature difference wasn't much compared to outside. The man however seemed perfectly content with the temperature sitting comfortably and upright I his chair opposite me, staring down at the table and the pack of card that had been previously laid out for a game of solitaire.
I leaned forwards and picked up a card, receiving a red jack of hearts which I out up against the queen of spades and then moved a row from ten to seven – alternating between black and red suits – on top of the jack. The man had chucked when I tried to moved them because I ruined half of the other rows and a few cards went on the floor. But his small exclamation reminded me he was still present in the room, and I sheepishly retreated from the card game. An amused smile still played on his lips, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes as he stared at me from underneath his cap.
I then opened my mouth, wanting to ask his name. But he held up his finger, silencing me from saying what was to come.
"Kurtis, but others call me Kurt." He smiled softly, removing his cap.
You know when you see someone from behind and they turn around and it just gets better? When Kurt took his cap off, the handsome man in uniform got ten times more handsome. Even though it looked like he hadn't had a shower in a while, it added to the effect it was having over me. His yellow blond hair was shaven from the nape of his neck and slowly got longer until it was neatly parted down one side of his head and shorter strands fell over his forehead. A little bit of gel would do wonders, just to neaten the stray strands and tufts that stuck up, I already felt the urge to do it now, just for him. But his head sat proudly upon his broad shoulders covered by his uniform jacket, even if it was hung out of tiredness right now. His large hands that had pulled me up from the ground place his cap on a shelf and took out the chair again, his large frame swallowing up the rather sad looking garden chair.
"Tell me, Miss Vermont, how come you are here?" His thick accented English abruptly brought me away from ogling over him, way to rain on my parade Private.
"In all honesty, I couldn't tell you, I don't even believe it myself." I tried to laugh but out of all places this wasn't somewhere I wanted to be. He paused.
"Retrace your steps, explain it, might as well start getting used to the strange things this war will bring." He leaned forward, adjusting his body in his seat.
"But, if you're part of the army, why are you here?"
"I am a guard of the political heart of Germany," He eyed me, waiting for the next question.
"But," I paused, raising my eyebrows and slightly smirking as I did exactly what he was expecting, "Why?"
He smirked, "It needs protecting, there aren't many of us because for now the war is in France, but just in case Tommy decides to send one of his planes over us or deploy secret agents, I am here to shoot them down."
I had to accept that this was the brutal truth, nonetheless Kurt said it all so reluctantly, the fact one day he would have to shoot someone in the name of his country, when the man was as innocent as he was. They were pawns in political meltdown.
"Now, something more interesting, fräulein, how did you get here?"
I nodded, remembering the real issue at hand. How the hell I got here at the beginning of a war.
"Well, after I escaped an awkward family and fiancée meal, I went for a walk, just under the Brandenburg gate and to the Tiergarten, there was a Christmas market." This received a frown, he leaned back again but he still urged me to continue.
"At quarter to eleven, I walked back up to the Brandenburg gate and at eleven exactly, I walked through the arch way," I paused and then added "the clock was chiming as I did."
I finished and the frown was still etched upon his face and he thought it over. Eventually, he looked up and tilted his head to the side as he began to question.
"Fiancée? Christmas market? Are you okay in die Kopf."
I narrowed my eyes at his exclamation of shock, like I really was mentally insane. Was having a fiancée so bad to him? Maybe marital arrangements were different in this era, or he'd just never heard of the word it was French after all and I didn't know if he knew any of the enemy language. Yet he didn't know English. And what on earth was wrong with Christmas markets? Neither of those should bring any harm to him.
"Yes, my name is Grace Vermont, I'm twenty-five years old, engaged so some top class businessman who just wanted to spend her Christmas in Berlin in peace, before welcoming twenty fifteen with open arms and an open mind, but I've gone one hundred years back in time and I'm being held hostage!" I exclaimed, gripping onto the arms of my seat.
That really shut him up. He looked more scared than I anticipated but I couldn't care less, there was no easy way around explain that I was from the future. He'd jolted his head back at my sudden outburst and a strand of hair had fallen across his face, I desperately wanted to push it back into place. Do it like Jared, get straight to the point. Once again, he shifted in his seat and leaned forward once again, his head on his clasped hands, rolling his chin back and up to look down at me,
"The future? How is that possible?" His accent masked how confused he was, but how his browns knitted tightly together said it all.
"I don't know, I walked through that gate at eleven o'clock and here I am." I flung my arms up in the air, exasperated. Being stuck in a run down little shed was not how I planned my late night walk to come about.
He fell silent, he was thinking. His hand rubbed round the small stubble spots around his chin, he was waiting on a shave too along with that shower. He then ran a separate hand through his hair, pushing it back and then scratching at the back of his neck as he sighed. Then he glanced up, his gaze locking with my inquisitive stare.
"So, you know how this war ends?"
It seemed to always be the first question a native of an era asked to someone who appeared from the future. Does our relationship last? How long left do I have? Do you know when I will meet the love of my life? All were indirectly referring to one concept, in current circumstances, that only I knew of. The future.
"Oh no, I'm not telling you how this thing ends, no way." I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back, refusing to open my mouth again. If there was one thing I was good at, it was being stubborn. This lowered his chances of ever finding out.
Kurt chuckled, copying my motion in a more relaxed manor, leaning back also in his chair. His chuckled faded into a sigh, almost groan, as he titled his head back and looked up at the ceiling.
"Well, it was worth a try was it not?" he muttered, now thinking I rendered useless to him.
As his neck stretched, ever muscle was visible and his Adam's apple was even more prominent as he took a worried gulp. For a soldier in the war he seemed almost too relaxed, but maybe that was because he was based in the city, and from the little knowledge I remembered of world war one, the city wasn't bombed. But both of us when it came to his safety, both of just assumed he would be safe here.
"Also," I broke the re appearing silence between us, "Who was the woman on the bike?"
A mischievous grin appeared now, a small chuckled escaping his lips.
"You mean the woman who owned the bike you were looking through?"
A dark blush tinted my cheeks as I was caught guilty. I slowly nodded and he now laughed at how quiet and guilty I had become.
"Well, yeah." I whispered.
"das war Anya, she came from the spy school, its part of the war news agency, Kriegsnachrichtenstelle in Antwerp," He explained, "But our German spies are pretty useless, that's what I think anyway, I don't think they will help us much in this War but the field master still insists we have them running about."
I was about to make a James Bond reference but I remembered the wonderful 007 had not been created yet and Kurt would definitely label me crazy. So I kept my mouth shut and nodded slowly, taking in the information he told me.
"I'm sure she will be happy to see those rags on the floor and her bike the right way up." He chuckled, he'd obviously crept up on me and watched me try to be discrete.
My eyes widened as I remembered I had indeed left the rags of oily cloth in the snow and I didn't want my cover to be blown. I bolted out of my seat, the chair falling backwards as I ran out the door and across the courtyard towards the bike. Kurt was running after me, muttering a mixture of profanities in German and something like "For god sake fräulein." At my poorly thought out plan to fix what I started. I frantically picked up the dam cloth, now a shade darker then before with all the water it had absorbed from the snow. I cured but stuff them back in the basket along with the paper albeit it. Kurt just stood and watched, discreetly taking watch for Anya's return as I completed the amends.
Kurt didn't even give me chance to step back and admire my work, it didn't look like I'd touched it at all and the snow drift had naturally dampened the cloth. Instead, he'd hastily grabbed my hand again and dragged me back inside, mentioning he didn't want to get caught begin nice to the imposter, especially not tonight.
We re-entered the shed, taking out seats, Kurt being polite enough to pick up the one I'd knocked over in my sudden outburst. Once he settled, he opened his mouth to begin talking and leaned over the table.
"Well, after your outburst, I should introduce myself properly too."
Kurt did just that. Kurtis Fredrik Müller was a twenty-five year-old Private in the German National Army and came from Hamburg where he lived in a little village on the outskirts of the city. He worked on the family farm and then in the family butchers when he left school; he ran it with his 'Papa' which is what he called his father and younger brother, while his mother stayed at home. His brother was seventeen, which made him worry because he wouldn't be there before he became of age to join the army, which made my heart ache, even if he was my captor. He wasn't like many soldiers, who had a sweetheart back home waiting for the wretched war to finish so they could marry and have children. In fact, he hardly knew what it was like to feel that way towards someone, but he assured me he had no heart of stone. I had to chuckle slightly as he told me that, he only smirked back at me.
"I have no heart of stone, fräulein."
At school he loved languages and obviously had excelled in English, it was a wonder we could chat. He loved some of our weird phrases and 'heart of stone' had been one of them. But he was too accustomed to the German phrases and he could never literally translate them.
"What about the future? What do you hope for then?" I asked once he fell silent.
After a pause, considering his options and shifting about some more under my rather intense stare, he finally answered.
"I would like for you to come visit me again," he smiled a small, I-sound-so-ridiculous smile that played teasingly on his lips, "maybe tomorrow, or the day after that, but some time soon."
I giggled at his answer, it was truly unbelievable. I wasn't sure if I even believed it myself. But I had heard correctly. The blonde boy in uniform, who would suffer and fight, who would endure heart breaking and hurtful experiences, above all of that horror and those more concerning matters, wanted to see me again.
Beep, beep, beep
Stupid, stupid alarm clock, why the hell did Jared insist on setting one? Wait, alarm clock, pretty sure they didn't have those in early twentieth century, especially in war time Berlin. I groaned an rolled over on the mattress towards the bed side table. I frowned, my eyes slowly peeling open; I lifted my head, scanning the area around me, I was back in the suite, back in the king sized beg with thick feather duvets keeping me warm. The beautiful Michelangelo inspired art work on the roof, the baby angles staring down at me with bright happy faces and small patches of red blush appearing on their cheeks. My frown deepened out of anger and sadness, why wasn't I still with Kurt, where even was he? Was last night just a dream?
I didn't know why I cared so much, I had only just met the guy and now I wasn't even sure if he was real, or just a figment of my imagination. I couldn't tell Jared, for Jared was too self centred to care about an alternate world I literally walked into. If I mentioned Kurt he probably would care, I was spending time with another, may I add, attractive guy who I didn't doubt could sweep me up off my feet in such a way, Jared couldn't compete. But I doubted that even happening, the way his heavy arm was wrapped round my waist, keeping me close. That reminded me, how did I even end up here, back in this bed when I was a hundred years in the past? I groaned again, not wanting to believe this could have all been just a dream. Then I really would have to convert out being a writer, my air head was getting out of hand.
I ordered room service, setting aside an extra plate of warm food for Jared who I was positive would wake as soon as the sent of sausage and bacon drifted past his nose. I picked at my fruit salad and sipped my my coffee, finding my appetite disappearing with each mouthful I took. My mind was too busy, thinking over last night, replayed what happened last night and most of all hoping it was all real. I felt like Owen Wilson in 'Midnight in Paris' and I began to wonder how he hadn't completely flipped out about now in the film, when he returned from his first night out. However, I did feel surprisingly calm given the extreme turn of events. I was just trying to piece every little bit together.
Once I'd finished eating as much of the breakfast provided for me, I took a shower and dressed, a sleepy Mr Berkley hauling himself out of bed to start the day. He didn't question what time I got in, but instead greedily eyed the food and grinned like a puppy waiting for its dinner. He just wasn't running round in circles and his tail wasn't wagging. If we had kid's, I knew a love for food trait would certainly come from their father.
Two hours later we were called to congregate in the lobby for a day of sightseeing, courtesy of Mother Vermont. Jared looked almost pained at the idea as I mocked sympathy by patting him on the bed and sending him on his way to catch an elevator down. I picked up my hat on the small desk by the door, hoping to find my gloves buried inside like they usually were. Ever since I woke up this morning I hadn't been able to find my cashmere gloves and it was beginning to frustrate me that I couldn't locate them anywhere. I sighed, giving up for now until I came back in the evening, digging my hands into the fur lined pocked of my Parker, the coat choice of today. As I wiggled my hands about within my pockets, walking down the corridor to the lift, my fingers in my left pocket skimmed something and as I brought my hand out I found paper crumpled within my fists. I my brows were knitted together as I slowly opened it, stretching it out to make the writing on it more readable. The paper looked as if it had been tea stained, it was old and smooth, even the edged were slightly worn with age. And, there, in blotchy black ink, carefully written in elegant cursive writing was a message addressed to me.
Thanks for the mittens, but a country boy like me cannot keep a luxury like these, they will be returned.
Until next time,
Kurt
I smiled, either he was just to damn polite or very good as finding an excuse to make me visit him again. I hated to admit I couldn't even remember giving him my mittens, but I did remember how cold his hands must have been. At least there was a motive for such a generous gesture, but I wanted them back. I'd go buy some at a flea market on our tour today just in case. But it did confirm I wasn't just dreaming about a blonde boy in uniform.