This week started out a bit rough. On Monday we got the news that my grandpa, my mom's dad, passed away. We're not sure if he ever accepted Christ, so that made it even harder. But God is good, and he sent many blessings our way this week.
Also . . . I got nine beta-readers! I was not expecting that many, so that was a blessing! Y'all are awesome!
Apart from that I think our week was pretty normal. It's cold here today finally. Like, we were in the 80s yesterday, and today we have temperature in the 40s. Kansas weather is crazy. xD
So now the part I'm sure y'all are waiting for.
Instead of a whole bunch of random paragraphs like I did last week, I'm going to give you a whole scene this time.
Hopefully it makes some sense out of context . . . ;P It was literally the only scene I wrote this week that I can share without giving away major spoilers. And of course, we wouldn't what THAT! ;)
Micah followed Erich as he led the way up a flight of stairs and into one of the many flats in the heart of Basel, Switzerland.
The building was warm, and not at all drafty, which gave Micah a sense of relief. It wouldn't have done for them to get sick.
Erich slowed down and stopped outside a door on the far end, and he removed the key from his pocket and unlocked the door of the small flat.
The door creaked open on rusty hinges, and Micah’s eyes took in everything. The place was small and a bit dusty, but it looked well cared for.
Well, besides the dust.
“You can stay where you stayed last time, Arnold.” Erich threw the words over his shoulder as he headed toward one of the two doors in sight.
Where he stayed last time?
As Erich stepped into the other room, Micah blew out a deep breath and took a seat on the sofa. Was this where Arnold had stayed? Or had he stayed somewhere else? Blast it all, why had he ever agreed to this plan? Why did he ever think he could play the part of his twin? He shook his head; he would never get used to being called Arnold.
He placed his briefcase between the couch and the table beside it, and than stood and walked toward the window on the far edge of the room. A small kitchen was nestled in the corner, and a small table with two chairs shared the space between the sofa and kitchen.
But Micah gave them only a passing glance. From the window, everything looked to peaceful. The people went about their business with little care as to who was walking behind or beside them. He could feel himself longing for a bit of that peace, and wondering if there would ever come a day when he felt safe walking down the street without looking over his shoulder.
Erich left the door halfway open as he made his way into the small room. The twin bed was shoved up against the side of the wall neatly made, just as he’d left it.
He sat down, keeping his eyes toward the open door. His gaze strayed to Micah, who was rubbing his face with his hands.
Erich inwardly smirked. He was having fun making Micah squirm and letting comments slip past about things that only Arnold would know. It made Micah uncomfortable, which in turn made Erich feel satisfied.
Fact was, the last time Arnold had traveled with him anywhere, he had spent the night down at the nearest tavern.
He let his lips form a smile, feeling confident that Micah would not see him.
What he wanted was to see Micah spending the night there with his Bible in tow. Now THAT would be a sight to see. He watched as Micah slid the briefcase between the table and sofa, and then stood and looked around the room, taking in every corner. Yet,though he seemed to be taking in the detail, a glazed look fell over his eyes, making Erich feel as though he really wasn’t seeing everything. His brain was registering facts, yet he wasn’t thinking about them. After a moment he made his way over to the window, and gazed out into the streets and mountains that spread out in the distance.
His stance was slightly tilted, so that Erich could still clearly see half of his face.
As he stood there, gazing out into the sea of people, Micah’s mask slid away, and his eyes filled with longing . . . and pain.
Suddenly, Erich wished he had closed the door behind him.
It seemed that Micah did have feelings. And when he was alone, he wasn't afraid to let them be known.
Erich wanted to look away, yet something it Micah's gaze wouldn't let him. The pain, the hurt, the longing . . . those were feelings that Erich hadn't let himself acknowledge for years now. This was one reason he and Arnold had gotten a long so well. Between them there seemed to be some sort of mutual silent agreement that feelings were meant to always be hidden.
Micah . . . Micah was different. Erich had no doubt that if Micah knew he were watching, he would be livid. Micah struck him was the kind of man who didn’t want anyone to know how he really felt; not if he could help yet. Yet when he was alone . . . when he was alone he let himself at least try to sort out the horrors of the war.
An ache started to work its way around Erich's heart. He wished he could tell Micah that it didn't work. If you kept asking question, you would just get more confused. Because there were no sane answers. War wasn't sane.
And then, just as soon as the the mask had slid off Micah's face, it returned, and Micah was in control again.
His movements were slow and controlled as he turned and made his way into the kitchen, checking the cupboards. Seeing they were empty, he ran a hand alongside the sides as though checking for any hidden bugs.
Erich almost felt like laughing aloud. They were in Switzerland, and as far as anyone knew, Micah was Arnold, his assistant. No one would ever hide anything kind of recording devices to listen to them. Not when doing so would have the wrath of the Germans upon them.
Switzerland was officially neutral and they allowed no one from either military, allied or axis, to enter unless they were prepared to spend the rest of the war behind bars. Yet the streets roamed with people such as him. Every suit held a different sort of criminal, of that he was sure. Maybe, to one country, the person wasn't a criminal. But to the country on the other side, he was.
It was strange how perception could change things.
Satisfied that the flat was clean, Erich was surprised when Micah turned and started walking toward the room. Erich suddenly turned and started unpacking the second change of clothes he had packed, trying to make it appear as if he had been busily working the whole time.
Micah knocked on the door, and Erich shook his head, seriously feeling like rolling his eyes. That was another thing; Arnold would have simply barged his way it, not caring at all about whether or not it broke military regulations.
Micah opened the door further and took a step in. "I'm going to head down to the city and walk around for a bit; get acquainted with the shops around here a bit."
Erich nodded, not turning to look at Micah. "You go right ahead. And don’t spend as much time at that tavern with that girl like you did last time. I bet she didn't wait for you."
There was a pause, and Erich could just picture the look on Micah's face. Disgust mixed with a bit of confusion, and then understanding would dawn right about . . .
Now. Erich congratulated himself on his timing. He knew the Wilson brothers better than they knew themselves.
"I'll be sure and not waste my time there. I'm actually thirsty for a cup of coffee, and I'm going to see if I can find some somewhere."
Yeah, Arnold hated coffee, and that was one thing he did hate about the Germans; they enjoyed it. Micah had been around enough Americans to acquire a certain taste for it, while Erich knew that Arnold never would.
Arnold, no matter how much he wished it otherwise, was British to the core. He loved nothing more than a good, strong cup of tea.
Erich tucked his identity papers, the set he wouldn't be using, into the top drawer of the dresser and then rummaged in his pocket before finding the correct key and locking it.
"Well, we don't have anything that needs done today, so you're free to go. Just make sure you remember the way back; I'm not going out looking for you tomorrow morning like I had to last time just to find you drunk somewhere." Boy was this fun. The most fun he’d had in a long time.
He heard Micah shuffle his feet and clear his throat uncomfortably. "Yeah, I'll be sure and be back within the next few hours."
He stepped away from the door, and, from his footsteps, Erich gathered that he had walked to the couch and stopped.
Turning and resuming his seat on the bed, Erich watched as Micah took the small, black leather Bible from the bag and tucked it into his pocket, and then put the bag away and reached the door on two long strides.
So how is NaNo coming for you? Is your story cooperating? Are you excited we're so close to the end? I know I am! :D