The German Wife(70)

“He respects the secrecy of the program,” I said weakly.

“These rockets run on liquid fuel and require a lot of that to achieve the height and the distance that we are aiming for.”

“Will these rockets go to the moon?” I asked.

“Oh sure,” Karl said, waving his hands dismissively. “I mean, in theory these kinds of rockets could do many things. And it is still the intention of the program that we will one day launch a space mission. Sure, of course. One day.”

The men around the base retreated, and a sudden flare of light fired from the base of the rocket. The supporting structure fell away and the device smoothly and effortlessly rose into the sky. I held my breath, terrified by the might of the thing, and then I gave a squeak of panic when after just a few seconds, it wobbled.

I heard Karl curse beside me, and I turned to him in alarm, fearing we were in danger. But he didn’t seem scared—just frustrated. He snatched his hat from his head and threw it furiously onto the ground, then stormed off, cursing under his breath. The rocket was still wobbling as it traveled up and out over the ocean. It disappeared from view, and then in the distance, flames rose over the water.

“Karl mentioned that there’s been problems with the guidance system,” Lydia said as she helped me to my feet, and we began to make our way slowly back toward the car.

“Mr. zu Schiller has asked me to take you to the office to wait until they have debriefed. You can have some food there and freshen up,” the driver said.

“Thank you,” Lydia said politely. She insisted I take the front seat and I was grateful for the extra space to stretch my legs. As we pulled away from the viewing site, I noticed an immense crater in the earth just a few dozen feet away from where we’d been sitting. It was dozens of feet across, and even deeper than it was wide. It could have swallowed maybe half of a city block.

“What’s that?” I asked the driver.

“That’s the impact from the failed launch from last week,” he said. Then he whistled. “Didn’t get off the ground properly before it detonated. It almost knocked me off my feet even over the other side of the island. That is why we aim them into the ocean.”

I failed to hide my distress, and he misread it, giving me a gentle smile.

“Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. von Meyer Rhodes. That one was launched from the other platform. You weren’t in any danger today.”

Nothing went the way we planned. Yet another launch had failed, and instead of taking the afternoon off with us, Karl and Jürgen were both called into meetings. The afternoon dragged by, and as the sun began to set, Lydia and I were told we’d be shepherded back to the hotel in Rügen.

“Do you think I’ll get to see Jürgen at all?” I asked Lydia miserably.

“Maybe later,” she said gently. “You know the work must come first.”

At the hotel lobby, she dealt with the staff, checking us into our rooms, arranging for our bags to be ferried inside.

“I’ve organized for a meal to be brought to you. Why don’t you take a hot bath and get into bed? I know you’re keen to see Jürgen, but you really need to rest. I’m just a few doors down if you need me.”

I considered the bath, knowing the hot water would be blissful against my bones, but when I stared at the little tub, I realized I’d be unlikely to get back out on my own even if I did manage to fit inside.

Instead, I nibbled at the food Lydia arranged and then sat on the bed and waited for Jürgen. I thought about the launch and the crater and the millions of questions I wanted to ask him—but we’d have to assume someone was listening in on the hotel room. Once again, we’d be whispering under blankets.

At this realization, tears filled my eyes. I flicked the wireless on to mask the sound, then lay on the bed to weep. What would it be like to be in some far-flung city when a rocket like that came out of nowhere? The technology couldn’t have advanced enough that the rocket would know which building to land on. What if one landed on a school?

It was all too terrible to be real, and too ugly to be the brainchild of my beautiful, sensitive husband. I curled myself around my belly and cried until I fell asleep.

I woke to the sound of a key in the lock, and Jürgen was inside by the time I pushed myself into a seated position. I stared at him with bleary eyes, noticing that he looked every bit as tired as I felt. I tried to get off the bed to run to him, but my belly got in the way.

“My, haven’t you grown?” Jürgen said, laughing softly as he set a little overnight bag down on the floor, then rushed to my side. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and placed his hands tenderly on my belly. But then he paused, and he lifted his eyes to mine.

“You are so beautiful, Sofie.”

I started to cry again—tears of exhaustion and relief and fear.

“I’m a mess,” I choked out.

“Even a mess, my love. You are beautiful. I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered.

“I miss you too,” I whispered back.

There was no need to whisper. We were only saying what a husband and wife would be expected to say after two months apart. But there was every need to whisper, because this was a moment just between him and me. It was far too precious to be shared with anyone else.

Later, lying under the covers, I resisted the pull of sleep, determined to make the most of every second with Jürgen. I pulled the blankets over our heads and snuggled as close to Jürgen as my belly would allow.