Annie And The Prince

A wall went up behind his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

She realized her mistake immediately. “Nothing,” she said, trying to backpedal. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business.”

He hesitated. He was inclined to agree with her. But seeing as how he’d only be with her for a few more minutes before they parted and he would never see her again, he felt he could listen to her opinions a bit more. After all, he’d just hired an American. It was important for him to know what kind of style he might be dealing with. “No, no, please go on. I asked you. I truly am interested in the American perspective.”

“Well…” She shrugged again. “You said you’d hired ‘many caretakers’ but what kids really need is one person they can depend on. Preferably you, since you’re…around…” She paused just for an instant. “There is an emotional risk to them if you hire a rapid succession of caretakers.”

He was genuinely puzzled. “Emotional risk?”

She frowned. “Yes. In not having one single caretaker to rely on, whether it’s you or someone you hire. But preferably you.”

His defenses went up. He wanted her general opinion, not a personal judgment. “The children know they can rely on whomever I choose to hire.”

“But maybe that’s not enough.”

“It’s enough,” he said shortly.

A vague protectiveness for the unknown children rose in Annie’s heart. “All right,” she conceded. “Just let me say this. Children need to have people in their lives who will be there for them, even when you think it’s not important, like after school, before bed, whatever. They need to know that they can count on that person to be there, to be available if they need them. Not just a person, but someone they love and trust, and who loves them, too.” Annie knew she might be overstepping the bounds of courtesy, but the conversation struck too close to her heart for her to be concerned about being polite.

He nodded slowly, watching her. Then a tiny smile nudged at the corner of his sensuous mouth. “You don’t have children of your own, do you?”

“As I said, I’ve worked with children for years.”

“Yes, well, until you have them, perhaps you don’t realize exactly what their needs are.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Her voice was quiet, but hard.

Satisfied that the conversation was settled, Hans leaned back and began thinking about the list of things he had to take care of that afternoon. He was very anxious to get away from this conversation.

“In general,” she said, cutting into the silence, “if a person has been through a long line of caretakers and can’t understand why the children are emotionally needy, I don’t think that person has been listening to them.”

Hans shifted in his seat and looked at her, hard. “May I ask why you feel so strongly about this?”

Her face went scarlet.

“It’s personal, isn’t it?” Hans went on. “This isn’t some general theory of child rearing, it’s a very specific—how do you say it?—pet peeve of yours.”

After a long hesitation, she said, “I guess you could say that. But it doesn’t change the truth of the matter.”

“What is your reason?” And why did he want, so much, to know what had hurt her in the past? His curiosity about this woman was inexplicable.

She shook her head and waved the question away. “It’s boring. Forget it, I shouldn’t have been so out-spoken with you.”

He looked at her for a moment, then shifted his eyes to the window behind her, searching for a way to change the subject from a topic that was clearly a very emotional one to this young woman. “The train has stopped. We’re at the station.”

She looked and saw they were, indeed, stopped in the station and people had already begun to disembark.

“I hope you understand that I meant no personal offense,” she offered, for the second time in an hour.

“I asked your opinion and you gave it.”

They stood simultaneously and their hands bumped against one another. Annie felt a palpable heat generate between them, but now she wasn’t sure if it was attraction or frustration.

“Well, it’s been an interesting trip,” she said, trying to break the ice before they went their separate ways.

He cocked his head. “Interesting, indeed.” He held out his hand.

Believing he intended to shake hands, she put hers out but he raised it to his lips. As he did so, she felt a shock of pleasure run up her arm and into her heart. He must have felt something, too, because he snapped back and met her eyes.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” he said, composing himself quickly. They walked out of the compartment and down the hall to the train exit. Hans put his arm around Annie to help her off the train, then quickly dropped it to his side.

A small group of women several feet away began to murmur among themselves, and Hans grew even more uncomfortable. A large cab headed in their direction, and Hans held a hand up for it. The driver pulled over and Hans leaned into the window and said something in rapid German to him. He then opened the door for Annie.

“Enjoy your stay in Kublenstein,” he said, giving her a lingering look. He began to say something else, then stopped.

“Thanks,” she said, climbing into the cab. “I will.”

“Goodbye,” he said, shutting the door. He turned to walk away from her.

“Goodbye,” she said softly inside the empty cab. She watched him walk away.

When he was out of sight she wondered why she suddenly felt so empty.

Chapter Three

The hotel her new employer had suggested for Annie was exquisite. Decorated with antiques and overlooking the charming street below, it was the most comfortable room Annie had stayed in since arriving in Europe. It was also about half the price of the overpriced modest room with plastic cube furniture she’d rented in Munich.

She sat in a wingback chair by the window and thought about the upcoming year. Watching the people on the street—apple-cheeked women carrying paper bags of bread and produce, children running behind them in what looked more like homemade clothes than the designer wear the students at Pendleton preferred—Annie thought she could stay in Lassberg forever. Until today, she hadn’t realized such a place still existed in the world.

What was it going to be like to stay? she wondered. Would she make friends outside of the household? Could she have a social life somehow?

Would she ever see Hans again?

She tried to squelch the thought. After all, she knew he lived in this small city. How could they not run into each other at some point?

And if they did, what would she say?

Hans, hello, I hope you weren’t upset by my evil twin on the train. Sometimes she speaks out of turn.

But she hadn’t spoken out of turn, she felt strongly about everything she’d said.

Perhaps she would just pretend there had been no acrimony.

Hans! How great to see you again! Would you like to go for a cup of coffee?

Or would that be too forward?

Finally she decided that if she saw him again, she would probably melt at his feet and not have to worry about what to say at all. He could speak first. She was much better at responding than at improvising the first words.