The Other Side of Love by Jacqueline Briskin Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jacqueline Briskin
the tunnel just above them stood Wyatt. He was gesturing with his hand, a scooping motion.
She made the identical gesture before kneeling to dig deep into the red cinders behind the starting-line.
36
He raised his clenched fists above his head, as victorious prizefighters do.
V The gun roared near her ear.
Propelling herself forward with her hands, she launched herself. As she went into her sprint, the air surrounding her seemed exceptionally thin, as if on a mountain peak where gravity offered less resistance, yet perversely her lungs filled with abnormal quantities of rich oxygen. Her chest expanded and contracted without pain. Each muscle in her arms and her legs moved in perfect synchronization. Time itself was transformed, with the seconds stretching to accommodate her smooth motions. Through her veins pulsed a certainty that no woman born could outrun her.
Helen Stephens, the six-foot American speed demon, had drawn the lane to her left, but Kathe did not glance in that direction; nor to her right, either. A mighty rhythm roared against her eardrums, and she knew vaguely that it was the predominately German crowd yelling her name. Kathe, Kathe, Kathe, Kathe, Kathe.
She was alive as she had never been before, exulting in the expansion and contraction of leg and thigh muscles. She willed herself to move yet faster, and her knees rose.
She arched her chest.
A slight pressure touched her breasts.
She had snapped the finishing-tape.
Slowing, she turned towards the tunnel. In the shadowed darkness Wyatt stood, arms still upraised. She lifted her own arms over her head in the same victorious gesture. M
Collapsing on the grass, she thoughtWt’ve won.
The thought held sadness, for it meant that she had been thrust forth from that bubble of purity, her performance.
Kathe … Kathe … Kathe … The roar continued, and this time when she looked up Wyatt was gone.
She stood on the central platform, bending her head while a general in a sky-blue uniform draped the ribbon that held the heavy gold medal around her neck, then placed a laurel wreath on her hair. He handed her a little oak tree to plant in commemoration of her victory. Three huge flags, two American flanking the German, rose slowly atop the stands. The band brazed out the national anthem, and thousands of voices joined in singing.
“Deutschland, Deutschland uber alles …
“
37
VI
A polite messenger came to escort her to the reviewingstand.
Hitler clasped her hand. For other German medallists this would be the culmination of their lives. Rathe, however, found herself taking stock of the dictator. His brown uniform fitted badly across his narrow shoulders. His skin had a pasty greyish pallor that didn’t show in photographs or newsreels. The famous moustache looked like cat fur.
“On behalf of the entire Volk,”
he said,
“I congratulate you.”
“Thank you, Herr Reichskanzler.”
“It gave me the greatest pleasure,”
he continued in a less oratorical manner,
“when you turned, dedicating your victory to me with that sign. Fraulein Kingsmith, you are a credit to the true Aryan spirit of the Games.”
“Thank you,”
she repeated.
“With your blonde hair flowing,”
he continued,
“you were a symbol crying out the superiority of pure Nordic blood to all the lesser races.”
His pale blue eyes were intent on her. People wrote and talked about the Fiihrer’s mystic all-seeing eyes, his preternatural eyes, his hypnotic eyes, his spiritual eyes. The studiedly penetrating gazecombined with the voicing of his master-race dogma brought chilling goosebumps to Kathe’s arms.
Hitler turned to an aide.
“See that Fraulein Kingsmith and her family are invited to the Chancellery reception next Thursday.”
38
11
Chapter Six
cH L
“Of course Katy will explain to them at the Chancellery that she has to send her regrets, but this
She made the identical gesture before kneeling to dig deep into the red cinders behind the starting-line.
36
He raised his clenched fists above his head, as victorious prizefighters do.
V The gun roared near her ear.
Propelling herself forward with her hands, she launched herself. As she went into her sprint, the air surrounding her seemed exceptionally thin, as if on a mountain peak where gravity offered less resistance, yet perversely her lungs filled with abnormal quantities of rich oxygen. Her chest expanded and contracted without pain. Each muscle in her arms and her legs moved in perfect synchronization. Time itself was transformed, with the seconds stretching to accommodate her smooth motions. Through her veins pulsed a certainty that no woman born could outrun her.
Helen Stephens, the six-foot American speed demon, had drawn the lane to her left, but Kathe did not glance in that direction; nor to her right, either. A mighty rhythm roared against her eardrums, and she knew vaguely that it was the predominately German crowd yelling her name. Kathe, Kathe, Kathe, Kathe, Kathe.
She was alive as she had never been before, exulting in the expansion and contraction of leg and thigh muscles. She willed herself to move yet faster, and her knees rose.
She arched her chest.
A slight pressure touched her breasts.
She had snapped the finishing-tape.
Slowing, she turned towards the tunnel. In the shadowed darkness Wyatt stood, arms still upraised. She lifted her own arms over her head in the same victorious gesture. M
Collapsing on the grass, she thoughtWt’ve won.
The thought held sadness, for it meant that she had been thrust forth from that bubble of purity, her performance.
Kathe … Kathe … Kathe … The roar continued, and this time when she looked up Wyatt was gone.
She stood on the central platform, bending her head while a general in a sky-blue uniform draped the ribbon that held the heavy gold medal around her neck, then placed a laurel wreath on her hair. He handed her a little oak tree to plant in commemoration of her victory. Three huge flags, two American flanking the German, rose slowly atop the stands. The band brazed out the national anthem, and thousands of voices joined in singing.
“Deutschland, Deutschland uber alles …
“
37
VI
A polite messenger came to escort her to the reviewingstand.
Hitler clasped her hand. For other German medallists this would be the culmination of their lives. Rathe, however, found herself taking stock of the dictator. His brown uniform fitted badly across his narrow shoulders. His skin had a pasty greyish pallor that didn’t show in photographs or newsreels. The famous moustache looked like cat fur.
“On behalf of the entire Volk,”
he said,
“I congratulate you.”
“Thank you, Herr Reichskanzler.”
“It gave me the greatest pleasure,”
he continued in a less oratorical manner,
“when you turned, dedicating your victory to me with that sign. Fraulein Kingsmith, you are a credit to the true Aryan spirit of the Games.”
“Thank you,”
she repeated.
“With your blonde hair flowing,”
he continued,
“you were a symbol crying out the superiority of pure Nordic blood to all the lesser races.”
His pale blue eyes were intent on her. People wrote and talked about the Fiihrer’s mystic all-seeing eyes, his preternatural eyes, his hypnotic eyes, his spiritual eyes. The studiedly penetrating gazecombined with the voicing of his master-race dogma brought chilling goosebumps to Kathe’s arms.
Hitler turned to an aide.
“See that Fraulein Kingsmith and her family are invited to the Chancellery reception next Thursday.”
38
11
Chapter Six
cH L
“Of course Katy will explain to them at the Chancellery that she has to send her regrets, but this
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