Vienna Prelude by Bodie Thoene, Brock Thoene Read Free Book Online Page B

and her two sons wrestled their luggage and skis onto the platform as the train chugged away. One of the boys was about seventeen—tall and thin but still without the muscle of manhood. The other boy appeared to be about fourteen. His black hair and serious dark eyes were a sharp contrast to his fair skin. As a matter of fact, all three of them looked as though they had not been in the sun for a very long time. Their faces seemed tense and worried. Franz bounded up the steps and smiled broadly as he called, “Frau Linder?”
    The woman hesitated, then smiled tentatively. “We are to meet a driver?” She studied Franz with a gaze that seemed adept at sizing up people.
    He was suddenly conscious of the cow manure on his boots and the work clothes he wore. He brushed a lock of his curly brown hair back beneath his cap and bowed politely. “Allow me to introduce myself. Franz Wattenbarger.” He did not offer to shake hands. He had not washed since his chores in the barn. “My family works to make your stay at the chalet most comfortable.” He stepped back as the boys appraised his disheveled appearance. “My work was only just finished when my mother sent me to fetch you.”
    As though sensing his discomfort, Anna Linder smiled slightly. “I am Frau Anna Linder. And these are my sons Wilhelm”—she touched the oldest boy on the arm—“and Dieter.”
    The two teenagers nodded curtly, and Franz noticed the way their eyes glanced nervously around the station. They seemed almost fearful, certainly too serious for boys who had just come to the Tyrol for a vacation.
    Wilhelm held the skis and Dieter managed the ski poles. Forgetting his soiled hands, Franz clapped Wilhelm on the back. “Ready for a good time, I see?” His deep brown eyes gazed steadily until he caught Wilhelm’s glance and held it. Only then did the serious young man dare to smile. “You fellows have been too long in school, I think.” He hefted the luggage and led the way to the sleigh.
    “School?” began Dieter. “Oh no, we—” A hard nudge from his brother silenced him.
    Franz pretended not to notice. He did, however, detect that while Mrs. Linder’s accent was unmistakably Viennese, both boys had the bold, hard accent of Berliners. “The weather in Vienna has been rainy, I hear,” he said to Wilhelm, who looked uneasy.
    “It always rains this time of year in Vienna,” Anna Linder replied confidently as she stepped between Franz and the boys. “But not so bad as in Salzburg.” Her words were cheerful, but her eyes seemed to look past Franz as though she carried some dark secret.
    He nodded and loaded the baggage and tied up the skis. Tyrol was full of people with haunted, frightened expressions these days. Their letter may have come from Vienna, but the cut of their clothes, the pallor of their skin, the weariness of their eyes all spoke of Germany. Franz decided he would not pry. He would not make them have to lie. It was quite obvious that they were people of affluence. If they had not wanted to remain secluded, they would have chosen to stay somewhere other than the chalet of a poor Austrian farm family. He glanced at Frau Linder’s long, delicate fingers—strong hands, but unaccustomed to physical labor. He could not help but think about the calloused hands of his own mother—how she scrambled around the house, shouting orders and changing bedding while everyone tried to stay out of her path.
    Franz caught Wilhelm’s eye again. “You like to ski?”
    The young man nodded but did not smile again. Life was serious. Too serious for such conversation.
    Franz decided that if there was to be conversation on the trip up the mountain, he would be the only one talking. “I have two younger brothers. About your age, I would guess. They will show you where the best slopes are for skiing.” He tried to maintain the feeling of holiday, although their behavior told another story. “There is the best skiing in the world here.”
    “Last