Poetry and Lemon Cakes

Claudette stared balefully out the window of her small bookshop, watching the groups of Nazi soldiers pacing through the streets. Business had taken a turn for the worse since their occupation of her city in France. Wars were always hard times, but even her wealthier patrons had ceased coming to her shop because she was unable to procure the new literature. Instead, she was forced to stock piles and piles of the Fuhrer's Mein Kampf. Sighing, she fingered through her copy battered of Cyrano de Bergerac.

Herr Fredrick Ziegler stood at the streetcorner, staring into the small bookshop. He had passed it several times this week and found himself quite taken with the proprietress. She was petite, brunette, and quite pretty. Her bright green eyes always seemed to be roving the pages of some book or observing the streets. It was clear to him that she was quite intelligent and curious and he wished to make himself known to her.

"Herr Ziegler!" Colonel Wolff barked, snapping Fredrick out of his thoughts.

"Colonel Wolff," Fredrick saluted, standing to attention.

"Go into that bookshop for me," Colonel Wolff ordered, lighting up one of his cigarettes, "It will be my wife's birthday soon and she enjoys reading French poems. See if they don't have something that would suit her," he scoffed before turning on his heel and continued down the street.

Fredrick nodded before heading towards the bookshop. Inhaling deeply, he turned the burnished doorknob and stepped into the small, but nice space.

"Good morning," Claudette greeted the officer in French, a bit surprised at his presence.

"And good morning to you, madame," Fredrick bowed, "I am Herr Fredrick Ziegler," he introduced himself, extending a gloved hand towards her.

"I am Claudette Deschamps. Are you looking for something?" she asked skeptically.

"I was sent to find a book of French Poems for the Colonel's wife," he admitted sheepishly, "Though I have been interested in your store for quite some days."

"And why is that?" Claudette asked, befuddled smile playing across her rosy lips.

"I enjoy good literature and I find you to be quite beautiful," Fredrick answered honestly. Claudette didn't speak, but simply raised her eyebrows before turning to scan across her dwindling collection of French poems.

"I'm afraid the war has made it hard for me to keep my usual stock of French poetry," she told him over her shoulder as she plucked a few titles from the shelves, "But for your Colonel's wife, I believe one or all of these would be appropriate. A book of love poems, a poetic drama, and some poems about dead dogs," she told him sarcastically.

Fredrick found himself frustrated at her nonchalant attitude. He was used to being hated, but her flippant lack of caring annoyed him.

"I will take the first two and pass on the poems about the dogs," he replied politely, reaching into one of his pockets for payment. Claudette smiled a weak smile and reached for the brown paper and twine she used to package books. As she did so, she regarded the soldier with some interest. He was tall and towered over her with light brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a pleasing face. But he was a Nazi and she could never be interested in him no matter how handsome he might be.

"Here you are, Herr Ziegler," she said as she handed him the neatly bundled package. He grabbed it, purposefully brushing his fingers against hers.

"Thank you Mademoiselle Deschamps," he bowed to her again, "I hope to see you soon," he told her, staring at her intensely before exiting the shop. Claudette furrowed her brow as he left, puzzled at his farewell.

...

Over the next weeks, Fredrick found himself constantly passing the store, sometimes popping his head in to say hello and other times simply waving at Claudette through the frosted glass of her windows. She was confused at his behavior, why would a Nazi soldier have any interest in her? She was neither Jewish nor Aryan, and heavens knew she wasn't rich. She was simply a girl trying to get by during a war-torn time.

"Hello Claudette," Fredrick greeted her cordially as he entered her bookshop. She had ceased to be surprised at his frequent visits. Truth be told, she had started to look forward to them, even if they were somewhat confusing.

"Hello Herr Ziegler," she smiled, perching herself a bit straighter on her stool. "How does this day find you?" she asked, noticing that he seemed to be particularly excited about something.

"Quite well, Claudette," he responded with a mischievous smile playing around his lips, "Though I do have something for you," he grinned, bringing his hands out from behind his back and presenting her with a delicate box from the patisserie.

"What's this?" Claudette asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"I was walking by the patisserie today and noticed that they had financiers and lemon cakes for sale. And I recalled that you favor those pastries, is that correct?" Fredrick looked at her, suddenly nervous that he had misremembered.

"It is," Claudette smiled widely, reaching towards the box to undo the twine with her delicate fingers. "These look lovely," she commented, looking at the treats. "Do you have time for tea?"

"I absolutely do," Fredrick nodded, beaming inside that she'd invited him to stay. Claudette smiled genuinely at him before disappearing into the back room to set a pot on the stove. As the water boiled, she rummaged around for her nicer set of china and prepared things for the tea. Some minutes later, the kettle began to whistle, and she removed it from the flames and poured boiling water into the teapot. Smiling softly, she carried the tray back out into the store and set it on the counter where she usually sat.

"Do you take sugar? I apologize, I haven't had milk in quite some time," Claudette commented as she poured the amber liquid into two teacups.

"No, thank you," Fredrick shook his head, accepting the delicate cup from her. Their fingers brushed and Fredrick nearly dropped the ceramic at the contact. She smiled in response and stirred a single sugar cube into her tea before bringing the liquid to her lips. Fredrick found himself entranced as he watched her rose-colored lips sipping the liquid.

"Did the Colonel's wife enjoy her poems?" Claudette asked, breaking the silence as she put her teacup down and reached for a financier.

"I didn't receive an earful from the Colonel, so I assume she liked them," Fredrick joked, placing his own teacup down and grabbing a lemon cake and taking a bite. A small shower of crumbs tumbled into his laugh and Claudette giggled, unable to hold back the delicate sound.

"I'm sorry," she laughed mirthfully, "You are just always very sharp and proper, that was quite funny."

Fredrick smiled, very much enjoying the sound of her laughter. Still grinning, she took a bite of the financier and a look of sheer joy crossed her face. They finished their tea in relative quiet and before long, Herr Ziegler was standing.

"I should return soon," he stood at attention and nodded to her.

"A moment, Herr Ziegler?" Claudette called out, striding around the counter and brushing her fingers against his chest. Fredrick grew hot at the contact and clenched his fists in an attempt to restrain himself. "You had a few crumbs stuck to your lapel," she murmured softly as she looked up at him through her dark lashes. Her hands stayed planted on his chest and he felt her warmth spread through the thick wool of his jacket and send jolts to his groin. They stood like that for a moment before Claudette stepped back and thanked him for the pastries. Fredrick cleared his throat and nodded at her again before stepping briskly back out into the road.

Once outside, Fredrick exhaled sharply. This remarkable woman truly had him entranced. Through their time together, he had learned that she had inherited the bookstore from her deceased parents, she had never traveled outside of France, and she, strangely, did not detest all Nazis. If circumstances were different, he would undoubtedly pursue her. But being a soldier in a foreign land, that was unwise.

Back inside, Claudette breathed shakily, feeling uncommonly warm. She brought her palms up to her flushed cheeks as she chided herself on her juvenile behavior. She was acting like a child of ten with her first feelings of puppy love. Shaking her head, she purged the idea from her mind. As much as she found herself wondering how Herr Ziegler's lips would feel on hers, he was a soldier, and a Nazi soldier at that! It could never be.

...

"Claudette, darling, aren't you excited for the gala? It's been ages since we've had a new picture come to town and even longer since we've had a gala!" Mamette gushed as she sipped her tea in the cafe.

"I don't think I'm going to go," Claudette smiled softly at her friend before taking a drag of her cigarette.

"Oh but you must, darling!" Mamette pouted, "Please promise you'll go! And wear that dress I brought you," she implored, jerking her head at the beautiful box that she'd brought from her latest trip to Paris.

"Oh alright," Claudette relented, she could never turn down her cousin's requests, "So long as I don't need to bring a man," she laughed.

"Oh not at all, dear," Mamette winked mischievously at her, "That's the whole point. With any luck, we'll be able to meet a few eligible bachelors. Goodness knows the gala should bring some of those rich old tarts out of hiding," she giggle, plucking the cigarette from Claudette's fingers for a drag.

"Perhaps," Claudette murmured, resting her chin on her hand as she imagined what Fredrick's reaction might be to the dress Mamette had brought her. It was black, form fitting on top and flowy on the bottom, and stopped right at her knee. The neckline was a lot more daring than what she usually wore, but it was absolutely beautiful and flattering. She could bring out her mother's pearls and wear it with a pair of seamed tights and red, satin heels.

"Claudette!" Mamette's voice interrupted her thoughts, "That man outside seems to want your attention."

Claudette furrowed her brows before turning to look out the semi-frosted window. It was Fredrick. And for once he was not dressed in his fatigues. Claudette smiled sweetly and waved at him through the window. He smiled charmingly back before continued down the walk.

"Well who was that?" Mamette demanded, putting out her cigarette and fixing her gaze on her cousin.

"Herr Fredrick Ziegler," Claudette answered simply, "He frequents the bookstore."

"Herr Ziegler. Oh Claudette, please don't tell me that you've gotten involved with a Nazi soldier!" Mamette gasped. For a woman who lived as fast and loose as she did, she was staunchly anti-Nazi.

"Oh hush, Mamette, we're hardly involved. He is simply a kind customer who comes to browse books at times."

"Though I must say, he is quite handsome isn't he?" Mamette giggled, suddenly a tittering fool.

"Oh Mamette," Claudette rolled her eyes before taking another sip of tea.

...

"Oh Claudette, isn't this just lovely?" Mamette gushed as they entered the hotel. It had been brought up to its former glory for the event and looked every bit as ritzy and fancy as Claudette remembered from her childhood days. She smiled and had to murmur her agreement.

"I see you don't have a problem with the Nazi's now that they're giving you free wine," Claudette snickered as Mamette took two glasses from a passing attendant.

"Darling, I am simply helping to run up their tab. The more then spend on wine for lovely ladies, the less they have for ammunition and war," she giggled before bustling off to converse with a friend.

"Hello Claudette," a deeper voice run out from behind her. Claudette turned to see Fredrick, which brought a smile to her face.

"Herr Ziegler," she smiled, suddenly very self-conscious of her décolletage. She accepted a glass of white wine from him and she noticed that he looked very handsome in his formal uniform. "You look sharp and proper as usual," she chuckled, feeling the wine warming her insides.

"You look beautiful, Claudette," he complimented her, his eyes stuck on her face. "This dress is very becoming," he smiled, aching to run his fingers across her soft, white skin.

"Danke. Sie sehen sehr gut aus," she thanked and complimented him in shaky German before blushing at her own forwardness. Fredrick felt a swell in chest as his native language left her rouged lips and he could feel his resolve breaking down.

"Do you know this hotel well?" Fredrick asked, eager to stay near her. Claudette nodded as she took another sip of wine. "Will you show it to me? This is the first I have been here," he whispered in her ear. Claudette swallowed, her nerves on fire as his warm breath hit the nape of her neck. She nodded wordlessly before leading him around the old hotel, her red satin heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She led him through the lobby, one of the banquet halls, and out the back doors to the gardens.

"I used to play here all the time as a child," she smiled softly, the memories filling her head. "Unfortunately it seems they have not been able to maintain the gardens," she murmured sadly, cupping a wilted rose in her hand.

"I apologize, Claudette," Fredrick whispered, bringing his hand to cup hers.

"For what?" she turned to face him as she furrowed her brown in confusion.

"For the war, for the Nazi presence here," he spoke fervently, "It seems that we've done nothing but ruin your business and destroy your happy memories," he mumbled, aching to gather her up in his arms and kiss away her woes.

"It is not your fault," Claudette smiled up at him, "And if it weren't for the war, we would have never had the fortune of meeting. And that'd be a shame, wouldn't it?" she grinned before tiptoeing to plant a light kiss on Fredrick's cheek. "Come, I want to show you something," she giggled before he had a chance to respond. She laced her fingers through his as she led him further into the gardens and finally to a bench and fountain.

"Was this your favorite place?" Fredrick asked, recalling her mention of a fountain in a few of her childhood stories.

"Yes," she breathed, taking a seat next to him on the bench. She couldn't hold back a shiver as the brisk air set in.

"Take my jacket, Claudette," Fredrick stood, undoing the gold buttons on his formal, black jacket.

"Thank you," she said softly as his jacket, still warm from his shoulders, enveloped her in his scent. Gazing up at him, she couldn't quite read the look in his eyes before he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. She gasped at the contact before melting into him. Her hands reached out from under the jacket and splayed on his chest, the heat permeating through his shirt.

"Claudette," he murmured against her lips as he tugged her onto his lap, anxious to bring her closer. Her thighs felt delicious on his own and he felt her shudder as he grasped her thin waist in his large hands.

"Fredrick," she whimpered, bringing her hands up his neck to cup his jaw. She was momentarily grateful for the jacket as her heaving breath threatened to throw her breasts overboard.

"I'm sorry," Fredrick found himself apologizing again. Claudette shook her head and silenced him with another kiss. Fredrick felt his heart soar as his hands tightened around her hips and she gently nibbled his lower lip. She let out a soft gasp as Fredrick lowered his lips to graze her collarbone and then kissed up the soft line of her neck.

"Fredrick!" she whimpered, her head falling back to expose more of her supple skin to him. Her hands skimmed up his chest and neck to run through his hair and muss up his structured style.

"Claudette?" a feminine voice rang out from somewhere in the gardens, "Claudette where are you? The picture is going to begin!" Mamette shouted amongst the bushes.

"We should go in," Claudette sheepishly whispered to Fredrick, feeling utterly disheveled by the interruption. Fredrick, sorely disappointed, nodded and followed her back inside the hotel.

"Claudette, there you are! Oh, Herr Ziegler," Mamette's smile fell as her eyes took in the flushed pair. "Come, come! The picture is going to start!" she huffed, grasping Claudette's hands and tugging her into the theater. Herr Ziegler rejoined his fellow officers and followed suit.

After the film ended, Mamette quickly ushered Claudette home, lest she have another interaction with the Nazi officer. Claudette, still embarrassed from her earlier transgression, allowed herself to be shuttled home and before long was settled in by the hearth with a battered old book.

Some hours later, a knock came from the door downstairs. Furrowing her brow, Claudette placed her book on an end table, pulled her robe tight around her waist before shuffling downstairs and opening the door. Her brows lifted in surprise as she saw Fredrick, still in his formal wear, wet with rain on her doorstep.

"Claudette," he breathed, his entire face lighting up at the sight of her.

"Fredrick? My goodness, you're wet!" she exclaimed, grabbing him by the arm and leading him inside. "Come up by the fire, I'll fetch a towel for you and see if I can't find some of my father's old clothes." She led him up the narrow staircase and sat him down by the fire. Her fingers quickly undid the buttons of his jacket and slipped it off of his broad shoulders. She ran to the bathroom to grab a clean towel and placed it next to him as she began to remove his damp dress shirt.

"Claudette," Fredrick whispered as her hands worked on the last button. She blushed and ignored him as she undid his cufflinks and slipped the shirt off and put it on another hanger. He was left in his undershirt, which was relatively dry.

"Let me see if I can find some of my father's old clothes," Claudette told him, unable to meet his eyes before she shuffled off to rummage through some old trunks. Fredrick sighed and picked up the towel, using it to dry off his hair and damp skin. Before long, she returned with an old undershirt and khaki button front shirt. "Here, I think they may be a bit large on you, but at least they're dry," she rambled nervously, laying the shirts down and brushing invisible debris off of them.

"Claudette," Fredrick said, placing his hands on her to still the motion. Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet him and she saw a mixture of kindness, friendship, and deeper desire in him. "I-"

"Shh," Claudette whispered, placing a finger on Fredrick's lips to still them. "Change into the dry clothes," she implored.

Fredrick smiled and nodded at her soft request. Claudette turned away as he changed into her father's undershirt and button front. She could hear Fredrick stand and pace towards her. She sighed and all but melted as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. She stared wistfully into the fire as he inhaled the floral scent wafting from her hair.

"Stay with me tonight?" Claudette finally asked after what seemed like eons of silence. Shocked, Fredrick nodded and let himself be led into her bedroom. Blushing, she climbed onto the bed and he followed suit. Sensing her hesitancy, Fredrick simply laid next to her and beamed when she settled against him. They talked for hours until the fire burned out and Fredrick watched her fall asleep in his arms. Damn it all, he was in love with her, he thought to himself before he joined her in sleep.

...

The next morning, Claudette found herself snuggled into the crook of Fredrick's neck as he breathed serenely on her rose-patterned sheets. A few of the buttons on her father's shirt had come undone, and she swallowed hard as the desire she felt for him welled up in her chest. She fought with herself for a moment before she pressed her lips against his, hard and hungry.