New Year's Eve in Germany

By J.E. Leigh

When a knight in not-so-shiny armor appears at her door, Keira Kent is swept away on an adventure to find a strange treasure hidden in the lore of a traditional German Christmas. Someone will die on New Year’s Eve unless Keira can unravel the secrets of the season.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.E. Leigh
• Release date: Mar 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311441102

J.E. Leigh

J.E. Leigh became a mom at age 35 so the doctors called her "elderly gravida". She didn’t become a writer until this ‘late’ time of life, so she also considers herself "elderly writera". Leigh’s background is in Geography, Sense of Place, and Nature Interpretation. She writes a blog (seetravelmag.com) and has worked as a writer/editor for publications on parks, protected areas, and cultural sites. Her adventure novels are set in exotic places like Costa Rica, Patagonia, Hawaii, Germany, Slovenia, and New Mexico (yes, people think it’s a foreign country). She lives in Colorado with her husband, son and two dogs.

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New Year’s Eve in Germany

By J.E. Leigh

Copyright 2014 J.E. Leigh

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. All locales, businesses, characters, events, and dialogue depicted in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Midsummer’s Eve in Slovenia

Titles in the See! Series

About J.E. Leigh

Chapter 1

What lies between fear and sex?

Jonathan Kent perched on a moving box in the middle of his daughter’s living room. He knew the question was ridiculous, but he had learned long ago to keep things light, even — or to be more precise, especially — when his feelings were quite the opposite.

Keira shook her head in frustration. Conversations like this drove her crazy. Especially since a year and a half ago, when her father moved back to town and insisted on being more involved in her life. She had initially resisted, then relented, grudgingly allowing him to spend time with her. But now that everything was about to change, she found herself unwilling to let go.

Look. Her father scribbled two words on a scrap of paper: vier and sechs.

What are those?

German numbers, he said. "Four and six. They’re pronounced like fear and sex."

How can you tell a joke at a time like this?

A time like this? he said. This is what you wanted.

Keira paced between the moving boxes, plucking at the cardboard to make sure every box had been taped shut.

You’ve already checked them, Jonathan said. Three times.

Keira stopped pacing and crossed her arms over her chest.

Jonathan eyed his daughter warily. What time will the movers be here?

Keira looked at the blank spot on the wall where her clock used to be. Eleven.

He checked his watch. Five minutes.

Keira fired a challenging glance around the room. So this is my life, she said. A bed, a few pieces of yard sale furniture, and sixteen boxes.

That’s the best way to start a new life, her father said. With as little baggage as possible.

Keira snatched a stray piece of packing tape off the floor and wadded it up into a sticky ball.

I don’t get it, her dad said. I always thought you couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.

Yeah, well . . . Keira scrunched the ball of tape tighter. I guess I kind of got used to having you around.

Give me that, her dad said. Before you hurt yourself. He snatched the tape away from her and lobbed it at the ceiling. The tape stuck. So— he said, eyeing the ceiling with satisfaction. You going to answer my riddle?

Dad . . . A hint of regret tinged Keira’s voice.

Oh, will you look at that? He picked up a black marker. We missed this one. He uncapped the marker and slowly printed the letters K-E-N-T on one of the boxes.

Keira noted that the box had already been marked on the top and two sides.

Jonathan capped the marker and glanced at his watch. Three minutes to eleven. He looked at his daughter. Even if she was twenty-seven years old and an experienced traveler, he didn’t have to like the idea of her moving so far away. But what could he say in three minutes?

Similar feelings warred inside Keira. She searched her mind for the right words, but all she could think to say was, You’ll visit?

Her dad patted her on the head. You know . . . if it doesn’t work out, you can always get yourself a dirndl and become a beer frau.

Keira couldn’t hold back a smile. She slipped easily into the old banter, the place where she and her father always felt the most comfortable. On second thought, she said, maybe Germany isn’t far enough.

Her dad tousled her hair.

Dad! Keira pushed him away. Will you quit it? I’m not ten years old any more.

The doorbell rang.

They turned and stared at the door. The wad of tape fell with a light thump from the ceiling.

The moment, like so many others, was gone.

Keira balled her fists at her sides. The movers are here. The hint of regret returned to her voice. Stepping between the boxes, she made her way across the room. Pausing for a moment before opening the door, she wondered . . .

What lies between fear and a whole new way of life?

* * *

Keira stood before the entrance to her new apartment and shook her head in disbelief. In front of her, printed on the door, was the answer to her father’s riddle.

Since that morning over six weeks ago, when the movers had come to take her things, Keira had lived the life of a nomad. She spent Thanksgiving with her brother, then made the rounds in December, saying goodbye to family and friends. She celebrated Christmas with her dad and three days later, boarded a plane bound for New Jersey. From there she took a direct flight to Stuttgart, Germany.

She landed that morning, on the twenty-ninth of December, at eight a.m. Her landlady had kindly offered to pick her up at the airport. She deposited Keira in front of the apartment building, key in hand. After lugging her bags up several flights of stairs, Keira stood catching her breath before her new front door.

This is what you wanted.

Top floor. Room with a view. Slightly out of her budget. Rented sight unseen. Keira considered the number that proclaimed the apartment hers:

5

The answer to her father’s riddle. A riddle she hadn’t thought of once in the last six weeks.

What lies between vier and sechs?

Keira fumbled with the key. She inserted it into the lock and studied the door once more. Somehow, it was not what she expected. The door looked so . . .

Ordinary. Funny how doors and numbers look the same in any language.

As she turned the key, she hoped this ordinary-looking door was really a portal into an exciting new world. The wardrobe that led to Narnia.

She twisted the knob.

The door swung inward.

Keira picked up her bags and carried them inside. Dropping them in the hall, she walked through the apartment’s four rooms. Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, living room. Her household goods had been delivered the day before. The landlady had graciously allowed the movers in.

Now everything Keira owned lay scattered about the living room. Everything, that is, except her couch. Too long to carry up the stairs, the movers had shoved the couch into the storage area in the basement. The rest of her furniture lay in pieces. The movers back home had broken everything down before shoving the items into a shipping crate.

Keira finished her exploration of the apartment and stopped to stare dejectedly at the space around her. Some portal, she muttered.

What she had forgotten was the truth about portals: Often they only work in one direction. Usually they only open when you least expect them to. And sometimes it’s what comes through the door that brings the magic.

Chapter 2

This is what you wanted.

Her father’s words felt like an accusation.

Keira started to unpack and ended up shoving the boxes around, pretending to sort them, but really just prolonging the inevitable. The flight across the Atlantic had been a long one, she had slept little, and it was two a.m. in the time zone she had left behind. She had no food, no friends, and no bed to sleep on.

Unearthing a folding chair from beneath the pile of boxes, Keira opened it and wearily sat down. She had just embarked on a healthy round of self-beratement, when a soothing sound reached her ears.

Church bells?

Her weariness forgotten, she sprang from the chair and rushed to the nearest window. She twisted the handle and pushed the pane of glass open. The sound of bells rushed in on a blast of icy December air.

She closed her eyes and listened.

Keira had heard bells before. She had heard the clang of a fire bell. She had heard the peal of a school bell. She had heard the jingle of a sleigh bell. She had even heard the chime of a church bell. But this was different.

The sound seemed to come from every direction. Keira realized she was hearing not one bell, but many, ringing together, as if elves with crystal hammers stood before a row of chimes, each with its own note, like an assortment of water-filled goblets. Some tones were deep, others light, but they all blended together in perfect harmony. A musical composition. A symphony.

The bells seemed so close, yet she couldn’t find the church they belonged to. She walked around, flinging open the windows and peering outside. The four rooms were no longer empty, but filled with the frigid air and the soulful notes that glided on the air like bubbles. Still, Keira could not find the church. She gave up and stood in the center of her apartment, closing her eyes and surrendering herself to the sound. A peaceful feeling settled over her.

Keira stood for ten joyous minutes, absorbing the music. The tempo became suddenly more fervent and then the music slowly faded away until once again all was silent. Cold settled into her clothes and she shivered.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

As she circled the apartment, closing the windows, her heart filled with a growing certainty that the symphony of bells was a special event. She believed their song was meant to welcome her. Even later, when she discovered the bells were a daily occurrence, some part of her would always believe the symphony of bells on that day was meant only for her.

* * *

A rap on the door woke her.

Keira’s eyes flew open. Harsh sunlight flooded her vision. She snapped her eyes shut again. What a night.

The afternoon before, Keira had gone for a walk to see if she could find the church the bells belonged to. Instead of one church, she found three. Which one had created the music, she still didn’t know.

But the real reason for the walk had been to stay awake. She had heard that the best way to adjust to the change in time zones was to power through the first day. But when she had returned to her apartment at half past three, dusk was already creeping in.

Determined to stay awake a little longer, she found the can of soup she had packed in her suitcase. She had cleverly thought to bring the pop-top kind, but when she glanced around the kitchen, she realized she didn’t have a pot or a pan and had no idea where she packed them.

Her solution was to peel the paper off the can and set it directly on the stove. She had packed a spoon with the soup, so she stood at the stove and ate her dinner out of the can. Then, unable to prop her eyelids open any longer, she put on her pajamas, pulled a sleeping bag out of her suitcase, flipped it onto the floor, crawled inside, and went to sleep.

At midnight she was wide awake.

She had nothing to distract herself with. No television or internet or phone. Even if she had a phone, she wouldn’t know how to dial a number. She had no article to write, no book to read. The one book she had brought, she finished on the plane. Somewhere in the piles of boxes around her were some books, but she didn’t want to crawl out of her warm sleeping bag to find them. So she lay awake. For hours.

She must have drifted off at some point, for she awoke to light streaming through the windows.

And someone knocking on the door.

Dragging herself stiffly from the sleeping bag, Keira rubbed her shoulder on the side she slept on.

Today I have to set up my bed.

Without any thought to her rumpled appearance, she unlocked the door and opened it wide . . .

To find a man outside.

He stood a foot taller than Keira. She had to look up to see his face. His eyes were shockingly blue, like