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The salt air clung to his skin. He inhaled deeply, the warm air filling his lungs. Birds squawked in the distance.
He watched the man on the bench silently reading, occasionally glancing up at the ocean, his gaze flicking to the half-finished painting resting on an easel, then returning to his book.
After a few moments—sure the man reading was the man he had been seeking—he approached.
“Wilhelm?”
Klink’s head swiveled sharply to the sound of the voice. The book sliding off his lap as he stood abruptly—he caught it last second.
“Hogan?” he gasped.
Hogan gave a sloppy salute. “One and only.”
Klink’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He caught his monocle, wiped it, and placed it back.
“Hogan!” he exclaimed. “It is you!”
“And you,” he said as he rubbed his chin between his thumb and fingers. “I wasn’t expecting the beard.”
Klink’s hand went to his face, he grinned. “I thought a new life warranted a new look.” He turned to show his profile, sporting a tightly trimmed beard.
“Turning into quite a looker,” Hogan said. “Might’ve had some competition for Helga and Hilda if you looked like that back in the old Alma Mater.”
Klink raised an eyebrow. “Please, Hogan. Flattery? You’re still not getting that extra hour of electricity.”
Hogan held a hand to his chest in disbelief. “Losing my touch already? Well, what about some white bread?”
Klink considered this for a moment. “I believe I can finally accommodate you there.”
“You’re kidding?”
“How do you feel about seafood?”
“Taking me to dinner, Kommandant?”
“If you’ll have me.”
Hogan cracked a grin. “Maybe I’ve got the old touch back. Was hoping you’d want to catch up.”
Klink placed his book in a bag, and began gathering up the paintbrushes and paints that were lined up by the easel.
“Yours?” Hogan asked, nodding at the canvas that featured a half finished ocean-scape—unfinished palm trees and rolling waves were focal point.
“Ja,” he said as he began packing.
“I think you finally found your talent,” Hogan said.
“Flattery again?” Klink asked with a glance towards him.
“This one’s on the house.”
“What brings you to California?” Klink asked.
“You,” said Hogan.
Klink stopped partway through folding the easel, raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head.
“Been making the rounds. Seeing how life’s treating everyone after Stalag 13,” Hogan said. “I’ll say this much: you’re a hard man to find.”
“Am I?”
Hogan nodded. “You damn near dropped off the map. No one’s heard a thing from you since you left Germany.”
Klink shrugged slightly. “And how is everyone?”
“Doing alright. I’ll fill you in over dinner.”
Klink hefted his painting bag over his shoulder. “I live a short walk from here.” He nodded down the sea wall towards a three-story building. “I will return momentarily, if you wish to wait.”
“Where’s this seafood joint?”
“Another short walk,” Klink said with a nod towards the pier in the opposite direction.
“Think I’ll take in the view,” Hogan said as he kicked back on the bench. “Take your time, I’ll be here.”
Klink returned. “Shall we?” he asked, and they began walking to the pier.
“So, how is California treating you?” Hogan asked.
“Better than I could have ever hoped. The sea air and climate are ideal.”
“Miss snow?” Hogan asked.
Klink laughed. “Not even during Christmas.”
They walked in silence for a few moments. “And how,” Klink said, “is life after war treating you?”
Hogan shrugged. “Fun and fancy free.”
“Back in the skies again?” Klink asked as they began climbing the pier.
“Not yet; but if anyone lets me near a plane, they better hide the keys if they wanna keep it around. And what about the ol’ Iron Eagle? Itching to be back in the wild blue yonder?”
“That wild blue,” Klink said as he pointed towards the sea, “perhaps.”
“Why you ever went into the Air Corps when you were afraid of flying,” Hogan said, “instead of the Navy, I’ll never know.”
Klink gave Hogan a look. He restrained from commenting, however, due to the fact they arrived at the restaurant.
“Afternoon, Will! Usual table?” a woman said with a grin. She stopped and noticed Hogan. “Have a guest?”
Klink introduced them.
“Ah! the infamous Colonel Robert Hogan, is it?” she said as she led them to a small table outside. It was under an awning, near the pier railing, a blue and white table cloth. There was only one chair—facing the sea. The woman grabbed a chair from the next table.
“Been talking about me, Willi?” Hogan asked as he sat. “Thank you,” he said to the woman.
“I’ll bring you some ice water,” the woman said and disappeared.
“What’s good here?” Hogan asked.
“I usually let the chef choose what she would like to serve,” Klink said.
“Sounds swell. If I learned anything from Louis: never argue with the cook.”
The woman returned, setting the glasses on the table.
“Thank you, Charlotte,” Klink said. “And we will both have what June decides for us.”
“I’ll tell her something special,” she said with a wave and was off again.
Hogan watched her as she left. “You ever go to the picture show?” he asked.
Klink raised an eyebrow. “Occasionally.”
“There’s this picture that just came out with Humphrey Bogart and a new actress: Lauren Bacall. Charlotte could be a dead ringer for her on the radio.”
“Oh?”
“I believe I might be in love,” Hogan said as he raised his glass.
“Lauren Bacall or Charlotte?”
“Whichever’ll have me,” he said with a grin.
“You said you have been catching up with everyone?”
“Yeah. Ah, let’s see—I started with Schultzi. He got his toy factory back.”
“I heard you had more than a little to do with that,” said Klink.
“Your sources are getting better,” Hogan said with a raised eyebrow. “He’s doing terrific. You know something?”
Klink tilted his head.
“He really does know a hell of a lot,” Hogan said.
“I am happy to hear he is doing well,” Klink said with a small but genuine smile.
Hogan held up his index and middle finger, pointing at the middle. “LeBeau started a café in Paris. Except it seems his plans changed and Newkirk,” Hogan held up a third finger, “and him ended up in the clothing business.”
“The Englishman and the little cockroach? Working together?”
“See, that was about my reaction! Long story, honestly, but LeBeau does the designing and selling, Newkirk does the sewing. Louis wants to keep trying with the café, but it seems high couture takes up most of his time. Nice little shop.” Hogan held his arms up. “This shirt was compliments of both of them.”
“And the rest? How is Sergeant Carter?”
“Teacher. He’s back in North Dakota; teaching chemistry. Last I heard the high school was building a annex for his classes. Not too sure they trust him.”
Klink laughed.
Klink proceeded to ask of the rest of the heroes by name. Hogan updated him, filling him in on the lives of the men. Sergeant Baker became a teacher as well—English and German. Kinch was back in Detroit, running a small business and radio repair. He went down the list of names, checking them off on his fingers: Olsen, Wilson, DuBois, name after name—Hogan even tracked down Schnitzer—all of them thriving.
“Live right on the beach?” Hogan asked as he pushed his dessert plate to the middle of the table.
Klink nodded.
“Any guests at the moment?” Hogan asked, eyebrow raised.
Klink gave him a look. “My dear colonel, are you asking for a reservation for tonight?”
“I thought you’d never ask! I’d love to stay.”
Klink shook his head, laughing. “It might be fun to play host for a change—instead of warden. Or perhaps, I always was more of a host?”
Hogan held up his glass in a toast.
“How long did you know?” Hogan asked. “Right before the war ended you gave us that one warning about the Gestapo raid and saved our asses, but how long had you known?”
“Know for sure?” Klink shrugged. “Suspected, however? Roughly a month after you arrived at Stalag 13.”
“Damn, and I thought my poker face was better than that.”
“Perhaps it was more so wishful thinking in the beginning. All I know, is that I desperately, desperately, wanted to believe someone was doing something to fight for the good.”
Charlotte returned, handing a brown paper sack to Klink. “For Genie. June and I know how she loves fish.” She glanced back towards the entrance and noticed a crowd starting to shuffle up the pier. “I hate to run off again, but it seems the dinner rush is early! It was nice meeting you, Colonel.”
“We’ll be back,” Hogan said, “before I leave town. My compliments to the chef once again.”
“So, who’s Genie?” Hogan asked as they began walking down the sea wall towards Klink’s home.
“You will meet her soon enough. I stay with her.”
Hogan raised an eyebrow. “I thought you lived alone? Am I imposing?”
Klink shrugged. “We’ll see what Genie says.”
“Wow,” Hogan said, “painting, friends with world renowned chefs, living with a young lady right on the beach. I’d say California is treating you better than Ohio’s ever treated me!”
Klink tried and failed to suppress a grin. “My thanks for you putting in a good word. I fear I truly would have been shot—by either side—if you had not.”
“Hey, I figured if you made it big, I could impose for a free beach weekend. I always knew you'd end up ‘by the sea, by the sea, by the beautiful sea’.”
“And here we are,” Klink said as he opened the door to his apartment. “I'm home,” he called out. “June and Charlotte send their love and a fish dinner.”
A striped cat waltzed around the corner of the door. “Geneva! There you are.” The cat rubbed itself along Klink's leg.
“Genie is a cat? ” Hogan asked with a laugh.
Klink reached down, picking her up and nuzzling her against his face. “Yes. This is Geneva.”
Hogan held out his hand, letting her sniff him, the cat nuzzled into his hand. “Geneva?” Hogan finally said after a beat. “As in—”
“As in Convention, yes,” Klink chuckled.
“You named your cat after the Geneva Convention?”
“I missed hearing the word Geneva every third sentence,” Klink said with a shrug.
Hogan kicked back in a lounge chair on Klink's balcony, watching the sunset. The sky turning shades of pink, purple, and orange, blending into the clear blue of the day that was fading into night.
“Hogan?” Klink said as he handed him a drink and sat down beside him, clutching a mug of tea.
“Call me Bobby. Seems only fair since I've been calling you Willi for years,” he said with a grin.
“Bobby? Hmm. It compliments you. I never did believe Robert suited you well.”
“Only people who ever called me Robert were my commanding officers and teachers who didn't like me all that much.”
They sat in silence watching the sky paint itself like oils on a canvas. Hogan broke it with, “Got a chess set around here?”
“Indeed I do,” Klink said. “Care to play for real this time?”
“What? You saying you let me win all these years?” Hogan smirked.
“I hope you are in practice,” was Klink's only reply.
It turns out Klink could give Hogan a run for his money when he set his mind to it.
After an hour, it appeared they arrived at a stalemate.
“Have you been taking chess lessons in addition to the painting classes?” Hogan asked as he stood up and studied the board from another angle.
“I have been busy, let us put it that way.”
Hogan glanced around the room, taking in the paintings that were hanging, as well as several that were propped up against various walls. There were a stack of blank canvases sitting on top of a grand piano as well.
“I'll say.” He approached a painting by the window.
“My first attempt of the ocean,” Klink said, sitting on the piano bench and nodding at the canvas that Hogan was studying.
“This one's nice,” Hogan said in regards to a night seascape. The moon shining on the water, a light dusting of stars, and a pier jutting out.
“I painted that one at Charlotte and June's restaurant.”
“Thought the view looked familiar,” Hogan said. “That reminds me!” He darted into the other room and returned with a small box, a ribbon on top. “Here,” he said, handing it to Klink.
“A present? For me?” He opened the box and lifted out a book.
“It has a poem you always talked about. When I found the book, I thought you might like it,” Hogan said with a shrug. “That poem about the moon being still as bright.”
Klink turned to the index, his finger scanning the list of poems included in the collection. “So, we'll go no more a roving,” he said softly.
“Yeah, that one!”
Klink turned to the page and let out a small gasp. “Stiefmütterchen!” He looked up, a question in his eyes.
Hogan shrugged, smiled. “When I visited Schultz, I saw them. I said they were pretty, and he told me the name. I remembered you always talked about them—how your grandmother always grew them.” He shifted slightly. “You know Schultz’s daughter really, really likes plants?”
Klink shook his head.
“Yeah,” Hogan said with a grin. “She picked me some. Even gave me some seeds she collected! She then started talking about all the flowers she was growing. At the toy factory, she pointed out a patch of Klatschmohn Wiese, and I remembered you mentioned those too. She picked me a whole bunch and helped me press them.”
Klink began looking through the book. He found another flower. He flipped through page after page, finding flowers scattered throughout the book. He glanced up at Hogan; there was a look in both their eyes that neither could quite place.
“I put the flowers on some of the poems I really liked,” Hogan offered.
“Hogan,” Klink began, “Bobby, this is… lovely. Danke, I— Thank you.” He ran his fingers over the page.
“That was the poem you always liked, wasn't it? About the moon?”
Klink nodded. He recited the first verse of the poem by heart.
“So, we'll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.”
Hogan glanced out at the balcony. “Hey, it must of heard us!” he said as he caught a glimpse of the moon sinking into the western sky and reflecting off the Pacific. “How about some stargazing and drinks?”
“Sounds delightful. Would you care for some music? You can see if there is anything we agree on,” Klink said, nodding towards the collection of albums in the corner. He began making the drinks.
Hogan flipped through the records. Everything he expected: Mozart, Strauss, Beethoven—he raised an eyebrow at the amount of Tchaikovsky.
“BENNY GOODMAN?” he exclaimed. He put on the album and was floored as the sounds of swing filled the room. He half expected it to be the wrong label.
Klink handed a glass to Hogan, and they both sat down outside, the salt air nipping at them. They left the door to the balcony open, letting the music dance into the night.
“I didn't take you for a jazz fan,” said Hogan.
Klink shrugged. “You mentioned him so often, I decided to give it a try. There's a few records of the Dorsey brothers—both of them—Artie Shaw, Duke Ellington, a few others as well. The Benny Goodman ones are Geneva’s favorite, however.”
“Ah, so they're all Geneva’s?” Hogan asked with a grin.
“She seems to be quite the jazz fan, yes.”
They sat there watching the moon, the sea and stars, and listening to the King of Swing.
Hogan reached over, covering Klink's hand with his own. Klink turned suddenly, glancing down at their hands resting on the arm of his chair. He didn't pull away, however; a question in his eyes that was met with a smile from Hogan.
“Willi?” Hogan asked as one song led into another. “Do you remember a speech I gave once about Napoleon?”
“Is that the same speech where you informed me that all men have a star that will carry them through, if they only believe?” said Klink. “And then a train met with an untimely demise, proving your theory?”
“Yeah. Remember what you told me right before that?
Klink shook his head.
“That you believed in another place and time, we might have been friends,” said Hogan.
“I always truly believed that,” Klink said softly, the sea breeze nearly swallowing the statement.
Hogan brushed his thumb against the side of Klink's hand. Klink let out a startled gasp. Hogan turned Klink's hand gently, his thumb tracing small, featherlight circles into Klink's palm.
“This is Geneva’s favorite song,” Klink said as another song began. Hogan's fingers still lightly caressing his hand.
“Oh?”
“‘Where or When’,” he said. His voice a tight whisper. He intertwined his fingers with Hogan's.
“Here and now,” Hogan said.
“What?” Klink whispered.
“In another time and place: Maybe it's here and now.”
“Bobby?” Klink squeezed his hand gently, sure that Hogan could feel his heartbeat through his touch.
Hogan looked at him, the moonlight illuminating his face.
“I've always known you were my star,” Klink said.
Hogan placed a hand on the side of Klink's face, his fingers brushing against the beard.
Klink shook his head. A fear in his eyes.
Hogan tilted his head, removed his hand a fraction of an inch when Klink suddenly reached up, grasping his hand in his own.
“Bitte,” he whispered. He glanced out to the empty beach, back to Hogan, his hand trembling ever so slightly.
They traded the night for the safety of curtains. The record came to an end and Klink hurried to flip it to the other side. Music once more filling the room. He turned and Hogan was behind him, hand extended.
“May I have this dance, Kommandant?”
Klink let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. He accepted the offer and they waltzed about the room.
The song came to an end, another slow, romantic number following. Hogan paused their dancing, pulling Klink in close, his lips brushing against his neck.
“Bobby?” Klink's voice hitched.
Hogan pulled back, his arms wrapped around his waist. “Yeah?”
“Why?”
Hogan shrugged.
“You bring me flowers and poetry. Me. Why?”
“I thought you'd like them,” Hogan stated. “Why’d you name your cat Geneva and start collecting swing records?”
“I missed you,” Klink confessed.
Hogan cupped Klink's face; he turned into the caress, his lips brushing against Hogan's hand.
“You have any plans for the evening?” Hogan asked.
Klink shook his head. A yearning, a longing, a question in his eyes.
Hogan closed the distance between them, resting his forehead against Klink's.
“Bobby, why?” he asked, his breath warm upon his skin.
Hogan caught his lips in his, kissing him.
Klink wrapped his arms around him, tightening their embrace.
“I guess you were right,” Hogan said as they pulled away for a breath.
Klink tilted his head in question.
“The Klink charm really is irresistible,” Hogan said with a grin.
Klink let out a laugh. “Bobby, you had me charmed from the moment you recited your name, rank, and serial number.”
“So that time and place you mentioned…” Hogan began.
“Here and now?” Klink offered.
“Here and now,” Hogan said, sealing it with a kiss.