Gretchen stood by the kitchen window, her revolver in hand. The kitchen was silent but for her mother’s nervous sipping. Alina twisted her handkerchief, wondering who shrieked, or where, or why. She opened her mouth and shut it again.
“She’s coming back,” Gretchen announced, watching Tante Klegg step out of the barn.
“Is she hurt?” Alina whispered.
“No, but…” Gretchen squinted into the sunlight. “She’s carrying something.”
Oh. Oh no. Gretchen knew exactly what her aunt carried. She slammed the door shut and scooted back to her chair. She was not about to admit Tante Klegg was holding her dress. Not to Alina and not to her mother of all people. Not when they had heard a man scream from that direction.
“What took her so long? Are you sure she is safe?” Alina pressed.
Gretchen’s mother seemed serene but her eyes flashed. She had realized they had only moved Karl, not removed him from the farm.
Not knowing what to say, Gretchen reset the safety on the revolver and slipped it into her pocket. She had not brandished her weapon as many times during the war as she had this morning.
Tante Klegg kicked the door open. Alina screamed. Gretchen stared at her sweaty, bloodied dress bundled in Tante Klegg’s arms. Her mother rolled her eyes at all the dramatics, as if she had not been hysterical an hour before.
“Stop that,” Tante Klegg said to Alina as she shut the door behind her.
Alina huffed, throwing a hand to her chest. “I heard a man scream as if he were dying, Tante Klegg. That is cause for me to be nervous.”
“Hysterical, not nervous,” Tante Klegg said. “Had you been nervous, you would have watched the barn when I entered it, you would have watched when I left. You would have found methods to protect yourself. You did none of these things. You are not nervous. You are hysterical.”
Tante Klegg’s tone made the word “hysterical” sound like the word “useless.”
Alina’s lower lip trembled. “You are so harsh.”
“Try living with her,” Gretchen said.
Tante Klegg ignored them, dropping Gretchen’s dress into the bucket beside the stove.
“What is that?” her mother demanded. “It is filthy. Get it out of my house.”
Gretchen frowned at Tante Klegg, begging. She knew where Tante Klegg had found that dress, somewhere in the stall with Karl. Gretchen felt her face inflame.
If only Alina had left! Then Gretchen could explain she had not changed in front of Karl, that she was not loose. She had thrown the dress near the stall so if someone wandered into the barn, they would not notice it. Seeing the dress in Tante Klegg’s hands made Gretchen think she should have thrown it in the old pig sty.
Alina leaned forward, trying to see around Gretchen. “It looks like…” She glanced at Gretchen and fell silent.
“It is Gretchen’s dress.” Tante Klegg’s tone was matter-of-fact.
Gretchen sighed. The adventure was over, having not lasted long in the first place. Once again, everyone would blame her for everything. Alina would have to know the secret now. Gretchen would have to fight to keep Karl again.
Alina frowned at Gretchen, but directed her question at Gretchen’s mother. “Mütter, what was Gretchen’s dress doing in the barn? That is an odd place to keep clothing.”
Gretchen’s mother lifted a shoulder and sipped her water. “I do not explain her. You know that.”
“This must be why Gretchen is wearing her best dress,” Alina mused. “Gretchen never wears her Sunday best, even for special occasions.”
“That’s not true,” Gretchen protested. “I wore it six days ago.”
“Sunday was six days ago,” Alina said.
Tante Klegg picked up the water pail. “This is a family matter, Alina. Do not concern yourself.”
Gretchen watched her aunt, too afraid to ask, too annoyed to object.
“Gretchen’s clothing is a family matter too private for me to concern myself about?” Alina asked. “I’m practically her sister; I’m Werner’s…” Her lip trembled again, accompanied this time by tears.
“Gretchen, go to Werner’s room,” Tante Klegg said. She placed a pot on the stove and went through the motions of stoking the flame. “Return with pants and a shirt. Suspenders if you find any.”
“Are we washing early?” Gretchen asked, delaying the inevitable.
“Is that blood on her dress?” Alina asked, standing from her seat. “Gretchen, why is there blood on your dress?”
Alina looked at Tante Klegg. “Why do you want her to get Werner’s clothing? Has my Werner returned?” The hope in her voice made Gretchen cringe.
“It is not Werner who needs the clothing,” Tante Klegg said, her face red from stoking the flames. She straightened and turned, hands on her hips. Gretchen never liked when Tante Klegg stood like that. It meant she was about to say something certain to make Gretchen’s life that much more difficult.
“It is for a soldier, but not Werner,” Tante Klegg said. “Gretchen found him.”
Gretchen’s mother inhaled, her nostrils flaring. “Edelgard! You have no right to do this.”
Tante Klegg was impassive as she filled a pot with water to soak the bloodstained dress. “I will not repeat the past,” she said to no one.
Alina rounded on Gretchen. “A soldier! You found a soldier! Was he in Werner’s volunteers? Has he news of Werner? What does he know of soldiers returning home? Why is he in the barn?” She grabbed Gretchen’s hands from across the table. “You must tell me everything.”
Gretchen squirmed.
“Yes,” her mother taunted. “Tell her everything. What is his name?”
Gretchen swallowed. “Well… I call him… Karl…”
Her aunt dropped the pot on the stove and her mother hissed. “You call him Karl?” her mother turned an unseemly shade of purple. “That is our papa’s name, you little…”
“Adelaide,” Tante Klegg said, whipping around from the stove.
“Oh, Karl, that is a good strong name for a soldier,” Alina interrupted with an annoying little sigh. “He knows of Werner’s return, he must! Why else would he come to your farm?”
Gretchen closed her eyes. “His… we had to bandage his head. It affects his mind. He… doesn’t seem to remember things.”
Alina frowned. “Is he dangerous?”
Gretchen shook her head, having no idea.
“When will I meet him?” Alina asked, looking from one woman to another.
“Not today,” Tante Klegg said. “He needs to rest.”
Alina nodded. “Poor soul.”
“You have no idea,” Gretchen said. She narrowed her eyes at Tante Klegg, wondering what her aunt would say next. She hoped it would be to tell Alina to get out.
One thing was certain, and that was when Alina left, all Grove City would know Karl was at their farm.
Who knew how long Karl would stay in Grove City? For all they knew, he would escape at the first opportunity. He might have left already.
“We will see you at church tomorrow,” Tante Klegg said to Alina, ushering her from her seat.
“Oh yes, yes!” Alina said. She waved to Gretchen. “I am so happy for you, meine kleine schwester. It brings me hope that my Werner will return to me!” She flounced from the room, curls bobbing and petticoats swishing.
“Tante Edelgard Klegg,” Gretchen whispered, her temper flaring, “what have you done?”