Gretchen rolled her eyes at Alina, who dangled the letter from her fingers. Alina stared at Gretchen’s mother, horrified.
“You had to raise your voice,” Gretchen said.
Karl half-stood, gripping the back of his chair to stop the room from spinning. “Think I should head on back to the barn?”
Tante Klegg pointed at the chair with her dripping ladle. “Sit.”
Karl sank. “Don’t see how my face will help anything.”
Gretchen’s mother shoved her out of the way. “What do you know of Werner?”
Gretchen caught herself on the table corner. “Have a nice nap, Mama?” she said.
Tante Klegg clapped her hand on Gretchen’s shoulder and shook her head. Gretchen shrugged.
Alina flourished the letter. “Werner returns!” She scurried around the table, her skirts swishing as she reached for Gretchen’s mother. “He wrote, and I waited for the right time to tell you…”
Gretchen’s mother expression hardened as she backed away from Alina. “Do you believe I would let my son marry a girl like you?”
Alina’s smile faltered. “Mütter?”
Gretchen’s mother pointed at Alina, but spoke to Tante Klegg. “You have seen this letter?”
Tante Klegg shook her head. “The child showed me nothing. She keeps it in her hand.”
Alina inched behind Karl, who remained frozen in place. She pressed the letter into Tante Klegg’s hands, now afraid to approach Gretchen’s mother.
Tante Klegg looked at her sister, at Gretchen, and down at the fragile paper in her hands. “It looks like his handwriting.”
Gretchen’s mother snatched the letter from Tante Klegg. She read it, her lips moving as she brought it closer to her face until she stood there smelling the paper in silence.
“He’s coming home to us, Mütter,” she whispered.
Before anyone could stop her, Gretchen’s mother ripped the letter into shreds.
Alina fell to her knees to gather the pieces. She scooped them into her lap, her skirt puffing around her as she sat in the dust. “I wanted to wait until I was sure,” she cried. “Now that the war is over, I knew Werner would come home soon. I wanted to make you happy.”
“You thought you would be my hero?” Gretchen’s mother’s voice was soft and cold, far more frightening than her usual hysterics. “My hero is my son coming home to me. My hero is my husband bringing my son home from war. My hero is bringing my life back to order. You are a manipulative child.”
Alina sobbed, shaking her head and pressing the letter pieces to her heart.
Gretchen scratched her eyebrow with a grimace. If anyone were to make a letter the subject of dramatics, it would be her mother and Alina. Not that she was in any place to judge. She was furious with Alina for hiding the letter. Watching Alina cry made Gretchen happier than she had felt in a while. The fact that her mother brought Alina to tears only made it better.
Tante Klegg moved the pot of stew off the burner. The scraping noise startled everyone. “Your son has written to say he returns,” she said. “Why are you upset?”
“You know why,” Gretchen’s mother said. “Why did he not write me?”
“You do not know he did not,” Tante Klegg pointed out. “The post is unreliable. We should be glad we know anything about Werner.”
Gretchen’s mother crossed her arms over her chest. “You cannot believe that.”
“What is there to believe these days?” Tante Klegg said with a shrug. “We live in the days of men shooting presidents. What I believe does not matter.”
Gretchen’s mother leaned over the table. “This is exactly when what you believe does matter.”
Tante Klegg inhaled as if struck.
Gretchen flinched, waiting for another outburst. Next thing she knew, her mother was in her bedroom again. No one followed her.
Karl heaved a sigh and slouched. Tante Klegg huffed and turned back to the stove, clanging her spoon as she stirred.
“So we discovered what it takes for my mother to turn on you,” Gretchen said to Alina.
Alina stared at Gretchen, eyes narrowing.
“Good luck getting on her good side again,” Gretchen continued. “I’ve been trying since I was born.”
Alina smiled, rested her hands on her hips, and said, “Don’t you ever get tired of being ignored?”
“What?” Gretchen said.
“I was trying to help you,” Alina said. “Nothing makes a young woman more important than her wedding. She means something if she’s a wife. Don’t you pay attention in church? This would have been the making of you!”
“I pay plenty of attention,” Gretchen said, “and I don’t need your help. My papa told me everyone means something in this world, and I don’t have to get married to mean something.”
Alina snorted. “Your papa was a lazy man. He pretended he was a philosopher. He fooled no one. He was an Ohio farmer who married the daughter of a German intellectual. Or so she claims.”
Gretchen’s fist landed on Alina’s jaw before she gave it much thought. Alina fell back, screaming, using both hands to hold her face together.
Karl leaped from his seat to catch Alina. Tante Klegg wrapped her arm around Gretchen’s shoulders.
“Try to marry my brother after saying a thing like that,” Gretchen said. She panted, struggling against Tante Klegg’s grip. “I dare you.”
Karl righted Alina. She let him check her jaw and smirked at Gretchen even though tears ran down her face.
Gretchen lunged. Tante Klegg threw her against the wall.
“Compose yourself,” Tante Klegg said. “You—what’s your name—Karl, escort Alina out.”
“How am I supposed to get home? You made me ride with you!” Alina whined.
“It is broad daylight, girl,” Tante Klegg said. “Walk.”
Alina swished her skirts and held out her hand in a way that implied she expected Karl to offer his arm. He did, but with a little frown as Alina led him to the porch. Every step echoed on the puncheon floor, inflaming Gretchen’s anger.
“Let me loose,” Gretchen said. She met Tante Klegg’s glare from the corner of her eye. “Are you going to take her side after the way she spoke about Werner?”
“You attacked Werner’s betrothed,” Tante Klegg said, releasing Gretchen. “She is his choice. If this ever gets back to him, what do you think he will do to you?”
Gretchen’s mind flashed back to when Werner had tied her to a post in the back of the chicken coop. It had taken her hours to loosen the knots. Everyone had blamed her for upsetting the chickens, which refused to lay eggs for weeks after that. All because Gretchen had said Werner’s hair looked silly all done up with pomade.
“You are so rash, Gretchen,” Tante Klegg sighed. She rubbed her hands down her face, muttering that Gretchen was too like her mother.
Gretchen’s face inflamed. She might be rash, but she was not hysterical or silly. “I am nothing like her,” she said, surprising Tante Klegg. “When Papa and Werner left, she cried for weeks. They left me with the revolver. They left me to look after you and Mama.”
Tante Klegg’s smile was wry. “And you did not think, not once, that your papa might have asked someone to look after you?”
Gretchen blinked. No, that had not occurred to her. It had never occurred to her that her father would ask her aunt to watch after her, rather than her own mother. She looked at her mother’s bedroom door, which muffled her mother’s sobs. Her face crumpled. Did her mother hate her so much that even her father did not trust Gretchen to her care?
Tante Klegg patted Gretchen’s cheek. “Do not let your Karl leave the room before I return.” She left the kitchen as Karl entered it.
“You all right?” he asked, finding Gretchen staring at her hands.
Gretchen shrugged. “As all right as a person who’s no good for anything could be.” She watched the sunset blaze through the kitchen window, shielding her gaze. “Day’s almost done. We’ll have to figure out where to put you for the night.” Gretchen squinted at him. “You seem to be feeling better. You walked Alina all the way to the barn and back by yourself?”
“Food and water does wonders,” Karl said.
“You hardly ate anything,” Gretchen said.
“Saw a man come out of a fever in the prison, and he ate so much so fast he had pains for days and died anyway. I’m fine with taking my time.”
“Obviously,” Gretchen said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Karl scoffed. “Tell me you’re not jealous.”
“Of course not! I’m worried. Alina’s got her own agenda with you, and I don’t understand it. We’ve got to get you well enough to get out of here before anyone realizes we’re not engaged.”
Tante Klegg reappeared with rope in her hand. She gestured at an empty chair. “I will take the legs.”
“What?” Karl and Gretchen said in unison.
Tante Klegg clicked her tongue against the top of her mouth. “We will tie him to the chair. I will take the legs. You will lift from behind.”
“I’m not doing this,” Gretchen said. “He won’t be any trouble. We can lock him in the barn. Or he can sleep in the hayloft.”
Tante Klegg motioned for Karl to sit in the chair.
Karl studied the chair, considering his options. The chair seat was smooth from years of family meals. It was more comfortable than the rough boards he used to sleep on in the prison. Sure, it would be less comfortable sitting upright all night. But there would not be wind whistling through large gaps in the walls. And it was still better than his imprisoned nights at Camp Chase.
Karl figured no one would kill him in the kitchen, even though they liked waving their revolver around. He sat down.
Tante Klegg grunted as she wound the rope around Karl’s ankles, lashing them to the chair legs. She led the rope up, over his lap, and around his wrists. She wrapped it under his armpits and over his shoulders to the back of the chair.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Gretchen said.
“Lift and shut your mouth,” Tante Klegg said.
Karl stiffened with a gasp when he was airborne. His fingers gripped the edges of his seat to stabilize, not that it helped. Ropes strained across his sunken chest, wound around his waist, and spiraled down his legs. They did not cushion Gretchen and Tante Klegg’s jarring missteps across the kitchen.
Karl could not help it. He whimpered as they reached Werner’s room.
“It’s not any fun down here, either,” Gretchen grunted between clenched teeth.
“This is the consequence of your impetuousness,” Tante Klegg said. She stumbled, and Karl tipped forward, his knees slamming into her shoulders. “Gretchen, hold onto him!”
Gretchen dropped the back legs so Karl and the chair were safe on the ground. “Let’s leave him out here,” she suggested, panting. “He won’t be comfortable anywhere we put him if he’s stuck in that chair.”
“Y’all could let me loose,” Karl suggested.
Tante Klegg grabbed the back of the chair and began to drag him. “My sister is not a terrible shot,” she grunted. “Do you think she will forget your unfortunate allegiance because of Alina’s betrayal?”
That was a good point. Gretchen helped push Karl into Werner’s bedroom. Maybe she was good for nothing. But at least she could help Karl stay alive another night.