The wardrobe near the window was still just a silhouette, but over the down covers, the sky was lightening. At the foot of her bed was her parents' pine chest. Mama had wanted Papa to paint it the same green as the wardrobe so that the two pieces of furniture would match. She’d wanted to paint the chest with the same yellow and pink peonies as on the doors of the wardrobe. Then the two swallows that flew off in opposite directions from the handles of the wardrobe would be painted to land on the sides of the box, in nests tucked into the corners. Mama had sketched out the plans, and after Katharina had coloured them in, Papa took the chest to the workshop with the promise to start the next day. But Oma had died that night, and the chest stayed out there until Katharina's brother came into the world, stillborn. Then a week after that funeral, Katharina found her mother kneeling in front of the box, placed back at the foot of the bed. Mama's lap was full of baby clothes and diapers, and the wooden chest was still plain.
Katharina's loneliness flared up in the pit of her stomach, and she moved to the end of the bed to look at the ruined blouse she'd laid on top of the chest. It was one of the last pieces of clothing she had from her mother.
She slipped off the bed and knelt on the floor, like her mother had all those years before, and raised the blouse to her nose. It smelled of sheep's milk soap. She had scrubbed Mr Grimani's scents out, and all that remained of him were the faded brown bloodstains. His blood on her blouse. It was the first time she'd saved anyone's life, and though part of her said she was being foolish, even vain, she wanted to keep this. Mr Grimani would eventually have to return to wherever he'd come from.
The thought of the house empty again, those lovely hands gone, and those keen eyes no longer on her, made her feel hollow. This cloth would be all the memory she would have left of him.
Katharina folded it and pressed it to her before raising the lid of the chest. The scents of pine, leather, flaxen cloth, and her father's shaving soap filled the air. The smells of unfulfilled promises.
The blouse went to the bottom under the stack of baby clothes. She reached for her father's leather shaving kit and remembered the Christmas when Mama had given it to him. She could remember the shop in Innsbruck and the scent of herbs and flowers—a meadow caught indoors. That was when her family had been prosperous and doing well. That was just before they’d moved to Arlund because Opa needed help with the farm. That was a long, long time and whole wide world ago.
She clicked the shaving kit's snap open. Each item was secured in place in its separate compartments. Inside the lid, leather straps held the cutthroat razor and the shaving stick. In the main pocket were the soap container, the razor strop, and a clothes brush. There was a place for two more things, but they were no longer there, and Katharina could not remember what should have been there. A lot of things were out of place these days.
She put the kit on the floor. Mr Grimani could use it, and when she pictured handing it over to him, or shaving him herself, her stomach felt weak. Without another look inside, she dropped the lid of the chest shut and went to the wardrobe.
--End of Sample--
Dear Reader, thank you for your interest.
No Man’s Land will be released on Amazon in paperback and in ebook format on January 25th. Kindle pre-orders are being taken now.
Let me know what you think!
Warm regards,
Chrystyna Lucyk-Berger
[email protected]
Arlund: A Reschen Valley Novel / Chrystyna Lucyk-Berger. – 1st ed.
ISBN-13: 978-1983810183
ISBN-10: 1983810185
ASIN: B078WDPDSJ
Buy or Borrow:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078WDPDSJ
No Man's Land: Reschen Valley 1 Page 3