Mara

by Mara (v5. 0) (epub)

  The water boiled and I added the boiling water to a bit of soap in the basin. Then I quickly added a bit of cold water from the pump, took the bowls and washed them. Auntie joined me with a tea towel and she dried everything quickly and efficiently. She worked so fast that the bowls were put away before I had washed the utensils, and all that time she hummed a melody that somehow sounded familiar.

  ‘What song is that?’ I asked in the end.

  ‘You don’t remember?’ she asked. ‘Your Grandpa used to sing it. It’s Luther’s Psalm, A Mighty Fortress is Our God.’ I nodded and tried to recall the rest of the words, but I could not draw them back out of the fog of my memory.

  I felt so much better after my meal, but Auntie still insisted that

  I rest.

  ‘You just take it easy indoors today. It’s a cold day, you’re tired and…’ She didn’t finish her sentence and in my mind I added the word that was clearly implied. Pregnant.

  Would we continually feel awkward when my circumstances were mentioned? How would we cope when I started to show and could no longer hide what was growing inside me? It took me three large steps to walk to the door.

  ‘Please excuse me, I need to visit the privy.’ I yanked the door to the barn open. The privy was underneath the stairs, just where it used to be. I walked quickly and ignored the cold that soaked from the floor into my socks. I violently pulled the door open and I let it slam closed behind me. I just stood in the half dark narrow space, breathing furiously.

  You’re pregnant. You whore. Nobody can deny it. Nobody will deny it. His voice seemed fearfully close by, despite the distance between us. I closed my eyes, forced him out of my thoughts by slowly counting to ten. Then I slid the lid to the side and sat down.

  I had to return to the kitchen of course, back to Auntie, but I refused to look at her and I pretended nothing had happened. Auntie didn’t though.

  ‘I can’t bite my tongue every time, Maria. If you don’t mind I’d rather call a spade, a spade. By not speaking of something it won’t disappear, so we may as well face up to the awkwardness of the situation. Do you agree?

  I nodded slowly.

  ‘I’m glad. It will be a lot safer for my tongue.’ She smiled and I smiled with her.

  ‘Good. What I meant to say was, you are tired and pregnant, and you need to rest. So, today you’ll stay here, close to the fire. You go and rest up, do some needlework or read a book, whatever you like, as long as you don’t do any hard work.’

  Dubiously I looked at her. Was she serious? Did I really have to be an idle spectator all afternoon?

  She nodded. ‘Tomorrow you may help me. That’ll be soon enough.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I felt relieved, for I was more exhausted than I had expected and the idea of staying inside appealed to me. I was still shivering, despite the thick sweater, tea and the warm meal. To go outside now seemed to me the least desirable thing to do.

  ‘Do you like to read?’ Auntie did not wait for an answer, but brought me along to the hall.

  ‘Here are my books. There’s not many of them, but I enjoy reading them all.’ She let her hand glide over the backs of the books, some of which already looked tattered, and she pulled two of the books partially off the shelf. ‘You may like these two.’

  ‘I’ll have a look,’ I said politely.

  ‘If you would prefer to do needlework, everything you need is here,’ said Auntie, and she drew open one of the drawers of the large cabinet. All sorts of colored yarn and material appeared.

  ‘There are two things I love to do,’ Auntie said, ‘embroidery and cooking.’ She rubbed her ample stomach. ‘And eating of course,’ she added with a smile.

  We returned to the kitchen and Auntie stepped into her wooden shoes.

  ‘If you need me, I’ll be in the barn or at the stables, but I won’t be long. I’ll soon be coming in too.

  I nodded and Auntie left. It was raining again and I saw her walking across the yard with her head down. The dog jumped around her feet, barking and she pushed him off with her hands. Auntie seemed to be a cheerful woman, full of life.

  My feet were tingling and I sat down again in Grandpa’s chair. I would do some needlework later, but first I needed a rest.

  The remainder of the afternoon flew by and before I realized it Auntie had milked the cows and we sat down at the table to eat some bread. When we finished our meal I could feel what energy I had left drain from me and I sat drowsily in my seat. Auntie Be noticed it and brought me to the guestroom. She helped me with my clothes, found my nightgown in one of the suitcases and tucked me in snugly. I thanked her without words and we kissed goodnight. It was dark, my first night.

  5

  Those words on that sheet of paper. Each letter was full of venom. It torments my soul. May I please write to you? I won’t expect a response from you, all I want is someone who’ll listen to me. What can I expect of my stay here? I am afraid that I will have to live here for four months under the disapproval and contempt of an aunt I barely know. Is that better or worse than living in the manse?

  I climbed down the stairs, uncertain. I had no idea what time it was, but it must have been later than Auntie’s regular rising time. What I wanted to do most was quietly creep downstairs, crawl and hide in a corner unnoticed, but the stairs creaked with every step I made.

  Finally I was downstairs. I stood for a moment and listened for noises that could tell me where Auntie was, but all was silent and I walked to the kitchen.

  I knocked on the door and carefully pushed it open. It was nice and warm in the kitchen and my eyes were immediately drawn to the stove. The warmth radiating from it was so pleasant, and I realized that Auntie must have been up for a while already. I closed the door softly behind me and walked into the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked pancakes hung in the air. Pancakes! When was the last time I had eaten pancakes?

  On the table was a note. I went to see what it said. ’I’m looking after the pigs. I’ll be right back.’

  I looked out the window, half expecting to see Auntie, but the window was too small and the distance to the pig house too far. Besides, Auntie was most likely still in there. Should I go and see her?

  Meekly I sat down on the edge of a chair. I kept my legs demurely together and lay my hands in my lap.

  What would Auntie say when she returned? I could tell that she had been up for hours already while I had been in bed sleeping all that time. Of course she would ask questions. Again, I looked out the window, afraid I would see her coming already. I was afraid that she’d come straight at me with large, determined steps. I expected her to ask me after the father of the child and she naturally would want to know how far along I was. She would chastise me, discipline me and maybe even call me names. My hands began a life of their own and started to pull on the fringes of the tablecloth. With quick movements they made a little braid. When it was done my fingers took three more strands to make another braid.

  ’Have you got a touch of the flu, Maria?’ Mrs. Kleut’s remark sounded innocent enough, but she hung over the counter in a curiously interested manner and she took a good look at me. Her smile seemed insincere and I felt my cheeks burn.

  ‘You’re looking a bit under the weather lately.’

  ‘Mother would like a pound of sugar.’ I said.

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Flour.’

  ‘How much would you like, Maria?’

  ‘One pound, no, two.’

  I pushed my hands into my coat pockets and stretched myself as long as I could while trying to suck in my stomach.

  ‘Have you seen Helène lately, Maria?

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh well, you know. That woman from the west side.’ Mrs Kleut shook her head toward the west side. She didn’t wait for my response, but hissed at me: ‘They say she’s pregnant again.’

  She looked at me with her eyebrows raised suggestively.

  I did not know what to say, so I just put the money on the co
unter and took my groceries. Without saying goodbye I rushed out the store. I tripped at the entrance but managed to keep my balance. The sugar started to slip from my hands and almost fell. I managed to hold the package in place with my chin. After a little ways I stopped and knelt down to rearrange my groceries. My fingers were trembling and I held on tightly to each paper bag to make sure that nothing would fall. Mrs. Kleut’s words echoed in my head. Helène is pregnant. Pregnant. The horrible truth, which became more and more clear to me, made me shiver.

  There were twelve small braids hanging off the tablecloth when I suddenly heard the clip-clop of wooden shoes. A quick glance at the window told me that Auntie was on her way. I feverishly started to pick at the braids trying to untangle them. I was sure Auntie would be angry with me if she saw what I had been doing. I had to make sure she wouldn’t see any of it.

  ‘Good morning, Maria!’

  ‘Good morning, Auntie Be.’ I wasn’t quite finished taking the braids apart, and, while fumbling clumsily, I tried to position myself in front of them.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I did. Thank you.’

  ‘What are you fumbling with your hands, do you always braid the fringes of tablecloths?’

  ‘I… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s all right. Can I see?’

  She came and had a closer look at one of the braids.

  ‘Just like when you were young, I remember it well.’ She had a beaming smile on her face. ‘Do you like pancakes?’

  I nodded and placed my hands in my lap again. Straight backed and with my stomach as flat as possible I stayed seated, quietly. What should I do? What did she expect me to do? Would this be when the accusations came? Maybe Auntie wanted to wait with that till after the meal? I closed my eyes and shuddered.

  ‘Come and have a look, Maria.’

  I quickly rose and walked to her.

  ‘I’ll just show you where everything is, so you’ll be able to find your way in this kitchen.’

  ‘Dishes, pots and pans are obvious of course,’ Auntie said as she gestured towards the plate rack. The spoons hung there as well, and underneath them was a blue pan shelving unit. The pots and pans were on the top shelf and on the lower shelf were the lids. Just as I remembered from when I was young.

  Auntie moved toward the large kitchen cabinet and opened up the doors.

  ‘This is where I store my sugar, salt and flour. There are more things in this cabinet, so feel free to take your time one of these days and see what’s all in here.’ She closed the cabinet and walked toward the little steps that led to the ‘opkamer’, a room that was built at a slightly raised floor level to accommodate a cellar below. She swung the steps upward, which allowed her to open the door to the cellar.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll remember this.’

  I followed her down into the cellar and saw in the semi-dark shelves along the walls, filled with canning jars and Cologne preserving pots. These canning jars were all filled.

  ‘You have plenty of stock, Auntie.’

  She turned and looked at me, smiling.

  ‘Yes, and now we can enjoy eating it all together.’ I turned back to the four steps that led us back up to the kitchen.

  ‘We’ll eat soon, would you mind setting the table?’

  I nodded and took two dishes from the plate shelf, found utensils and two mugs for milk. Auntie disappeared again into the cellar and emerged with butter and a jar of jam. She pulled a pot of sugar from the cabinet as well and soon we sat down to eat. I watched how Auntie asked for a blessing over her meal. With eyes wide open I looked at her face, the round red cheeks, the slightly moving lips. She looked beautiful and kind, I thought.

  6

  Auntie has not yet condemned me and seems to be a kind woman. Sometimes I wonder if some of her traits may be found in my mother, very deeply hidden away. Sometimes it is obvious to me that they are sisters who are very much alike, yet other times they seem to me so totally different that you would think there was no family connection between them at all. I have told Auntie as much as I could about her sister. She seems happy to finally know more about what has been happening over the past ten years, there has been such distance for so long. I can’t help but wonder if things are the same for me. Do I no longer exist to my mother, or to him who calls me his daughter? Have I been forever erased from their memories, and do they tell their friends that I have died, have disappeared? The idea of it frightens me, because, if they proclaim me dead, then what am I, who am I?

  During the following days I noticed that I looked forward to good meals and I felt more and more energized. It was peculiar, but it seemed as if only here at the farm, my stomach started to grow, as if only now there was room for it, room for my shame. I also felt less exhausted, and when Auntie asked me if I would like to help her harvesting the apples and pears, I nodded. My mind went back to my younger days. I could almost smell the pan of stewed pears.

  The next day we started picking fruit. When we had finished looking after the animals, Auntie took the wheelbarrow. She handed me the picking tool and asked if I was ready to come along. Together we walked toward the small orchard, which held several kinds of apple and pear trees. Auntie had already picked part of the harvest before I had arrived, but we would together finish what was left.

  Auntie put the wheelbarrow down beside one of the trees and stepped onto the small wooden plank she had placed on it. This way she could reach most of the branches. It was my job to shake the branches with the picking tool so the fruit that was higher up in the tree would fall down.

  I held the hook up high, meaning to shake one of the branches, but suddenly I stopped, lowered the hook and closed my eyes. I used to help Grandma with this. I used to pick up the apples she had dropped, but…

  ‘Auntie, shouldn’t I first lay down the straw?’ Auntie turned her head to me and nodded.

  ‘Shall I just get some from the barn?’

  ‘I made a few straw mats, just have a look here in the wheelbarrow.’

  ‘You brought them already? Why didn’t you say?’

  Auntie smiled, but she gave no answer. Instead she hummed a tune and continued picking fruit.

  I went over to her and took the straw mats from the wheelbarrow, brought them to my tree and spread the mats over the ground. Once again I raised the picking hook and shook the branches. The apples easily let go of the branches and they fell onto the straw mats without too much bruising. A few apples rolled away. Those were the first ones I collected, and after that I emptied each straw mat, gathered up the mats and moved on to the next tree.

  My thoughts wandered to Mother who always would explain to me in detail how I ought to perform each household task. She always seemed to be right on top of me while I worked, ready to give directions and she would be angry whenever I made a mistake.

  Auntie had simply given me the picking tool and had not even mentioned the straw mats. I was so glad I had remembered about the straw myself.

  The following days were spent taking care of the fruit harvest. We peeled for hours, and I soon ended up with several blisters, discolored fingers and the odd cut from when my knife had slipped. We cooked pots full of fruit into puree, jam and jelly. I could tell that Auntie enjoyed the work. She hummed while she cleaned out the canning pots, distilled them and filled them with our handiwork. Every day there was a new batch of jars. Painstakingly she would apply a label to each jar, with every detail written on it, from picking date to canning date.

  ‘Why do you write all that information on there?’

  She winked at me before she answered.

  ‘Just because I like to.’ She pointed at a label she just finished.

  ‘You see that? I like to give a suitable name to everything I prepare, I like to think it tastes better that way.’ Picked Together it said on the label.

  I smiled, and peeled another apple for the applesauce we were cooking today.

  ‘Shou
ldn’t you write to your family and friends?’ The question came out of nowhere and startled me. I quickly made up a nonsensical excuse.

  ‘The postman would recognize my handwriting and start asking the Reverend questions.’

  Auntie Be burst into laughter and without a word she shook her head. I was relieved she didn’t pursue the issue. What could I have said? That I refused to entrust even the smallest detail about my new life, let alone a whole letter, to my mother or the Reverend? That besides the two of them there was no one whom I had left behind in the village even though I had lived there for so long? No girl friends to write to, or to miss, no happy memories to share.

  I was in the middle as we skipped along, arm in arm with Elzemarie and Joanne. We sang a happy tune and tumbled into the kitchen, laughing, and Mother welcomed us cheerfully. She had just poured us some lemonade and placed a small dish with cookies on the table when the door flew open.

  ‘What’s the meaning of all this, Anna?’ His head jerked towards my mother.

  ‘Maria brought along two friends. Will you please introduce them, Maria.’ I noticed how Mothers cheeks flushed red, how her voice shook, but I didn’t understand why. I stood up and as I stood behind Elzemarie first, and next behind Joanne, I introduced them properly, as I had been taught to. They both remained seated, fascinated by the man who called himself my father, their new preacher.

  ‘I cannot tolerate such a racket. Make sure they’re quiet, Anna! How do you expect me to receive God’s word when these children,’ he spit the word out with vehemence, ‘make such devilish commotion!’

  He gave each one of us a piercing glare and left the kitchen, but not without slamming the door closed with a loud bang. I found it hard to swallow as I tiptoed back to my seat and sat down. The cookies looked a lot less appetizing and the lemonade didn’t taste as sweet as it used to.

  In silence we sat at the table. Then, way too quickly, Elzemarie had finished her cookie and lemonade. She rose from the table, walked to my mother and politely shook her hand.