by Jason Heit
She knew hardly anything about Mr. Harrison. They’d met for the first time little more than a month ago, but it had been a remarkable meeting – with him coming to her aid on the evening of Markus Zerr and Anna Dudenhafer’s wedding.
Katherine had stepped out from the celebration to take in the cool night air. Seeing the bride’s joy and excitement as she danced with her new husband had reminded her too much of her wedding to Frank. It should have been a happier moment in her life, she thought, as she wandered toward the moonlight. It should have been a celebration like this one, but her fear had gotten in the way of her happiness. She had been happy to be married, but she worried about the wedding night. All the happiness it should hold had been stolen from her some years before. It still seemed too soon, but there was nothing to be done. No one she could tell. That said, there probably would never have been a good time for a wedding. She’d been ruined and that didn’t just clean up.
Her eyes focused on the dark silhouettes cast by the row of horses and wagons lined in the farmyard, as she remembered the shame she felt that first night with Frank, her tears and his single-mindedness. It wasn’t right. He hadn’t been right. But could she blame him? It was their wedding night. She certainly couldn’t tell him. That was another cruelty in the matter. Frank died not knowing her secret.
On a summer night much like this, someone had grabbed her, slammed her to the ground and knocked her out. After that she remembered nothing. She woke in darkness, her mouth caked with the bitter taste of dirt and dried grass, like old sunshine decayed. She hurt inside – lower – between her legs. She felt sick, a sense of death clouded her mind, a piece of herself hadn’t returned with her. Even now, she still feared night.
Now, tonight, she found herself beside one of the parked wagons. She ran her fingers along the dry, grainy flesh of the weather-beaten wagon box, then the stillness of the night exploded with the snapping bark of a spooked dog sounding close to her ear. Katherine jumped back from the wagon; tripping on the hem of her dress, she fell to the ground. The dog snarled and gnashed its teeth from its perch above her.
“Git! Git!” shouted a man from somewhere behind her. He approached them and for a moment it wasn’t only the dog she feared. She crawled away from them both shielding herself behind a wagon wheel. The man spoke to the dog with a calm, commanding voice that slowly settled it. Then he turned to her. “It’s safe,” he said. He reached out to help her stand. She hesitated, but he was patient. When she took his hand she could tell that he was strong, although his hands were not as rough as Bernhard’s.
“Are you hurt? Did it bite you?”
“No, it only startled me,” she said, trying to remember how it was she ended up here in the first place.
“That’s a relief.” She could see his smile shining in the moonlight. “It’s probably safer on the dance floor,” he said. “Will you join me?”
She wanted to say “yes.” His face was young and warm and she liked everything about him, even the strange way his German sounded. “I couldn’t,” she replied. He nodded politely and it seemed her slight rejection did little to dampen his good cheer. She smiled then looked back to the barn where the music from the wedding celebration continued to play. Two figures stepped out from it. “I must go,” she said. “Thank you, Mister...?”
“Harrison. Charles Harrison.”
“Mr. Harrison. Thank you. I’m Katherine… Mrs. Holtz.”
Without any further words she walked back to the barn and the wedding celebration. Inside, she stood by the door and watched Frankie dance with the other children, while Bernhard joked along with a group of dirt farmers, and her sister-in-law Agatha bounced Little Elisabetha on her hip and twirled her daughter across the dance floor. She realized she was smiling, but whether she was smiling because of them or her new acquaintance, Mr. Harrison, she dared not ask herself.
-
He was standing in front of her now with that winning smile holding up his cheeks as her fingers crisscrossed her young daughter’s hair. He bent down and picked the bat off of the ground. His eyes focused in on her. She nearly blushed. The smile she yielded to him was, perhaps, the best and only recourse she could achieve without further revealing her secret desires. It was there in a moment and she put it away just as quickly. She could feel Bernhard’s eyes on her; and, for a moment, she was angry with him. Angry that he loved her and forced himself into her world and made her feel something that wasn’t quite love, but, perhaps, safer than love.
She finished Elisabetha’s braids and passed the child to her father.
Elisabetha held her hands up to her head showing off her braids. Bernhard smiled and Katherine’s heart warmed. She couldn’t count how many times she wished she had shared a moment like this with her late husband. If it had happened only once, Frank and his son together, it would be her most cherished memory. Instead, she felt like a fool. Always full of regret. She had a son who had his father’s eyes, wasn’t that the finest gift he could leave her? She had to cherish her son.
“Where’s Frankie?” she cried out suddenly. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him while she indulged in her sinful thoughts. She turned to Nels and asked him if he’d seen her son. Nels pointed past the other spectators to where his son Lambert and Frankie were playing with some of the other kids, and assured her that Lambert was keeping a watchful eye on his younger cousin. She sighed her relief. Where would she be without Nels? He was always there when she needed him. She hoped Frankie and Elisabetha would become as close. Though sometimes she wondered if the two of them having different fathers might cause some sort of jealousy or division between them.
She let that thought slip away as she turned her attention back to the ball game. Mr. Harrison was still at the bat. Gutenberg’s pitch whirled toward him. The hit was lightning quick. She cheered.
Then Bernhard jumped to his feet and a flash of fear shot up the back of her neck. “What is it?” she asked, fearful that he’d discovered her secret fantasy. She almost sighed with relief when he said, “Frank,” and hurried off towards the boys, but it was fleeting. Her heart sped up when she spotted her son lying in the grass surrounded by the other boys. She prayed to God that Frankie wasn’t hurt, asking Him not punish the boy for his mother’s sins.
“Thank you, God!” she said under her breath when Frankie sat up. It seemed everything might be fine. She almost smiled, except she was afraid such an outward show of gratitude might work against her, and like that she saw Kaspar Feist hurry past her in pursuit of Bernhard. “They’ll fight,” she said to herself, but loud enough that it caught Nels’s attention. Her eyes pleaded with him.
He shook his head and rushed to catch them.
Katherine brought Elisabetha to her lap, as Bernhard grabbed Ignaz Feist and bent him over his knee. She felt sick. Helpless. And she wasn’t the only one: Elisabetha had squished up her face in a distressed manner, threatening tears. “Oh darling, do you want to sing the baker’s song with me?”
The makings of a smile crept across the little girl’s face as she nodded her head. Yes. They sang and clapped their hands in rhythm:
Backe, backe Kuchen,
der Bäcker hat gerufen:
If you want to bake good cake,
seven items you must take –
eggs and salt, lard and butter,
milk and flour,
saffron gives the yellow colour.
The song had eased her daughter, but looking up to find the men at a standstill, Katherine was still troubled. It seemed they might still square off. She pulled Elisabetha closer to her. “I love you, darling,” she whispered. Then, almost without reason, the men were at ease. They walked away. Things had settled. And she felt a calm pass through her.
Bernhard took a seat on the grass a couple feet from her. She could feel his eyes on her. She turned to look at him and he met her with a sour stare.
&
nbsp; “The boy needed some discipline,” he said.
“Did you have to be the one to deal it out?”
Bernhard huffed. She closed her eyes and wished to be somewhere else.
-
Katherine watched Bernhard take the bat from Joseph and give it a practice swing. She could read the anger in his movements. The white-knuckled grip. He swung hard on the first pitch and missed the ball. He looked stiff to her – like his chest, shoulders and belly were fused together – as though he were a big piece of wood. What was eating at him?
He took another powerful swing. This time he hit the ball; it flew behind them, and she heard someone shout, “Foul ball.” The next swing took the ball far into the field, the farthest anyone had hit all day. She cheered as Bernhard ran the bases. Mr. Harrison was running too and much faster than she’d imagined him capable of. He ran all the way from first base. He did it. They both did it. She waved to Bernhard, who had made it to second base. He was out of breath, but that didn’t surprise her. She had seen him run only twice before, when the pigs had broken free from their pen. She smiled thinking about it. Then she realized Mr. Harrison was approaching.
She fumbled for something to say. “Good work.”
“Thank you. Bernhard had a good hit.”
She giggled. She didn’t know why. It felt as though he was complimenting her. It had something to do with the way he smiled when he looked at her. “I didn’t know you could run so fast.” She immediately regretted it. Why did she say that? She wished she could do better at keeping her thoughts to herself.
“Yes,” he began and then his eyes were off of her. His face turned very serious. “Oh no,” he said. “That’s not good.”
She looked in time to see Bernhard throw one then two punches that knocked Jakob Feist first one way then the next. She pulled Elisabetha toward her. “Stay close to Mommy,” she whispered to the girl.
“Papa’s mad,” Elisabetha said.
“Not at you.” Katherine got to her feet and picked up her daughter. She kissed the child’s forehead. “Papa loves you.”
The men grabbed Bernhard and pulled him away from Jakob Feist. She knew there was bad blood between Bernhard and the Feists, but why did Bernhard choose today to start up with them? Perhaps this was more to do with Bernhard disciplining Jakob Feist’s nephew for pushing Frankie. Maybe.
“Did you see it start?” she asked Harrison.
“I saw Jakob Feist punch Bernhard, then Bernhard –”
She had never seen Bernhard act this way before, but she wasn’t completely surprised. She’d always suspected there was a hot coal in him that smouldered under the ashes. That fire had even comforted her at first; a strong, powerful man could protect a woman and child, or so she had thought.
A man on either side of Bernhard, they were leading him toward her. She could tell something wasn’t right. He wore an odd expression on his face. It seemed he was looking right through her. She held Elisabetha tight.
Then Bernhard broke free of the men; it happened so quickly, she didn’t know what to do. She closed her eyes and buried Elisabetha’s head into her chest. The air swept across her cheek, the right side of her body, as he rushed by her. She heard groans and the dull sounds of bodies hitting and crumbling to the ground. She looked around: he’d gone after Mr. Harrison. A wave of guilt washed over her.
They pulled the men apart.
Katherine hushed her crying child. Poor Elisabetha. She felt Bernhard’s eyes on her as they took him away; she stared back at him. Damn you, Bernhard, she wanted to scream.
-
Katherine felt a little lighter once Bernhard had gone home to do the chores. She retreated to the church, laid the sleeping child in her arms down on the pew beside her, and closed her eyes in prayer. The words spilled through her lips in a murmur.
Footsteps invaded the quiet church. She opened her eyes and saw a man standing in a pool of dusty sunlight. It was Harrison. She was in no condition to see him. She closed her eyes in hope that he’d be gone when she next opened them.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She didn’t have to open her eyes to know that he’d taken a seat next to her. She wiped a stray hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.
“I believe I’ve caused a scandal and made you the centre of it.”
She held her eyes shut, daring herself not to look into his. It seemed the only defense. There was no trusting what she might say if she did.
He went on: “I feel the need to be truthful, here in this space, completely truthful.”
She gulped.
“I think you are a very lovely woman. Charming and brave and –”
She opened her eyes. “You can’t say that. You don’t know who I am. This is my doing. It’s my penance.” The words had surprised her, but they were as true as any she had ever spoken. Why was it that men always saw her as something other than what she felt inside? What gave them the right to make her into something she wasn’t? They’d all done it – Peter, Frank, Bernhard, now Mr. Harrison too.
She stared at him. It seemed her words had washed away his youthful optimism. And, for the first time, she saw him as she felt – sad and disheartened. It was only right. That’s how life was. It was time he knew it too. It was time they all knew it.
She looked down to her work-worn hands. She needed peace. “I’m sorry, if I gave you some false belief.”
“You couldn’t –”
“No,” she continued, and looked him directly in the eyes. “You’re a nice man, Mr. Harrison. I’m sorry my husband went after you.”
He cleared his throat and got to his feet. “Thank you, Mrs. Holtz. You have no need to apologize.” He flashed a brave smile that washed from his face like chalk in the rain.
She wiped her eyes as his footsteps carried him away from her.
IV
Jakob lay on the ground, folded over in pain, upset that he had allowed Bernhard to get the better of him. He sure hadn’t expected Bernhard to laugh. It was strange and twisted and sent Jakob’s courage running. Rolling onto his belly, Jakob picked himself up onto his knees. He massaged the ache in his jaw. It probably wasn’t too bad, he told himself. Bruised but not broken. He looked for Bernhard and saw that the others were taking him aside.
“Are you hurt bad?” Kaspar, his father, asked.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I got one in.”
Kaspar extended him an arm and Jakob got to his feet in time to see Bernhard tackle Harrison.
“There he goes again,” Jakob said.
“What’s that about?”
“I believe Mr. Harrison has an eye for Mrs. Holtz. I told Bernhard as much myself.” He touched his jaw, noting the raw pain. “Perhaps that was a mistake.” His eyes strayed from the wrangle, off toward the other sideline where Annaliese Reichert was sitting. He’d been watching her weave a crown of wildflowers and now she was placing it on her little sister’s head. A smile crossed his face as the younger sister ran away to show off her new crown, leaving Annaliese to her flowers. She was as beautiful as any one of those flowers, thought Jakob. She was much younger than him, maybe 18 or 19 years old to his 28; and, like many her age, she wore a long blue dress with a white band tied at her midriff. Although it was a simple outfit, the band highlighted her shape in a very pleasant way, and the colours seemed to draw his eye to her honey-coloured hair and sun-freckled face. He shook himself from his trance and turned to his father before she could catch him staring.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Kaspar said, referring to Jakob’s words with Bernhard. “He’s an animal and you stuck a thorn in his side. What’d you think was going to happen?”
“Well, it looks like Nels has reined him in,” Jakob replied. He looked around the diamond. It appeared all the commotion had put an end to the ball game. The outfielders had migrated infield and the oppositi
on was divided into two groups. One group was walking away from them, and the other group was huddled around Mr. Harrison. And, once again, Jakob’s eyes were pulled to the sideline. This time the Reichert girl met his gaze. Jakob heeled the ground with his boot, embarrassed the girl had seen him get knocked around. He liked her but he hadn’t dared talk to her. He turned away again. She was pretty and he was shy. And, perhaps, that was the simple truth as to why he was still single. He started off toward the outfield.
“Where are you going?” Kaspar said.
He ignored him. His father was rarely his best ally.
“If you want to be brave in life, you have to be brave in every way,” Kaspar called after him. “Not only with your fists.”
Jakob turned around. “I’m brave, but I’m not so sure about you.”
“That’s no way to talk to your father!”
Jakob eyed his father. The man didn’t intimidate him the way he once had. Yes, he was taller and probably stronger than his father, but there was more than just that. His father’s eyes were less fierce than they had been only a few years ago and his shoulders slumped forward like a man sapped of his honour. “I did more today than you’ve done in the last ten years to repay Bernhard for stealing your land.”
Kaspar shook his head and stared off toward where Nels and his gang were hauling Bernhard. Jakob was happy to see him go. “What good would’ve come from some small revenge?” his father asked. “It wouldn’t change what happened.”
Respect. Honour. Weren’t they worth something? He didn’t say it. Instead, he rolled his eyes at his father and marched past him towards the beautiful Annaliese. He breathed out deeply as he tried to steady himself and let go of his anger. By no means did he want to scare her away. Indeed, he felt quite the opposite; he needed to talk to her. And if he couldn’t do it now, he wasn’t certain when he might find the strength, because even as he approached her he found his courage diminishing the closer he got. And, while his heart continued to race, it seemed his feet were growing heavier and heavier. Even his palms turned sticky. He stopped a few feet from her. Tongue-tied.