Bolzano by Chrystyna Lucyk-Berger

Author:Chrystyna Lucyk-Berger [Lucyk-Berger, Chrystyna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781725061927
Published: 2018-09-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Arlund, October 1937

B ernd came into the house, hauling in a pail of milk. Behind him, the crisp fall morning drifted in, and Katharina pulled her shawl around her shoulders. Her throat was sore, and she wanted nothing more than to stay warm.

“Tell your brother,” she said to Bernd, “to bring me some more wood for the stove. It’s cold today.”

He nodded and went back out. He was not sullen, and he could have been still stinging from his parents’ scolding over the night of graffiti painting, but Katharina was sure he was not. Her son was simply a young man of little words. Very much like her grandfather had been. Opa had wasted little breath, relying more on actions than words.

When Manuel came in with a basket of logs and kindling, he complained about his hunger. She handed her youngest a cup of milk, stroked his hair, and then sent him back out to help Bernd set out the milk tins for the pickup. The boys sorely missed their sister’s extra pair of hands.

They all missed Annamarie. They had so much to do before they settled in for the winter, but mostly they missed Annamarie’s laugh and her spirit. Katharina counted the days until Florian would be able to leave the farm for Bozen and look for their daughter. But there were trees to be felled, and Florian was at the mercy of the neighbours and other farmers. He could not just leave when every able-bodied man was needed. When Katharina offered to go to Bozen herself, Florian would not hear of it, as if he did not understand how every day without another letter meant another heap of dread piled on top of her.

For her throat, Katharina brewed a pot of chamomile tea and a fresh pot of coffee. When all three of her men were at the table, ravenous and tired, she set out the bread and butter. Florian made the sign of the cross, and the boys followed, their gestures as hurried as if they were swatting away flies. Bernd and Manuel fell on the loaf of bread, and the scuffling began, until Florian put an end to it. Katharina waited, as she always did, until everyone had filled their plates.

After they finished, she cleaned up the dishes, and the boys trudged upstairs to rest before they had to pack up for the wood. After the midday meal, they would all set out to lumbering. Meanwhile, Florian settled in with a newspaper in the Stube, and Katharina considered what to make for dinner—something filling—and decided on Knödel with sauerkraut and bacon.

“Been an awful lot of developments since we’ve been on the alp,” Florian said from his chair.

Though the newspaper covered the bottom half of his face, she could hear that he’d stuck the pipe in his mouth but hadn’t lit it.

“Is that so?” Katharina set the blue ceramic mixing bowl on the rough-hewn table. From the pantry, she fetched the linen bag in which she stored the dried breadcrumbs she’d use for the dumplings.

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