“Sorry, Knuddelbär,” I said, feeling my cheeks grow warm.
“Say nothing of it, you’re excited to be home. As any good woman should be.”
“I always knew I liked you, young man,” Mama said, cocking her head expectantly in my direction, then raised her hand to shake his. “Welcome, Harald. Or welcome home, I should say. It’s not a honeymoon suite in Paris, but I hope you will be happy here.”
“I’m certain I will be, Frau Hoffmann. You have one of the finest estates in the Alps. I couldn’t help but be happy here.”
“You’re family now. You must call me Ilse. Or Mama if you’re so inclined.” Most of the children within a two-mile radius called her so. Her pfeffernuesse had that effect on people. Even as a grown woman, I still had dreams of Mama’s spice cookies, especially if I’d had too little for supper.
“I’m honored—‘Mama,’” he said, trying the word out on his tongue.
Though he was more than thirty centimeters taller than she, Mama took him in her arms and kissed both his cheeks. “I’m so glad my Johanna has found such a nice young man. She has always been so serious in her studies; I wasn’t sure that marriage would ever be for her. It may be greedy to ask for so much, but I wanted both a career and a happy home life for my girl.”
“I think such greed is the prerogative of a good mother,” Harald said. Good answer, young scholar. Mama might not be a professor, but you’re already teacher’s pet.
Mama showed us to the largest bedroom aside from her own. It had been reserved for guests in my youth, but now it was to be ours. My childhood room wasn’t exactly appropriate for a married couple, and this would afford us quite a bit more privacy. As we settled in, we heard the stomping of shoes and the cheerful shouting of hungry voices clamoring for an after-school snack.
Oskar and Metta had grown incredibly in the months since Papa’s funeral. I’d left a sturdy boy and a little wisp of a girl in Mama’s care, and now a young man and woman stood in their places when Harald and I entered the kitchen. Metta was no longer a waif, but a blooming beauty. Oskar still looked every bit the rascal, however, which gave me comfort. “Meine Gude, what have you been feeding these children, Mama?” I asked, pulling them both close. As they exchanged greetings with Harald, I admired how beautiful they’d both become. He was tall and muscular and she was petite and lean, but both had wheat-blond hair and vibrant blue eyes the color of a tropical sky. They both favored Mama in looks, and had been mistaken for twins more than once, while I was darker and stouter like Papa, much to my dismay.
“I think they sleep in fertilizer while I’m not looking,” Mama said with a wink. “Thank heaven they wash well.”
“It is so good to have you home, Johanna,” Metta said. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”
“And it won’t be the same ever again,” Oskar said, a shadow passing over his face.
“I know,” I said softly. Papa’s death had taken us all by surprise, but Oskar had always doted on him so much that it had to affect him even more than the rest of us.
“Don’t worry,” he said, regaining his composure. “I’ve taken care of Mama and Metta just fine. Since Papa can’t be man of the house, I think he’d be proud of the job I’ve done in his place.” He cast an uncertain look in Harald’s direction. He clearly thought Harald had come to usurp his place as head of the household. Let Oskar fume at the intrusion. He might think he was ready to lead the family, but I’d not rob him of the last moments of his childhood.
“I’m sure he would be,” I said, patting his shoulder.
“What do you think of my uniform?” He spun on the ball of his foot, and I noticed now that the short pants, knee socks, shirt, and tie he wore were not the usual school attire from a few years back. The clothes looked commonplace enough until I noticed the patch on his sleeve and the engraved belt buckle of the Hitler Youth. “I joined last year before they made it mandatory, and they’re already talking of making me section leader.”
“You look very dashing,” I said, though I had trouble forming the words. I noticed Metta wore the navy-blue skirt and necktie with a starched white shirt that was the uniform of the Bund Deutscher Mädel—the League of German Girls.
“Metta wasn’t as eager to join, but I think she’s come around,” Oskar explained. “It’s great fun, isn’t it?”
“I enjoy the hiking,” Metta admitted. “And the girls are nice.”
Metta had always been the shy type, and probably enjoyed the novelty of having a pack of girlfriends around her. Both youth organizations had been growing like algae on a stagnant pond for the past several years. If Hitler could boast any success, it was the stranglehold his youth organizations had over German adolescents.
I looked at Mama, who smiled at her younger children. I saw a slight furrow between her eyes, but she turned back to the kitchen to prepare them some sandwiches and cold milk as she’d done for me after school hundreds of times.
“Let me help you, Mama,” I said.
Harald nodded to me, his lips set in a firm line. His expression softened as he asked Oskar and Metta about their studies and interests. I shut the kitchen door behind me and gathered the cheese and butter from the icebox while Mama sliced bread and stoked the fire in the stove.
“They’ve grown so much since you last came to visit, haven’t they?” Mama asked.
“It was wrong of me to stay away so long,” I admitted.
“You’ve been busy with your work and your young man. I never expected to keep you close to the nest, my darling girl. I’m just happy you’ve come home.” Mama leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Don’t act as though you need to pay penance for growing up.”
“Oskar seems to be enthusiastic about his new venture,” I said, looking up from the cutting board to gauge her reaction. I lowered my voice to the faintest whisper I could manage. “But are you sure it’s . . . wise?”
“It made your father nervous, I’ll admit,” Mama said, unable to contain her sigh. “But there’s nothing else for him to do. It’s mandatory now, so the boys who don’t join are bullied terribly. A child can’t do so much as join a football league if they’re not part of the Hitler Youth these days. And lately, it’s given him something to think about other than his grief. It’s given him some direction, and it’s better than him falling into bad habits.”
I shook my head. “I hope you’re right, Mama. It may be giving him direction, but I worry about where that direction may take him.”
“Even so, Johanna, what could I do?” Mama whispered in turn. “If I pull him out, he’ll tell his section leader or whatever he’s called, and I’ll end up on a watch list. Or worse. Hopefully he’ll outgrow this phase and find something more useful to do. In the meantime, there’s nothing wrong with him going out into the fresh air and getting exercise.”
“We live in the mountains, Mama. There’s no shortage of fresh air.” But I made no further argument. Despite my misgivings about the organization, to breathe a hint of my disapproval to Oskar or Metta could have dire consequences. Mama was right about the watch lists. I looked heavenward and wished, not for the first time, that Papa were still here to advise us all.