I sat within the cottage, content to behold Johann as he grew, to make sure of his grip on the world. I was overwhelmed by the possibilities of his life. What he might do, how he might die. I could not help but hope that he would be a good man, would be good to women and men and himself, would know how to be silent and when to speak. At nights, I sat by his cradle and wished for him all things that might make a life beautiful. A love of growing things, a noticing of the overlooked. A sturdy, soft heart ever open to ordinary divinity: a ripe apricot half upon the tongue; the nape of a lover’s neck; the sound of a duck landing on water from flight. And I wished that he would see enough sunrises that his last would not be tragic. The hours could never fit all the things I wished for him.
Spring suggested itself to the wind and the valley was splendour-bright in sunlight, a consolation for the fractured nights of feeding and crying and settling. The orchard creeped with green and eddies of wattle blossom from the bush behind the cottage ringed dried puddles in the yard. Johann’s cloths gathered yellow dust on the line. The air was warm.
One afternoon I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, next to Johann in his cradle. He had been screaming for most of the day and Thea was bent over, rocking him with her eyes half-closed, brow creased in frustration. When a knocking came at the cottage door, Thea, exhausted, called out for Anna Maria to come in and did not turn around. It wasn’t until I heard the visitor clear her throat that I looked up and saw Christiana Radtke standing in the doorway.
Thea glanced over her shoulder, then stood up, startled. ‘Oh. Christiana. I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘Congratulations,’ Christiana said, attempting a thin sort of smile. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.’ She pointed at the crying baby. ‘Johann, isn’t it?’
Thea picked him up, and his cries finally eased into a shuddering hiccup. ‘He’s teething, I think,’ she said. ‘None of us are getting much sleep. Oh, Christiana, have a seat. Sorry, here.’ She pulled out a chair from the table with her free hand.
Christiana sat down stiffly, eyes moving over the inside of the little cottage, taking in the bed in the corner, the chair by the fire, the little carved animals lined up on the windowsill. ‘Where is Hans?’ she asked.
‘In Heiligendorf,’ Thea said, easing herself down into the chair opposite. ‘At the blacksmith’s. I expect he’ll be back tonight.’
Christiana said nothing but brought a fingertip to the table and traced the marks left by the adze. ‘I meant to come earlier,’ she said. ‘With Mama.’
‘That’s all right,’ Thea said, voice gentle. ‘You must be busy.’
‘Yes. Laundering for the English.’ She hesitated. ‘Henriette is engaged. Pastor Flügel will read the banns this Sunday.’
‘Oh, that’s lovely news.’
Christiana glanced up, nodding, but did not share Thea’s smile. ‘To Rudolph Simmel.’
Thea opened her mouth to comment, but Christiana continued, ‘Anyway, I’ve brought you something. For Johann. Although he might already be too big.’ She reached down and picked up the basket she had brought, setting it on her lap.
‘Thank you, Christiana. That’s kind –’
‘It’s just gathering dust at home.’ Christiana took out a neatly folded baby slip, embroidered at the neck. ‘I have another that I shall give to Henriette. When the time is right.’ She placed it on the table and put the basket back on the floor.
Thea lifted Johann to her other shoulder so that she could look more closely at the dress. ‘It is beautiful,’ she said. ‘Won’t you need it for yourself, though?’
Christiana raised her chin into the air. ‘I’m not married.’
‘You might be. One day.’
‘One day . . .’ Christiana gave Thea a dark look. ‘You take pleasure from my misfortune.’
Thea’s face fell. ‘Not at all.’
‘But you agree that I am unfortunate.’
Thea frowned, puzzled. ‘No, Christiana, you misunderstand me.’
‘You know about Georg, I suppose.’
‘What?’
Christiana stood up suddenly. ‘He had no choice. She was already pregnant.’
Thea pushed back her chair and stretched out an arm to Christiana. ‘Here, why don’t you hold Johann? I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s a lovely gift – truly, it is.’
Christiana stopped abruptly, eyes fixed on the hearth. ‘What is that?’ she whispered. I turned and saw what had caught her attention. Two unmortared bricks sitting side by side. I watched as she looked up and saw, above a low fire, the uncovered keeping hole.