“Julius,” Margrit scolded. “The cream.”
At the counter, Mrs. Conners turned from her cash box. “That boy is my own daughter’s.”
My wife pinched my hand. “So grown. I never would have recognized him.”
The woman looked us over. “No, you wouldn’t.”
Margrit blushed. “Always so many children about. Sometimes it’s hard to recognize my own.”
Mrs. Conners hummed and moved away from us. “Never known folks who keep so to themselves. The Schultes. The Meyers. They don’t keep to themselves so much.”
Margrit raised her voice. “We’re ready with the cream, then, Mrs. Conners.”
“I don’t think we’ll be taking your delivery today.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“With all the trouble.”
“What sort of trouble?”
Mrs. Conners dropped a newspaper in front of us.
AMERICAN STEAMER HOUSATONIC SUNK
U.S. BREAKS WITH KAISER
“I suppose my boy has it right, doesn’t he, Mr. Hess?” said the woman. “I suppose he knows what to do. There will be more of them, boys like that. They’ll all know what to do when there’s a need.”
I drew back, looked out the door, where I expected the boy to hover still. I reached into my pocket and felt for the marble. When I pulled it out, I found it not a marble at all but a muddied tooth. I closed it in my fist.
“They’ll be war,” said Mrs. Conners. “Wilson is just waiting to set the Germans straight. Why, my own son, he’s itching to go.”
That evening, we sat about the dinner table. None of us stirred once we took our seats. Margrit set her hands to the bowls and circled to fill plates. “I never thought you would lose your appetites.”
I counted empty chairs. “Where are Esther and Myrle?”
“In the kitchen,” explained Margrit. “They say they have a surprise.”
No one at the table seemed eager for surprises. Agnes and Lee were more than quiet. Ray never turned his head from the window. Nan sat in her corner, her face down yet her cheeks glowing. She twisted at one of her fingers.
“Mother.,” started Agnes.
“What is it?”
Ray held onto his knife and fork and cut fiercely at his meat.
“It’s Harriet,” said Agnes.
“Harriet Clark?”
Agnes nodded. “She said the whole town wants to know: ‘Doesn’t your father talk Kraut?’”
Margrit cleaned her spoon off the edge of a bowl. When she took up her chair again, she unfolded her napkin into her lap one square at a time. “That’s not a proper word.”
“It never matters how a person talks,” I said. “Those Clark girls are not smart enough to rub two pennies together.”
Agnes wiped her cheeks. “I don’t care.”
“Of course you care,” said her mother. “A girl with a father so sickly. Who knows what comes into her mind?”
“Ray’s the one in trouble.” Agnes fidgeted. “Why don’t you look at him?”
“What about your brother?” At the end of the table, Ray sat in shadow. When he raised his head, his eye appeared blackened. A bruise on his cheek. “Ray, what happened to you? What happened to him?”
“Answer your mother.”
The children stayed silent. Nan kneaded her hands.
“Lee knows,” said Agnes. “He was there.”
Lee sat next to his brother. He pressed his fork into his potatoes. “We were in the old barn on Southwood.”
“The Asters’ place?”
“Used to be Asters’. It’s empty now.” Lee took another bite. “Some of us go there once in a while.”
“Ray started it,” said Agnes.
“She wasn’t supposed to be there,” said Ray.
“Even so,” complained Margrit.
“Patricia was there too,” said Agnes. “Ray was trying to get her attention.”
“I don’t need her attention.”
“But you like it.”
“Who’s Patricia?” asked Margrit.
“She’s sweet on Ray,” said Agnes. “So he started a fight.”
“It was Tom Elliot who did it. And Lee just stood there like a duck.”
Lee chewed. “Didn’t seem you needed any help.” He took another serving of beans and filled his cheeks.
“He hasn’t a spine on him.”
“Ray Martin,” said Margrit, “that’s your brother.”
“It’s Tom I mean. He’s already lost a cousin over there. Signed up early with the Brits. The Germans ought to be put behind bars, that’s what he said. Said his father says the same.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “You can’t outlaw a person.”
Ray shook his head. “You should have seen them all agreeing. And Tom, he kept talking.”
“So Ray hit him,” said Agnes.
“He hit me back. But I got him worse.”
“You don’t hit a boy all the same,” scolded Margrit.
“They’ll take our land,” said Ray. “That’s what he said. They’ll take the farm, and set it back the way it was, rivers or not. Any German-born loses the right to property.”
“You see?” said Agnes. “It isn’t just Harriet Clark.”
Lee joined in. “At school, they made me and Hank Weber kiss the flag.”
I struck my plate. “Aber was, den! You have gone to school with these children. You have known each other since you were born. And we have had this land years longer than the Elliots or the Clarks. There are laws.”
My voice echoed. Lee slashed at his meat. Nan opened her mouth wishing to speak, but considered the better of it. I gnawed at the gristle between my teeth. Such a sour scrap I thought I might never be finished. The door from the kitchen gaped. Myrle and Esther rushed in. They held an enormous cake between them. Myrle stepped forward, her face bright, but Esther pulled up short, eyeing us. Myrle lost her grip. Catching it, Esther threw the cake onto the table. Scrawled in frosting by a fingertip: nan’s getting hitched!
“Nan, is it true?” asked Margrit.
Nan tried to smile. “Yes, Mother, just this afternoon. I told them, but they wanted. ” Her hand wavered at her mouth. “Then all this trouble. I said they shouldn’t bother, but they went ahead.” Nan reached out to take both the girls by the shoulders. The ring that hung on her finger was a narrow thread. The cake appeared caved in, a chocolate cream on the surface to mask the ruin.
“All this waste,” I said. “Our good flour, our sugar and eggs. You thought of that, Esther, of not wasting?”
“Julius,” scolded Margrit.
Esther bit her lip. “We didn’t waste anything.”
“You best be sure.”
“But Myrle made it too. We both of us did.”
Myrle nodded. Her hands were blanched with flour. Margrit held out her arms to her. “Julius, leave Esther alone.”
Nan took up a knife, sinking it into the cake. The knife trembled.
“Why, Nan.” Margrit stood to take the knife herself and cut where Nan left off. “Carl’s a good man. We’re happy for you, aren’t we? Come on, everyone. This is a good thing. We have a cake.”
Nan rested back in her chair. “That’s just it, Mother. If there’s a war, Carl will have to go.”
“They’ll be a draft soon,” said Ray. “Wilson is just waiting.”
I rubbed at my forehead. “Nothing will come of it. There are laws. Not even Wilson can take away a man’s land on a whim.”
“That cousin of the Elliots had the right idea,” said Ray. “Join the Brits.”
Lee had stopped his eating. Next to him, Ray brandished his fork.