We reached the door to the bedroom Oskar had once occupied. When he pushed it open, I expected the lingering smell of dust and rotten timber to envelop me. Instead, only the pungent scent of fir trees unfurled. I stepped inside, glancing up at the beams where bunches of pine needles had been tied. Their crisp menthol scent washed over everything, burning into my lungs, making my blood race and my heart pound. My feet creaked on the new floorboards below. I spun in a half-circle, taking in the other details of a room that had once been as familiar as my own. The bookshelf was still full of books, juniper branches twisted between them to ward off mice. A new timber bedstead had been pushed against the wall and a double mattress lain over it, covered in soft sheets and a knitted quilt.
‘What do you think?’ Oskar batted gently at a clump of pine needles, causing some of them to scatter. The sound was like falling rain. ‘Do you remember when your papa would not let you camp in the forest with me, so I got Mama to help me hang fir branches from the roof so we could have our own forest for the day?’
A ghost smile teased his mouth. ‘We were finding them for weeks; pine needles folded in my clothes, pressed between the pages of books. But the look on your face…’ Bending, he grasped a pine needle between forefinger and thumb. The bruised scent of the fir made me want to cry. ‘You were so happy. I think that was the day I decided I would marry you.’ His smile became frozen for just a moment. ‘How simple everything seems when we are children.’
Oskar closed his hand around the fir. He looked away from me towards the window where the sun was starting to shrink down behind the tallest trees. I sensed he was thinking of Imbi and Aime. He had stored up his grief after their death and there had never been a chance for him to release it. Like me, the memory of what had happened had become a poison running deep beneath his skin. Only by sharing the truth of what happened could he be free.
I moved towards him at last, fighting the desire to reach up and kiss him. Instead, I touched his shoulder gently.
‘Oskar. Did you see them die?’
He stilled, one finger on the chest of drawers. I sensed him gathering the words, crushing them to his chest until the thorns pricked so hard he must release them or bleed.
Eventually he nodded. In a voice that shook, he described the way he had gone out early to collect blueberries for his mother. The terror when he returned in time to see the Russian agents enter the house. The screaming. The silence that followed. The guilt that had woken him each night as he lay shivering in the forest, imagining the ghosts of Imbi and Aime stood beside him, unable to rest due to the violent nature of their deaths. ‘I’ve lived with it every day,’ he said. ‘Asking myself: what if I had come back earlier? What if I had taken my father’s pistol from the box and killed those men when they appeared?’
He gripped his hands together tightly. I could see his knuckles straining through the skin. I laid my hands over his.
‘You would be dead, Oskar,’ I said softly. ‘It’s as simple as that.’
Oskar nodded. The bed groaned as he eased himself down on it, resting his elbows on his thighs. ‘I’m sorry I never came to you,’ he said, looking up at me. ‘I couldn’t stand for you to think I would do that. It ate at me like an illness and yet, I couldn’t put you in that danger. I had to wait, and I knew that perhaps I would be waiting until I was an old man. And now you’re here. We are married. You know the truth about my mother and Aime. But I’ve changed. I’ve done things… I don’t deserve…’
He broke off, lowering his chin, clasping his head in his hands.
Leaning down, I drew his face close and kissed him. His lips were soft. He tasted of rain and sodden berries. At first he resisted, but slowly, he began to respond.
I sank to my knees, and his arm slid around my middle to grip me tightly, as if I were the precious ballast on a ship that might suddenly disintegrate and leave him swirling in deep currents. When we broke apart, it was only to fill our lungs with air. Oskar’s cheeks were flushed. I kissed his closed eyes, allowing my lips to linger before I moved my mouth to the soft curve where his jaw met his ear. Feather-light, I kissed the skin there, my body prickling as I heard him sigh. I drew back slightly and let my hands fan out across his back, delaying the moment of surrender.
Oskar’s hands were warm around my waist as he drew me closer. In some distant part of my mind, I knew my knees were aching on the timber floor. I gasped as he moved my skirt aside and nudged my legs gently apart. He lifted me in one movement so that I was straddling him and his hands cupped my bottom, fingers splayed. As he pressed against me, heat shifted to my groin and a wave of longing crested through my body. Distantly, I was aware of my hand reaching down to unbutton his trousers. Perhaps it was Oskar’s. I could no longer tell where I ended and he began. It was as if our pleasure had melted us together. When he paused to look at me, his hand resting between my bare legs, I could not tell if it was me who spoke, urging him on or if it was he who mouthed the words, seeking permission. I couldn’t tell if it was really me who answered, in a voice so raw I imagined my skin peeling away, stripped to nothing by the fever pitch of our desire now allowed free rein.
I did not make a sound as he entered me, too lost in warm oblivion. There was nobody to stop us this time; no interruptions. Each moment was its own perfect prism, relief and solace combined. As our rhythm quickened, I felt my control slip. Tears stung my eyes. I gave in and heard myself cry out.
At last, when the tremors had subsided, we slipped apart. Our breathing slowed. Our hands were pressed together, our bodies cooling. I wriggled up to lay my head against his chest.
‘Kati.’ Oskar’s breath stirred my hair. ‘That was—’
He swallowed. Cleared his throat. I squeezed his fingers.
‘I know,’ I said. His lips brushed against my forehead. What could we say that we hadn’t already told each other? I snuggled against him. I could easily have slept. My limbs felt heavy, my thoughts circling drowsily, reliving each moment of our love-making. But I forced myself up onto one elbow. The afternoon sun was beginning to cast long shadows against the wall.
‘We should get back. Curfew starts soon,’ I said.
Oskar grunted, one hand propped beneath his head, then he ran his thumb along my collarbone. I smiled as he shifted, moving down my body to draw lazy circles with his tongue over my breast. ‘Just a few more minutes, then,’ he said, his teeth grazing my skin. ‘We’ve had such little time to practise being married.’
He resumed his licking and I lay back, drowning beneath the sweet sensations he conjured with his tongue. ‘Just a few minutes more. Otherwise they’ll look for you,’ I said. ‘You don’t want to annoy the German officers. You know what they’re like; such sticklers for rules.’
Oskar pulled away. I sighed. What I had said was true. The Germans did not forgive rule-breakers. When I opened my eyes, I realised Oskar was frowning.
‘What is it?’ I said.
‘Kati, there is something I want you to promise me.’
‘Anything.’ I said. I could not stop a smile twitching the corners of my mouth. ‘Is it something you want me to do for you? Because I—’
Oskar interrupted me. ‘No. It’s the barracks. I don’t want you to go there. If you need me, just send word via telegram and I will meet you here. It’s not safe. There are so many German soldiers in Tartu now. I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. So, you will promise, yes?’