The Willow Wren Philipp Schott (best free e book reader TXT) 📖

stepped slightly to the side and beckoned her to come out. Mama sighed heavily, undid her apron and handed it to me.

“All right then. If it is protocol.” She put a heavy emphasis on this last word, enunciating every syllable.

After the four of them left, Johann came up to me, looking very upset. “Where are they taking Mama?”

“Just to the town hall for questions. There is no need to worry! She will be back right away!” I forced cheeriness into my voice, but the forced aspect was obvious. Johann still looked worried.

“What are they asking her about?”

“I do not know. Maybe it is about Theodor leaving.”

Johann nodded and looked grave. “Will they try to bring him back? And why would they be worried about him leaving?”

“Ha! No, they cannot bring him back. It is a different government over there in the West and the government here does not get along with that government. That is also why they do not want people to leave. They do not want the world to think that this is a bad place that people want to leave and that the government in the West is doing a better job of making people happy.”

“Oh.” Johann nodded again and went off to play.

My guess was correct. Squish Eye questioned Mama for half an hour about Theodor’s absence. He had intelligence that her son had fled illegally. She was to order him to return. She laughed at this, saying she could not, and she would not. Was that all? Could she go now? Squish Eye told her no, stay seated, there is more. He then detailed how he and his men were going to keep a careful watch on our family lest anyone else get the idea to flee. He reminded her of the strict penalties for even preparing to leave and then he reached into a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. This was a document, signed by the district supervisor and decorated with a fancy seal, that proclaimed that Luise Schott, Ludwig Schott, Clara Schott, Johann Schott, Oskar Schott and even three-year-old Paul Schott were under Official Police Supervision. He smiled as he brandished this document, smiling a smile that according to Mama was one of idiotic triumph, as if that piece of paper had settled the matter definitively.

We both had a chuckle about this. Mama then busied herself with preparing dinner and I went for a walk to the forest to think. The oaks had long since been cut for firewood, but the special spot was still there. The sun had already gone down, but it was a clear sky with a full moon and there was fresh snow to absorb and reflect the pearly light. The birds were all in their beds, but I did not need them. I only needed to listen to my own thoughts, coming in sequence, one after the other, clean and crisp, like the snow.

Chapter Fifty

February 1949

The answer was obvious. If I applied logic to my understanding of human frailty, I could make it happen. I was sure of it. The ten-year-old me or even the thirteen-year-old me would have struck immediately, but not the fifteen-year-old me. The fifteen-year-old me was more mature, much more mature, and knew that a little time would help the cause. Let her think about this a little more herself. Let her begin to approach the idea herself. She had too much pride to be pushed. Squish Eye had done me a favour.

I waited for the right moment. Mama frequently still had black moods, but from time to time, seemingly at random, she was almost cheerful. I picked one of those days. It also happened to be a day when school had been particularly odious. The science teacher had been absent for several days, presumably gone to the West, and his replacement was an idiot. I cannot put it any plainer than that. I loved science, but this idiot was going to make me hate it. The value of my education in Rochlitz had dropped several more points. It was almost a negative value now. I could feel myself in danger of becoming dumber by the day.

Mama was agreeable when I suggested a walk after dinner. It was a warm evening for February, and I did not want to upset the others if the conversation did not go well.

I launched right into it. “I think you know why I want to talk to you.”

“Yes, I do. The answer is still no.” Her tone was soft though, not confident.

“School is terrible, really terrible. I am learning nothing. They are also starting to talk about us needing to join the Young Pioneers and the Free German Youth. You know why I cannot do that. And the economy is worse every day here. Did you see that Herr Grün’s shop closed?”

“Yes, I did.”

We shuffled along through the market square and stopped to look up at the castle, which had quite a few lights on that evening for some reason.

“But even more importantly I have been thinking about what Squish Eye said to you. Do you remember that story you told us about the wren and the bear? Squish Eye is just another bear or wolf or fox. No different than Reinhard or Felix or Kohl or Kozlov or Schimmler. Do you really want someone like that telling you how to live your life? Or” — I paused for a moment and gathered my courage — “some ridiculous and probably quite stupid husband stealer telling you how to live your life?” Mama did not say anything and kept looking up at the castle. “You said that you have your pride. Does your pride not dictate that you stand up for your family and laugh in the face of pompous fools like Squish Eye and shrill jezebels like this woman?” I wanted to say more, and again my ten-year-old and thirteen-year-old self would have, but my fifteen-year-old self knew better. He knew not