Winter's Child (5 page)

On the days when my world felt so small I feared that I would suffocate as Kai’s father had so long ago, crushed by the weight of the world itself falling on top of him, standing on the rooftop was the only thing that revived me. On the rooftop I felt free, if only for a few moments.

And then something happened that changed both my life and Kai’s forever. My grandmother and his mother died and Kai and I were left alone.

It was the diphtheria that took them. Regular as clockwork, it came with the thaw each year, as if to make a mockery of the hope that spring should bring. Wrapping bony fingers around unsuspecting throats, and then slowly squeezing the life out of them. Kai’s mother fell ill first, and Oma went to nurse her, though both Kai and I urged her to stay at home.

“Your mother has no one else on earth but the three of us, Kai,” my grandmother said sternly as we huddled outside the Holmgrens’ door. Oma’s scarf was tied in a determined bow at her chin. She’d set her hands on her hips and had planted her feet, sure signs that she meant to have her way.

“Neither of you can be spared from your work. That leaves me. There’s no sense arguing about it, so you might as well save your breath. Now go out and buy me a chicken so I can make Hannah a nourishing broth.”

Kai and I exchanged a glance, and then Kai stepped aside and my grandmother marched through the Holmgrens’ front door. Oma did her best to nurse Kai’s mother back to health. In addition to the broth, she made a poultice for Frue Holmgren’s chest. She kept the fire going day and night to keep her warm. Nothing made any difference. Kai’s mother was dead before the month was out. The day Frue Holmgren was buried, my oma took to her bed.

“Grace,” she murmured late one night. By now, we both knew that Oma, too, was dying. “I want you to promise me something.”

“I will promise anything you like,” I said. “Only don’t tire yourself.”

My oma smiled. She held out a hand, and I slipped mine into it.

Cold,
I thought.
She is so very, very cold.
Yet the room around us was so warm that I didn’t need the shawl I wore indoors in all but the warmest weather.
It will not be long now,
I thought.

“Promise me that you will use your eyes,” my oma said. “Promise me that you will let your heart follow them.”

“I will, Oma,” I said.

My grandmother squeezed my fingers. “Do one thing more for me, will you?” she asked.

“Anything,” I said.

“Tell me a story.”

If she’d asked me to stand on my head I could not have been more surprised. Oma always had been the storyteller. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the bed, one hand still clasping my grandmother’s.

“Once upon a time,” I began, “there was a brave girl named Grace. ...”

Oma smiled. All through the night I sat beside her, spinning a tale about a girl who bore my name. And that was how Kai found us the next morning. Sitting together, hands still clasped, but by then my voice had fallen silent and Oma breathed no more.

We buried her in the old graveyard on the hill outside of town, not far from Kai’s parents. Beside Oma’s
headstone were the markers that stood in memory of my father and mother who had been buried far from home. Many in the neighborhood came to pay their respects, but it was the flower vendor, Herre Johannes, who stayed the longest.

“If you need anything, Grace,” he said as we stood beside the grave. Herre Johannes turned the soft cap he always wore over and over in his hands. “Your oma and I were always good friends to each other. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t, Herre Johannes,” I said. “Thank you.”

Herre Johannes settled the cap back onto his head. He nodded to Kai and to me, then made his way back down the hill. Kai and I stood together, not quite touching.

In the days since Oma’s death, a strange awkwardness had fallen between Kai and me. We were on our own now, our lives forever altered by the loss of those we loved. And we were both sixteen, old enough to be considered adults. We had been together, living side by side, for as long as we could remember.

“Let’s go home now, Grace,” Kai said quietly. “If you want to, you can come back tomorrow.”

Without a word, I nodded, turning away from my grandmother’s grave.
Which home?
I wondered.
Yours or mine?
Who were Kai and I, how did we fit together, now that those whom we loved were gone?

I had seen Kai watching me, in that quiet way of his, in the days since Oma had died. Several times, I thought he was about to speak, but each time, he held
his tongue. But I had a feeling today was the day I would learn what was on his mind.

“Do you think about the future, Grace?” he asked as we walked along.

Spring had come in earnest during Oma’s illness. Crocuses bloomed on the hillside. Above our heads, the sky was a perfect arc of deep, rich blue.

“Of course I think about it,” I answered, my tone shorter than I intended. I thought about the future all the time. Worried about it was more like it, not that worrying did me any good. Kai stayed silent.

I pulled in a breath and held it, my eyes on the green grass of the hill, the bright, new green that only appears with the first flush of spring as the earth renews itself. I let my breath out slowly and tried again.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to snap. It just seems like kind of a silly question, that’s all. Of course I think about the future. What else is there to think about? It scares me.”

To my horror, I heard that my voice had dropped to a whisper. I felt the sudden sting of tears at the back of my eyes. All through the days of Oma’s illness, through every moment that had followed, I had done my best to overcome this fact. Without success.

“The future terrifies me,” I confessed now, my voice rising. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t see my way, Kai.”

“Marry me,” said Kai.

F
OUR

I abruptly stopped walking.

“What?”
I cried.

“Marry me,” Kai said again. My sudden halt had caught him by surprise. His momentum had carried him several steps along the path, so that now he had to turn around. We faced each other. I saw Kai’s own eyes widen in surprise as he caught sight of the astonished expression on my face.

“For heaven’s sake, Grace,” he said. “You must have thought of this too. It can’t be a total surprise. It’s the logical next step, and surely it’s what my mother and your grandmother always wanted.”

“What about what we want?”

Kai’s head jerked back, as if I’d struck him. And all of a sudden, I felt more wretched than I ever had in my entire life.

Too fast. It’s all happening too fast,
I thought.

Quickly, I closed the distance between us, reached out and gripped Kai tightly by the shoulders.

“I spoke without thinking,” I said, gazing straight into his eyes. “I did not mean to hurt you. I’m sorry, Kai. Of course I see the sense in what you’re saying. It’s just ...”

Kai gazed back, his eyes intent on mine. “It’s just that you don’t love me enough to marry me,” he said.

I tightened my grip further and gave him a shake. “I didn’t say that. Did you hear me say that? Stop putting words in my mouth.”

I released him and hurried down the hill, my stride just short of a run.
Away. I have to get away,
I thought. Perhaps, if Kai and I hadn’t been standing quite so close together, I wouldn’t now feel so responsible for the hurt and confusion I’d seen in his face. We’d scrapped, as all children do, quarreling over nonsense. But neither of us had ever really refused the other anything before, not anything important.

“Grace, wait,” Kai called. He caught up, matching his pace with mine.

Only someone who understood me as well as Kai did would have done this. Another man might have put a hand on my arm to stop me, at the very least to try and slow me down, but not Kai. He knew it would give me just the opportunity I needed to take the ultimate step: to turn and fight, or to turn and run.

Instead, Kai simply chugged along beside me, the sound of our feet shushing through the new grass. Gradually, my burst of emotion wore itself out and
my pace slowed. My exertions had carried us to the bottom of the hill. With just a few more minutes of walking, we would reach the outskirts of town. We would return to our empty rooms.

If I married him,
I thought,
I wouldn’t have to be alone.
But was that enough to do the thing that Kai was asking? Were holding back fear and trying to prevent loneliness good enough reasons for us to marry, even if they helped us both?

Maybe Kai is right,
I thought.
Maybe I don’t love him enough.

“Don’t expect me to apologize again,” I said without looking at him.

“All right,” Kai replied, his tone agreeable. I thought I felt his glance slide in my direction. “Though you know what they say.”

“Do I?”

“The third time’s the charm.”

I felt laughter bubble up inside my chest and decided to let it go. “They do say that, don’t they?” I said with a sigh. Kai stayed silent. I turned my head to look at him. “I’m being awful, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Kai said.

I couldn’t quite read his tone. “Thanks for nothing,” I said. “I’m trying to apologize.”

“Yes,” Kai said. “I know you are. You’re also trying to get yourself off the hook. Don’t think you can fool me, Grace. We know each other too well.”

We walked along in silence for a moment. Then, ever so softly, I felt his fingers slide along the inside
of my arm until they were laced with mine. It was the first time we’d held hands in a long time.

“I didn’t mean to add to your fear, Grace,” Kai said quietly.

“You didn’t,” I protested. “Hey—ow!” At my answer, Kai had squeezed my fingers so hard I thought the bones might crack. “All right, you did scare me, just a little,” I admitted.

Kai gave my arm a little shake. “The thing is, Grace,” he said, “I don’t see why.”

“Well, for starters, you might have picked a better place and time.”

Kai gave a snort. “All right, I’ll give you that,” he said. “Though it does make sense, you know. We’re both alone now, Grace. If we were to marry—”

“I see that. I honestly do,” I interrupted. “It’s just ...”

Both my words and my feet faltered and came to a stop. I looked at Kai. As he always did, he gazed back at me with clear and steady eyes. And suddenly I felt a spurt of irritation, in spite of my best efforts. How could it all look so simple and right from his position, yet so complicated and uncertain from mine?

Our eyes see different things,
I thought.
They always have. Even when we’re looking in the same direction, standing side by side.

I let go of his hand. “Is this what you really, truly want, Kai?” I asked. “Is this all?”

A frown burrowed between his eyebrows. “That’s a trick question,” he said. “I can tell. I just can’t see what the trap is yet.”

“That’s because there isn’t one,” I said. “I do love you, Kai. I honestly do. And I know our getting married was close to your mother’s heart and to my oma’s. I guess I always thought we
would
get married some day. I’m just not sure that day can be now.”

“Well, I hardly meant today,” Kai said, his tone testy.

I gave him a shove. “Stop it,” I said. “You know what I mean. Stop pretending that you don’t. It doesn’t matter that it’s the logical next step; it doesn’t even matter if it’s the step our families would have wanted. What matters is what you and I choose for ourselves.”

“All right, I give up,” Kai said, throwing up his hands. “What do you choose, Grace?
What is it that you want?
”

“I want to see the world,” I burst out. “And I don’t mean a glimpse from the rooftop. I want to see more than just the horizon, Kai. I want to see what’s beyond it. And if we get married—”

“You think I’ll hold you back,” he said, his tone strange and flat. “You think I’d try to stop you.”

“I don’t know what I think,” I all but shouted. “What’s the matter with you? Can’t you see that’s just the problem?”