Your House Is on Fire, Your Children All Gone: A Novel by Stefan Kiesbye Read Free Book Online Page A

stepped out onto our cobblestone streets, the villagers dropped whatever they were doing and stared open-mouthed at the spectacle. After each and every of Rutger’s visits, all the girls claimed he had winked at them.
    Yet the old man didn’t seem to have heard the question. “It’s a shame that a young woman like you has to fend for herself,” he said. “Your husband was a soldier?”
    Inge nodded. “He died in Lithuania.”
    Johann von Kamphoff grunted. “A shame,” he said. “I think I might be able to help you out a bit. Is there anything you need? Does your son need anything? I don’t want to embarrass you,but if you’re missing something, please let me know.” His face had been unusually grim during his little speech, but now it lit up again. “We have to help one another, right?” he said. “You are a wonderful worker. I’m not offering any handouts.”
    Inge nodded. She didn’t know what to say to all this. “Thank you,” she squeezed out and smiled. The old man smiled back, winked at her, and quickly turned away.
    My father’s voice became audible again only after the heat had driven Johann von Kamphoff back to the manor house. “You can’t work like this,” he moaned. “Yes, Mr. von Kamphoff. Absolutely right, Mr. von Kamphoff.” For a while he stared ahead, lost in thought; then he turned on Inge. “And all this because of you. Smile, make a pretty face. Encourage that old goat. You’ll see what it gets you.” Anger colored his face purple.
    Inge stayed silent and quickly looked at me and Anke; she hadn’t forgotten about our presence. “Should I return to the fields?” she asked quietly.
    Now my father turned to look at us. “Nonsense,” he exclaimed quickly, and his anger subsided momentarily.
    Around noon Friedrich stepped into the garden to bring his mother sandwiches and an apple. He looked at Anke and me as though we were apparitions, and then frowned. My father took our lunch from the truck, handed me the sandwiches my mother had wrapped in coarse paper, and said, “Go ahead. You can show Friedrich the maze. But don’t yell and scream. Nobody has to know you’re in there.”
    Only slowly did we leave our parents. Friedrich seemed displeased by the idea of having us around. He stopped and turnedto look at his mom time and again, but she waved him away. Scowling, he followed Anke and me through the garden. “I already know the maze,” he said. “It’s boring.”
    “You’re boring,” Anke shot back.
    “Why do you want to go to the maze?” he asked. “The hedges are all bare.”
    “Anke has never been there. It’s her first time at the manor,” I said importantly.
    “I know it inside and out,” he said quickly. “And I’m allowed to go to the stables whenever I want. Maybe they’ll let me ride one of the horses sometime soon.”
    “They don’t belong to you,” Anke said. “You don’t belong here.”
    “So?” Friedrich said. “Without Linde, you wouldn’t be here. And she’s only the gardener’s daughter.”
    “And she isn’t allowed to ride the horses either.”
    “But I’m a boy.” Friedrich blocked Anke’s path. “Why are you so dolled up?”
    “Because my mom won’t let me run around in old rags,” she quipped, but Friedrich had already shoved her to the ground. “Dumb cow,” he said.
    I knew what I owed my friend and slapped Friedrich hard in the face. I thought he would hit me back, but he only looked at me for a moment, then turned and ran away. “Friedrich,” I called after him—I feared my dad would be angry if he found out what happened—but he didn’t come back.
    When it was time to return home, it stayed very quiet in our truck. My dad turned to gaze at me from time to time but didn’t say a word. Anke’s dress was soiled, and I could feel that sheregretted ever having agreed to come. She could have baked cookies with her mother; now she had blisters on her hands, hadn’t found the maze to her taste, hadn’t seen any