Felix was practically a man—evident by not only his stature, but also the deepening of his voice a year earlier and the blond whisker shavings Marlene wiped from the bowl of the sink (a much lighter shade than her husband’s dark five o’clock shadow).
Marlene watched the children put the food in the pantry. Lena folded the muslin bags and placed them in the small crate by the door, ready for the next shopping trip. Their father had instilled a firm expectation of obedience in his children, and even with Marlene’s more relaxed approach, the children still displayed a sense of responsibility that made her proud.
“Where’s Lara?” Marlene asked, heaving a sack of flour into the upper cupboard. The oldest of the children, Lara was a beautiful girl on the brink of womanhood, with shoulder-length dark hair and blue eyes as clear as a tropical sea.
The teen hadn’t quickly warmed to Marlene. “I’m too old for a tutor,” she’d insisted. “I’m practically finished with my schooling anyway.” Her attitude had changed, though, once she discovered Marlene’s most generous heart and fierce loyalty. When the relationship between Marlene and Gerald turned from business to pleasure, Lara’s openness grew. Soon, Lara and her stepmother were close.
At seventeen, Lara was the only one of the children who didn’t attend public school, instead reasoning with her parents to concede in allowing her to complete her high school education with an instructor who would come to the house regularly.
It was the least they could do.
“Upstairs, I think,” Lena answered her mother’s question casually. “Haven’t seen her much today.”
“Do we ever?” Bettina echoed.
Marlene frowned. It was no secret that Lara had struggled with their new life in Zürich. Since their arrival, she’d become withdrawn and somber, quite the opposite of her once genial self. Her siblings chalked it up to teenage heartbreak, after Lara’s boyfriend, Rubin, had turned out to be far from the person Lara thought he was.
And that was true—at least partly.
“Would you mind telling her to come down?” Marlene asked Karl, who was standing closest to the edge of the room and the one of the group contributing least to unloading the groceries. He spun in place and leaned his upper body around the edge of the doorframe.
“LARA! MOTHER WANTS YOU!” His high-pitched scream made Marlene wince.
“I meant could you go upstairs and get her.” She shook her head at the wide grin that spread across his round face. He smiled, clearly amused, baring all his teeth for display. Karl was once described as incorrigible by a great-aunt, but Marlene knew he was simply playful and young. The middle child certainly kept everyone on their toes.
Near her feet, baby Erich pulled up to stand, holding onto a drawer handle for balance. Bettina plopped down on the floor on the other side of the kitchen, spreading her legs in a wide “V.” She stretched her arms out in front of her and clapped her hands together.
“Come on, Erich,” she urged. “Walk to me. You can do it!”
Erich gave her a smile, four little teeth poking out of his pink gums. He glanced up at Marlene as he bounced in place with eagerness.
“Go ahead, little one. Walk to your sister,” Marlene encouraged.
He slid a foot out, still holding onto the handle with one hand.
“You have to let go, silly,” Bettina said. “Come on, come to me.” She wiggled her fingers out in front of her.
Erich wavered, then let go. His unstable body tilted from side to side as he attempted to gain balance. Taking two small steps forward, he quickened his pace, before falling to his bottom not far from where he began.
“Good try, buddy,” Bettina said with a chuckle. Marlene swooped down and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“You’ll be walking soon enough, my love,” she said. Then, turning to Lena, “Can you watch him for me for a couple minutes?”
She needed to find Lara. It was time for another talk. Her patience was wearing thin.
But, mother and daughter were wound tight—twisted together like the intricate tapestry of an abstract canvas. Push a girl too far, and everything could unravel.
Two
Marlene climbed the stairs up to the second floor, passing both the boys’ bedroom and the little girls’ bedroom on the left. On the right, the door to her own room stood open. Centered along the back wall, was her neatly-made bed, its pale coverlet tucked and folded just so—an accurate representation of their picture-perfect life.
Only it was a lie. And every time she looked at the bed, it taunted her.
I know what happened here, it warned. No amount of ruffled pillows could hide the truth of those sheets. Marlene shut her eyes, but the images found her regardless.
Flesh. Blood. Fraud.
She closed the door, against the memories. The bedroom at the end of the hall belonged to the two eldest girls, Lara and Lena. A teen girl’s oasis: the room was crowded with heavily perfumed wardrobes and makeup samples they didn’t dare wear around their father.
Marlene knocked softly on the door.
“Lara?”
No response. She tried again, but the other side of the door remained silent. Marlene twisted the glass knob and cracked the door open, peering in through the tiny sliver. On the far side of the room, she saw a figure, sitting on the window bench, knees pulled up to her chest. Marlene opened the door further, its creaking hinges announcing her presence, but the girl didn’t acknowledge her.
“Lara? May I come in?”
Lara stared out the window to the small garden patio at the back of the house. A swing hung suspended between two trees and rows of rainbow flowers lined the stone pavers. The small refuge brought a sense of country to their little lot in the city, and Lara often found herself drawn there for peace and quiet.
Marlene approached her daughter and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. Lara retracted without a word, pulling her body away from her mother’s touch. With a sigh, Marlene dropped her head.
“Lara. You’ve got to come out of this room more. It’s not healthy to stay cooped up like this.”
A single tear rolled down Lara’s face. Marlene felt a pinch in her heart at the girl’s sadness. She gazed around the room, thinking of what to say next.
“Clair Huber is having a party this weekend for her birthday. I ran into her mother at the market this morning. She said you ought to come. Why don’t you tag along with Lena? And hey, maybe that handsome boy from down the street will be there.” Marlene cocked her head and lifted an eyebrow, attempting to rouse Lara with a bit of lighthearted teasing.
Lara was in no mood.
“Handsome or not, my heart belongs elsewhere,” she said with enough melodrama to force Marlene’s eyes closed.
“Come on, darling. Things could be much worse, you know. We’re safe here. We can finally be a happy family.”
Lara whipped her head around to face Marlene. Her eyes were bloodshot.
“Happy?” she said as her chin quivered. “How can I be happy?” Before Marlene had a chance to respond, Lara turned sharply, folding her arms across her chest and refusing to budge. “Just leave me alone.”
“Lara.”
“I’ve done enough of what you’ve asked of me. I’m done.”
Defeated, Marlene left the room. Lara’s temperament wasn’t new—it had been a rough year in many ways, for more than just Lara. There were days when their reality felt too much to bear, but she and Gerald had an image to withhold: one of a lively, healthy, secure family. A moping teenager didn’t fit the mold, and the family was growing restless with Lara’s doom-and-gloom attitude.
Downstairs, Marlene returned to the kitchen and swept Erich into her arms.
“Hello, little one,” she whispered in his ear.
“Ma ma ma ma,” he babbled.
The front door closed, and familiar footsteps approached.
“Father!” the children yelled. They swarmed him, wrapping their arms around whatever appendage they could reach. Tall and handsome wi
th slicked back hair and military posture, the only hint of imperfection on his impeccably groomed exterior was a small vertical scar under his bottom lip. He was Adonis incarnate.
Gloria slid down Gerald’s leg until she sat atop his shiny, patent boot. She hugged his shin happily.
“Hi everyone,” he chuckled. “I’ll never get tired of these warm welcomes.” Gerald shuffled to Marlene, dragging Gloria along on his foot.
“Hello, my love,” he said. They kissed, and Erich, still in Marlene’s arms, patted Gerald’s cheek. He nuzzled noses with the little boy, who squealed with delight. The children watched him, captivated by his very presence. To them, Gerald was larger than life—a figure to be not only loved, but admired.
He looked around to each of their adoring faces. One was missing.
“Lara?” he asked Marlene under this breath.
“In her room.”
His jaw tensed.
“Gerald, she barely comes out anymore,” Marlene lamented. “This can’t go on. I’m getting concerned. We’ve got to do something.”
“Like what? We’re damned either way.” Pulling her into the side room away from the curious ears of the children, Gerald continued. “I’m doing everything possible to establish myself here, Marlene. It’s not easy, especially after the way we left. It’s taken a lot of work and a great deal of convincing. We can’t afford any mistakes.”
“I know, I know. But Lara. I’m worried.”
“I am too.”
In her arms, Erich squirmed.
“Come here, you,” Gerald reached out and took the baby from his wife’s hands. “You’re so loved, do you know that little boy? We didn’t think we’d have you, but here you are.” He stroked the boy’s dark hair and stared into his crystal blue eyes. The resemblance between Erich and Gerald was uncanny. And Marlene’s heart swelled seeing the tenderness the baby brought out of her husband.
“Let me try to talk to her,” he said, “I’m her father. She’ll listen to me.”
Three
The talk was no use. Lara regarded her father with the same cold irreverence she’d shown Marlene.
“How can you expect me to just go on as before? Nothing is the same.” Her face flushed with emotion. “I just want to go back.”
“Lara, you must understand,” he’d tried. “We’re all doing our best.” But she’d stared right through him as if he didn’t exist.
That evening, Marlene prepared tafelspitz, the children’s favorite. She pounded the veal with her wooden mallet, transferring all her angst into the poor chops, before boiling the thin cuts of meat until tender. If only strife could evaporate as easily as water from a bubbling pot. She drizzled a homemade horseradish sauce atop each piece, and then scooped a serving of potatoes onto each plate. A savory aroma filled the house.
It smelled like Austria.
The children gobbled the meal. Miriam exclaimed as she nearly choked on her last bite, “Can we make strudels now?”
“Chew and swallow, dear,” Marlene said, patting Miriam’s hand. The girl gulped a far-too-big bite and then more clearly repeated her question.
“Now can we?”
“Yes, sweetheart. We’ll make strudels, just as soon as everyone is finished.”
Gerald rolled his eyes playfully from the other end of the long oak table at his daughter’s fervor. Lara sat silent. She poked at the thin slice of veal sliding down the heap of potatoes like a car down an icy hill.
The stubborn girl had begrudgingly agreed to join dinner—only at the most insistent request of her empty stomach. The pangs of her hunger won over, Marlene figured, enticed by the smells coming from the large kitchen below.
“I’m supposed to bring my favorite book to school tomorrow,” Miriam said, rather suddenly. “But I don’t know which to choose.”
“You can borrow one of mine,” Bettina offered. The bookworm of the family, Bettina was always nose deep in worn, white pages. Her siblings knew they could go to her for any of their literature needs, but also felt slightly intimidated by her brains. They joked that of anyone, she’d be the one to have an important job someday. Bettina got high marks in all her classes, and never having received letter grades from a teacher before, she found it quite satisfying.
“What about you, Felix? What do you have going on this week?” Marlene asked, turning to the eldest boy. She liked these newly regular family check-ins.
“Well, now that football is done, I suppose I should start focusing on my schoolwork.” He winked at his father. Gerald took academics seriously and insisted the children did too. For a long time, their intense focus on proper appearances had bordered on regimented. Marlene, though, inspired a sense of carefree wonder. She encouraged the children to explore other interests, which is why Felix had felt comfortable trying out for the football team at school. Gerald, initially hesitant, had loosened a little and allowed it. His wife’s appetite for life rubbed off on him.
Felix was surprisingly inclined for athletics. With an arm for throwing, he played an unusual number of games for a rookie. Before long, he’d caught the eye of not only the coach but several members of the cheer squad.
“You should try football next year,” Felix said, now, to his younger brother. Lena stifled a giggle behind her napkin.
“Nah, too much running,” Karl replied. Gerald laughed at his son’s blunt honesty. On the chubbier side (“Fleshy,” the doctor had called him), Karl didn’t show an ounce of the sporting chops Felix did, instead developing a keen interest in business, and showing early signs of an entrepreneurial spirit. He was no jock—that was no secret—but he did love to dance. Marlene often caught glimpses of him twirling and leaping when he thought no one was watching.
She’d even once taught him the Laendler.
“You could be one of those pom-pom shakers on the sidelines then,” Felix said. Karl gave him a playful punch.
“How are your studies going, Lara?” Gerald changed the subject, turning to his daughter who stared down at her plate.
“Fine.”
“Frau Zimmermann still satisfied with your work?”
“Yes.”
“Are you planning to give one-word answers to every question I ask?”
“Yes.”
Gerald gave up. He shrugged at Marlene.
Next to her Erich cooed in his highchair. Marlene cut a small sliver of meat and put it on the boy’s tray. He wolfed it down and banged his hands on his tray, demanding more.
“Patience, Erich,” Gloria mimicked her mother’s tone, clearly proud of her display of good breeding. Tsk tsk. “Mother is feeding you as quickly as she can.” No longer the baby of the family, Gloria took on a performance of maturity, as if she were seventeen and not seven.
Marlene peered up through her eyelashes and met the gaze of her husband. Would the lying ever get easier? She glanced around the table. The other children happily finished their remaining food, unaware of the unspoken signals passing between their parents. Marlene looked to Felix. His head was bowed, as was Lara’s.
“May I be excused?” Lara asked in a near-whisper.
“Yes.” Gerald reached for her hand to give it a squeeze, but she pulled from his grasp before their palms met. She left swiftly, and Gerald looked to the ceiling as the sound of feet climbing the stairs reverberated through the room.
Attempting to lighten the tension, Marlene clapped her hands. “Who’s ready for strudels?” she asked with a false, but effective, enthusiasm.
“Hooray!” the children cheered, pushing back from the table and carrying their plates to the kitchen in a single file line.
Marlene dragged Erich’s highchair near the sink so he could watch. He danced in his seat, unsure what all the excitement was about, but feeding off the energy of his siblings nonetheless. When he saw the apples, he smacked his lips and excitedly flapped his wrists back and forth as if revving a motorcycle.
Their baking was a well-oiled machine. Marlene and the three youngest girls mixed and kneaded the
dough while Lena and Karl—who didn’t yet find matters of the kitchen too feminine—peeled and sliced apples into a bowl.
An hour later the timer dinged, and the children ran to the oven. Atop the baking sheet sat a dozen perfectly folded lumps, golden brown with heat and sugar. Marlene cut into the flaky pastry and watched the gooey filling spill from the center. Gloria reached her finger in to swipe at the little butter-brown puddle.
“I don’t think so, sneaky girl.” Marlene shooed the girl’s hand away. She dished a piece for everyone. It came with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, a Sunday night treat. The house was heavy with the distinctive smell of apples and cinnamon.
It was heavenly. But it wasn’t enough to pull Lara from her room.
Four
Lara finished her lessons with Frau Zimmermann around two. The middle-aged woman rewarded her pupil’s gains with an early close for the day—a gesture Lara wasn’t sure could be attributed to the tutor’s uncharacteristically good mood, or Lara’s actual progress in arithmetic.
Lara didn’t love math; she struggled with visualizing the complex calculations, and the numbers themselves, as she advanced through her schooling. Frau Zimmermann was tough but fair. Her glasses sat at the tip of her nose, and every time she leaned over Lara’s shoulder to check her work, Lara waited for the frames to fall off onto the table. When the woman moved in extra close, Lara cringed at the smell of garlic on her breath. What could she possibly have eaten at nine o’clock in the morning that left such a horrid stench?
Aside from her strict manner and unfortunate breath, Frau Zimmermann was a good teacher. She’d insisted they spend extra time learning formulas, which by show of the girl’s headway, had paid off. “I think you might show promise for university after all,” she’d said, sounding pleased.
Lara managed a smile. The woman didn’t know that attending university was the last thing on Lara’s mind.
All That Shines and Whispers Page 2
