PDCOO Chapter 12

Dieter made a face and spun away. He appeared to have finally grasped that every exchange with Bertram cost him more than it won him.

"Anna. What were you two talking about?"

Anna's expression did something elaborate before she answered.

"We were discussing what to cook tomorrow. Why?"

"You're eating breakfast together too?"

"Of course. What, should I put him up for the night and then kick him out in the morning?"

"An unmarried man sleeping in your house— there's a workers' quarters by the communal farm. Put him there!"

"Since when is it any of your business? Is this your restaurant?"

At which point Bertram interjected with an air of having given the matter serious thought:

"On reflection, I would prefer a potato dish."

"Ha ha ha, but you said you can't taste anything! Still, you want potatoes?"

"The texture of the potato soup you made the day we first met was satisfactory."

"All right! Then I'll blend some smooth and leave the rest chunky for some bite. What do you think?"

"Thick-sliced bacon, if you please."

Dieter, squeezed out of the conversation again, buried his head in his hands.

The villagers looked on at the three of them with warmth.

But it was a warmth that smiled precisely because they knew Bertram would not be here long.

The days of outsiders being fed and put to work on the communal farm— that was a story from the lean years, long over. There was no reason now to take in strangers.

Eat your fill and get out. We'll tease Dieter and Anna about you for a while, but a few years from now, those two will get married. By then, a stray wanderer will be nothing more than an old memory to occasionally bring out and chew over.

Not one of them, at that moment, entertained a single doubt about it.

The small celebration ended before long.

The wolf carcass was hung in Anna's storeroom, and the young men headed home one by one with a wave. The village chief tucked the bottle of wine Anna had sent him off with under his arm and left dancing.

When everyone had been seen off, three people were left on the night road.

Anna. Dieter. Bertram.

"Dieter. Why aren't you going home? Are you following us to the door?"

"I don't want to leave you walking home alone with a man you barely know."

"Bertram protected me two nights ago. You know that!"

"Because he fed you something that nearly killed you— and he came out of it perfectly fine himself. What if he used you as a test subject?"

Anna lunged for Dieter's collar.

Bertram smoothly intercepted her hand and said to Dieter:

"Dieter. If you're too frightened to walk home alone, I'd be glad to see you to your door."

"I am not frightened!"

"What a relief."

Anna doubled over laughing.

Even so, Dieter followed them all the way to the end, apparently intending to supervise Bertram until he was actually in bed.

Just as Anna was about to have genuine words with him, Bertram spoke.

"There's a workers' quarters at the communal farm, you said? I'll sleep there tonight. Would someone show me the way?"

"Now of all times? Feeling guilty?"

"No. I've simply been moved by Dieter's example."

"...What?"

"There must have been many residents who were wary of me—an outsider—besides Dieter. But it took Dieter saying it aloud for me to recognize that obvious fact. I owe that to his courage."

"C— courage? Oh, it wasn't anything much—"

"Saying what needs to be said, when it needs to be said, requires real courage. I'll accept your suggestion. Could you wait while I collect my things?"

"Of course! Ha, ha ha!"

Dieter was grinning ear to ear as he planted himself in front of the restaurant door.

Bertram went inside, and Anna followed at his heels.

"Bertram. You don't have to humor him. Stay here! Mother already said it was fine."

"Dieter seems too unsettled. I've also gathered that Dieter is in love with you."

Whatever Anna had planned to say stopped in her throat. Then she burst out laughing.

"Ha ha ha! What are you talking about! He's always teasing me, says I need to grow up another ten years before anyone'll marry me—"

"He means he'll need ten years before he works up the courage to say so himself."

"You claim you have no feelings— how do you know something like that?"

"Human beings fear those who cannot feel, and attempt to exclude them from society. In order to survive, I learned to observe other people's emotions. The more typical the expression, the easier it is to read. He is jealous of me."

"If Dieter had heard that he'd have exploded."

"Which is why I intend to collect my things and leave before he detonates...but."

Bertram hesitated a moment, then said:

"Might I borrow the cloth you covered my feet with last night?"

"There are plenty of shared blankets at the quarters— you don't really need to take an old apron."

"I need it."

The flat certainty in his voice left Anna blinking. She handed it over, bemused.

The old apron with the red flower print.

Bertram put it into his bag as carefully as though it were something given in trust.

Later, after Bertram had returned to the quarters and fallen asleep turning the word cute over and over in his mind—

Karlah stood at the storeroom, trying to quiet an unsettled feeling as she examined the wolf's front paw.

A pale blue light drifted from it. If Bertram was right, these wolves hadn't attacked a person— they'd been digging up graves.

That thought lasted only a moment before a new worry took its place.

'The chief's going to think better of Bertram after tonight.'

The anxiety of it nagged at her: what if the villagers took a liking to him and started pressing him to stay?

And just when she'd almost managed to fall asleep, somewhere in the early hours before dawn, a soft, rhythmic sound began outside.

Shsk, shsk. The soft scrape of a broom.

Sweeping.

Karlah jolted upright, her back breaking out in goosebumps.

Bertram was clearly at the farm quarters. And Anna would never be up sweeping at this hour.

Karlah reached for her hand mirror and peered carefully outside.

The hand mirror filled with a large male body.

No need for further investigation. Bertram.

"Why does he have to be so diligent?" Karlah muttered, incredulous, watching him sweep dead grass from the courtyard without a single yawn, gather every cleaning tool afterward, and head back toward the communal lodging.

This was not the behavior of a man trying to impress the Burthe women. If it were, he'd have made some show of it.

He hadn't shown off in the kitchen either. He'd only ever asked whether his work was efficient, then followed the procedures Karlah showed him step by step. A man who had spent years in the military — that much was plain.

But the war had been over for three years. If he was still conducting himself like this in every corner of daily life, something was wrong.

"Post-war aftereffects..." she murmured. "His family probably fell apart during the war, so he can't go back. And his body only knows military life now. Maybe he can't do anything else."

Pitiful. But not a man she wanted near her daughter.

Karlah turned back to look at her daughter, sprawled across her bed in a completely undignified position, sound asleep. She wanted to say: you're a grown woman, not a child. But Anna was so small that she looked less like a grown woman and more like a troublemaking little girl who'd fallen asleep wherever she'd landed.

She'd been born so small that everyone had worried she might not make it. But the child had grown up—still small, always small—and had spent her adulthood picking up young men twice her size off the street, feeding them and putting them to work and eventually sending them home.

She doesn't listen worth a damn. But she could put her in front of anyone and be proud.

Karlah clasped both hands together and prayed.

"Hans..." The name settled into the quiet. "Please. I don't know what that oaf of a big bear owes you. But give me the strength to send him safely on his way today."

It was a fine morning.

Anna knew this the moment she opened her eyes.

'Last night was genuinely fun and I ate well—no, wait! Mama, why didn't you wake me?'

When Karlah didn't wake Anna up, it meant Karlah was that busy.

If Anna indulged this a moment longer, she'd earn: you can't get yourself up even when your mother is working herself to death?

So Anna scrambled out to the courtyard where Karlah was, and immediately understood what had kept her mother occupied since morning—

Karlah was speaking to Bertram in the courtyard.

"I know this was sudden. Thank you for taking it in stride. Stay well out there. I'll bring your laundered things right away."

The village chief was clapping Bertram on the shoulder.

"You've worked hard these past days. I can't pay you, but I can at least take you as far as the nearest city."

That was where Anna inserted herself.

"Wait just a moment! What—what's happening? Mr. Bertram, are you leaving? Today?"

"Good lord, child. Anna! You came out here without even washing your face. Don't tell me you just woke up now."

"Mama, don't change the subject! Why is Mr. Bertram leaving?"

"What, was he supposed to stay forever? All the help he gave the restaurant, and killing that wolf—I've counted it all as his debt repaid. We can't keep a perfectly good man around indefinitely just to peel onions. Mr. Bertram agreed."

"...But."

"Or what. Did you want to keep seeing him longer?"

"That's not it!"

Anna cried out, flustered.

She'd walked straight into Karlah's provocation. There was no excuse now.

The village chief chuckled.