The Runaway Sister

epilogue | eight years

EIGHT YEARS LATER

I sit atop a hill which is down the dirt road from our cottage. Wolfgang runs down the hill with little Johannes and Brigitte following closely behind, laughing hysterically. 

When they reach the bottom of the hill, the three of them collapse, panting and still laughing. Wolfgang scoops the two children in his arms, swinging them around. 

I take a small sip of water as I watch them with a smile, continuing to set out the strudels, cookies, and tortes for our Sunday picnic. 

Only a few moments later, Wolfgang carries the twin troublemakers back up the hill as they squirm and giggle profusely, calling out to me for help as I roll my eyes playfully. 

When the three of them reach the top of the hill, Wolfgang sets down our children and they run towards me, squealing with delight upon seeing the pastries. 

Brigitte clings to my waist. "Papa and Hansi are being mean to me, Mama!" She exclaims dramatically, but her bright smile gives away her true feelings. 

I pat my four-year-old daughter's head, stroking her dirty blonde curls which have already started to turn into a light shade of brown. 

Johannes huffs on the other side of me, throwing daggers at his twin sister. "I told you not to call me Hansi! I wanna be called 'Hans'." He plops down on the blanket. 

"Hansi!" Brigitte teases again with a bright smile and a giggle, sticking her tongue out at her twin brother. He has a temper, and his sister just loves pushing his buttons. 

"Then I'm gonna call you 'Bridge', like a bridge!" 

Brigitte's offended gasp rings throughout the trees and the fields, probably flying all the way to the village down below us. Johannes smiles triumphantly. 

"Bridge is a terrible nickname! Hansi is so cute! I'm actually doing you a favor so you should be happy! Mama, tell him!" 

And unsurprisingly, two little heads turned to me expectantly, waiting for me to settle this argument. 

I smile at the two of them gently. "In life, it's important to respect each other's boundaries, and we should exercise this in our home. Don't you agree?" 

Reluctantly, both of them look at each other, then back at me, and nod. "Yes, Mama," they mutter in unison. 

I could've sworn I heard Johannes whisper 'Bridge', staring at his sister, and Brigitte whispering 'Hansi' back. 

Choosing to let the two banter, I instead say, "Let's have our picnic." I don't miss the look that Wolfgang sends my way, a lazy smirk on his lips. 

The children eagerly begin to eat their desserts, and then they run off back down the hill, towards the river and the bridge leading into the village. 

I smile at them, my little beams of sunshine. They spin around each other, Johannes kicking pebbles into the water and Brigitte weaving flower crowns to put on her head. 

Wolfgang leans back, and I lay on his chest. His fingers run through my hair, messaging my scalp, as the squeals and chatter of the twins fill our ears. 

My family has grown, we've settled down into this country. Everything is being fit together in the puzzle, every piece locking together. 

When Wolfgang and I were taken from the water, we were immediately driven to a safe house on the border of Liechtenstein and Switzerland. 

For a whole month, we stayed in the mountains. Secluded from the outside world. The whole time, I was a nervous wreck, worrying if we'd be found out. 

Despite all of my fussing, Wolfgang remained an anchor. A calm in my storm. He was like a lighthouse, calling me towards him.