Through Blood

Chapter 17: Feast

A wonderful feast was going to be served. It was as delicious as it was lavish and excessive. Only the finest wines, champagne, brandy, and Bavarian beers were served. The dining room table was filled with roast pork and lamb, Bratwurst sausages, veal Schnitzel, all kinds of breads, potatoes, sauerkraut, steamed vegetables, the finest cheeses, pasta, and more.

Gerda had come to help Simone and the maids cook. As much as Simone tried, she just couldn't get Gerda's dishes exactly the same even if she followed the recipe word by word.

"I think this is going to turn out fairly well, considering how little time  I had to plan and prepare everything," Simone said.

"This spätzle recipe calls for a French Brie that I always buy, it's from Normandy, but now the store doesn't have it anymore. This is ridiculous," Gerda complained.

"Mutter, it's just cheese, any Brie will do," Simone replied.

"No, you don't understand my darling," she shook her head as she mixed the noodles."

"Well, what can we do? Peter's favourite whiskey is imported from Ireland, and guess what? Because of the war, nothing from those countries is coming in," Simone said.

At that moment Ivy and Peter came in from work. She had insisted on going in the same day of the incident and Peter agreed to let her go. It was only for a half day and work for both of them had become busier than ever before. It really took Ivy's mind off of things. While she was at work she was professional and felt filled with purpose. It was as though the events of that morning never happened... until she was back at home.

The memories came rushing in and nearly giving her a mental breakdown. She ran to her room without saying a word and locked the door. Peter thought about going after her but Simone grabbed his hand and shook her head.

"It's okay, let her have her space. She needs it."

Ivy lied on her bed, still wearing her shoes and work dress and jacket. It was hot but she didn't care. She found it hard to breathe, and to hold back the tears. The part that conflicted her the most was feeling guilty, because she knew she shouldn't feel guilt. She also worried what might happen to her family, to her father and his career.

Half an hour later, at around 6 in the afternoon, there was a knock on the door. A maid answered, it was Kristian. He wore his uniform, shiny, black leather coat and pristine hat. The maid stood there frozen, gawking.

"Hello," he smiled. He knew the effect he had on women, but it was always funny and surprising whenever they looked at him with wide eyes and slightly open mouths.

"Sorry, what's... uh... your name?"

"You must be new. I'm Kris-" "Kristian, there you are!" Gerda stepped into view. "Out of the way, silly girl!" she hushed the maid away.

"Oma," he said sweetly and hugged her. "My dear, when are you going to find a wife? And marry her this time? I want great-grandchildren before I die," she pleaded.

"Seriously? I'm going to need a drink. Father! Where's my father?"

"Don't ignore me now, answer my question!" she tugged at his coat as he took it off.

"I don't know Oma, ask Ivy for great-grandchildren, and for the record," he looked around to make sure nobody was within earshot, "I didn't marry Sara because she ran away. She was a Jew," he whispered and began to walk away.

"Wait, what? Kristian! What? Come back here!"

He stopped walking and turned around, arms crossed. "Yes, I lied, alright? She broke my heart, and I find it hard to love another woman, except for you and Mutti and Ivy, of course," Kristian replied.