"You seem in a trance, David." Maria placed her hand on his and gently kneaded.
He shook his head and refocused his eyes. "I've been pondering choices. Our entire lives are a series of choices, each leading us to another series. Most are simple; made without even thinking. Some are so much more difficult." He shook his head again, then looked at his glass and took a sip. "This is delicious wine."
"Difficult?" Maria looked at him with a puzzled look on her face. "What's difficult?"
"The thought of leaving you. It rips my guts to shreds just thinking of it."
"You're still thinking of that, aren't you? Of going back to the war."
"Maria, I must. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't." He shook his head again. "I'd never be at peace. It would forever haunt me."
"But you don't belong in the trenches, David." Rachel set her wineglass down and looked at him. "You're my image of the perfect officer. Your leadership is brilliant. In the past weeks, you showed us your wisdom, your carefulness, your concern for our safety. You so often demonstrated your ability to see the broad picture, to see far beyond what we saw."
"Your innate nobility, your ease with leading ..." Bethia paused and looked at him. "You've been through preparatory school, through three years of university –"
"Only two years, Tante." He looked into his wine and let out a deep breath. "I was about to begin my third when war was declared."
"Two, three, it doesn't matter, David," Rachel said. "You're a very long way from the regular soldier. The army needs leaders like you. How did they miss you when you signed up?"
"There was a lot of confusion at the time while Canada was quickly learning what a large, modern army is. Forty thousand men volunteered during the first weeks. That's a huge number of fresh recruits to sort through and to process in such short order."
Maria got up to shake the carrot pot. "These are nearly done. Should I turn the ham over, Tante?"
"Brush it with a bit of the mustard first, Sweetheart. Just a thin glazing."
A while later, as they sat enjoying their dinner, David looked up from savouring a piece of ham. "This is utterly astounding, Tante – the subtle complexity of flavours. I've never had ham taste so delicious."
"Warming it very slowly with a thin glaze of mustard allows the flavours to permeate, to meld." Bethia smiled at David. "Warming it too quickly will not only cause the mustard to scorch, but it will also make the ham steak curl and cup. I so enjoy your enjoyment."
A long quiet while later, Maria put her hand on David's arm and gently pressed. "So ... When will you leave?"
"Another week, maybe two. I don't know. I need to spend more time with you. Get my head and my heart into the right space to go back. Difficult at the moment to think of leaving. But also, I need to help Tante purchase a suitable place, and then we all need to assist with the relocation."
Maria's shoulders dropped. "Another two weeks reprieve." She let out a deep sigh. "Let's fill them with joyous things, live them to the fullest extent possible. It might be a long while before we see each other again. We need to create a huge portfolio of pleasant remembrances to draw upon while we're apart."
"Our time will be full. You still have your essays to write and your exams to sit. Overriding, though, our priority is to get me safely out of Germany and into Switzerland. I'll be safe there. Strange ..." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I keep forgetting I'm in enemy territory."
Maria chuckled and shook her head. "Silly this, but we forgot to mention that Oma and Opa want you to stay with them. They have several spare rooms, and Oma is arranging two of them for you. They're expecting you tomorrow or Tuesday."
"That would be wonderful. Will you stay with me?"
"I'll visit, to be sure, but I really do need to concentrate on my school studies and on writing the essays." She giggled. "You'd be a huge distraction from that. I've ten thousand words to write, and I need to make some illustrations for each essay. My drawing skills are rather limited, so that will take a long time."
"What about using photographs, Sweetheart? We have Aaron's camera, and the darkroom is still as he left it. We could teach ourselves how to take and develop the pictures."
"I'm sure I still remember how from the photo club at University School." David shrugged. "It's a rather simple process."
"A splendid idea," Maria said. "I was dreading having to draw the illustrations. Each essay requires a minimum of three. With my compulsion for perfection, the six drawings would take me many days and several quires of paper."
David looked at her and tilted his head. "Guess we've been too busy with other things to talk of your essays. Have you some ideas on what you're going to do?"
"I began planning this afternoon as we drove in the lorry. Way too noisy to talk, so I planned instead. For the Emergency Treatment of Injuries topic, Mama's sprained ankle is a natural, and it will be so easy to write. For illustrations, my ideas are for one with the ankle elevated and wrapped tightly in cold towels, another of that pattern of support taping you did with the diagonals, and for the third, a picture of the crutches and cane. Mama can be my model."
"Funny, I barely notice it now, and the cane is more an accessory than an aid," Rachel said as she lifted her leg and rotated the ankle. "It's mended well. That seems so long ago now."
"And for your other topic?" Bethia asked. "The anatomy one?"
"I'm still compelled to do one titled The Cruelty of Circumcision, Tante. It's a topic that needs airing."
Bethia nodded. "From what you and Rachel discussed a few days ago, I now see it as cruel. I've not thought about it before – I'm sure few of us have. We've blindly accepted what the Torah and the rabbis tell us. Snip it off to honour God."
"And for your illustrations?" Rachel smiled and looked at David, then lightly shuddered. "You have a great model."
"For the foreskin, certainly. But for the mutilated version, I have none. I'll have to draw one."
"You could peel the skin all the way down, Sweetheart. Pull it tight like I told you resembled your father's."
Maria nodded, then looked at David and tilted her head. "I need to ask if you're willing to be my model for this. Are you?"
"Only if you promise not to snip me to get the circumcised image." He laughed as he looked at his watch. "Too late to begin now. We can do it in the morning." He picked up his glass and swirled the wine.
YOU ARE READING
Missing
Ficção HistóricaIn the early months of the First World War, a young Canadian soldier uses quick thinking and ingenuity to evade capture after being wounded fighting in Flanders. While escaping through Germany to the Swiss border, he becomes intimately entwined with...