Dinah

Rolf

“Well, that was a stupid move of you,” Rolf said emphatically. “You could have at least asked her last name,”

Constantijn shrugged helplessly, “But I'm leaving in less than a week - I was lucky to get a little time off before we leave, really. I can't just break her heart like that - and that's assuming we even get together. She's from all the way across town,”

“So it would be that much more romantic when you go and pick her up,” Rolf retorted. “And besides, you're only going to your base in a week. You probably won't leave for Russia for at least another few days,” It was a weak argument.

“It may as well be the same thing,” Constantijn muttered, and they entered the barn.

Rolf turned and climbed up the ladder to the loft, “Not really,” He said, “If you make sure everyone knows your father is General der Pieter Rot, you ought to be fine. They'll give you a bookkeeping job, or guarding some big important officer's office, or something like that that won't have you out freezing,”

Constantijn looked at him. He didn't want people to know who his father was. “Dieter's an artilleryman in Rostov,”

“Dieter didn't tell anyone who his father was,” Rolf pointed out, “He wanted to be humble or something, I suppose,” A giant fluff of hay fell down, and Constantijn caught it in his arms.

“That's not bad of him,” Constantijn said through the hay as he made his way over to Blume, and dumped the hay in the manger.

“I’d rather be aloof and alive than humble and dead,” Rolf shouted down to him.

“Don't talk like that!” Constantijn exclaimed as he walked back to the hole in the loft floor where Rolf looked down.

The younger boy scowled and tossed down another forkful of hay.

Constantijn gave it to the horse, and when he came back Rolf was sitting with his legs dangling over the edge, hand-me-down overalls riding up his legs. “I don't think he's coming back,” He said, his tone bitter and his expression pained. “It's been three months since he wrote last,”

“I know,” Constantijn said, and crawled nimbly up the ladder. The loft smelled like hay, obviously, sweet and strong. “But you can't go thinking like that or you'll go crazy,”

“Like Mama,” Rolf still stared down at the barn floor.

Constantijn looked at his little brother, and then tugged his arm gently, “Yeah. And I bet she's home by now. Come on,”

The two boys descended the ladder, exited the barn, and walked to the little farmhouse.

Johanna Rot was old, but really hadn’t begun to decline until her oldest son, Pieter, had been killed, in December of last year. She was small, and had silvery-gray hair, and delicate hands that had strengthened and calloused from her work at the ammunition plant.

It was her work that left her exhausted, and deflated, working from five in the morning until nine at night, as late as ten or eleven if she didn’t get her daily quota filled. And she worried. She hadn’t been nearly so worried about Pieter, and then Pieter had died. And now she was terrified for Werner and Dieter, and Constantijn before long. She’d been a mess in the first months after the notice came of Pieter’s death, especially since Werner was already in Cologne and Dieter would be enlisting soon. And now that Dieter was in Russia and hadn’t written in three months…

She looked up and smiled wanly as Constantijn and Rolf came in, “Hello, boys. The animals are fine?”

“Ja, Mama,” Rolf said, pushing himself onto the counter.

“Get off the counter - you got your schoolwork done on time?”

Rolf grudgingly slid of the counter and nodded, “Ja, Mama. Promise,”

“Alright,” She said, “Now, both of you tell me about your day,”

“But you should get to bed, Mama, you have to work early,” Constantijn protested. He really didn’t want Rolf telling her about Magdalena.

“I always have to work early,” She picked up the mug of tea in front of her and walked to the table, motioning for her two youngest boys to sit down, “Talk to me,”

“Constantijn met a girl!” Rolf burst, and Constantijn groaned. He should have known that would be the first thing out of his brother’s mouth.

“Did you,” Mama smiled ruefully, and Constantijn knew she was thinking the same thing he had, “Tell me about her,”

He decided he may as well oblige, “We were both hiding under the gazebo in the park from the rainstorm that came through. She said she was picking up her father. He was coming in on the train from Kiev,” He looked down at his hands, fiddling with each other on the table, “She had red hair. She said her name was Magdalena and that she lived on Willem-Straas.

He could feel her eyes on him, for a long, quiet minute, and then Mama said, “Alright, Constantijn - how was your day, Rolf?”

She knew.

“Conrad and I went fishing after school,” Rolf said, “I caught a big one - you shoulda seen it before we gutted it. It musta been a foot and a half long!” He was holding his hands apart. Much more than a foot and a half, Constantijn thought. But he didn’t say anything, “Josef didn’t catch anything, though, so we split it since his dad just died and his mama’s sick,” He shrugged, “And then I gave my half to his sister since Constantijn and Isold caught plenty of fish yesterday,”

That is, Isold caught plenty of fish yesterday, Constantijn thought. But nobody needed to know that.

“That’s good, Rolf,” Mama smiled. It was a little more genuine this time. “Get on up to bed, now. I want to talk to Constantijn,”

Rolf scampered out of there fast and Constantijn whimpered, “What’d I do?”

“Nothing,” She said. “You like that Magdalena girl?”

“We only talked for a few minutes,” Constantijn said, sitting down.

She gave him a look, “But you would have gotten her last name, and full address, if you weren’t leaving soon,”

He nodded miserably, “But I have to,”

“I know,” She said.

He frowned at the ground. He didn’t really like talking to his mother about this, but he supposed it was unavoidable and he didn’t really have any other friends to talk to.

“Constantijn,” He looked up, and she stood up and looked him in the eye, “You need to know it’s for a good cause. I wish I could tell you it’ll be okay, but that’s really all I can say,”

“Yeah, Mama,” He said, “I know,” Then he looked back down at his hands, “I’m gonna go to bed,”

He could feel his cheeks getting hot as he strode upstairs, a lump building in his throat. There was always a lump in his throat before he cried. He would not cry.