While Gretl helped Inga with the dishes, Paula sat with Wolfie and Young Hans and made her nephew tell her all about the award he had received and about meeting the count and countess in person. Then, though he wasn’t graduating, she made him tell her all about the commencement ceremony. After all, he would be graduating the next spring, and she had promised that she would be there for that.
At 1:30, on receiving a nod from Inga, Wolfie stood up. “I’m going to go for a walk for a while, Schatzi. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” Paula agreed instantly, excused herself, and was gone before Wolfie could even get his shoes on. As he went out the front door, promising to be back in an hour or so, Young Hans got to his feet too. He stretched and yawned. “I didn’t get home until nearly midnight last night. And we’ve got a late night tonight. I think I’ll grab a nap too.”
Inga was up and in front of him in two steps. “Not just yet, son. Can we talk for a few minutes?”
His eyebrows lifted slightly, but then he shrugged. “Sure, Mama.” As he sat down again she could tell that he still had no clue what was about to descend on him. His father got a drink of water and then came and sat on the sofa beside Inga.
Inga had thought of little else all morning, rehearsing in her head all the possible directions the conversation might take. She knew that her approach and Hans’s approach would be very different. She had hoped that they might get a chance to talk it through, but that hadn’t happened. Though one part of her hoped that her husband would lead out, another part of her worried about him losing his temper. It was a worry that quickly became a reality. The moment they sat down, he launched his attack.
“Hans Otto, you need to know that your mother and I are extremely disappointed in you.”
His head jerked up. “What?”
“Schatzi,” Inga said, looking at this man she knew so well, “can I explain something first?”
He ignored her. “Why are you lying to us, boy?” he snapped.
Young Hans shot to his feet, his face instantly flushed. “Lying? What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about. I’m talking about that young woman. Young Lady von Kruger.”
Hans Otto’s face was instantly a brilliant red. He went to speak, but nothing came out. Inga decided it was time to jump in.
“Sit down, dear,” she said. Then she shot a warning look at the man beside her. “I’ll try to explain what your father is saying.”
He didn’t sit down. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. His eyes darted back and forth between the two of them.
“Please sit down, Hans. Please.”
Finally, he dropped back into his chair. But the fight wasn’t out of him. Those blue eyes that were usually so filled with laughter were flashing pinpoints of fire. His chest was rising and falling as he glared at his father.
Inga took a quick breath and began. “Hans, when we first arrived at the school, you were still in a meeting with the provost.”
“So?”
“So your father and I were standing near the gate, studying the bronze map of campus, trying to orient ourselves. Then we saw you come out of the chapel—”
“Wait! You were here that early? You told me you wouldn’t be there until about noon.”
She explained that Wolfie had worried about them not finding their way and that he had come with them to show them where to make trolley changes. With all of that, they had arrived more than an hour early.
He nodded, but she could see that he was tensed for flight—rocking back and forth, fists clenching and unclenching.
“We saw you come out of the meeting. We called to you, but we were too far away for you to hear us. You didn’t see us and then went back in again.”
“Ja. I had left my books on the pew. I went back in to get them and take them to my dorm room. Is that such a crime?”
“Watch your tongue, boy,” his father snapped. “You’re in enough trouble already.”
Inga frowned. They had seen him pretty clearly when he came out of the church, and she was almost certain he wasn’t carrying anything. “When we saw you again,” she went on quietly, “you were walking with a girl.”
At that he visibly flinched. She waited, watching his face as he tried to decide how much to say. “A girl? Oh, yes. I remember now. That was Rachel, a girl from my physics class.”
Inga’s eyes half closed. She heard Hans draw in his breath beside her.
“We followed you, Hans Otto,” he blurted.
“You what?”
“We tried to call out to you,” Inga explained, “but you didn’t hear us.”
“How far did you follow me?” His voice was suddenly shrill.
“All the way into the gardens,” his father snapped. “All the way to where you took that girl behind the yew tree. We were close enough to see you kiss her. So you can stop lying now. Her name isn’t Rachel, it is Lady Magdalena von Kruger.”
Hans Otto’s head dropped and he stared at his hands. He started to say something but then changed his mind. Finally he looked up at his mother. “That’s what upset you so much last night in the reception line, isn’t it? I knew it was something more than you just being embarrassed to meet them. It was when you saw Maggie and realized who she was, wasn’t it?”
“Maggie?” his father shouted incredulously. “You call her ‘Maggie’?”
“All right, Magdalena.” He was still looking at Inga. “That was it, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you lie to us?” Hans shouted.
“Why didn’t you say something last night?” he shot right back.
Turning away, he stared out the window. After almost a full thirty seconds he answered. “I lied because I knew this was how you would react if I told you that we were friends.”
“Friends?” Hans shot to his feet. “Friends don’t kiss like that.”
“All right. I knew you would overreact if I told you that she was my girlfriend.”
“Do you know what hurts me the most?” Inga asked.
“What?”
“How easily the lie came to you. Like you’ve been doing it a lot lately.”
He was like a cornered animal now. “I had to lie. We’ve had to lie, because . . . well, you can imagine what people would say. The daughter of a count and the son of a milkman.”
“Do her parents know?” Inga asked.
“Of course not. Not yet. She’s going to tell them after the ball tonight.”
“No, she’s not,” his father roared. “You two are not going to say anything about this, because it’s over. Right now. It’s over and done with. Do you understand me?”
“No, Papa. I love her. We’ve even talked about . . .” His voice trailed off as he saw the look on his father’s face.
“What?” his father roared. “What have you talked about?”
“Nothing.” He was backpedaling frantically. “Just that we talked about her staying for summer school, like me.”
It was such a pathetic lie that Inga felt her anger rising. But to her amazement, her husband accepted it. He nodded, seeming relieved. She was incredulous. Had he really bought into the summer school explanation? Could he not see that their son had nearly said, “We’ve even talked about marriage”?
His next words answered that for her, and her anger turned against both of them.
“You are not going to stay for summer school,” Hans Senior said. “You are coming home. You are going to milk cows until you learn not to lie to your parents.”
Now Young Hans shot to his feet. “Don’t be ridiculous, Papa. I’m sorry that I lied to you, but I have two summer classes that I need to take before I can begin my advanced engineering courses. I told you that before. I’m not coming home until Christmas.”
Inga’s hopes plummeted as she watched her husband’s face turn a mottled purple. Oh, Hans, you are only making things worse. But the damage was already done.
“You are coming home now!?
?? his father shouted. “You will do as I say, or I will . . .” He sputtered to a stop, unable to think of something horrible enough to make up for the betrayal. Young Hans seized on it immediately.
“Or you will what, Papa? Cut off my funding? Oh, that’s right,” he sneered. “You don’t provide any of my funding. That comes completely from the school. So then what? Will you take me out to the woodshed and put the paddle to me?” His arrogance was shocking. “Oh, dear. That won’t work either, because I’m now taller than you and outweigh you by twenty-five pounds.”
Inga leaped up and moved between them, her back to her husband. For a long moment, she stared at her son, who was having difficulty facing her down, and then she stepped forward and slapped his face with all the strength she could muster. His head snapped back and he cried out.
For an instant it was hard to determine who was the most shocked: Hans Senior, Hans Junior, or Inga. But she was the first to recover. She went up on her toes until her face was just inches from her son’s. “You will not speak to your father in that way,” she said, her voice trembling. “You apologize this instant or you will not have a place to come home to at Christmas.”
One hand came up slowly and rubbed at his cheek. Inga was shocked to see her handprint in the flesh, bright red and clearly visible. Then her son’s head dropped. “I’m sorry, Papa. Mama is right. I should not have spoken to you in that manner. Please forgive me.”
Inga stepped back and then whirled to look up at her husband. “Well?” she snapped.
He looked confused for a moment. Her eyes narrowed even more. “I . . . uh . . . I accept your apology, Hans Otto,” he stuttered.
“And?” Inga prodded.
“And I am sorry that I shouted at you.”
“I’m sorry that I lied to you, Papa. And to you, Mama. It was a stupid thing to do. I’m sorry.” Then his head came up. “Besides, there’s nothing to worry about. Maggie’s family—Magdalena’s family—is leaving on Tuesday for their estate in Scotland. They’ll be gone for a month, so she won’t be in summer school. I probably won’t see her again before fall term.”
Hans and Inga exchanged relieved glances. “That’s for the best,” she finally murmured. As her husband opened his mouth to speak, she quickly went on. “I think we all could use a nap right now. Then we can talk about tonight.”
• • •
Inga and Hans had not spoken a word to each other. Her husband was still brooding darkly. And while much of that was because their son had defied him, she knew he was equally angry at her for interfering. When the time came to get ready for the banquet and ball, both parents came to the room where Young Hans had a cot. There, Inga announced that neither of them would be going to the final gala of the graduation celebration. “I just can’t,” she said.
Trying not to show his immense relief, Young Hans nobly volunteered to stay with his mother and father. Inga would have none of it.
“You were honored as an outstanding student yesterday,” Inga said. “Everyone knows you now, even if they didn’t before. If you are not there, it will be noticed. So you must go.”
“What if the count or countess asks why you are not there?”
“Tell them about your Aunt Paula. Tell them she’s been in labor for the last two nights—which is true,” she added pointedly, “and that we dare not leave for that long.”
Young Hans turned to his father. “And what about you? What do I say about you not being there?”
His head came up slowly. His mouth was pinched into a tight line. “Tell them that I have never been more sharply disappointed in my son than I am at this moment and that I couldn’t bear to be with you.”
Hans Otto rocked back as if he had been struck.
Inga quickly stepped in. “Schatzi,” she pleaded. “We will work this out later, but not in this way.”
He turned on her, eyes blazing. “That’s right. Take his side, Inga, like you always do. No wonder the boy is so headstrong and out of control.”
“Like I always do?” she cried. “Am I the one who said this was a harmless flirtation? Am I the one who didn’t want to talk about it anymore?”
“That’s enough!” he roared, one hand coming up as if to strike her.
She fell back a step, stunned at his rage.
“You will not speak to me in that manner,” he shouted. “Do you hear me?”
Inga dropped her head as tears sprang to her eyes. Suddenly, she felt hands on her shoulders, pushing her out of the way. She turned and saw that her son had taken her place. He was standing toe-to-toe with his father, eyes wide, nostrils flaring. “And you will not speak to Mama that way either, Papa! I am the one to blame here. Leave Mama out of it.”
His father’s fist cocked back. “You dare talk to me like that?” he shouted.
“No!” Inga cried.
But to her horror, her son didn’t flinch. He actually stepped closer, thrusting his face next to his father’s. “You want to hit me? Do it! But you’d better make it hard enough that I can’t get up again.”
At that moment, two things happened simultaneously. Wolfie rushed into the room, his face a mask of horror. And Inga thrust herself in between these two raging bulls and shoved them roughly apart. “Stop it!” she cried. “Stop it this instant!”
Wolfie grabbed his brother-in-law’s arm and pulled him toward the door. “Come, Hans. I think maybe you need some time alone to cool down.”
To Inga’s surprise, after staring at Wolfie for a moment, her husband nodded and let Wolfie lead him out of the room. For a long moment, mother and son stood there, still too shocked to speak. Then finally, Young Hans stepped toward her and tried to take her in his arms. “I’m sorry, Mama. I am so sorry.”
She jerked free of him, and tears came again. “Oh, Hans. Can’t you see that your choices have consequences? You can’t just go blithely on your way not caring how things will come out in the end.”
“Mama, I . . .”
“Go get ready. I think it’s best that you leave for the academy now.”
His head dropped. “Yes, Mama.” He stepped around her and started for the door.
“Hans?”
He turned back. “Yes, Mama?”
“You will not dance with Lady Magdalena tonight. Do you understand that?”
The anger was instantly back in his eyes. “Do you take me for an idiot, Mama? We would never do something as public as that. Not until after she’s talked to her parents about us. And she’s going to wait until they get to Scotland to do that.”
“Oh, my dearest boy,” she said, more hurt than she could ever remember. “I could never think of you as an idiot. You are far too brilliant.” She turned and started away but then spun around again. “But what I can’t understand is how someone with a mind like yours could be so utterly devoid of even the tiniest lick of common sense. It is like you are still four years old, Hans. Can you not even see that?”
She didn’t wait for an answer before quickly leaving the room.
• • •
Inga was waiting up when Young Hans tiptoed through the front door and shut it quietly behind him. When he turned and saw her, he gave a little yelp and jumped back.
“Mama! You startled me.”
“Sorry.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost quarter to one in the morning.
He stopped. “Has Paula—”
“Nein. Paula is sleeping. No pains tonight so far.”
“Then you should be in bed.”
She took him by the hand and led him into the kitchen and then carefully shut the door.
“Is Papa asleep?”
“No. From the sounds he’s making, I think he passed out shortly after his head hit the pillow.”
Hans chuckled softly. “You mean that noise he makes that sounds like a passing freight train?” He dropped into a chair. “I don’t know how you sleep with that.”
She gave him a fleeting smile. “I try to snore as loudly as he does. How was the banquet and b
all?”
“The food was unbelievable. Table after table of all kinds of exotic dishes.”
“And the dance?”
“Well, I didn’t dance with Magdalena, if that’s what you mean.”
“Did you dance with anyone?”
“Yes. Almost every dance.”
“Gut. Good for you.”
“Mama, I . . .” He shook his head and sat back again.
“I stayed up because I want to say something to you, Hans.”
“I’m sorry I lied to you.”
“I know, but that’s not it. I want to talk about you.”
“What about me?”
She drew in a breath and then sighed deeply. “Hans, you are a remarkable young man. You know that, and we know that. Everyone who knows you recognizes it.”
“Danke,” he said warily. “But?”
“There are no buts about that,” she said. “You are gifted. You are talented. You are extremely bright. Your father and I know that you will go far, that you will make something of yourself. Maybe you will even become rich and famous someday.”
“Maybe I will marry someone who is rich and famous.” He flashed her a defiant smile. “That would help, don’t you think?”
“Ah, Hans. My little Hans. Can’t you see it? This thing with the young Lady von Kruger will never work. It’s a fairy tale, son. Only you are the Cinderella taking out the cinders and the ashes, and she is the beautiful princess. Only in fairy tales do royal families allow their children to marry the boy who cleans out the ashes and draws water from the well.”
“It’s different with us, Mama. I know you can’t see that, but it is. People here don’t care what my background is. You saw Lady von Kruger at the awards ceremony. You heard what she said about me. She praised me for who I am, not where I came from.”
“And rightly so, but that is a very different matter from letting you marry her daughter.”
“Maybe it won’t come to that. I know that. And Magdalena and I are not saying we certainly will marry, only that it might be someday. It would have to be after I finish university and establish myself, make some money.”
His mother wanted to weep. Oh, how blind were the young. How foolish were their hearts. Blind enough that they refused to see, foolish enough that they refused to listen. So she tried another approach. “Perhaps it will all work out as you hope, but you are only seventeen, Hans. She is only sixteen. If she tells her parents that you are talking about marriage now, one of two things will happen.”