Goldenrod

 The following is an excerpt of a short story from the collection The Other Place ©Regine Haensel. More excerpts from the collection will be available on this blog each Sunday this month.

 

I remember my mother’s eyes the first time she saw the place where we were to live, the grey weathered boards, the rickety steps, and inside, the single room where we would eat, sleep and cook. My father didn’t notice because he stood behind us, but I saw the look of shock, the indrawn breath and then the instant swallowing of it all. She walked up the steps, through the open door and marched inside as if she wanted to get it over with. My father followed slowly.

          “It’s not much, Annelise, I know . . .”

          She turned to him, her face calm. “It will be all right, Franz.”

          His words rushed out, he took her hands. “Herr Bradley says he will build something better soon . . .”

          She answered the hesitation in his voice with a small smile. “It will be all right.”

          I was surprised that she didn’t talk about how she had not really wanted to move to the farm, but I was finding out that my mother never said, “I told you so.” We moved into the bunkhouse and unpacked our trunks and suitcases. It was good to have a few familiar things around us, but I discovered that one of the blocks from my Grimm’s fairytale puzzle was missing. No matter how hard I looked I couldn’t find it.

          During the days when Papa worked, I watched Mutti, trying not to let her notice. I wanted to know how she could be so quiet about all the things that had happened to us. Sometimes I would see a far-away look in her eyes and I would wonder if she was thinking about Germany.

          This farm was not at all what I had expected. First, the tiny bunkhouse which Mutti cleaned from front to back. When I asked to help, she gave me a bowl with soapy water and a dish cloth, and told me to wash out the lower cupboards. There was a huge yard with fences here and there, and buildings that I didn’t know the use of. The big house was where Mr. and Mrs. Bradley lived. I didn’t know why they couldn’t let us live there, too, but if Mutti wasn’t going to ask, neither would I. There were a couple  of dogs and some cats, but the dogs were chained up and barked very fiercely whenever anyone came near. The cats lived in the barn and ran away when I tried to get close enough for petting. I was starting to wonder about this better life that Papa said we would have in this country.

The short story collection The Other Place is available through the Saskatchewan Library system, for purchase from SaskBooks, Other Place, The (skbooks.com), or from booksserimuse@gmail.com