They came to the mountain road and stopped, Annamarie and she one step behind Florian. There was no other sound save that of the snow and a light wind, until the bells began: first Hans Glockner’s, then the Ritsches’, then the alarm spread out to the valley. She and Florian marched on until they spotted a wall of snow piled high on the road. The scar on the mountainside was fresh, ugly, a solid, dark river in the night.
The wind howled, a deep tenor from the Karlinbach’s gorge, and Katharina saw something float up into the air. A feather. She knew that feather. Opa’s hat.
Sucking a long, cold breath, Katharina let out a high-pitched scream until she was out of air. She inhaled again, and this time one stab after another tore through her middle. She gasped and sobbed. It was Florian’s arms she fell into and Annamarie’s shriek she heard before the barrier between her womb and the cold world broke.
***
U nder the thick covers, Katharina slid deeper into the soft darkness, into safety. She would eventually have to face what awaited her: Opa’s funeral arrangements. The people downstairs conducting the visitation. Her baby—Florian’s son. Florian. Annamarie. The house was filled with people, yet the emptiness in her was absolute.
She shut her eyes tight but heard the voices outside the door and then the baby crying like an abandoned kitten.
“She won’t take him.”
“Give her time.” It was Hannelore.
“But she won’t even look at him.” Florian again.
“She’s grieving.” That was Dr Hanny. “Give him to me.”
When a soft knock came at the door, it took every bit of her energy to sit back up. Dr Hanny stepped in, holding the bundled infant.
“I’m bringing your son to you.”
She saw Annamarie peek around from behind Hannelore’s legs, caught sight of Florian’s concerned face, and was relieved when Dr Hanny gently closed the door on them.
“Hannelore will come in just a moment. I thought you should have the baby. And we could talk about your grandfather, the avalanche.”
He handed her son to her, and Katharina pulled away the edges of the blanket to look at the baby’s face. His eyes were swollen, like Annamarie’s had been when she was born, and his skull a little cone shaped. As Dr Hanny took a chair from the corner of the room, Katharina put the baby under the bedcovers and helped him to take her breast.
She looked at Dr Hanny. “And how long until I feel something for this one?”
“You love both of your children. You are in a state of shock. Your grandfather—”
“At the same time as he”—she lifted her arm where her son lay—“decided to come into the world.” She felt his tiny hand against her breast. “Do you think my grandfather’s spirit entered him?”
“It’s a nice idea, but strictly from a scientific point of view…”
“You, Doctor, have always been the one to say that the best state of health must come from here”—she bowed her head—“and the spirit.”
“Yes.”
“My head and my spirit are sick.”
“Grief.”
She shook her head. “Disappointment. Regret.”
“I’ll fetch Hannelore. The midwife will be more familiar with your malady.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “Is grief, is regret, simply a malady?” When Dr Hanny did not answer, she said, “I should name our son after Opa. But Florian and I had planned to name him after my father.”
“Josef Johannes then.”
Katharina tried to look pleased.
“It’s a good name. A strong name. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“What’s wrong with me then?” she asked.
“What do you need?” He was reaching for his medical bag.
“Forgiveness.”
“Maybe you need a priest then, not a doctor.” His smile, a failed attempt. “What do you want to be forgiven for? By whom?”
She had revealed too much already. She moved the baby to her other breast.
His voice was extra gentle when he said, “You forget that I was there.”
She locked eyes with him.
“The day Johannes sent him away,” Dr Hanny said. “That day you ran after him.”
So it was true. Dr Hanny knew Annamarie was Angelo’s daughter. And Opa had too then. If she tried to deny she did not know what Dr Hanny was talking about now, it would make things worse. It would make her lie unbearably gross. She said nothing.
“Your daughter is a strong, healthy child, a blessing. Your husband is a good, honest man. And Annamarie knows him as her father. There is no shame in that.” Dr Hanny patted the blanket near her leg. “You could start all over, you know? It’s a blessing amongst the living to be able to do that.”
He left her then, and Katharina felt as if she would implode from sadness. Her thoughts swirled. Angelo had never acknowledged her letter, and she had not known how much she had hoped to hear from him until this very moment. She had mentioned a daughter. Had the man not enough sense to suspect he had left her pregnant? If he were honourable in any way, he would have answered her. One way or another. Opa, God bless his soul, had stopped himself from prying the truth from her again. She had been dishonest with him under his own roof. Now it was too late to apologise.
The knock at the door startled her, and the baby twitched in his sleep. Florian came in, and even from that distance, she could smell the wood shavings on him. He’d been sawing and hammering the day before. Her husband, the “stranger,” had built Opa’s last resting place. She needed this man now. She needed him to
