Around the bend they came with the herd, and Katharina let the cows lumber past before continuing on behind them. She heard the Ritsches whistling and calling behind her. From here, she could see down onto her farmyard again. When a dark-haired figure in a dress stood up from the bench outside the front door, Katharina’s heart leapt. Annamarie?
It wasn’t. Katharina recognised Jutta’s dark-blue cardigan. Her heart pounded for a different reason. She might no longer be the postmistress, but if Jutta had spotted a letter for them, she would have wrested it from the poor Fascist-appointed postman and brought it up to Arlund herself.
Katharina tried not to hurry, prodding the lumbering cows to keep them moving, and when Florian turned around to her, she knew he’d seen Jutta, too. Without needing to say anything to him, she sprinted past and down to the Hof and stopped just before Jutta reached into her pocket and drew out a compact, thin envelope.
“Annamarie?” Katharina was out of breath.
Jutta gave it to her, and Katharina tore it open, laughing with relief as she removed the letter. The page absorbed her immediately.
“Is she safe?” Jutta asked. “Is she working?”
The second page was short. Abrupt. Revealing everything by what she had not detailed. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Katharina muttered. The pangs in her chest were fear. She was in Bolzano, where Angelo was. And his son? In Bergamo, no? “That silly, silly, silly girl. That—”
“What is it?” Jutta asked, neck craning. “Where is she?”
Katharina started at the beginning of the letter, again. “She says she’s joined the pioneers. And the free university.”
“Free university? Which free university?”
Jutta’s eager look made Katharina ball a fist over the second page and look away. “She doesn’t say.”
She turned her back on Jutta and held the envelope and its contents over her head, waving at Florian. By the way he pressed his hat on his head, she knew he’d understood, as he jogged past the boys, handing Bernd his rod on the way. Another glance at the envelope revealed no return address.
Jutta took a step closer now. “What is it, Katharina? Is she all right?”
“No, Jutta, she is not. She says she’s in love.”
“With a Walscher, no doubt,” Jutta said. “I told you, no education is better than an Italian education. Spending too much time with Iris Bianchi, I say, and that woman got her hopes up—”
Katharina shot daggers at her. “Iris Hanny, not Iris Bianchi. She’s your sister-in-law now, your family. You shouldn’t talk like that about anyone anyway.”
“Don’t get your hackles up. The Walscher call us barbarians, and I don’t hear you correcting them.”
“Maybe, but Iris does not. She’s shown me nothing but kindness.”
Jutta pulled back then, as if retreating or reconsidering, but Katharina returned her attention to Florian and met him halfway.
She handed him the letter, and he began reading.
The clouds had completely covered up the light, and an osprey flapped its wings above a murder of prattling choughs. Above the Hof, the whistling and calls from the other families grew in volume and frequency as their herds melded together at the bottom of the road. Florian and she had to get them into the stables. There was little time to spare, with the storm coming.
Florian looked up from the letter, his face stony as he handed it back to her. “Right. We’ll talk later.” He went to Jutta and put a hand on her arm. “Thank you for bringing us the news.”
“Florian,” Jutta said as he turned away.
He stopped and gave her a kind smile.
Jutta glanced at Katharina nervously and said, “You’ll need to talk to Bernd. He was down in Graun the other day—”
“We sent him down with supplies,” Katharina interrupted.
Jutta twisted a pewter button on the dark-navy cardigan, and her gaze skirted away from Katharina’s. “I couldn’t sleep. I went for a walk and caught Bernd with Andreas Ritsch and Martin Noggler’s Ulrich. They were painting graffiti on the city hall. Pro-German slogans. Walscher leave Tyrol. And a swastika.”
“Have they all lost their senses?” Katharina cried. She turned to Florian. “Captain Rioba’s already warned them once, and if they provoke the authorities—”
“All right, Jutta,” Florian said. “We’ll talk to him. I need to go help the boys.”
“I’m coming with you,” Katharina said.
Jutta looked crushed, and Katharina realised that she’d expected to be invited in.
“We’re really busy right now,” she said in way of explanation, though she really did not want to let Jutta into her home right now.
The older woman flushed a little, then brushed her skirt down. “Well then, I was off to go help Hans anyway.” She gave Katharina a curt nod before heading for the road.
Above them, on the mountain path, Hans’s tall figure and broad hat appeared, and then he veered off with his herd of sheep to his new place above Arlund.
“Then we’ll see you at the festivities later? We’re all meeting ’round the bonfire tonight.”
Jutta did not respond.
Katharina hurried to the barn and unlatched it for the boys coming with the herd. Florian stood next to her. Watching Jutta climbing the path, she said, “Hans must marry her. She needs something she can focus on besides everyone else’s goings-on. Something that makes her happy. Something that gives her hope.”
He made a noise in
