“He isn’t her husband yet,” I reminded him. Though there wasn’t much use in arguing the point. The deed was as good as done as soon as he’d asked the question. His investing a small fortune in her “domestic training” only ensured the inevitability of the wedding day.
“Our Metta has done very well in her local training,” Mama said, her eyes piercing me with silent warning.
“Of course she has,” I said, aiming to return my tone to neutral. “She was trained by the best housewife in all Bavaria from the time she was old enough to hold a broom.”
“So, you simply worry that the school might be beneath Metta’s skill, is that it?” Oskar removed a packet of cigarettes from his breast pocket and lit one, despite Mama’s strict edicts against smoking in the house. Even Papa’s most important guests had been banished to the back patio if they insisted on it. Blizzard or no, Mama never relaxed the rule. In the absence of an ashtray, Oskar used the saucer of his teacup, which was from a set Mama and Papa had been given at their wedding, no less. The muscles in Mama’s jaw clenched, but she said nothing. Oskar was home on a short leave, and I supposed she didn’t want to ruin his three-day stay with squabbling. That, or she didn’t dare countermand him.
“Precisely, brother. In times like these, it is almost criminal to use one’s time less than profitably. Is it not?”
“Quite right,” he said, his shoulders dropping a bit in appeasement. “But Metta is being trained at the finest school of its kind, right in the heart of Berlin. She’ll be seen by the right people. She’s demonstrating her skill to people who matter. Proving herself worthy of a match to the Obersturmbannführer is one of the greatest things she can do for Germany. And I daresay there will be a few new tricks Metta will find useful when she must entertain her husband’s distinguished guests. Few women have the skills you do, sister.”
I bit back a rebuke about more women having my skills if they’d been taught mathematics and science with the same rigor and enthusiasm as their brothers when they were girls, but there was no use trying to convince a wolf it was a lapdog.
“Will you mind my staying with you, then?” Metta asked. “Ansel said he could get me a room with some of the other students, but I thought it would be a nice chance for us to spend more time together.”
“I’d be crushed if you didn’t,” I said honestly.
“If Ansel suggested you room with the others—” Oskar interjected.
“He didn’t press the matter,” Metta snapped, her expression uncharacteristically firm. “And once we’re married, when will another such opportunity arise? He understands that camaraderie between women—especially sisters—is important in establishing a family.”
Oskar extinguished his cigarette on Mama’s saucer and said nothing, but he looked dubious. I was no model wife in his eyes, nor a model German. Like the regime, he tolerated me with civility because I had skills the Reich needed. “Just remember, the first commandment of a good German housewife is to put your husband’s needs ahead of your own.”
“And she will. Once they’re married. Until then, she should take one last chance to do as she pleases. Her marriage will be all the happier for it.” I crossed my arms over my chest, daring him to argue. It was dangerous. It was stupid to bait him. But he was my baby brother, after all, and to see him lording over the three of us when he wasn’t yet twenty-one was unbearable.
He stood from the table without taking his leave and went outdoors. Within a few minutes I heard the telltale thwack, thwack, thwack of Papa’s ax against firewood. He was angry and it was my doing.
“You must treat your brother’s temper with care,” Mama warned. “It seems to boil very close to the surface these days, and I don’t want to see you burned when it spills over.”
“I don’t think my anger is any less dangerous than his, Mama.”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt about that, my child. But he has the means to exact it in ways you don’t have. Think of your husband. I fear Oskar could make life very difficult for him. He could make things difficult for all of us.”
“What has happened to my brother?” I asked, not fully aware if I’d spoken aloud.
“War,” Metta answered. “It won’t be the only change we see.”
She stood from her place at the table and retreated to her bedroom.
“Whatever you do, Johanna, protect your sister,” Mama said. “I don’t know why God chose to call your father home when we need him most, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t give to have him see us through this.”
“I’m afraid not even Papa would be much help in times like these,” I said. “And I think this marriage would break his heart.”
“I hope my coming to stay is a pleasant imposition for you,” Metta said as I made up her bed with my best quilt and she unpacked the contents of her bag. She repeated the sentiments from Mama’s table. She’d become positively paranoid about causing offense in the past months.
“Imposition indeed,” I scoffed. “How can my sister be an imposition? You wound me.”
“Don’t tease, Jojo,” she said. “Truly, I don’t want to be in your way.”
“We’re both busy women, Metta. I have my work and you have your—school.” I cringed at my pause. It would not do to show Metta my distrust of the party or of her prospective husband. There was precious little I could do to change her mind about either. “And in our free time, your being here will keep me from missing Harald so terribly much. I couldn’t be happier, my dearest girl. I hope you know that.”
“It may sound silly to say about a sister, but I was hoping it would give us the chance to get to know each other better,” Metta said, still not meeting my gaze.
“It makes sense. We’ve always been in different phases of our lives. When I was a schoolgirl, you were in diapers. When I went off to university, you were making your way through primary school. We’ve had little in common besides our upbringing until now.”
That truth had just occurred to me as I spoke the words. We’d been living disparate lives, but age is a great equalizer, and she would join me in the duties of work and matrimony. Perhaps motherhood in the coming years, if it was meant to be.
“We’ll make good use of our time,” I promised. “I’ll take you to all my favorite places in the city, and we’ll stay up late gabbing as often as we can. We’ll be like university chums, won’t we?”
Metta came over and embraced me. “These will be the happiest months of my life,” she proclaimed.
“I truly hope not, darling. I hope that when your days end many, many years from now, you’ll look on your time here as a pleasant interlude before years of real bliss.”
Metta said nothing but placed her now empty suitcase in the closet below her row of new dresses. Ansel had apparently given her an allowance for new clothes so that she would look the part of the fiancée of a high-ranking official before she entered this bride school of hers. It was a kindness, to be sure. Mama kept her clothed well, but she could hardly afford to keep her in the latest fashions. But in my gut, I knew Ansel’s gesture was meant to improve appearances for himself far more than it was meant to give Metta any pleasure.