In truth, I didn’t want to know.
Teardrop Pattern
Kati
A misty rain began to sift down as we reached the street of the barracks where Oskar and Jakob spent their time now. People hurried past, shielding their heads with their hands. I did not raise my hands but allowed the increasingly heavy drops to strike my head like bullets and soak into my hair, worm their way through the woven shawl. I shivered in grim penance. Why had we fooled ourselves into thinking the Germans would give Estonia back so easily? That they would not bring their hateful race laws into our country, along with their guns and their tanks and their promises to help rebuild our towns?
We wanted to believe the best.
I imagined the words being spoken in my father’s tongue. The spicy fog of smoke from his pipe drifted across my vision. Hadn’t he wanted to believe the Russians could do no worse the second time around? That we would be better off if we gave in, protected our own, helped them to achieve what they wanted while keeping our own heritage safe? But he’d been wrong. First the farms. Then the decree that only Russian should be spoken. Travel between towns and villages restricted. Soon, even something as innocent as a lace shawl was too dangerous. It would be the same now, I realised. The Nazification of Estonia had begun.
A cold finger of rain traced the vertebrae of my back.
I came to a stop beneath an awning outside an old pharmacy, Lydia pausing beside me. She ran a hand through her damp hair. Her teeth were chattering. We stared together at the barracks looming on the opposite side of the street, a drab grey building of sturdy bricks. A German soldier stood at attention before the doors, a rifle resting in his hands. Even from across the street, the swastika symbols blazoned on his uniform stood out. Squinting up through the haze, I tried to spy Oskar’s face but the windows of the former gymnasium revealed nothing. Ghosts of school bells pealed out and the chatter of former pupils was almost audible beneath the patter of rain. Where were those children now?
The Germans had requisitioned the school along with a few other buildings for their soldiers. The education of children was second to winning the war against the Russians and their new Allies.
Thinking of Etti, I bit down on my fear and crossed the street, Lydia close on my heels.
‘Good day.’
The German soldier blinked. He was a young man. Rain dripped off his peaked cap and spotted his collared shirt.
‘I’m looking for a man,’ I said, my voice rasping a little with nerves. ‘He’s a soldier,’ I added, the colour rising in my cheeks. ‘Oskar Mägi. One of the Estonian Home Guard.’
A frown twitched the corners of the man’s lips, and I rushed on, gabbling my words a little. ‘And my brother, Jakob Rebane. A fellow officer. Do you think you can help us?’
‘Smile,’ I heard Lydia mutter near my shoulder. I sweetened my expression, imagining I was just a woman visiting her beau, but the awkward moment stretched on. The muscles around my lips began to ache.
After what seemed an age, the soldier lowered his rifle. ‘Of course. Shall I fetch them for you?’
His eyes travelled over my body, lingering on my breasts and waist. I shrank instinctively inwards, my shoulders hunching. I felt Lydia shift. Her fingers prodded gently into my back. I straightened.
‘Yes. It would be kind of you,’ I said. ‘We would be so grateful.’
The man barked a laugh. ‘All right. Wait here.’ He turned back to proffer a lopsided grin. ‘Those Home Guard boys need to relax a little. Their gloomy faces are bringing us all down.’
A second later, the door banged closed. Lydia and I were alone again, shivering together to avoid the rain sluicing down from the eaves.
‘Thank God.’ Lydia shot me a dark look.
‘What?’
‘Are you really so guileless?’ Shaking her head, she pressed the edge of her shawl to her damp hairline. When she pulled it away, raindrops clung to the cloth like glittering glass beads. ‘I’ve heard it said the Germans consider Estonians the most Germanic of the Baltics. Your fair hair and your pale skin. Those kinds of things are pleasing to a group of people who want to stamp the “impurities” out of human existence.’
‘We are not like them.’ My eyes stung, as if hot ashes had suddenly blown in my direction.
‘I didn’t say you were,’ Lydia huffed. ‘But at least make use of what you have.’ She glared up at the faceless windows. ‘What do you think he meant? About the Home Guard?’
‘I don’t know.’ I tried to remember what the guard had said. That Oskar was gloomy? I was not surprised by this. Perhaps he was as disappointed with the Germans as we were. I had not seen him since the day of the procession days ago. The memory of the time we had spent in the farmhouse was enough to bring heat rushing into my cheeks; the scorch of his lips on my skin and the pressure of his hands locked around my waist ensuring my dreams were filled with pleasurable sensations.
A fountain of rain water suddenly erupted from the downpipe, coursing down onto the cobblestones. Lydia jumped back, cursing in Russian, almost knocking into me. She mumbled an apology.
‘Katarina.’ Straightening up, I found the object of my daydreams standing before me. He slipped out the half-open door. He was smiling but his eyes were cold. Taking my arm, his gaze scoured the rain-washed street. ‘You didn’t send a note.’ His grip tightened.
‘I know. I—’
‘I told you not to come here.’ His voice was low, each word punctuated by another squeeze.
‘Yes, but…’
‘Ah. You’ve found her.’ The German soldier sauntered towards us, his features twisted with amusement. ‘Good. You are a lucky man, Mägi.’ Envy suffused his face.
‘Yes.’ Oskar grinned. ‘Thank you, Koster. This is my wife. She’s brought her friend to chaperone and make sure I am on my best behaviour.’ He peered out at the rain sloshing down. ‘Do you think… I realise it’s unorthodox, but might I take the women inside, at least until the downpour ceases? We will stay in the reception room. Near the fire.’
The German soldier shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not.’
He gestured us inside.
As soon as the door slammed behind us, Oskar wheeled around, releasing my arm with such force I flinched. ‘What are you doing here?’ He ran his hand through his hair. His eyes were blazing. I was only vaguely aware of the bright fire flickering in the grate, the wood-panelled entrance hall that must once have been used for student roll call. School plaques adorned the walls. It was a much grander school than the one Oskar and Jakob and I had attended on Tartu’s outskirts. Our schoolhouse had been a large timber structure, more like a barn, with a gabled roof and two fireplaces to warm the frigid air in winter so our stiff fingers could grasp the pencils. Lydia shuffled behind me, twisting her hands together. ‘And you brought her, too?’ Oskar threw up his hands. ‘What were you thinking, Katarina?’
Anger bubbled up before I could smother it. ‘I had no choice but to bring her! And why do you keep calling me that?’ Tears pricked my eyes and I turned away, determined not to show him how he had wounded me.
Oskar sucked in a breath through his nose. ‘I’m sorry.’ He spoke softly. His tone was intimate. He touched my shoulder lightly. ‘Kati. Turn around.’
Reluctantly, I did so but I kept my chin tilted up. Oskar’s face was grave.
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘It was a shock to see you. After I specifically warned you not to come. I should not have argued. Forgive me.’
‘Where is Jakob?’ Lydia asked.
Oskar made a sound in his throat. ‘He’s upstairs.’