"I'm going into town tonight." Ilse said this casually, but the look she shot Wendla was definitely guilty.
"And you're telling me now?" Wendla asked irritably, putting the two dishes of stew on the table with more force than necessary. "Thanks a lot, Ilse."
"I didn't want you to be upset-"
Wendla cut her off. "Upset? Why would I be upset over you going into town even though I can't?"
The two settled into a heavy silence for a moment before Ilse observed lightly, "The carrots didn't do anything to you, Wendla."
Her friend stopped stabbing at vegetables long enough to shoot her a supremely dirty look. "That's not funny."
After three weeks of living together, Ilse had gotten used to Wendla's erratic moods and was no longer offended. Humming softly, she spooned up some stew. "This is really good."
Wendla had taken over most of the cooking as soon as she arrived, seeing as Ilse's knowledge stretched to throwing food in a frying pan and praying they didn't burn or explode. She had even begun to send pastries to town for the peddlers to sell, bringing in small amounts of money. Ilse, whose mother had never taught her the finer points of baking, hadn't used money in Priapia before. Running errands for the resident healer and helping with her garden provided Ilse with eggs and produce; material objects were obtained through bartering or were thank-you gifts for modeling for the many young artists.
"I'm glad you like it," Wendla replied curtly. "If Abigail will give you some extra eggs I thought I'd make an omelet for supper tomorrow."
"I'll pick her up some woodruff on my way home, that'll be a fair trade."
"So you're still going?" asked Wendla, her lip quivering.
"I have to!" Ilse cried, thoroughly exasperated. "I can get your things for you and figure out what the hell is going on over there."
Wendla's voice dropped to a tearful whisper. "I don't like being alone."
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Wendla had moved smoothly from cranky to weepy, a mood much harder to ignore.
Ilse crossed to stand behind her friend and slung her arms around her. "I won't be gone long, you know that."
"I know. I'm sorry Ilse, I'm being such a baby about all this..."
"Not your fault," Ilse replied, giving her a quick squeeze. "If you're nice I'll egg Herr Schmitz's door on my way out."
Wendla laughed and moved to begin washing the dishes, any sourness forgotten. Passing Ilse another dish to dry she asked absently, "Did you ever get lonely before?"
Ilse paused for a moment, biting her lip. "I don't know... Maybe. I liked being alone most of the time. It was nice to have quiet sometimes."
"Things aren't quiet with me around?" Wendla teased. "I understand why you like being on your own here. It's like playing house!"
"And no boys allowed!"
Wendla made a face. "Ugh, boys. I could go the rest of my life without one and be happy!" She absentmindedly placed a hand to her stomach.
Ilse nodded and turned away so Wendla couldn't see her expression. There had been one boy for her, but he hadn't stayed. On the quiet nights alone she had often wondered if she would have to go her life without a man to love.
No use thinking about it; sulking won't change what happened.
"I should head out now. I wouldn't want to be calling on your mother too late." Ilse pulled on her boots and fastened her cloak over her dress.
"Warm enough?" Wendla asked, adjusting the hood.
"I'll be fine, it's pretty mild out tonight. Don't wait up, alright?"
Wendla rolled her eyes as she hugged her. "Fiiiine."
***
Ilse walked swiftly and silently through the town, anxious to be home. It was only about eight o'clock, and if she hurried she could be back around eleven. She only paused once she reached Anna's house. The lights in her bedroom window were on, and shadows danced over the curtains. Not the single shadow of a girl quietly doing her homework, but three shadows...
Of course.
Ilse sighed as she observed her childhood friends in the get-together she would be forever barred from. She found that she missed them all. What were they doing up there?
She moved down the garden path, closer to the window, straining her ears to catch a bit of conversation, and found herself rewarded.
"Why shouldn't we open it? She isn't here, and if it's important..."
"It could be private!"
Ilse heard one of the girls mutter something in response and then, before she could move, the curtain was pulled back and she was face-to-face with Martha, Anna, and Thea.
No one spoke as Martha opened the window and roughly pulled Ilse over the ledge.
Thea, small, skinny, and cute as ever, stuck both fists on her bony hips as she leaned over the girl sprawled on the floor. "Where have you been?!" she growled fiercely. "You can't just leave us without any explanation!"
"Apparently I can," Ilse snapped. Dealing with Wendla's moods was one thing; taking it from Thea was another entirely. "God, who do you think you are, my mother?"
"It's not about controlling you, Ilse!" interjected Martha. "But since we're your friends it would be nice to have a little information so we don't feel the need to panic when you suddenly drop off the face of the earth!"
Anna had been standing off to the side, not adding to the conversation. As she turned to look at the group, Ilse saw tears in her eyes. "We were worried. You disappeared and then Wendla..." Anna pressed her sleeve to her eyes, soaking up the tears before they could fall. "She's dead, Ilse."
Ilse felt a wave of shock wash over her. "What?" So Frau Bergmann had taken her seriously. Well, it made sense. No friends would try to contact Wendla; no further questions would be asked. It made sense, but the cruelty was overwhelming.
"The funeral was two weeks ago. Anemia." Anna was crying in earnest now, and Martha and Thea looked close to joining her.
Ilse pulled Anna into a fierce hug, then motioned for the other two to join them. It seemed horrible to let them believe Wendla dead, but it was the only way.
The unfairness of the situation brought tears to her eyes as Ilse clutched at the weeping girls. Good, she reflected, more realistic.
As everyone regained control of themselves Anna let out a cry and ran to her desk. "Ilse, there's a note here for you! Your mama told us to take the clothes you left that fit us, and someone slipped it in your window."
"It looks like Melchior Gabor's handwriting," said Thea, blushing.
"I'm not even going to ask how you know that," Ilse murmured as she opened the envelope and began to read aloud. "Ilse: I have been running for days, but at last I am back. Now I beg you, for the sake of our old friendship, bring Wendla to meet me tonight in the graveyard behind the church."
"Oh, no!" Anna whispered.
"I will be waiting there at midnight," Ilse continued. "Melchior Gabor."
"So he hasn't heard," Thea ventured lamely.
"Waiting for Wendla," murmured Martha.
"Poor Melchior," Thea said with a sigh, laying her head on Martha's shoulder.
Anna shook her head. "Poor Wendla!"
Wendla's fine, she's probably asleep right now, safe in her bed! She's alive. She's not gone!
But Ilse could not say these things, so she just nodded. Melchior Gabor, home. Wendla had mentioned telling him about the baby; that must have made him come back. Well, at least he wasn't abandoning his child.
Midnight in the graveyard. It had been awhile since she'd visited Moritz's grave; perhaps she would tonight.