The walk to the church was quiet and tense. Moritz was trembling with nerves and anticipation of seeing his mother. Would she come? What if she brings his father? What if the priest catches them?
"I can't feel my fingers, Moritz." Ilse said, smiling. He snapped out of it and relaxed his hand that was clasped around hers. "I know you're nervous, love, but you shouldn't be. It's just your mother."
"That's why I'm nervous." He moaned, massaging his temple with his free hand. "My mother...I don't know if I can trust her. What if she goes running back to my father?"
"That's not important." Ilse said firmly. "If she does go back, we'll hide you or smuggle you out of the country. Nobody's taking you away from me." Moritz smiled at her determined face and felt a little at ease. They reached the church in the dark, and scrambled through the window Hanschen left open at mass that day. The church was oddly creepy and still at nighttime, nothing like Moritz recalled. Ilse crept to the door to unlock it, and lit the oil lamp hanging outside the door.
"What if someone else sees it?" Moritz asked, "Won't they get suspicious?"
"No; the priest stays late at the church a lot. We'll only get in trouble if the priest sees it." Ilse replied. Moritz sat down at the pew closest to the door and began rubbing his hands together in nervousness. Ilse sat next to him at put her arms around him in a comforting embrace. "It's going to be alright." she said gently, kissing him on the cheek. "Don't be afraid; be happy you're seeing her again."
"I am happy, but..." Moritz started, but stopped at a sound at the door. His whole body turned to ice. There were footsteps on the stairs, and suddenly there was a slight knock at the door.
"Father?" his mother's voice floated through the crack in the door. "Father, I got your letter—"
"Get the door!" Ilse whispered fiercely. Moritz stood up, only to discover his legs were gravy. He wobbled for a few seconds, and then sat back down from dizziness. Ilse let out an exasperated sound and got up to answer the door herself. She pulled the double doors open to see Frau Stiefel standing alone.
"...Frau Ilse?" Frau Stiefel said softly, staring at her in bewilderment. "Did...did you call me here?" She smiled a little and brushed the hair from Ilse's face. "It's wonderful to see you, little Ilse."
"Thank you, Frau Stiefel," Ilse said, her own heart beginning to pound. "But I didn't call you here. Someone else did. Come in." She led Frau Stiefel into the church. Moritz's heart nearly exploded from the sight of his mother's silhouette. All of his nerves were drowned out with sheer excitement.
"Who's there?" Frau Stiefel said hesitantly. "Father Kahlbauch?" Ilse took the lamp from outside and brought it in, filling the church with a warm, yellow light. And they saw each other. Frau Stiefel let out a strangled cry and her hands flew to her mouth. Her eyes began to shine with tears, and Moritz could feel his eyes doing the same. Her hands slowly lowered, revealing a shocked, broken smile.
"Mother," he said softly, trying to hide his own tears. "Mother, I'm—"
"Oh, I knew it!" She burst into tears, dropping her shawl on the floor. "I just knew it couldn't be true. I knew it, Oh Moritz...!" She ran towards him and threw her arms around him, holding him so close he almost lost his breath. But he didn't care. He hugged her back just as hard, both of them sobbing quietly. He felt her knees buckle, and he held her steady.
"Mother...Mama..." he choked between sobs, "Mama, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I failed out of school, I'm sorry I left you alone with Father, I'm sorry he tricked you, I'm sorry for everything—"
"I love you, my son." Frau Stiefel sobbed, "I love you, I love you so much, it's not your fault… it was never your fault..." He felt her fingers dig into his jacket, trying to hold him even closer. He buried his face in her shoulder, his tears falling on her dress. She pulled away a little to look at his face. She stroked his cheek, wiping his tears away. "I never fully believed you were dead. I just couldn't do it. Your father...your father is so easy to read, but when I accosted him for lying, he refused to say..."
"Why don't you just leave him, Mama?" Moritz begged. "Leave and come with us..."
"I can't leave your father, Moritz." she said. "As long as he needs me, I'll remain by his side. You'll someday understand what it means, to love someone so much that nothing can ever hurt you."
"I do love someone, Mama." Moritz said quietly, glancing at Ilse over his mother's shoulder. Frau Stiefel looked over at Ilse, her eyes wide. She smiled warmly and beckoned Ilse forward. Ilse had been watching from the door. "I love Ilse, Mama. I love her more than anything else in the world."
"I remember when you used to play as children." Frau Stiefel said, placing her hand on Ilse's shoulder. "I envisioned you two growing up into beautiful adults and having a big, splendid wedding..." she wiped new tears from her eyes. "Maybe I will see it, someday. Love is something you must prepare to stake your life on. You can't grasp that concept now, but maybe someday you will...someday." Moritz felt Ilse's hands wrapping around his waist as she embraced him from behind. He stroked her arms and clasped her hands in his own. "My son...you've grown up so much...I just don't know what to do."
"Mother...I just wanted to let you know that I'm safe. But...I can't go home with you." Moritz said slowly, gripping Ilse's hands tighter. Frau Stiefel smiled, even suppressing a small chuckle.
"I know, Moritz, I know." she said. "Your father is very unstable right now. If you came home, I might lose you again. I'm quite surprised you haven't asked for my help or for money." Moritz blinked in surprise. He never even thought of asking his mother for anything. But now the idea had dawned on him, new ideas sprang into his head; he couldn't live with Gustave forever, not with his psycho gun-pointing every time he got unstable and his multiple gay affairs. Ilse deserved better than a living-room sofa. He wanted a better life for her and him, and he couldn't stay in hiding forever. He didn't want to.
"It seems all of that didn't even cross your mind, my son." Frau Stiefel said, smiling. "You still have a lot of growing up to do, Moritz Stiefel." Moritz blushed and looked at the floor, embarrassed. She stroked his hair maternally, and he smiled a little. Ilse felt her heart swell at the sight, and her grip around Moritz tightened. "Moritz, where have you been living now? Do you have a home, Ilse?"
"No," Ilse replied, coming around Moritz without letting go of him. "We've been living in Priapia with an artist, my friend Gustave Baum. He's a good caretaker, but it's an uncomfortable life."
"I think it's best if you don't stay close to town, just in the off chance somebody spots you." Frau Stiefel said gravely. "We need to contact someone outside of Germany who can help you."
"Melchior can help us!" Moritz said suddenly. He remembered Melchi talking about relatives he had in America who wrote him letters. Frau Stiefel covered her mouth again and sighed sadly.
"Melchior is gone, Moritz." she said gravely. "His parents sent him to a reformatory after...after he was expelled." Moritz felt his stomach drop. Expelled? Hanschen failed to mention that update.
"What happened? What did he do?" Ilse fretted. She remembered him being taken away at the funeral, and she remembered Wendla vomiting, Wendla pregnant...Wendla dead.
"They found an essay in his desk. The essay was horribly graphic and the content was expletive about...about sexual interactions." This time Moritz's stomach nearly hit the floor. Oh no, oh no oh no... "It was written for you, Moritz." Frau Stiefel said with a trace of sternness in her voice. "They think Melchior is directly responsible for you....your suicide." Moritz covered his face with his hands. It was his fault Melchior got expelled. Ilse knew there was more to the story; Wendla.
"Frau Stiefel...was he sent away for any other reason?" Ilse asked hesitantly. Frau Stiefel looked at Ilse as if she had accused her of something, then sighed and leaned in close to whisper.
"Frau Büstenhalter was gossiping...speculating...that Melchior got Wendla Bergman pregnant." Moritz had to sit down. He staggered to the nearest pew and gathered his head in his arms. Melchior was gone, Wendla was dead, and he was on the run. Was all of it because of him? Was it his entire fault?
"My poor boy." Frau Stiefel said gently, sitting beside him and rubbing his back. "I know it's hard, and I know you're confused. But we'll get through this somehow. Everything will be alright." Ilse sat on Moritz's other side and kissed him on the cheek. He felt a little relieved, knowing that he had help and support from the two most precious women in his life; his mother, and his love.
"We'll have to wait until Melchi gets back." He said finally. "They can't keep him there forever."