Chapter 9

A Canoness' duty

There was no doubt that I would have to speak to my abbess after the service. We Protestant canonesses here have many privileges, but we are bound to obedience towards our Abbess, and furthermore, I really could not think how I should be able to hide Erik from the convent.

Tiptoeing down the stairs at about half past nine, I could not resist to peek into Erik's room, merely to see if I had woke him up by walking around upstairs.

He was already dressed, his bed was made and he was sitting on an edge of it, reading a book. When he noticed the door being opened, he hastily laid down the book and jumped from the bed to stand. His thin figure, again dressed in his old, rug-like clothes, was stiff as a poker. He was obviously afraid that I might show disapproval on his behaviour.

"Good morning, Erik. You are up quite early. And how busy you have been, you already made your bed!" I greeted him warmly. Then I looked at him enquiring: "Why don't you wear your new clothes? Don't they fit? Don't you like them?"

He looked at his hands and shuffled his feet nervously when he answered: "I did not know if I was allowed to put them on . . ." his voice faded.

"Oh boy, of course you are allowed to put them on! They are yours now, and you may dress exactly as you wish . . . that is, well, perhaps depending on the weather and maybe the occasion."

Erik swallowed, then whispered doubtfully: "You - you make them a present to me? Why? What do you want from me in return?"

He looked up at me, distrustfully, and I found his gaze extremely troubling.

"I do want nothing in return" I answered frowning. And then, rapidly changing the subject, I asked: "Do you want to have breakfast with me? I have to attend service in about one hour, but that is enough time. Change, if you wish, and come into the kitchen when you are ready."

Again, I somehow felt not content with my reactions being so much . . . well . . . unpedagogical!

When I walked into the kitchen quite energetic, I stopped in speechless wonder. The child had already set the table! It was obvious that he had never done that before, for it was done a bit unskilled - some parts of silverware missing, others unnecessary, but it was an obviously anxious work. Smiling, I put on water and took out the milk.

Erik came shy and hesitant, again playing with his hands nervously, and slipped onto his chair quietly. The new trousers fit quite well, but the sweater was a bit too wide and made him look smaller than he already was. He seemed to become even more embarrassed when I thanked him for setting the table. The breakfast went on quiet, but when I started to clean the table, he slipped from his chair and helped me with this task. After finishing this work, he looked to the clock on the wall and stated: "It is twenty minutes to ten. Do you have to go now?"

Somehow he looked very sad at that moment, and so I approved: "Yes, that's right. Do you want to come with me?"

He took a step back, obviously appalled. "To the service? Into the church?"

And when I pretended not to understand his refusal, but only looked at him, he mused: "The organ will play, won't it? And the worshippers will sing, and perhaps the choir? I have never been . . ."

Erik seemed to be very unhappy now, and as I realised that I wanted too much of him and how sad he was, I proposed: "There is a room behind the canoness' gallery. One can hear at least most of the service from there. You can stay there and listen if you want, Erik."

But he was too afraid to come, and so I left him alone, and I had the dim feeling that we both were miserable somehow.

The service was short today, pastor Mainbergk hurrying through it with great speed. But when he spoke a prayer for all those who had to struggle with their duties, he cast an unmistakable glance up towards our gallery and to my direction. Our abbess leaned back with lifted eyebrows, then cast an inquisitive look along our line. When we finally rose after the service, I took a deep breath, went to her side and asked: "May I talk to you, please? Privately? Now?"

She was not amused at all. But she was tested with me, and she knew how stubborn I could be if I felt something to be important. We were very much alike with that. And so she finally sighed and declared: "I will find out about seeking asylum. But nevertheless, I issue an ultimatum: First: I want to see the boy within the next three days. Second: Our community has to be informed within the next week, and we will discuss the matter and decide by majority vote about what we will do. Third: If, an I say if we are going to help the boy to stay here, the youth welfare agency has to be informed within another week. I am helping you with an illegal act. We can be accused for kidnapping, you know that, Julia?"

Her stern eyes seemed hard and cold, but I knew that she was concerned and that she had to seek the best for our monastery. "Thank you!" I whispered and turned to leave.

She called me back at the door: "Julia! Try to remember: You are only human. You cannot save every broken soul. Only HE can."

I cast her a wry smile and proceeded, deeply worried by her words.

Erik was sitting by the living room window when I came home. He rose, and again seemed to feel guilty and afraid. "Have you been bored?" I asked him.

"There are a lot of different birds on the cloister patio!"

That sounded quite eagerly, and when I requested: "Birds?" he gestured to the window and added lively:

"Sparrows and bigger blackbirds. The sparrows were afraid of the bigger birds and fled, but then there was a kestrel circling, and the blackbirds flew away, too. That kestrel came quite close. Does it live in the tower?"

"It does. It is a pair, and their breed as well. Sometimes you can still see all five." Realising his fascinated silence, I added: "They had three eggs in the spring, and there are three young ones now."

"Oh!" was all he said, but with such enthusiasm that I offered to visit the tower and the nest with him right now.

"But there will be only the bare nest now, they will all flee us when they see us" I warned him.

"I know, but I have never seen a kestrel's nest before. Do you think they will hatch again?" he wanted to know.

"Not this year, but perhaps next year."

He did not say a word from then on, while we made our way through the monastery and the church, sneaking like thieves again, and then up through the run down staircase of the old tower. Nevertheless it was obvious that, whenever he did not fear to come across somebody, he enjoyed that journey a lot, taking in every single view or sound he was offered, fondly touching vivid green plants as well as old grey stone walls, wooden doors and rusty ancient latches.

The gracious wild birds were well accustomed to me and did not worry too much when we lifted our heads through the large trapdoor. Two of them were in the nest, and Erik got completely lost in their view. He stood perfectly still for a long time, hardly breathing, but not, as usual, out of fear, but of fascination and wonder. The blood ceased circulating through my hand and arm which held up the door, so I was finally forced to move, not because the pain became unbearable, but because I did not feel it any longer and feared to drop the door on our heads.

My movement seemed to wake the boy from his observations, and he whispered in excitement: "They are so beautiful!"

"Yes. Get down the ladder immediately!" I could not manage a tone more friendly or a sentence more explicate, for the trapdoor was sliding out of my hand, and to catch it I had to turn around, and therefore needed space.

He obeyed immediately, obviously shocked by my roughness. The door came down that moment, and I ducked away in time, whispering curses about my clumsiness. It was evident that Erik had misinterpret the scene and, not knowing if or what he had done wrong, was waiting for some rebuke.

"Sorry, Ms. Lubov." He whispered when I reached the ground.

"Sorry for what, Erik?"

He just stared at me in silent fear and uncertainty.

"Erik, dear, I just lost hold of that heavy door. I should have opened it wholly, but was afraid that we would shoo away the kestrels with that. You did not do anything wrong, I just needed you to get out of the way quickly!" I could not help but laugh softly.

The child started to tremble again. How I had feared that! He stared down at his feet and again murmured: "Sorry."

"It's all right, boy." Whatever he might be sorry for! "Come on, let us get down and clean us up a bit, we are full of dust and cobwebs."

He followed me, at first ducked and tense, but by the time we had reached the tower's bottom, he asked me, shyly but with impression: "Have you seen of what they built their nest? And how neat it was!"

When we had reached my flat, he had asked me a packet of questions without ever waiting for me to answer and had told me lots and lots of little details he had found amazing. He was suddenly acting like quite a normal boy. When I turned to him in the hallway, smiling and nodding to his words and patiently waiting for him to come to an end, he suddenly cut short the sentence he was just saying, hung his head and said, very depressed: "I am talkative and disrespectful and a true encumbrance to you." With that he fell silent.

I shook my head vigorously (not that he had seen this, with his head bent) and answered empathetically: "Erik, you are none of that! You are a great observer and have a gift of describing what you have seen. I very much like to listen to you and talk to you, believe me, boy!"

He did not move. Was he embarrassed? Did he think me a liar? "Now, Erik, wash your hands and change your clothes. I will do the same. Shall we two meet in the kitchen afterwards?"

"Yes, Madam." With that, he went into his room. Madam!

Changing into another pair of wide jeans and a casual shirt, I wondered what it was that roamed around in my head . . . something I had forgotten . . . Mrs. von Spaeth! She usually had tea with me on Sundays. She would be here at half past three! Oh . . . ! It was half past one now. I spoke a short, desperate prayer, begging for help with my decisions. Should I call her and postpone our meeting to next week? She knew of Erik already, and she was a sweet old lady. Perhaps it would be good if I introduced them to each other? Another point was that by now, she would be asleep in her after-dinner-nap.

Erik was waiting in the kitchen. That is - waiting was the wrong word. He had climbed onto the worktop, so that he could have a better view out of the window! When I came into the room, he hopped down hastily. Obviously he knew that he had done something forbidden, and by the looks of him he was awaiting punishment now.

"Hey child! What do you think you are doing! Scramble up onto my kitchen! An with shoes on!" I could not stay serious, but chuckled in disbelief. Erik lifted his head and looked at me in astonishment when he heard my laughter. He was not able to integrate that laughter into the context, and that made his fear even bigger. So when I made a step towards him, he drew back until his back hit a kitchen unit.

My chuckling stuck in my throat at that pitiable sight. Who had hurt him that much, and how could I only free him from such deep fear?

It was a strange feeling of de ja vue when I slowly raised my hands and said softly: "Shhh, boy, it's all right, I'm not going to hurt you or something. You know now that a worktop is no place to climb on, at least not with shoes on, and you won't do that again without asking first, will you?"

I had not hoped for him to react positively, and was astonished when he lifted his head, straightened up a bit and answered, the hope in his voice unmistakable: "No, I will never do it again, Ms. Lubov. So you're not going to send me away right now?"

"No, Erik, I do not want you to go. Sit down, I'll fetch us a glass of milk. Now, that's much better. Erik, I am happy about you being here with me. And I want you to stay here, and meet a dear friend of mine this afternoon."

There, it was out. He nearly dropped his glass - and withdraw on his chair from the table as far as he could. Staring at me with wide yellow eyes behind his mask- why did I now realise which colour they were- he tried a weak protest: "But you said I did not have to meet people if I did not want to!"

"That's right. But I told you too, that it was inevitable that you would come to meet friends of mine, and I also have told you before that I cannot keep you hidden from my sisters and my abbess. Mrs. von Spaeth is a friendly old canoness, you will really like her. She will be here at around half past three to have tea with us. Now, I thought we could make pancakes for tea as well as for a late dinner for the two of us. Come on, boy, help me, please."

He did what I asked him to do, silent, depressed and keeping as far space between the two of us as possible. I made pancakes with bacon first and kept two thirds of the dough for sweet griddlecakes. He ate as silent as he had been before, listless and without appetite, never lifting his eyes from his plate. That manner he kept while helping me clean the kitchen and setting the table for tea in the living-room. When the bell rang and I went to the door, I was not sure whether he stayed in the sitting room or went to his own room.

Mrs. von Spaeth came in with a worried look on her face: "Are you sure I am welcome here today?" she asked dryly.

"Yes, you are welcome to me!" I said determinately.

No doubt she saw the plead in my eyes, the helplessness and exasperation, for she came in without further request and, handing me her jacket, declared: "I would be happy about a cup of black tea instead of the coffee I smell. And I am very thirsty. Be a good girl and prepare some for me, I can find my way into the parlour alone." And with that, she proceeded. That was definitely not what I had wanted, but there was no use in protesting, she already had her hand on the doorknob. My heart fell into my big toe when I went into the kitchen to do what she had told me to do. Perhaps - no, sure- had he gone to his room, and she would not even come to see him.

But when I entered the room a few minutes later, they were both sitting in the armchairs around the table, each at one side, and the boy was telling her about the kestrels - in a voice loud and clear, without an evident sign of fear or distrust.

Most of that afternoon I spent watching in awe how easy they dealt with each other. Erik had to speak up if he wanted her to hear him, and that made him automatically sit more upright and open. Generally, he seemed to see hardly any danger in her - while he watched my movements with guarded alertness.

He was not even afraid to reach across the table to pass her pancakes or tea, and though he did not reveal anything about himself and avoided carefully any theme that could lead to intimate questions, he had no repression in asking her about stories on the subject of our town, church and convent. Mrs. von Spaeth did stay until after supper, and by the time she finally said goodbye, I was burning and green with envy, and ready to quit my job as a teacher and to opt out of the convent, so incapable felt I about dealing with the situation.

Deep lost in self-pity, I sent the boy to prepare for bed.

Just like the evening before, I knocked softly and came to his bed. And again I asked: "Is everything all right, Erik?"

And, just like the night before, he answered: "Thank you," then added: "Ms. Lubov, it was a wonderful day. I have never ever had such a day before." And I could have sworn that his eyes were full of tears.

My poor feelings melted away at that sight, and again it was difficult not to take the boy into my arms. "Then let me complete the day with a prayer, okay?" He nodded, and so I did as I had announced.