Free Tales from the Fountain Pen by E. Lynn Hooghiemstra Page B

tray.
    “Tea?” I ask, surprised.
    “I was able to trade for some with Mrs. Sietsma,” my mother says proudly. “If we’re careful it might last till the end of the war,” she adds as a little joke. She hands me a cup of hot, real tea and pats me on the shoulder.
    “Why is she being so nice to me?” I whisper to my father.
    He grins and whispers back: “You’ve proved that you’re not a collaborator.”
    My eyes grow wide. “She thought…?” I can’t even finish the sentence.
    “She thought you and one of the soldiers were up to something,” he explains, when my mother leaves to call Betty down for tea. Then he stands up and goes to hang his coat and hat on the rack by the front door.
    “Mmm…real tea, it never tasted this good ever before,” I say, after taking my first sip.
    “It does a person good,” my mother says, sitting down with a contented sigh.
    Betty pulls up a chair and quietly sips her tea, no longer quite so irritated. Of course I know that won’t last, but for the moment everything feels close to perfect. Even the many aches in my body seem diminished.
    It feels like a contented family evening and I feel comfortable lifting the pen from the paper for a while. My mother’s safe and her reputation is intact. I finally feel I can release the tension I’ve been holding in my shoulders and massage my hand, which nearly cramped up because of the speed with which the pen pushed me across the pages. I too shall enjoy a cup of hot tea.
    Once refreshed and relaxed I put the pen to paper again. Time has passed and it appears to be morning, perhaps mid-morning of what I assume is the next day.
    I find myself moving slowly with stiff muscles from the dining table to my father’s easy chair. All my scrapes have crusted over and last night I noticed a fair number of bruises, but at least nothing’s broken and I know I will heal quickly.
    My mother is just finishing up the breakfast dishes and Betty is at Mr. Dijkstra’s to see if he’ll give her any eggs. It seems unlikely since he only has two chickens left. The other four were taken by the Germans. At least I have some peace and quiet for a little while.
    Unfortunately my peace is very short-lived. I hear the bang of the back door being closed in anger and my sister’s heavy tread as she stomps her feet. Her shrill voice rings through the house.
    “How could he?” she cries. “After all those kisses I gave him he goes and gives my eggs to Janet across the way from him. He doesn’t even like her, he told me so. I’m his favorite, not that woman.”
    How my mother can ignore her screeching I don’t know. If I weren’t stuck in this chair I would probably be in the kitchen taunting Betty. I’m not proud of that thought, but I do know my sister and she’s done so many mean things to me over the years that I can’t help wanting to retaliate from time to time.
    My mother comes into the front room, obviously ignoring Betty, and dries her hands on her apron before sitting down in her chair across from me. She continues to pull out an old sweater and I watch her expertly wind the yarn into a ball. There won’t be enough for a new sweater for any of us, but perhaps a vest.
    “Oh, and you’ll love this bit of news,” Betty says with glee when she comes into the room. “Dijkstra told me that Maggie actually encouraged that German soldier, that she’s been having a secret affair with him.” She crosses her arms and glares at me triumphantly.
    “What?” I exclaim, and quickly glance at my mother to see how she reacts.
    “Betty, go to your room at once!” she says firmly. “I will not have you spouting Mr. Dijkstra’s lies in this house. The man is a nasty human being, but there’s a war on and his eggs have been a godsend, but if he’s spreading vicious lies about your sister then we shall simply do without.” Betty stares open-mouthed at my mother, who so seldom comes to my rescue. “To your room. NOW!” My mother points to the