River's Edge Read Free

in her thin face, feverish reminders of the specter that haunted us all.
    The welcoming rituals having been observed, we filed into the dining room and sat down at the table, Father at the head, with Uncle at his right hand and Mother at his left. I sat next to Uncle. This left an empty place next to Mother where Cousin Peter was meant to sit, but he was late. The grownups talked quietly of things that did not interest me. From time to time, Father looked impatiently at his watch. Finally he said, “I don’t know what is keeping Peter. He is always late.”
    â€œI am sure he is not always late,” Mother disagreed gently, but I knew she was wrong.
    Whenever Cousin Peter came to dinner he was at least ten minutes late and would enter the dining room breathless and beaming, full of good cheer and complicated explanations. Unlike Uncle Wilhelm, Cousin Peter was an actual relative, descended from our common ancestor, General Yorck, hero of the Napoleonic wars. Father was very proud of our connection to the great General Yorck. When expounding on the shameful state of the German military, as he did tonight to Uncle, he often quoted Yorck’s 1813 speech to the troops in which he declared that the chief virtues of a Prussian soldier were courage, endurance, and discipline.
    â€œAnd then,” Father said, fixing his eyes skyward and stabbing the empty air with his index finger to emphasize his point, “the Great Yorck said, ‘but the Fatherland expects something more sublime from us who are going into battle for the sacred cause—noble, humane conduct even towards the enemy.’ ”
    Finishing the quote, his hand dropped to the table and his lip curled in disgust as he complained to Uncle, “These Allied generals know nothing of the honor that should exist between warriors, both victor and vanquished.” Uncle nodded in agreement as he sipped wine from his glass. “But, neither do we anymore,” Father continued. “We have forgotten our tradition and honor. That is our shame.”
    Father put a great store on honor and tradition. Although Cousin Peter was an actual count, titled, and more closely related to the great Yorck than we were, he was far less Prussian than Father, lacking the stiff formality that was the mark of a German military aristocrat. They were nearly the same age, but Peter seemed much younger than Father. Peter was handsome and fun-loving, and I was a little in love with him. I suspected that Father disapproved of his cousin taking up the law, just as he disapproved of his habitual lateness, but he still liked Cousin Peter. However, Peter’s lack of punctuality rankled.
    â€œWhatever can be keeping Peter?” Father growled as he pulled out his pocket watch to confirm that his cousin was now late by a full quarter-hour.
    â€œI am sure he has good reason for his tardiness,” Mother said gently. “You know what the traffic is like this time of night, Herman.”
    Father grunted. “Captain Canaris had to deal with the same traffic, and he is not late. I don’t think it is fair to keep everyone waiting for their dinner just because—”
    But before Father could finish his sentence, the door to the dining room burst open and Uncle Peter was in the room, pushing past the housemaid, who looked irritated that he had not given her a chance to announce him properly, kissing Mother on the cheek, shaking hands with Father and Uncle, winking at me as he put his birthday gift on the sideboard next to Uncle’s, all the while offering his profound apologies, saying it simply couldn’t be helped, the shop assistant who had wrapped his gift had taken forever and ...
    â€œWell,” Father said gruffly but not unkindly, “you are here now, and that is what is important. Please, sit down.” He got to his feet and motioned toward the empty place next to Mother. Turning to the maid, he inclined his head slightly to indicate