Instead of Doing Nothing

Chapter 1

We demand too much of wives.

I had an inkling of this growing up, as I watched my classmates’ mothers rush about their homes, tending to children and tidying up before their husbands returned from work. The unfairness was only an idea in my adolescence, but after six months of matrimonial instruction, the idea had solidified into fact.

During cooking, cleaning, and coupling classes, I learned that wives give to others. To their families first, of course, and then to their community. If there was any time or energy left over, a bride could indulge in a hobby. According to our lessons, crocheting or gardening were excellent choices, but even these activities were held captive by the wife’s overlords, her husband and Starkesend. Projects she crocheted or coaxed from the ground were handed over, without protest, to her spouse or society. The injustice made my stomach churn.

Today’s course completed my marital education. My teacher, a Pair Maker named Etta, used the blackboard frequently as she lectured. I appreciated the smooth woosh of chalk gliding across the enameled surface. The soothing sound provided some relief from the nauseating content of her sessions.

Etta’s voice was also comforting. It was warm. Measured. Exactly the opposite of the material she conveyed. I was glad she’d been selected as the instructor. The other Pair Makers spoke in a fiery style, making every phrase they uttered a call to action. I couldn’t have handled a spirited sermon every day. At least Etta’s communication made the past months tolerable.

I tuned in to her voice as she began the final lesson. “Good morning, girls. I’m very proud of you. You’ve shown up eager to learn and I’m pleased to say that after today, you’ll be ready to run a successful household.” Etta picked up a piece of chalk. “If you remember one item from our time together, I hope it is this.” The hem of her yellow frock swayed while she wrote on the board. The end of her chestnut braid followed suit.

They danced together until she stepped back from the board, revealing words in a swirling script—Fertility for the Fatherland. I cringed internally, instinctively loathing the phrase, but the classmates in front of me leaned closer to the Pair Maker. I copied their actions, trying my best to blend in.

“There are four letters in wife, and four in frau,” Etta said. “Tell me, ladies, what else do these words have in common?”

Hands shot into the air, waving around. I raised mine to match, hoping I wasn’t picked. Etta scanned the room, before settling her gaze on me. “Lizbeth,” she said.

I smiled. The expected reaction. “Yes, ma’am. Wife and frau share definitions and both contain an F.”

The Pair Maker nodded. “Correct. For your final lesson, we will focus on the letter F, and learn that it signifies your most precious asset. If you ever doubt the Starkesend mission, recall the phrase you see on the board.” She pointed to the chalky script. “These words start with F, and they highlight your primary purpose. It’s a purpose so vital, that without it, our community, and our Fatherland across the ocean, would crumble.”

Etta was asking a group of teenagers to populate Starkesend and beyond. It was a heavy burden. Were my classmates as wary as me? I glanced at the nearest girls, and noticed their eyes glued to our teacher, hanging on her every word. While I wasn’t ready to relinquish the little freedom I possessed, my classmates appeared keen to start the next phase of their lives. To begin their journey as bride and mother. To become another’s possession.

My goals differed. For the past six months, throughout the lessons on wifely duty, I plotted a life far away. A life that offered more choice, more adventures, and more variety, items I would never experience if I stayed where I was. These factors grew in appeal the longer I listened to the expectations awaiting me. Marriage and motherhood were potential roles, but not until the future, when I was older. Now, I wanted to taste what the outside had to offer.

The biggest obstacle was fear. I didn’t have the courage to speak with my parents yet, to convince them to pack up our family and flee the place we’d lived for over a decade. This level of bravery might take weeks or months to reach since the thought of leaving Starkesend caused tremors to ripple through my body. It’s startling what ten years of indoctrination does to a person. Paralyzing, really.

But once I made it to my eighteenth birthday, a mere nine days away, I’d be clear of marriage’s immediate threat. Then I’d focus on building my nerve and nurturing my grit. Until then, I planned to lie low, willing time to move faster.

I wished time would fly in the matrimonial class, too. Etta lectured and the minutes dragged, so I filled them by visualizing the places I’d visit across America. Maybe even the world. The more you breathe life into a dream, the higher the likelihood it will happen, and inside my head, I was huffing and puffing as hard as I could.

The dismissal bell brought me back to the present. Etta motioned for us to remain seated, and when everyone quieted, she addressed the room. “Thank you for staying. I wanted to leave you with some thoughts. I’ll speak quickly, since I know there are after-school chores waiting.” She flashed a smile and began weaving between desks, touching each girl’s shoulder as she passed. “I enjoy teaching this class. There’s something special about the Sixteens and Seventeens, and it’s not your youth or beauty. It’s your attitude. Your excitement. You can’t wait to grow up and have a family of your own. It’s an admirable goal, and all we’ve discussed for the past several months. But let me give you one piece of advice.” Etta stopped at my desk, resting her palm on my shoulder. “Take care of yourselves. Pay attention to your mind and body. And if you need something, don’t be afraid to reach out.”

She removed her hand and returned to the front of the classroom. “I wish you health, happiness, and abundance.” She curtsied, her back knee almost touching the ground. It meant we had her blessing. It meant we were women.

Etta spoke when she righted herself. “Go now. May only good line your path.”

One by one, we returned her curtsy and filed out of the room. Excitement buzzed around the schoolhouse and followed us outside. I allowed it to settle on my skin but not into my heart. It was fine to appear happy. In fact, it was necessary. A shiny pretense was enough to discourage prying, and I used it to my advantage. But absorbing the information was too much. I refused to conform.

With a wave, I left my classmates talking in groups. They had siblings close in age, but I had a six-year-old brother I walked home every day, a favorite task of mine. The sun warmed my cheeks as I strolled, and a pair of thrushes chirped from their nest. The melodic notes lightened my mood, and a genuine smile snuck onto my lips.

When I reached the primary school, my brother bolted from the gray building and into my arms. I squeezed him tight, adoring the energy he emitted. Ellis possessed a contagious vibrancy, and I enjoyed the hours we spent together, playing hide-and-seek or tag. But our games took place behind closed doors, not outside, which meant now wasn’t the time to indulge in Ellis’ after-school exuberance. There were too many eyes, too many potential busybodies out in the open. It was best to wait until we got home to let loose.

I scanned the grounds, confirming we were alone. There was little danger of an observer reporting Ellis’ enthusiastic exit, but still, I reminded my brother of his place. “Remember yourself, half-pint. Running is reserved for recess, not the halls. You don’t want another markup.”

His grin faded. “I’m sorry, Lizbeth. I saw you through the window, and it made me happy, so I ran out.”

“I’m happy to see you too, bud.” I held out my arm. “Let’s head home.”

He grabbed my hand, and we strolled down the dirt road that led to our house, passing twelve brown and tan one-storied rectangles before we reached our front door. I turned the handle, and Ellis rushed in. “No one can see me run here,” he said, and circled the dining table twice.

“Have you gotten faster?” I asked.

His eyes gleamed. “You really think so?”

“I do. Not a doubt in my mind.” I swung my gaze toward the sink. “Ready to wash the dishes? There’s a sink-full waiting for us.”

“Can I scrub today? I’ll be careful. Promise.”

I held my chin and considered his question, making a show of deliberating. “Ellis, now that you’re the fastest person in the house, I think you’re ready to scrub instead of dry. You’ve earned it.”

He rushed to the pantry and grabbed his stepstool, dragging it to the sink. When he got settled on top, he patted the counter next to him. “Come on, Lizbeth.”

I joined and helped fill the basin with soap and water. Ellis was serious about his new duty through half the stack of dishes. After that, he blew palmfuls of suds into the air, shrieking with delight as the bubbles floated around the kitchen. When I grabbed a handful and sent it drifting toward his face, Ellis doubled over with laughter.

That’s when we heard the knock, a precise tap, tap, tap that matched the rhythm of my heart. Ellis stopped laughing and asked, “Race you to the door?” He flashed a gap-toothed smile before wiping at the soap on his chin.

I reached over, brushing the remaining suds away. “Is that a challenge, half-pint?” His eyes gleamed as he nodded. “All right, let’s have a race. But take it easy on me.” I squinted at the ground, “Oh. And watch out for the puddle on the floor. You wouldn’t want to slip.” I ran off while my brother looked down. It took him a moment to register my joke, and by then, I had reached the door.

“No fair,” he said, but I could see his grin across the room.

“It might not be fair, but you fell for it,” I laughed and waved him over. “Hurry up, silly, and I’ll let you open the door. We don’t want to keep our guest waiting.”

Ellis loped toward the entry. After some giggles, he cleared the amusement from his face, fixing his features into a serious expression. My brother swung the heavy wood open, bowing deeply as he spoke. “Welcome to Dietrich Manor.” Silence was the only response to his polite words.

We peered down, noticing an object at our feet. A parcel rested on the wooden porch, the sole memento of the visitor who’d left in a hurry. Parchment was attached to the package with a ribbon, and a swirly font spelled out my name—Lizbeth, it screamed in looping letters. I picked up the small square, and although it couldn’t have weighed more than a few ounces, it felt heavy as I brought it close. I swallowed hard, knowing what this box and paper signified. Together they meant my childhood had ended.

To make sure, I opened the parcel with my thumbnail and found three pieces of chocolate resting on a bed of pink tissue. Normally, I would have delighted at receiving the confections, but this delivery represented something horrendously wrong.

“What’s that?” A voice piped up.

I’d forgotten my brother was on the porch. I turned his way. “Oh Ellis, it’s nothing. Just a little treat. Why don’t you go inside, and I’ll join you soon.”

“Okay,” he hesitated, “but you look funny. Not like I do when I get a treat.”

I reassured him with a smile. “Go now. I’ll be right behind you.” He ambled, glancing over his shoulder every few steps. I kept the encouraging grin on my face until he was out of view, then my worry reemerged.

Before I was sure of my fate, I needed to verify one more item. The box’s ribbon untied easily, and I grabbed the letter that fell loose. When I unfolded the thick paper, the words on the sheet confirmed my fears. It was an invitation to somewhere I didn’t want to go.

Dearest Lizbeth,

We request the honor of your presence at the exciting Frau Rennen, which begins at sunrise on August 26th. As a Seventeen, you have the opportunity to cheer on our triumphant warriors as they race to the finish line. This event will mark the beginning of your glorious future.

Warmest regards,
Your Pair Makers

Tomorrow I would become a wife. Tomorrow I would lose myself. Tomorrow would destroy my dream of leaving Starkesend.

Sobs forced me to my knees. “It’s not fair,” I choked out the words, giving into my fury for a moment. Then I straightened, closed the front door, and found my brother in the living room. I scooped him into my arms, holding tight to his little body. “I’ll miss you, Ellis,” I whispered.

He squirmed out of my grip, fixing me with a curious gaze. “Where are you going?”

His sweet voice pushed me over the edge, and tears slid down my cheeks. I rested my head on his chin, hiding my sorrow before he noticed. There was no use upsetting my brother. “Don’t worry about it, bud. Let’s finish the dishes before Mom and Dad get home.” When I released our hug, he ran to the sink, distracted by the chore. I wiped at my eyes, then called out, “I need to freshen up. Why don’t you work on the bowls, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Okay.” He grabbed a dish, singing under his breath as he worked. “A is for ant, a tiny little guy. B is for bat, who flies so very high. C is for cat, who goes meow purr. D is for dog, who chases after her.”

The joyful verse followed me as I picked up my mail and brought it to the bathroom. A quick splash of water calmed the redness on my face. Ripping the invitation eased my anxiety. Flushing the chocolates quieted my fury. My family didn’t need to deal with these symbols of dread and destroying them gave me a small measure of control. A minute of breathing steadied me enough to return to the kitchen, assuming my place beside a beaming Ellis.

“Do you want to learn the alphabet song, Lizbeth?”

“Is that what you were singing?”

“Yep. We learned it in school.” He flapped his arms. “My favorite part is about the sparrow. I bet you’ll like the bouncy, flouncy rabbit.”

“You know me well.” I tousled his hair, happy for the distraction. “Teach me the song, and we can give Mom and Dad a concert.”

Excitement filled his eyes. “Great idea. You start with A, just like the real alphabet.”

For the next thirty minutes, Ellis guided me through twenty-six animals and their adventures. By the time our parents walked in the door, we could recite the song as a duet, switching back and forth between the letters. We’d moved to the sofa, and Mom and Dad came right over.

“Hey, you two. It sounds like you’re having a good time. Can we join in?” my father asked.

“Sit here, Dad.” Ellis moved over, patting the spot next to him. I scooted over too, and when everyone settled, we launched into our tune.

After we finished to a round of applause, I turned to my brother. “Half-pint, would you give me a minute to talk privately? I’ll come get you when I’m done.”

He nodded. “Sure, Lizbeth. Is this about your package?”

I nudged him toward his room. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. Just boring adult stuff.”

He trudged down the hall, drawing out each step, but eventually, I heard his door close. Before I could say anything, my mother wrapped her arms around me. “We heard about the Frau Rennen. How are you feeling?”

I lost my composure at her words. “Mom, what can I do? I don’t want to get married, especially to a soldier. Especially after what happened to Klara.”

Almost two years ago, at the first wife race, my sister Klara was paired with a man whose exposure to death and destruction had tainted his soul with violence. After less than a year of marriage, her husband’s wrath slipped out one night and tiptoed to my sleeping sister. He interrupted her peaceful slumber with rough hands that no longer differentiated between love and war. In death, they said Klara had a smile on her face, like she was pleased to have perished while serving the aims of her community.

I didn’t want to end up like her.