Eric Flint: Grantville Gazette. Volume XX

"And do something about the printing. The ink is too blotchy; the lines are too close together." She squinted at the example in her hand. "Make the spaces between the words wider, too." She went back to the stacks of paper.

A bit desperate, Johann took the money and her elbow. "I'll bring some home tonight." He started to drag her to the door.

Annabet shook him off. "What did you do? These pages are all tumbled." She pulled more off the shelf. "These are crumpled." She slapped his hand when he grabbed her. "Johann, what happened? Who's been here?"

"Nothing." Johann couldn't meet her eyes. "It was an accident," he lied.

She put her fists on her hips and glared at him. "What kind of accident?"

"I stumbled and hit the shelf. It fell." He met her eyes, finally. "Go home, Annabet. I'll bring the patterns tonight."

She recognized that look. "You are lying." Annabet narrowed her eyes. "Did someone from the city council come here?"

Johann grabbed sheaves of patterns and put them in her basket. "If you want the patterns now, you'll have to sort them yourself." He shoved a second stack in her basket then grabbed her arm in a fierce grip and dragged her to the door. "Go. Home. Annabet."

The next morning, Annabet answered the door to her parents' house and found her best friend, Bertha, hand in hand with Karl, Bertha's fiance. "You're back! This is wonderful! Where's Gottfried? You went to war together. Did you get separated?" She went to hug him, then stopped. His face was solemn and Bertha was teary-eyed. "What's wrong?"

"May we come in?" Karl asked.

Annabet lost her smile. She stepped back and held the door open.

She showed them to chairs. Karl dragged his hat off his head, crumpling it in his big fists. He looked at Bertha in desperation, but she was crying.

Annabet hid her fists in the folds of her skirt and took a deep breath. "Gottfried's dead." She said it for him.

Karl nodded. Bertha dried her face and got up to put her arms around Annabet.

Annabet just stood there staring through the wall. "I had hoped he was whoring and too embarrassed to tell me he spent all his pay." She heard Karl clear his throat and focused on him.

"Gottfried was killed at…" He stopped when Annabet shook her head.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "He's dead. What good is he to me now?" Annabet was aware of Bertha and Karl communicating with grimaces and head jerks, but ignored them.

Karl eventually left. Bertha stayed long enough for Annabet's mother to return from the market. After a whispered conversation, Bertha left as well. Annabet let her mother guide her to a chair, but ignored her fussing in favor of staring out the window.

Annabet shrugged off her mother's urging to lie down. She did move, though, to a corner, where she stared at a half-finished cuff made of lace shells instead. It hurt to see what she couldn't have.

Johann clattered in that evening and crouched at her feet. He frowned at her expression. "Why the face? I brought you more patterns. One of them is new."

She started keening.

"Annabet?"

She curled into a ball. "Go away."

He swore. "Why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?" When she didn't answer, he shook her. "Who?"

"Gottfried." She blew her nose.

"Gottfried Groenenbach?"

Annabet stared at him, confused. "No, not the mayor's enforcer." She scrubbed her face. "My betrothed, Gottfried Mueller. He's dead. Now I'll never get married!"

"Dead? How?"

Annabet twisted her handkerchief. "How do soldiers usually die? In a battle. Somewhere." She ignored the tears rolling down her face. "Almost six months gone."

"Why so long to get the news?"

"Gottfried could barely read and didn't see the point in writing. He only did it because I made him." Annabet started sobbing again. "Karl didn't know how to put the news in a letter to Bertha, so he waited until he came back."

Johann put his arms around Annabet. He rested his forehead on her hair. "Is Bertha the one who used to pinch my cheeks?"

Annabet nodded and bawled. "She said she wanted a child just like you. I don't know why."

After a while, she pulled back and wiped her face with the sodden cloth. Johan dug out his handkerchief, and the light fell across his face.

Annabet grabbed his chin. "Why do you have a black eye?"

"I ran into someone," he said. "It doesn't matter. What did Mama and Papa say about the news?"

A few days later, the door to Johann's shop was locked.

"Are you certain he's here?" Bertha asked. She kept one eye on the half-shuttered windows in the nearby shops, and wrinkled her nose at a pile of garbage scenting the air with more than a hint of rot.

"Yes," Annabet replied. "He spends all of his time here or at the tavern talking about the Committees of Correspondence." She pounded on the door. "Johann! Open up!"

"I don't think he's here," Bertha said. "I don't think we should be here, either. This isn't a very good part of town."

Annabet huffed and knocked on the door again. "Johann!"

The door jerked open and stopped partway. Johann blocked the opening. "What?"

Annabet pushed on the door. "What were you doing?"

Johann pushed back. "Working," he said. "Go away."

Annabet pushed harder. "Open the door."

Johann glared. "No."

Her eyes narrowed. When Johann didn't back down, Annabet demanded, "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing." He shoved his jaw out in the stubborn expression that Annabet recognized all too well.

"We'll see about that." Annabet threw her weight on the door. "Bertha, don't just stand there! Help me."

Bertha added her weight. Johann held them off for a moment but ended up slipping back a step or two.

Johann gave up. "Stop."

Annabet squinted with suspicion, but stopped. Johann shoved something aside and opened the door.

Annabet stepped over the threshold, then stopped. Bertha followed, trying to peer around her. The shop was covered with spilled ink and scattered papers.

Annabet picked up a ruined pattern. "What happened?"

Johann kicked at a pile of ink-splattered paper. "A group of men from the city council." He shrugged and surveyed his shop. "They ruined all my paper and spilled the ink then left me with a warning."

"Be glad they didn't do more," Bertha said. "They normally break heads."

Annabet paused her prodding of the nearest mess and looked up at him. "What kind of warning?"

"Get out of the Committee or suffer the consequences."

Annabet snorted and started to pick up papers. "What did you expect?"

"Not this. I expected other journeymen and apprentices to join me." He sighed. "I hoped they would help me spread democracy."

Annabet clucked. "Always the dreamer."

Johann kept silent and continued cleaning. The women followed suit, at least until it came time to mop up the ink.

"Do you have enough money to buy more supplies?" Annabet asked.

His gaze slid away then he forced it back. "No," Johann said. "That is what part of the mess is from. I fought to save what I had."

Bertha sniffed. "He's ruined."

Annabet sent her an angry look. "That's very helpful of you." She considered the blotches on the floor. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will think more clearly. Today, we will clean this up."

Johann crossed his arms, trying to look as forbidding as their father. "No. You will stay out of this!"

Annabet just looked at him. "You are not Papa to order me around. You are not my betrothed, either. You are just my baby brother, and you need help." A tear slid out of the corner of her eye. "I need something to work toward, something to hope for." She took a deep breath. "Please?"

Johann swore. "Fine." He uncrossed his arms and went back to work.