The Woman Who Heard Color Read Online Free PDF Page A

her pocket, placed Käthe’s most recent letter in the other, and then quietly tiptoed down the stairs, stepped out of the house, hurried down the lane toward the main road, and caught a ride with their neighbor Herr Hinkel. She told him she was going to Kempton on an errand for her father.
    “Father is well?” Käthe asked in a soft voice.
    Hanna nodded.
    “The others? The children?”
    “Leni is fine.” Leni was ten, still so much a little girl, the obedient daughter. Hanna doubted she would ever want to do anything other than tend to küch and kinder , kitchen and children, that she was perfectly content to peel potatoes, look after the little ones, and do exactly as she was told by Gerta. “Peter, as sweet as ever.”
    Käthe smiled. At five, Peter was a delight. He had been so young when their mother became ill that he had received much of his tending from the two older girls.
    “Dora, as spoiled as ever,” Hanna added. Their stepsister was just two months younger than Peter, but whined like a baby. “Karl is almost as tall as Father, and Frederick is in love with Helga Merkel.”
    Käthe nodded knowingly. Käthe the romantic. Then she sighed with what Hanna perceived as homesickness. Neither girl mentioned their stepmother. “It is so wonderful to see you, to have news from home, but you have not chosen the most joyful time to come for a visit.” She took Hanna’s arm and led her down the hall. “The mistress,” she whispered as they entered a tiny nunlike cell, one of many off the long narrow hall, “she is not well.” She patted the quilt spread over the narrow bed butted up against the wall and the girls sat. Taking her younger sister’s hands in hers, Käthe asked, “You’ve brought nothing with you?”
    Hanna shook her head and lowered it, the excitement of this grand adventure again overtaken with the enormity of what she had done. “Father doesn’t know,” she said softly.
    Abruptly Käthe released Hanna’s hands, and her own rose to her mouth, reminding Hanna how everything had been so dramatic with Käthe. She wondered if life in the Fleischmann household was truly as exciting and lively as she’d written in her letters, and if her sister, who surely must have been confined to the kitchen, could really be aware of the activities she’d described taking place in the dining room, the parlor, and the music room.
    “Oh, Hanna, you haven’t run away from home?” Käthe squealed in horror.
    Hanna nodded.
    “Father will be so worried.”
    “If he should even notice I’m missing . . .” Hanna giggled nervously, but wondered how she could ever face her father again. She replayed the thoughts that had moved in her mind on her walk through the city. “Is there work for me here? Could I get a position like you?”
    “You plan to stay?”
    Hanna raised her shoulders.
    “Perhaps,” Käthe replied thoughtfully. “Brigitte has gone back home to tend her mother who is very ill. I will ask Frau Metzger, the head housekeeper. But first we must send word to Father. We must post a letter immediately to let him know you are safe, that you are here with me.” Again she took her sister’s hand and held it tightly, then touched Hanna’s face. They had not seen each other for almost six months, since Käthe had come to visit last Easter. “You have grown into a lovely young woman. You look very much like Mother.” She reached over and lifted a braid, wrapping it around Hanna’s crown. “So very much like Mother,” she said.
    Everyone in the family had hair with a touch of red, from Frederick’s dark auburn to Leni’s blond, which in a certain light held a hint of ginger. But Hanna’s, more than anyone else’s, resembled their mother’s, which was a fiery red. Hanna generally covered it with a good bandana because people stared, but she had neglected to cover it in her hurry.
    Käthe planted a kiss on her cheek. “Oh, my dear sweet little sister, what have you done?” She studied Hanna