Pauli had never seen his father Steven weep. He had been grief-stricken but tearless when Pauli’s mother died. It had been expected and there was relief that her pain was over.
Now, the twenty-year-old sat at the old wooden table in the tiny log cabin and felt the older man’s hands tremble in his. “My brother is dead,” his father muttered. He nodded at the piece of paper on the table between them. “Herman is dead.”
Pauli released his father’s hand and reached for the paper. It was a will, in English, signed and witnessed. He squinted in the poor light. It left the house and three Elizabethtown District mining claims to Steven, then to Pauli and his sister after Steven’s death. At the bottom of the paper were two sentences, scrawled in German. “I understand,” they said. “She was a good woman.”
Pauli’s father covered his face and wept.
Copyright © 2015 Loretta Miles Tollefson