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Thinking that she might faint, Galen rushed forward. He took the basket and set it down, not sure what else to do.

“Oh, goodness! Oh, my heart!” She clutched at her ample bosom. “Oh, goodness gracious!” She gasped and then looked at his face again, searchingly. A flicker of disappointment, and of sorrow, played across her face. “I’m so sorry! I thought you were… you were… someone else.” Her eyes flew to the mourning garland over the door, and she swayed on her feet. Galen hastened to ease her down to sit on the top step.

“Take a deep breath, goodfrau,” he said, alarmed. “And another deep breath. I’m so sorry to have startled you like that.”

“It was not your fault,” she assured him. “It was only my own foolishness.” She let out a deep sigh. “Oh, dear.” Another sigh. Galen patted her hand weakly and she gave him a ghost of a smile. “If you could just help me up?”

Galen helped the woman to her feet and handed her the discarded basket. She seemed to be recovering: her face was no longer as pale, and her breath came easier.

“Please let me apologize again.” Galen wanted to crawl into a hole and die. This was probably his aunt’s housekeeper, and he’d nearly caused her to have an attack of apoplexy on the doorstep. He couldn’t possibly impose on the Orms’ hospitality now.

But now that she was on her feet, the woman wasn’t going to let him get away. She looked him up and down with frank eyes, much the same way that Zelda had. “Just getting back from the war, are you?”

“Yes, goodfrau.”

“Where’s home, then?” She squinted at his face. “You look familiar,” she said slowly. “Are you the Bergens’ boy?”

“Ah, no.”

“The Engels’?”

“No.” Galen shifted his feet awkwardly.

“Who are your parents, then?”

Galen drew a deep breath. “My name is Galen Werner. My father was Karl Werner. My mother was Renata Haupt Werner.” He rushed onward. “They’re both dead. I came here because … because this is the only family I have left. I think.” He pointed to the pink house.

“Oh!” The woman threw down her basket and wrapped her arms around Galen. “I knew you had a familiar look! Renata’s boy! Renata’s only boy!”

Awkwardly Galen tried to pat her back. His upper arms were pinned to his sides and she was dragging his pack down with her fierce embrace.

“I’m your mother’s sister,” the woman said, pulling away at last. She wiped her eyes with a large handkerchief. “Oh, what a pleasure this is! What a surprise! I’m your Tante Liesel.”

Waves of relief passed over Galen. This was an even warmer welcome than he had hoped for. She hugged him again, and this time he returned it heartily.

The door opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered man stood there. He frowned at the scene before him. He had gray hair and an impressive mustache that made him look like an angry walrus.

“Liesel, have you taken leave of your senses?”

“Oh, Reiner! Only see: it’s dear Renata’s boy! He’s come home from the war!” She gave Galen a little shove in the back, pushing him toward Reiner Orm.

“How do you do, meinherr,” Galen said, bowing. “I’m Galen Werner; Karl and Renata Werner were my parents.”

“Dead, are they?” Reiner grunted. “Dead in the war?”

“Er, yes, sir.” Galen blinked a little at the bluntness of his uncle’s words. “My mother died of the lung sickness. Father was shot. My sister, Ilsa, was killed in an accident. Years ago, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, the poor darlings! Renata, dead? I never knew!” Liesel clucked and fussed around him, but Galen never took his eyes off Reiner.

Reiner, in return, never took his eyes off Galen. “So, you claim to be Galen Werner, do you?”

“I am Galen Werner, sir,” Galen replied, not all that surprised to be thus challenged.

“Prove it.” Reiner crossed his arms over his chest.

“Reiner, not here,” Liesel said, her voice suddenly sharp. She stopped fluttering around Galen and gave her husband a cold look. “The neighbors have talked about us quite enough.” She took Galen’s arm. “Come inside and have some tea, Galen, while Reiner argues with