Elisabeth carried a bowl of boiled potatoes to the kitchen table, where Omama, Mammi, and Luki already sat waiting for supper. Anna set the table and then took her seat, rocking her chair as she waited, while Rosina carried over cheese, bread, and butter before kneeling on her chair. All that was needed was the duck, which Elisabeth now pulled out of the oven and set on some tea towels in the middle of the table.

 

“Elisabeth, get me some water,” Omama said, and Elisabeth obliged.

 

Just as Elisabeth was about to sit down, Mammi instructed her to carve the duck and serve everyone.

 

“But you’re the head of our household,” Elisabeth said, confused.

 

“And I’ve worked hard enough outside. Or are you suggesting that you work harder in here?” Mammi’s accusation took Elisabeth aback. She had meant no such thing: she was just confused by the change of routine. But without saying another word, she carved the duck, placed a slice on each person’s plate, and helped her siblings cut their portions.

 

“Mammi, I want school to start again,” Anna said, rocking on her chair.

 

“Psht!” Mammi said. “You do not speak at the table! And sit like a woman.”

 

Anna looked down at her plate of food. Elisabeth began slicing her own duck. Then Luki spilled his glass of water. Elisabeth raced to the back room to get tea towels and returned to find Anna rocking again.

 

“Anna, stop it.” Why wasn’t she listening? There were adults in the room. Or was she trying to get her older sister in trouble?

 

“It’s your job to discipline her,” Omama said. “You are in charge.”

 

Elisabeth prayed that Anna would listen to her andavoid forcing an uncomfortable confrontation between Elisabeth and their grandmother. She dried Luki’s spill and sat down, hoping to finally start eating, only to catch Rosina trying to pour water from the water jug. Fearing another accident, Elisabeth helped her.

 

“Aaahhh!” Anna screamed as her chair tipped back. Anna’s head hit the ground, and Elisabeth immediately rushed to help her sister up.

 

“If you had sat like a woman,” Mammi said, “this wouldn’t have happened.”

 

Omama nodded in agreement. “You should have listened to your mother.” Neither got up to help, and Elisabeth wondered how their words helped at all. She didn’t know the Bible off by heart, of course, but she could not think of a single passage where Jesus spoke that way. And was it not a Christian’s duty to be like Him?

 

So far as Elisabeth could tell, though, Anna hadn’t heard a word of it: she was wailing.

 

“Shh,” Elisabeth said to her sister as she helped her up. “Eat the rest of your food. You’ll feel better soon.”

 

Still sniffling, Anna nodded while Elisabeth placed herchair back at the table. Anna sat down and picked at her food.

 

“That is no way to teach her,” Omama said. “She’ll only do it again.”

 

Elisabeth’s shoulders tensed. Why on earth would Anna rock her chair again after such a fall? Even if she did, a gentle reminder about her fall should be enough to deter her the next time. Elisabeth sometimes wondered if adults really did understand children the way they said they did.

 

Another string of requests from everyone, though, meant that by the time Elisabeth finally sat down to eat, everyone else had finished their meal. Elisabeth often counted on her meals as breaks from her endless list ofchores. Hopefully Omama and Mammi would give her enough time to eat.

 

“Anna, Rosina, go into the front room and work on your projects. Luki, try not to be a nuisance,” Mammi instructed.

 

“He can practice polishing shoes,” Elisabeth offered. Mammi raised her eyebrows. “A very good idea, Lissika. Luki, continue with your practice.”

 

Luki sulked, but one look from Omama wiped it off his face. The three younger siblings disappeared into the warm room of the house and Mammi closed the door behind them.

 

Elisabeth’s heart started to race. Had she done something wrong? Said something to embarrass her mother? Insulted Omama in someway?

 

Mammi stood with her back to the door and looked Omama in the eye. Elisabeth didn’t think her heart could race any faster.

 

“We need to talk about your future,” Mammi began. Elisabeth kept eating. “You turn fifteen this summer. It’s time we start finding you a husband.”

 

Elisabeth’s hand with its forkful of duck froze halfway along its path to her mouth. A husband? Am I ready for one already?

 

“You still have much work to do,” said Omama. “You need to stop speaking up like you do, especially the way you did at church on Christmas Eve. The Bible says, ‘Let your women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak; but they are commanded to be under obedience, as also saith the law.’”

 

Upon hearing that verse, Elisabeth bristled. “But Krehling Maria and Wagner Anna were speaking up at a time when it was wrong to do so.”

 

Omama wagged her crooked finger at Elisabeth. “That is for Jesus to judge, not you.”

 

But Mammi had approved Elisabeth’s speaking up: the other women had been criticizing Pastor Fröhlich’s preference for Hungarian as the language of worship in thechurch and of instruction in the schools, though the children currently learned in Romanian as the new laws dictated. Christmas Eve was an inappropriate time to discuss such topics. Was Elisabeth supposed to stay silent and let those women disturb the sanctity of the church with a political discussion?

 

“Modr, Elisabeth still has much to learn,” Mammi said, clearly not taking either side, at least not in front of her mother. “She has at least two years to find someone, and I will help her learn what she still needs to know.”

 

Omama nodded and broke off a piece of bread from the loaf that still sat on the table. “Does that mean she’ll learn to stop smiling so much?”

 

Omama’s question angered Elisabeth, but she swallowed her words. Her mother had told her in the past to smile less, because otherwise people would think she looked stupid. But smiling means someone is happy and enjoying what Jesus has blessed them with. Why should I not show that?

 

“You must always be on your best behaviour,” Omama said. “Just like your husband must respect you, you must respect him, and that means learning your role in the family.”

 

Elisabeth smiled at Omama, who scowled back. Even Mammi shot her oldest child a look of mild scorn.

 

“Now,” Mammi said, “we’ve invited someone to tea tomorrow to discuss the pigpens. I expect you to be polite to him.”

 

Maybe Mammi meant it would be a young man. Elisabeth nodded.

 

“Good. Get your sisters and begin cleaning up the kitchen,” Mammi commanded. “Luki and I will head back to the workshop.”

 

Mammi believed Elisabeth was ready to marry and receive her haube, and to have a family. Elisabeth smiled, jumped up from her chair, and called her siblings. Excitement filling her soul, she ignored Omama’s comments about smiling.