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“I was certain she would recover. She had so much strength in her, and spirit. I started making some pickles; I was thinking that many months ahead. The cucumbers were so green and compelling, and I carefully cut away bruises. But Maruschl was gone before the next Tuesday. The baby Katharina died as well within the month. To hear Susanna weeping in an unspeakable misery saying, My baby, my baby, was worse than my own losses. I was willing to give everything and anything to bring the children back. As we waited for Hans to return, there was a part of me that held out the hope that when he returned, so they would too. I dreamed of walking hand in hand with Maruschl. I dreamed even of us arguing, of her growing angry with me, or disappointed, I wanted that for her much more than I wanted to live.” — Rivka Galchen