Read Online After the Ashes by Sara K. Joiner - Free Book Online Page A

eyes and tried to capture the peace I found in the jungle. When I opened them I sipped my wine once more. “
Ja
, dirt.” It was always safe to say you could taste the earth in which the grapes grew . . . wasn’t it?
    â€œWhat a pleasure to see you, Brigitta,” my aunt said, standing up and kissing her on the cheeks.
    Vader stood as well. “Where are your parents?”
    Brigitta waved her hand behind her. “Talking to the Vogels. It seems like all of Anjer is here tonight, doesn’t it?”
    She sounded like another adult talking to Vader and Tante Greet. I wished I had her ease with people. It would be so much simpler. She socialized so well, and I never could master the art of small talk. Asking people about the weather or other nonsense bored me. I didn’t care what people thought of the weather!
    My aunt turned her attention back to me. “Katrien,
dirt
is not a flavor you taste in wine. Please use proper terminology.”
    â€œSoil, then.”
    â€œWhat else?” she asked.
    Brigitta watched me with scornful eyes, and any admiration I felt for her disappeared like sugar in tea. I took another sip. “I think . . . rosemary?”
    Tante Greet smiled. “Very good, Katrien. You are learning. Ijust wish you would pick up these social graces as quickly as you do your science.”
    I frowned. I wasn’t as bad as she made me sound, and she certainly didn’t have to lecture me right in front of Brigitta. It wasn’t as if I chewed with my mouth open.
    Thankfully, Mr. Burkart and his wife arrived just then and my etiquette lesson ended for the night. Hands were shaken and cheeks were kissed. Even mine.
    Then Mrs. Burkart settled little Jeroen into his chair, and the Burkarts took their seats. Brigitta, naturally, took the time to smooth her skirts first. My legs trembled nervously as I sat back down, and I called on God and Mr. Charles Darwin for help to get me safely through this meal.
    Brigitta was seated next to me, and as she sank into the upholstered chair she gave her head an arrogant shake. Her blond hair, braided in an elaborate knot, glistened in the evening sun. Tante Greet would love for my hair to be so prettily styled. How did Brigitta do that? Did she rub some ointment on it? I grinned suddenly, recalling a description from
On the Origin of Species
that described her perfectly: “
The insect-species confined to sea-coasts, as every collector knows, are often brassy or lurid
.”
    We hadn’t even fully settled back into our seats when the waiter appeared. “Good evening,” he said. “Let me tell you about tonight’s menu.”
    Mr. Burkart held up his hand with a smile. “We understand you have beef.”
    â€œ
Ja
, we have veal with red onion dressing.”
    Mrs. Burkart gave a small clap. “Not just beef but veal! How delightful.”
    â€œWe also have a pork dish or a fish dish if you prefer,” the waiter said.
    â€œThe veal,” we all said at once.
    â€œWonderful choice,” the waiter said. “I’ll bring your soup right away. Would you like something else to drink, or more wine perhaps?”
    â€œCould you bring me some tea?” I asked.
    He nodded once and rushed off.
    My aunt turned to Mrs. Burkart. “Anneke, I cannot believe what a handsome boy little Jeroen is becoming.” Both women were the epitome of ladylike courtesy—erect posture, content expressions, gentle conversation. I could pretend to be civil to Brigitta, but I could never be as graceful as these ladies. I slouched in defeat, and Tante Greet poked me under the table. Yet somehow her concentration on Mrs. Burkart never faltered. “Don’t you think little Jeroen is handsome, Katrien?” she asked me.
    I had no idea if he was or not. I didn’t know what a three-year-old was supposed to look like, but I knew a test when I saw one. My aunt was forcing me to join the