Chapter Text
Schultz (22)
"Haaaaaaaaans!"
Hans Schultz had barely crossed the threshold when he was suddenly hit with a sixty pound ball of energy. He let an "oof" as he grabbed his stomach, bending over slightly. A moment later, he nearly toppled backwards when something heavy latched onto his shoulders.
"You're here!"
"Ja, ja, I'm here, I'm here!" Hans said as he shook his shoulders to free himself. He dropped his suitcase and then grabbed his nephew, lifting him up in the air. "Ach, you're almost too heavy!" he exclaimed.
"Irma says I'm eating us out of house and home!" Johan declared proudly as Hans set him down.
"Lift me, lift me!" Agnes cried, coming around from behind him and lifting her arms.
"Lift you?!" Hans cried as he looked the little girl up and down. "Aren't you strong enough to lift me?"
Agnes giggled as if that was the silliest thing she had ever heard. Her giggles turned into a scream as Hans grabbed her and tossed her into the air before catching her. Then he pulled off his gloves and dropped them into his hat before tossing the bundle on the sofa.
"Uncle Hans, Uncle Hans," Agnes said as she pulled on his jacket, "will you take us to the park? Please?"
"Of course, liebchen! Why do you think I'm here?"
Agnes giggled and jumped, clapping her hands.
"Can we feed the ducks?" Johan asked.
"Ja, ja. Feed the ducks, and pick flowers and, if you are very good, we will even get ice-cream!"
"Hurray!" both children cried. "Let's go now!" Johan said urgently. He turned and put a hand to the side of his mouth as he called, "Mutti! Mutti, we need our coats!"
Hans' sister, Marta, appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Johan," she scolded, "don't yell like some urchin hawking papers! You can have your coats after you go read your books with Agnes."
"But Mutti," Johan whined.
"Not 'but's," Marta said firmly. "I let you spend all morning down here to wait for Uncle Hans. Now do as you're told. Agnes, set the example, will you, liebchen?"
Agnes puffed out her chest then grabbed her older brother's hand. "Come along, Johan. The sooner we do it, the sooner we can be finished."
Hans reached out and pulled Agnes' pigtail gently as she started off. "You are very smart, Agnes." Agnes paused and flashed him a brilliant smile before pulling Johan along.
With the children gone, Marta approached Hans with a warm smile and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Hans, it's so good to see you." She stepped back and looked him up and down. "I believe you've grown since Easter."
Hans let out a hearty laugh. "I doubt it. I stopped growing two years ago. In case it escaped your notice, I'm a man now and have been for some time!"
"You," Marta said as she scrunched her nose, "will always be eight in my mind!"
Hans chuckled. "I suppose that's your right." Marta nodded towards the furniture, beckoning him away from the door and deeper into the room. Hans sat down in a plush red chair while Marta fixed him a cup of coffee. She brought it over with a tray of cookies. Then she fixed herself a drink and sat across from her brother on the settee.
"So, here you are, newly graduated and ready to take on the world," Marta said. "Have you given any thought to Uncle Christoph's offer?"
Hans took a sip of his coffee and set it down before grabbing a cookie off the plate. He waved it in the air as he leaned back into his seat. "To manage his chemical plant?" He shook his head. "It's too boring for me."
"I suppose," Marta said, casting a disapproving eye upon him, "that you'd rather be a man about town and live off your inheritance."
Hans laughed. "I wouldn't be 'about town' for long! My share might be bigger than yours, but I'm hardly a man of leisure!" He shook his head and picked up his coffee again. "I don't know what I'm going to do, but I'm determined to be a success. I just need to come up with an idea. Something suited to me."
"And you haven't thought of anything the whole time you were at school?"
Hans took a bite of his cookie and tilted his head from side to side. "I've had thoughts. But I'm in no rush. I don't want to chain myself to something only to decide later that I made the wrong choice."
"But how will you know what the right choice is if you don't take a chance on something?" Marta pressed.
Hans grinned and leaned forward, winking at his sister. "Are you my sister, or my mother?" He leaned back and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Oh, I'll think of something. I'll talk to Otto about it when he gets home. You married yourself a clever man. He'll have some ideas I might like."
"I'm sure he will. But—" she paused and took a sip of her coffee, eyeing him over the brim of her cup with a mischievous glint in her eye— "speaking of taking a chance on something… My friend is hosting a dance tomorrow night. You should go."
"Ach." Hans rolled his eyes and flopped his head back against the chair. "You and your matchmaking! I'm in no rush for that, either. Look at me." He stood and showed himself off—his broad shoulders, trim waist, an impeccable suit. "If I wanted to get married, I'd be married already! There's no rush for that, either."
"Content to break hearts for a while longer?" Marta asked with a tsk.
Hans sat back down and hid a smirk behind his coffee. "I can't help it that I'm irresistible," he said, rolling his 'r's dramatically. He quickly finished off his coffee. "Now, I think I ought to take Agnes and Johan out for that walk. Johan is probably ready to toss his books out the window!"
"Oh, all right," Marta sighed as she stood. "But mark me, I'll find a wife for you yet!"
Hans laughed and kissed his sister's cheek before heading out of the room.
Soon, he was holding Agnes' hand as they strolled through the park while Johan ran ahead, swinging around a stick like a sword.
"Thank you for the ice-cream, Uncle Hans," Agnes said as she skipped along.
"You're welcome, Schätzchen. Just don't tell Elke! She'll be mad that I spoiled your dinner." He held a finger to his lips and Agnes mimicked him.
"I won't tell."
"Good. Now, we should start home. Come on, Johan, don't go too far!"
Johan jumped and stabbed at the grass with his stick before running over and grabbing Hans' free hand. Together, they exited the park and started through the streets of town. They were nearly home when Agnes suddenly stopped and planted her feet firmly in front of a shop window. She pressed her nose against it and pointed to a doll.
"Can I have it, Uncle Hans?" she asked.
"Don't you have enough toys?" Hans asked.
"Never!" Johan declared with a roar as he slashed the air with his stick and then threw it into the street. "I want that!" he said, pointing to a set of small metal soldiers.
Hans squinted at them and put his hands on his hips. "I don't know…"
"Please, Uncle Hans!" Agnes said.
Hans grinned. "Well… I suppose I am your favourite uncle. All right."
The children cheered and hurried into the shop. Hans grinned and adjusted his hat before following them. Even though each child proclaimed they knew what they wanted, they spent an inordinate amount of time looking through the rows of toys before finally settling on the very things that brought them there in the first place. Hans didn't mind though. He grinned as he watched them scurry from toy to toy, their eyes filled with wonder at each one. While in no hurry to get married, he had always thought that, once he did, he would fill his home with children and spoil them rotten.
"What will you name your new dolly, Schätzchen?" Hans asked, looking at the doll Agnes had tucked in her arm. "Brunhilde? Elfriede?"
Agnes scrunched her nose, which, Hans noted with amusement, made her look exactly like her mother. "No!" She held up her doll at arm's length and studied it. "I think… Viktoria. Like the princess."
"Oh, ja. That's a very good name," Hans said with a nod. "And is she a princess, too?"
"Yes. The most beautiful princess ever."
"Until a dragon came and burned her face off with his breath!" Johan cried as he whirled around and hissed.
"He did not!" Agnes cried, pulling her dolly close. Johan grabbed the doll's arm and pulled.
"Yes he did. After he took her away to his fortress!" He tugged on the doll again, while Agnes tried to keep her.
Riiiip.
The doll, caught between the two children, suddenly tore in half, stuffing flying everywhere. "Oh no!" Agnes shrieked. "Johan! Johan, you broke her!"
Johan quickly moved out of reach of Hans, holding his hands on his bottom as if he was afraid of getting swatted. "I didn't mean to!" he said emphatically.
"Oh no!" Agnes wailed as she held the remnants of her dolls close. "Uncle Hans!"
Hans knelt down and held out his arms. Agnes rushed into them and he hugged her. "Now, now. We'll get you a new one."
"But I don't want a new one," Agnes sobbed. "I want her. You can fix her, can't you, Uncle Hans?"
Hans sighed and gently took the doll from her. He looked it over and frowned. He hadn't noticed before but now, looking at its torn dress and body, he realized the doll had been cheaply made. It was a wonder it hadn't fallen apart sitting on the shelf!
He was about to shake his head when the look in Agnes' eyes—equally hopeful and devastated—stopped him short. "Of course I can, liebling," Hans said.
"Oh thank you," Agnes cried in relief.
"All right, dry your tears." Hans pulled a handkerchief out from his pocket and handed it over. "It's all right. I'll fix it. And you—" he turned his attention to Johan— "You need to apologize."
"Sorry, Agnes," Johan mumbled.
"I'll never forgive you. Never!" Agnes declared.
"Oh, that is not very nice," Hans said sadly as he put a hand on Agnes' shoulder. "You have to be nice to each other; you are family."
"But he wasn't nice to me," Agnes said, stamping her foot. "Or Viktoria!"
"He made a mistake," Hans said. "He is still learning. Like you. We have to forgive each other because otherwise it can cause trouble. And when it comes to trouble, it never rains, it pours."
"Well, I don't want to," Agnes said stubbornly.
"Think about it," Hans said, as he cupped her cheek and patted it gently. "Now, come on; your mother will be wondering where we are."
That night, Hans sat in the chair near his bed in the guest room under the flickering light of his oil lamp. His sister's sewing kit was on his lap while Viktoria lay over the arm of the chair. He knew he could have gotten Marta to fix the doll or, better yet, snuck out and bought a replacement to present to Agnes in the morning. But he had promised to fix the doll and fix it he would. It was nearly impossible and, by the time Hans was done, the doll looked like the victim of… well, a naughty older brother.
"Such a shame," Hans tsked. Whoever had made the doll in the first place had obviously taken little pride in his work. A casualty, he supposed, of this new mechanized era. Craftsmen were being replaced by machines. Agnes deserved better. Children deserved better.
As Hans lay down to sleep that night, dolls and toy soldiers marched across his dreams. And, when morning came, a ludicrous thought had planted itself into his mind, one that might just have his father rolling in his grave and would make his uncle sneer. But he couldn't shake it.
"Schatzi," he murmured as he sat up in his bed. He reached over for the doll and looked it over. "Schatzi Toys…"