When the Doves Disappeared by Sofi Oksanen

had fallen into difficulties because their family providers were imprisoned. Edgar’s voice was full of portent, his pale eyes taking on color.
    “Are you listening? How many men would treat the families of their enemies so mercifully? Or are you still thinking about your tobacco field?”
    I grunted in agreement before remembering that I’d intended to avoid talking about it with Edgar, who, in spite of all his shuttling back and forth, didn’t seem to have done much to promote the family’s interests. We hadn’t heard from my father, and our fields were still in the wrong hands. I couldn’t plant any potatoes even though three years’ worth of clover had put plenty of nitrogen in the soil, which was good for potatoes. The Germans had banned the growing of tobacco and even Rosalie couldn’t get any seedlings, but the bunglers the Bolsheviks had put on the Armses’ farm had been evicted and the section of land the Reds had confiscated belonged to the Armses again. I’d gone over to spray their fruit trees with Estoleum, which I’d advised them to buy early, just in case. Aksel was thankful for the tip. I was like a son to him, not just a future son-in-law. I’d told him that Estoleum was better than Paris green, that he’d get apples good enough to sell at the market, but that was all I managed to do for my bride—for my own home at Simson Farm, I couldn’t manage even that. This bothered me. Edgar had never learned a thing about farmwork, though he did know that cream fresh from the morning milking was good for weak lungs.
    He continued reading the paper as I did the stable work. The war hadn’t changed him a bit. “ ‘We all still remember how the Bolshevikpropaganda painted the German National Socialists, and especially their Leader, as savages. They were hardly considered human.’ ” Edgar’s voice had risen, he wanted me to listen. “ ‘The aim of National Socialism is to unite all levels of society into one element, to strengthen the well-being of the people. The incitement of violent class resentment, this shocking bloodletting of one’s own people, is completely foreign to our movement. We strive to keep peace among the classes, and all are given the same right to life.… For our small nation, every individual is indeed as precious as every other.’ ” The gelding’s ears twitched.
    “Stop it,” I said. “You’re frightening the horse.”
    “Roland, don’t you see? The Commissar General has found just the words that the nation needs.”
    I didn’t answer. Anger was hardening me into a pillar of salt. I could tell that my cousin had his own reasons for burnishing the Germans’ image. Maybe he wanted me in on some venture of his. But what did he need me for? I remembered how he had huddled in the cabin right after the Reds retreated, when the areas they had left were swarming with men from the destruction battalions, hiding out in fear for their lives, and Germans chasing them down. The special units had broken off from the Omakaitse—running like rabbits with everyone else, and the woods were filled with the smoke of gunpowder. Then I’d spotted two men nosing around our cabin. I recognized them. They had been with the Chekists who had surrounded the Green Captain’s troops. I remembered them because I was on watch at the time, had stared them straight in the face, would never forget them. They’d gotten away from me once, but they weren’t going to do it again. Edgar clapped a hand over his mouth when he saw the puddles spreading beneath their bodies in the yard. He looked exactly like he had as a boy the first time he saw the hogs slaughtered. He’d just come to live with us then. His mother, my mother’s sister Alviine, had sent him to our house in the countryside to toughen him up after his father died of diphtheria. She was worried about his anemia. He fainted. My father and I were sure that a sissy like that would never manage on a farm. But we were wrong. He