Chapter 23
Fall, 1921
Gassmann homestead
When Hans knocked on the Walters’ door that evening in 1921, he was met by his Aunt Lorena.
“It’s a shame you didn’t come by a bit earlier,” she told him, motioning him into the kitchen. “You could have had some coffee and cake with your father and us. But that’s okay, I’ll put out some more.”
But Hans, acting as if he hadn’t even heard her, said that he’d stopped by to have a word with Ewald. Lorena was taken aback, since Hans was always one to say yes to sweets. But she called Ewald, who emerged from the main room.
At Hans’ request, the two men went back outside. Hans wanted to speak to his uncle in private. The conversation didn’t last long. Lorena wasn’t shy about looking out the kitchen window in the men’s direction, as she tried – and failed – to catch some of the conversation taking place out in the yard beneath the apple tree. She saw Hans shake his head once, vehemently. Ewald nodded and clapped his nephew on the shoulder. Then watched as Hans turned and walked quickly down the lane and back out onto the main road, heading in the direction of home.
Back inside, Ewald, uncharacteristically, rebuffed his sister’s request for information about the conversation. Then, seeing that she was hurt by his reticence, he put his arm around her.
“Don’t ask, Sis. Guy stuff. That’s all. Nothing for you to busy your head with.”
Ewald may have been gone for the past seventeen years, but Lorena still recognized the look she now saw on his face. It was the expression that he always wore – beginning when they were tiny kids – when he had a secret. Not a secret he was holding off telling her, just to tease her, but one it might not be safe to tell. Back then, it was because one of them might get a thrashing if he told. Like the time when their cousin accidentally broke a piece of farm equipment they were playing on, and Ewald had been with him. But what about now? Lorena wondered. What here might not be safe to tell?
* * *
For the remainder of Ewald’s visit – and for nearly the next 28 years, for that matter – there was no more discussion of God or faith or faith healing or that little boy Bruno over supper or dinner or breakfast at the Gassmanns’ place. Renate made sure of that. Her brother’s time with them was too precious to her to allow it to be marred by any discord caused by religious topics. Everyone else clearly felt the same way, because the rest of the month flowed by with little more than small talk when the family was all together. There were plenty of other topics to explore, such as more details about Ewald’s life in America. But even at these times, all parties were vigilant, censoring their own words when it occurred to them that the remarks on the tip of their tongues might lead someone to feel hurt or insulted or left out… The list of emotions to avoid causing in others was long, and this naturally limited the mealtime conversations.
As a result, the rest of the month passed very smoothly, it seemed to Renate: no ill will, no bruised feelings, no resentment. Renate made this assessment based on what she herself observed, and on all that she heard from the other individual family members. Of course she was sorry to say goodbye to Ewald that day when they all got together at the Walters’ farm to send him off, but she wasn’t despairing, the way she’d been when he left the first time, in 1904. This time, the whole family gathered around him, and the tears that were shed were of sadness, certainly – at the fact that he hadn’t been able to stay longer, and at the knowledge that they had no idea when they might see each other again, if ever.
But there were other kinds of tears mixed in, too. Ulrich and Ewald embraced in tenderness and love, grateful that they had swept away the misunderstanding they’d carried with them for so long. Renate, too, had forgiven her brother for what she had interpreted as his slight of her, in writing to Ulrich and not to her. As well, she had learned enough of his life in America, that she could feel genuinely joyful for him. Thank goodness he had found a wife who made him happy, and that they were raising a wonderful family. Renate kept reminding herself of this and pushed away her own feelings of regret that she’d never meet her sister-in-law and nieces and nephew.
“You know that young man is in love with you, don’t you?” Ewald asked Ethel quietly as he hugged her goodbye. Taking her blushing cheeks as an answer, he said, “Be happy, Ethel, dear. This family’s been through so much. Allow yourself to bring some joy into it. Some new life.”
Only a few words passed between Hans and Ewald as they took leave of each other, and no one overheard what they said. The two shook hands heartily, and Ewald clapped Hans on the shoulder.
Lorena and her mother shared their own, private words with Ewald. Then he hopped up in the front of the wagon, alongside his father, who was taking him to the train station in Varel. The two men would talk about whatever needed discussing on this ride and make their final, brief, and undemonstrative goodbyes on the platform.
A job well done! Renate thought to herself, as she walked slowly back to the homestead with her husband and children, hand in hand with Ulrich. Now life can get back to normal. God knows there’s enough work to be done to prepare for winter!
* * *
About a month later, on a sunny Saturday afternoon in November, Viktor and Ethel took an after supper walk to the old treehouse. They walked together nearly every day now, in the early evening, after the light meal was cleared and the dishes washed, and the horses and goats and chickens put in for the night, and whatever woodworking project was under way put to bed, too. Although their strolls took them in various directions – toward Bockhorn or Varel, or down any of a number of paths through the Gassmanns’ forest – the treehouse had become their favorite spot to sit with each other and share their thoughts. So, on this day, it didn’t surprise Ethel when Viktor expressed the wish to go there.
The days were growing both shorter and cooler, and when they climbed the rope ladder, they found the treehouse floor littered with fallen leaves in various stages of dryness.
“I love the scent of the leaves!” Ethel exclaimed, as her head emerged from over the edge. This time, Viktor had gone up the ladder first, since he enjoyed reaching a strong hand out to Ethel to grasp as she reached the top of the ladder. She delighted in this part of the visit, too. So, she often shooed Viktor up the ladder before her, even though, as he had learned on their first visit, Ethel needed no help whatsoever climbing the rope rungs and hoisting herself onto the treehouse floor.
“They do smell wonderful, don’t they?” Viktor replied, nodding. “The green ones still smell like the tree, somehow, and the dry ones already smell like the earth. It’s the whole yearly cycle before us.”
Ethel hadn’t been up in the treehouse during the autumn for many years, and she had missed being there at that time. She began sweeping the leaves up into a small pile using the small broom she’d found resting against the railing when she and Viktor had first climbed up here a couple of months earlier.
“I can still hardly believe this lasted all those years,” she said with delight, pausing in her sweeping to wave the broom in Viktor’s direction.
He laughed, swept up himself by Ethel’s childlike joy. “It must have magical properties,” he said.
“Oh, yes!” Ethel replied, sweeping again now. “Or maybe the fairies used it while Hans and I were absent. Maybe they replaced any broken or rotted straws.”
It didn’t even occur to Viktor to ask if he could help. He understood that this was Ethel’s own personal communion with the leaves. So, he watched silently from where he sat near the ladder, as Ethel moved the leaves into a pile against the beech tree’s trunk, next to where he was sitting. It seemed to him that she was nudging them the way she’d urge a goat kid or a kitten along, not wanting to hurt it, but with her goal still clearly in mind.
When the leaves were all gathered together into the shape of a narrow bench, Ethel motioned to him. “Come, sit!” He did, and the two of them settled down atop the leaves, some of which crackled, while others slipped.
“Did you do this with the leaves when you were growing up?” Viktor asked.
Ethel nodded. She was picking up leaves, one by one, examining them, crumbling some of the driest ones, and bending the ones that were holding tight to their green-ness this way and that, testing their flexibility. “What we liked best was to cover the whole floor with a thick layer. Then we’d lie on them for hours, like they were a featherbed and look up at the sky.”
“There must have been more leaves then – or did you do that later in the fall?”
Ethel laughed, remembering it. “No, we didn’t wait. We couldn’t wait. As soon as the leaves began falling, we’d bring a rake along with us, and collect all the fallen leaves around this tree. Sometimes for a long ways in all directions. Then we’d put them in baskets we’d brought with us– we came prepared! – and haul them up to the top of the ladder with a rope and dump them out here, and spread them all around.”
“Quite the production!” Viktor said, laughing, too. He loved watching her when she told these stories of her childhood, as she often did when they were up here in the treehouse. She really came alive out in the big beech. Although the treehouse was barely ten feet above the forest floor, it was as if Ethel was transported even higher, into some divine realm free of all domestic cares, or worries about family matters. Not that Ethel ever really seemed weighed down to him, not the way others in the family often did, but here she was even lighter. When he was with her in this spot, Viktor understood why her brother and parents had felt the need to tether their dear, ethereal Ethel, lest she float away, up into the heavens, and never return.
Sitting with her now, Viktor suddenly began to wonder about that tethering.
“Ethel,” he asked thoughtfully, “do you ever feel that your parents, or Hans even, have kept you from being yourself?” He had turned to face her, and his serious question surprised her.
“What do you mean?” she asked, even though she grasped what he meant right away.
“I mean… you’re so full of joy and life. I see it so clearly up here in the treehouse. You’re like a beacon of happiness here. Even in the way you swept up the leaves.”
“And I’m not full of life when I’m not up here?” she asked, with a light tone and a slight teasing smile she hoped would mask her emotion, the love she felt so strongly for the man beside her.
Viktor shook his head and, smiling, wagged his finger at her. “Don’t try to trip me up, now! That’s not what I meant at all.”
Ethel took his hand and tapped it against his leg. “I know. I was just teasing you, Viktor.”
He laid his other hand atop hers. “But I asked in all seriousness, Ethel,” he continued. “Because I see your quilts. And how close to God you are. I think you’re the one in the family who most believes in God.”
“Why are you bringing this up, all of a sudden?” Ethel scrutinized his face. The two of them hadn’t ever discussed the question of faith, even after the argument about it when Ewald was visiting. That was probably because of the to-do that the discussion caused that day when Hans had left the table.
Viktor shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure of the answer himself. He hadn’t planned to bring it up. “I just see how full of the divine you are, Ethel. And I remember how – that day when your Uncle Ewald was still here and we were talking about God and why he doesn’t stop us from doing certain things, even if they’re bad for us. I saw it then in you”
“I remember that conversation well,” Ethel said with a nod. “And Hans asked me whether I believed God could heal you if only you believed enough. Is that what you’re thinking of?”
“Yes, but not just that. You talked about how we all have free will. Because …. I think you said it’s because God wants us to learn for ourselves what’s right and wrong.”
“I do think that. I don’t remember exactly what I said that day.”
“I do,” Viktor told her, squeezing her hand. “You said that God is always around us, giving us signs that He’s there, and showing us the way. The right way. Helping us choose.”
“Yes. Even if He can’t stop us from walking off a cliff. That’s the phrase Hans used, isn’t it?”
“I think so. Something like that.”
“But, Viktor, dear, why did you want to talk about that now? And here?”
Viktor turned and looked out through the branches that formed the pillars of the railing that ran around the treehouse.
“I guess,” he began slowly, “because I see how light a spirit you are, and I want you never to lose your connection to God.”
“But why would I lose it?” Ethel asked him, a confused frown forming on her face.
“I saw how hard it was for you when Hans disagreed with you. You had this beautiful idea and hope and belief, and he did his best to crush it.” He waved his hand to encompass the treehouse around them. “But here. Here, Ethel. This is your pure element, where you’re surrounded by God. Where no one would dare tell you not to believe in that. At least I hope they wouldn’t. I wouldn’t.”
Ethel was so surprised by the turn the conversation had taken that she didn’t even know where to start with a reply. So she just looked at Viktor and allowed her hand to rest in his, and to feel the love for him that rested so strongly in her heart.
“And I would never want you to walk off a cliff,” Viktor went on, his voice very earnest now.
“A cliff? What cliff?” Ethel asked, feeling a bit exasperated. “Viktor, what are you talking about?”
Silently, Viktor pulled his right hand free and began brushing aside some of the leaves in the pile that lay between them. Then he stopped and motioned to Ethel. “Go on,” he told her, indicating that she was to keep brushing the leaves away.
She did so, and after a moment, she came upon a small, dark gray, cloth bag with a drawstring closure. She looked to Viktor, still confused. He motioned to her to pick it up.
“Go on, look inside,” he urged her.
Ethel picked up the bag, which was light as air in her hand, and slowly loosened the drawstring. First she peered into the opening, but since she couldn’t see anything, and could only feel that there was something rather solid, but light inside, she tipped the bag upside down above her palm. She had to give it a bit of a shake, and when she did this, something small and wooden fell into her hand. She realized right away that it was a ring, and she brought it up to her face to get a closer look. Carved of light wood, with a band the width of the nail on her pinky finger, it had been sanded to silky smoothness. But it wasn’t just a plain band: A carved flower nestled amongst delicate leaves rose up from one edge.
“I carved it from a piece of a fallen branch, from beneath this tree,” Viktor told her quietly. “Since this tree means so much to you.” He paused and took her free hand in his. “And since you mean so much to me.”
Ethel was quite literally speechless, captivated by the beauty of the little wooden ring, and overwhelmed by the surge of joy that was rising up in her.
Viktor, seeing that Ethel didn’t know how to proceed, gently picked the ring up from her palm. “Can we see if it fits?” he asked, and when Ethel nodded silently, he slipped it onto the ring finger on her right hand.
“How did you get it just the right size?” Ethel asked in amazement, having found her voice.
“That’s a woodworker’s secret,” Viktor whispered, leaning down and kissing her hand. “Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful,” Ethel whispered back. “I can’t even imagine how you made it.”
“With love,” Viktor told her, somewhat embarrassed by his show of emotion. “I love you, Ethel,” he went on. “Am I wrong in thinking you feel the same way?”
Ethel shook her head and smiled, as tears began flowing down her cheeks. “I love you, too, Viktor.” It felt so wonderful to say this to him, after all the times she had said the words in her thoughts.
Viktor turned so that he was sitting cross-legged before her. “If that’s the case,” he said, “then, will you marry me?”
“Yes, yes. Oh, yes, of course!” Ethel told him, her arms around his neck now, and her head resting on his shoulder as she allowed her tears to flow freely now.
Viktor stroked her hair with one hand, taking in the sweet scent of her hair and the joy that filled him, too. After a minute, he turned his head and found her lips with his. Their first kiss as a betrothed couple.
They sat up in the treehouse for a while after that, watching as the sun got lower in the sky. Ethel was leaning against Viktor, his arm around her shoulders. For a bit, neither of them spoke, each taking in the love that flowed through them, and the divine love they felt coming more strongly now from the forest around them.
Then Ethel, her head still on Viktor’s shoulder, remembered something he’d said earlier. “Viktor, tell me: Why did you mention all that about free will? And the cliff?” She felt him shrug.
“I didn’t intend to talk about that,” he told her. “It’s just that I wanted to ask you to marry me up here, in this most heavenly spot in this divine forest you love. That we both love!”
“But that doesn’t explain the cliff,” Ethel persisted.
Viktor felt a little sheepish, but he answered her. “Well, I wanted to ask you in this spot, because this is where you feel closest to God. And since you believe God guides us along the right path, I was hoping you’d feel guided by God to give whatever answer was best for you. To decide with your own free will.”
“Even if that was a ‘No’?” Ethel asked. She lifted her head off his shoulder, so that she could look at his face.
“Yes,” he told her, facing her now, too. “If marrying me would mean that you were jumping off a cliff, then I wanted God to tell you that now, so that you could refuse me. Because I don’t ever want to lead you off a cliff, Ethel.”
Ethel shook her head and looked at him, hoping that he could see all the love she felt for him. “No, Viktor. I don’t feel God’s telling me there’s any cliff up ahead with you. Just love. That’s the way it feels to me. I’ve never felt so happy in my life.”
Viktor wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her close. “As God is my witness, Ethel, I don’t want to ever tether you to the earth the way I saw Hans do. I want you always to feel as light and free and happy as you feel here tonight.”
* * *
Ethel was feeling a bit anxious when she went back into the house that night, after accepting Viktor’s proposal. When Ethel came in from the yard, Renate was laying a towel over a bowl of bread dough on the counter for its overnight rise. Ethel approached her mother from behind, but said nothing, not knowing quite what to say. But, hearing her, Renate turned around and looked her up and down, barely able to conceal a smile whose origin Ethel couldn’t surmise.
“Well,” Renate asked in a jolly tone, “what do you have to say for yourself, Ethel, dear?”
At a loss for words, Ethel simply stretched her right hand out toward her mother. Renate noticed the trembling fingers and immediately grasped her daughter’s hand. First she brought it up to her lips. Then, smiling now without trying to hide it, she leaned over to study the beechwood ring on Ethel’s finger.
“Mama,” Ethel said quietly, with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, “Viktor asked me to marry him.” She held her breath, waiting to hear what her mother would say.
Renate took her time responding. She realized this was perhaps not the kindest way to treat Ethel, since it left the young woman in doubt for long, long seconds, but this was a big moment, and Renate wanted to dramatize it as much as possible. After all, there seemed to be so few occasions these days for big bursts of happiness in their lives. So, she peered at the ring, and then up at Ethel’s face, and then back at the ring. Finally, she squeezed her daughter’s hand.
“Well, I hope you said yes!” she replied, beaming now.
Ethel threw her arms around her mother, grateful that Renate approved of the engagement. Now she could let her tears out, and her breath, too.
“I did, Mama!” Ethel burst out. “I did!”
As the two women were hugging each other and swaying in a joyful dance, Ulrich walked into the kitchen.
“What’s all the commotion about?” he asked, smiling, too, but acting as if he knew nothing.
“Our Ethel’s engaged,” Renate told him, lifting Ethel’s hand up to show him the ring.
“Papa, look!” Ethel said. “Viktor made it for me, out of wood from the beech tree the treehouse is in.”
Ulrich inspected the ring, turning Ethel’s hand this way and that, with dramatized seriousness, as if he were a jeweler taking the measure of a rare and expertly-cut diamond.
“Lovely work,” he said finally, and he clasped her hands in his. “He’s a good man, Ethel. He’ll do right by you.”
“I think so, too, Papa. I know so.” She hugged her father, too, noticing a look of happiness and peace on his face that she hadn’t seen for many years.
She also noticed that neither of her parents looked the least bit surprised.
“Did you know he was going to propose?” she asked them.
Renate and Ulrich exchanged glances, as if deciding who should be the one to tell her.
“He came to me yesterday,” Ulrich said. “Asked me for your hand. Once I said I’d be very happy to have him as my son-in-law – as long as you agreed, of course –” Here Ethel laughed. “- he showed me the ring. Asked whether it would be an insult to give you this instead of a traditional ring.”
“And what did you tell him?” Ethel asked.
“That I thought it couldn’t be more perfect.”
“Oh, Papa, you’re right!” And she began pointing out this or that detail of the ring to her parents, marveling at the beauty of the design, and at how it was both delicate and sturdy at the same time.
“An engagement ring should be just like this,” Renate told her. “It should be just like your love for each other: beautiful enough to inspire you to make each other happy, and strong enough to weather everything you’ll have to go through together.”
* * *
So, as it turned out, the news of Viktor and Ethel’s engagement came as no surprise to anyone but Hans. He noticed the ring on Ethel’s finger at breakfast the next morning.
“What’s that, Ethel?” he asked, reaching across the table to take her hand.
Ethel looked over at Viktor, seated on Hans’ left, but he encouraged her with a tip of his head. Their news was hers to share.
“Well,” Ethel said, for some reason smoothing her apron with her free hand and then looking at the ring herself once more before continuing, “Viktor asked me to marry him last night. And I said yes!”
Hans’ jaw literally dropped open. He turned to Viktor, his eyes squinting in disbelief. He looked like he was hoping Viktor would deny it.
“It’s true,” Viktor told him. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”
Hans looked to his mother’s face, and then his father’s.
“Did you two know about this?” he asked, his tone accusatory.
Is he upset we didn’t tell him earlier? Or about the engagement itself? That’s the question they were all asking themselves.
Renate, wanting to calm the turbulent waters they could all feel rising inside Hans, quickly answered. “Now, Hans,” she began, immediately realizing she’d chosen the wrong words. Now, Hans… She knew he hated when she began sentences that way, because it meant she didn’t agree with whatever opinion he was voicing. Striving to salvage the situation, she forged ahead, using a different tack.
“Ethel just told us last night,” she told him, “after you’d already gone up to bed.”
Hans sighed audibly, looking from one to the other of them. Ethel was beaming. Their parents had donned subdued expressions, but Hans could tell they were happy about it, too. Viktor was keeping his mouth shut. Smart man, Hans thought. He’ll fit in well with the Gassmanns. Even as this thought came into his head, Hans didn’t yet realize that he was already distancing himself from the family. His family. Now they weren’t “us Gassmanns”, but, rather, “the Gassmanns”. I’m on the outside. Yet again. That thought came into his head, too. Along with, They couldn’t bother telling me. But, at the same time, he wasn’t yet ready to relinquish his lifelong role as Ethel’s closest ally, as her protector.
“I’d like to talk to you later,” he said to Viktor. “I have a few questions for you.” He was trying to strike a tone that would show Viktor that he had something of a say in his sister’s future. That Viktor would have to satisfy both Ulrich and him if Ethel was going to be allowed to marry him.
Ethel did not take his words the right way at all. “Hans!” she whispered as if no one else at the table could hear her. “Stop. You’re embarrassing me. Viktor already talked to Papa, before he proposed to me.”
Ulrich nodded and was about to speak, but Hans held his hand up.
“I’m your older brother. I should have the chance to discuss this with the man who wants to marry you.”
Now Ethel tossed her napkin onto the table. She opened her mouth to speak, but Renate quickly laid her hand on Ethel’s and squeezed it. This was the motion she had always used to signal to her children that they were going off the rails in a conversation. But she hadn’t had to use in years, not since they’d been little. What’s going on with them? she asked herself. First Hans last month, and now Ethel…
Renate would have squeezed Hans’ hand, too, but Viktor was in the way: His seat at the table was next to Hans, while she was seated to Viktor’s right, at the end of the table. But, after his six months living with the Gassmanns, Viktor possessed keen enough insight into the various family members, that he’d anticipated Hans would react this way to the news. The evening before, in the treehouse, he even thought of suggesting to Ethel that she share their news with Hans right away, so that he wouldn’t feel left out. But she was so giddy with happiness when he proposed to her, that Viktor didn’t have the heart to dampen her high spirits by trying to guide the situation. Besides, he figured Renate would be equally aware of the possibility that Hans might feel left out, and would make sure Ethel confided in her brother before bed. A second line of defense. Evidently, though, Renate, too, was overcome by the high spirits of the occasion. And the news came to light in a clumsy way. No problem, Viktor thought. I can still make this right.
“It’s fine, Ethel,” Viktor said calmly, looking at his fiancée and nodding gently to her when she seemed on the verge of continuing her protest. Then he turned to Hans and went on.
“I’ll be happy to sit down with you. It’s natural that you feel protective of her. If Ethel were my sister, I’d want to do just the same.”
Hans nodded and pressed his lips together, an expression that said, Yes. That’s good. This is the way men who respect each other act.
“Later on, then,” he said to Viktor, and clapped him on the shoulder.
Now that the crisis was averted, everyone could all turn their attention back to their rolls and cheese and coffee. The conversation shifted to lighter topics. When Viktor happened to glance in Renate’s direction a minute later, she gave a barely perceptible nod and a quick blink, showing her appreciation that he had salvaged the meal. We’re going to do well together, Mr. Bunke, Renate thought to herself.
Renate was genuinely happy that Viktor had proposed to Ethel. It was clear that he doted on her, and although they hadn’t known each other long, certainly not as long as she and Ulrich had been acquainted before getting engaged, she felt this would be a good step, both for Ethel and for the family. Viktor had shown himself to be a good worker. More than good, even. He’d grown so connected to the forestry work since he came: Ulrich had even remarked to her that it was as if it was in the young man’s blood. Renate could see how much this pleased her husband, especially since Hans showed no interest in the forest itself. As we’ve noted before, Ulrich’s melancholy had noticeably eased since Viktor’s arrival, and Viktor himself had grown more open and joyful as he worked alongside Ulrich and his connection to the forest deepened.
Renate had noticed the atmosphere in the home growing lighter these past six months, too. Seeing everyone else’s growing happiness, she, too, grew more at ease, and when she gave Ethel her assent for Viktor’s courtship, that felt like just the right move: Reflecting on Ethel’s giddy delight at her engagement, and Viktor’s considerate treatment of Hans at breakfast, Renate concluded that this current state of the Gassmann household was a clear sign from God that she’d taken the right approach in her carefully-planned management of the family. She even sighed with relief, thinking about the engagement and what this meant for the future here on the Gassmann homestead. She’d learned from Ulrich that Viktor no longer had any family left. That means he and Ethel won’t be moving away, back to any Bunke family home. They’ll marry, there’ll be children… The Gassmann homestead will become the Gassmann-Bunke homestead. Renate felt such joy rise up in her at the mere thought of it…True, as she contemplated the various ways her daughter’s marriage would affect life there at home, Renate did feel a faint undercurrent of unease where Hans was concerned, but she pushed it away. I must be sensing some holdover from last month’s kerfluffle. That’ll pass, too.
* * *
Viktor had begun considering how to deal with Hans late the previous evening, after Ethel accepted his proposal. Imagining that Ethel must already have told her brother, Viktor pondered the question as he lay in his bed in the room off the workshop. He did his best to put himself in Hans’ position, to see the various reasons Ethel’s brother might view their engagement as a threat to himself and his position in the family. Viktor, like Renate, had felt tension in Hans during the past month. Also like Renate, he attributed most of Hans’ prickliness to the awkward suppertime discussion about God that they’d all endured during Ewald’s visit. Unlike Renate, though, Viktor also saw that other factors were contributing to the chip his future brother-in-law seemed to have on his shoulder.
He’d seen Hans tense when Ulrich praised Viktor’s work. And there was the afternoon when Ulrich and Viktor emerged from the woods, laughing and high-spirited after a day spent soaking up the trees’ heavenliness as they worked. They met Hans as he came out of the workshop. At the sight of them, his placid expression shifted, and he greeted them with a dour countenance. This wasn’t the last time this kind of scene played out, and so, then – at the beginning of the summer – Viktor began approaching his interactions with Hans with extra care and forethought.
Here was Viktor’s dilemma: How could he establish a good relationship with Hans, while also strengthening his connection with Ulrich? Good relations with Ulrich were absolutely key, if he was to fit in here over the long term. (He began considering all of this right from the start, long before he even considered trying to court Ethel, but once he made up his mind to woo her, he knew that cultivating good terms with her father and brother could only help…)
Looking at all of this from the outside, it might seem that Viktor had sought – and was continuing to seek – to actively manipulate both Hans and Ulrich, so that he could reach his goal of a long-term job at the Gassmann homestead. Indeed, he was striving for this goal. At least that had been his objective at the beginning. And really, Is there anything wrong with that? After all, for the first time in his life, Viktor had landed in a spot where he had good work amongst good people. He wasn’t about to let that slip away through inattention, or because he overlooked something in the relationships. Thus, he felt he had to not only utilize his powers of observation and intuition, but hone them.
When Viktor began falling in love with Ethel, though, the situation grew more complicated. Yes, doing the best job he could do, both in the forest and the workshop, was still paramount for him. But Ethel gradually came to occupy an equally important place in his life. There was his work on the Gassmann homestead, and there was Ethel, and he felt he couldn’t do without either of them. He pushed aside worrying thoughts that sometimes came into his head: that Ethel’s family might suspect him of courting her as a way of solidifying his work position.
When this concern finally made its way fully into his head, Viktor, for the first time in his life, actually examined his motives with a critical eye. He reflected on all of this one summer afternoon in the woods. He was taking a break from cutting down a thick spruce. Ulrich had gone back to the workshop and left him to his task. As he sat there, his back against another spruce, he realized how others might view his interest in Ethel. This awareness was a gift of insight from the divinely-infused forest around him. And a question formed inside his heart: Do I really feel this way about her, or is this just a ploy?
It was a moment of deep honesty for Viktor. He felt a chill run through his body. Whether it flowed up into him from the spruce behind him, or whether the cold originated in his heart and was now streaming out and down into the forest floor beneath him, he couldn’t tell. But as it flowed, he realized, for the first time ever, the extent to which he had spent his life jockeying for position, employing ploys: sensing what others wanted and giving it to them so that he could gain a measure of security for himself. His had been a lifetime of doing things that he maybe didn’t even really want to do. He could see this now. It horrified him. What do I want? he asked himself. What do others want of me? Can I even tell the difference?
How terrifying it was for him to come face to face with these thoughts! It was as if his entire life had been called into question. And it wasn’t just the realization of how he had lived up until now that horrified Viktor. No. Now that he knew what he knew, he had to make a decision: How do I live from now on? How do I know what I really want? And then the next thought: Do I really have the right to move toward what I do want?
At this moment, Viktor was grateful for Ulrich’s absence, since it gave him time to ponder. But at the same time, part of him wished the other man would come back, so that he could put off trying to solve this dilemma he’d uncovered. But Ulrich didn’t come back. Viktor, leaning against the spruce, which seemed to be linking him to the divine power of the heavens, found himself also resting his palms against the forest floor, so that he could feel the earth and its power, too. Help me, Lord, he mouthed silently. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to notice the energies flowing into him from, as it seemed to him now, two directions.
Gradually, his breathing slowed, and after a bit, he noticed that all his anxiety and fear had drained out and away from him. In their place, he now felt deep peace and calm. Joy. And a strong feeling of love in his heart. Love for the forest and the trees, for this place on earth where he now found himself. But the love he felt most strongly… that was his love for Ethel.
This love was so profound in him that Viktor knew it was genuine. That it was his. That he really felt it, and could trust it. He knew then for certain, that his motivation for courting Ethel was pure. He could move forward now without doubting himself. He hoped this would be the start of a new way of approaching life: He would strive to feel in his own heart what it felt right to do, and then to do that. To deal honestly with others, to take note and care of other’s wishes, but without manipulating them. No more ploys, he vowed as he sat there anchored firmly between heaven and earth.
But Viktor’s determination to be keenly aware of what both he and those around him were feeling, actually had an unintended consequence: It led him into what we could characterize as a double life. While working in the forest with Ulrich, he gave full rein to expressing his genuine love of the trees and his growing affection for his employer. But when Hans was around, Viktor dialed back the intensity of his enthusiasm, so as to not cause tension between father and son, or son and himself. He also allowed his true inclinations to come out when he was speaking with Ethel, and even, though in a more subdued form, with her mother.
The upshot of this was that, while Ulrich, Renate, and Ethel saw before them a jovial, open, and strong young man who was full of joy for the natural world and for those whom he held in affection, Hans – although he didn’t consciously think about this – felt that he was working with a man who had a habit of keeping everything inside. Not that their whole family didn’t do this, but Hans was confused: He saw his family members treating Viktor with a kindness and affection he himself didn’t understand. What is there in this man to be so fond of? The two of them hadn’t formed a close bond, despite working together for months now, not even a friendship, really, and Hans began to wonder whether he was missing something that all the others saw. Or whether he was seeing the real Viktor Bunke.
As it turns out, all of them were seeing the real Viktor Bunke, just different sides of him. And although Viktor did manage to avoid seeming overly fond of Ulrich and Renate and Ethel in Hans’ presence, this duplicity didn’t feel right to him in his heart. He wondered whether the fact that he was – as he saw it – less himself when Hans was around, caused the others to doubt his sincere affection for them. He didn’t see any signs of this in his interactions with Ulrich or Renate, and certainly not with Ethel, but it weighed on him. He didn’t want to have to dampen the joy inside him around Hans, just because he felt it was crucial for relations between them to be good. Viktor didn’t see the irony of this: that his careful attempts to avoid giving Hans cause to fear that he was trying to usurp the other man’s position in the family actually caused Hans to feel more and more of an outsider in his very own home.
The engagement brought everything to a head for Hans. Upon discovering, that November morning, that everyone but him already knew that Viktor had proposed to Ethel, and that she had accepted, Hans felt he had been suddenly and violently and permanently shoved outside his family circle. Certainly, he knew how things were decided around here: His parents were the decision-makers, giving a thumbs up or thumbs down on any matter of importance, i.e., one that would affect the whole family. Hans had long ago accepted that way of doing things. But upon seeing Ethel’s ring, he suddenly suspected that the whole system had been controverted. That was why he asked his parents whether they’d known about the engagement. Later on, he wished he hadn’t posed the question, because it seemed to him too revealing of his true feelings: To Hans, this engagement represented the final step in Viktor’s gradual invasion of his family. First he won Ulrich over, then Renate, and now, Ethel. Now there’ll be no getting rid of him.
As we know, Viktor foresaw that Hans would feel left out if Ethel didn’t tell him of their engagement right away. When he heard Hans’ question at the breakfast table, Viktor kicked himself for not discussing with Ethel about how to handle telling Hans. What he felt was a combination of frustration with himself at mishandling the situation, and a genuine desire to be on good terms with his future brother-in-law. It was this feeling that led him to immediately express his willingness to talk with Hans. It would have been better if they’d avoided this awkwardness in the first place. But what’s done is done, Viktor told himself. Now go make it right.
* * *
After spending the morning in the forest with Ulrich, Viktor sought out Hans. He found him in the workshop, where he was planing a piece of wood for a table leg. Viktor stood for a moment, just inside the door, watching Hans rhythmically lean forward and then straighten up, as he pushed the plane along the wood and then drew it back, brushing aside the thin, curling wisps of wood so he could see his path clearly for the next round. Viktor knew Hans had caught sight of him out of the corner of his eye, but Viktor didn’t want to disturb him in the midst of this delicate work. So, he sat down on a stool at the workbench at the far end of the room and waited until Hans leaned back and reached over to set the plane down on the workbench.
“You could have told me, you know,” Hans said, speaking even before he turned toward Viktor. “No one in this family tells me anything.” He brushed some sawdust off his forearms and then turned to look at Viktor. “Not that you’re family,” he added snidely, without giving Viktor a change to reply. “Not yet.”
Viktor stayed seated, surmising that if he stood up, Hans would perceive this as a challenge. Don’t take the bait. “No,” he said calmly. “I’ll never be family.” Good to tell him that.
“But you want to be, right?” Hans asked in a clipped voice. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing? Worming your way into everyone’s affections here? First my father’s, then my sister’s?”
“Hans, I…” Viktor began, but Hans interrupted him.
“It’s a nice setup here, isn’t it? We’re all so nice, except for me, of course. I was on to you from the start.”
Viktor could tell that there was no point in trying to rebut anything Hans was saying. He was too upset to be able to take anything in right now. Besides, Viktor had the sense that if he took even a single step forward, Hans would immediately strike him. And that would be hard to walk back. So, Viktor stayed seated and let Hans have his say.
Now Hans walked right up to Viktor, who was still seated on the stool, his right knee bent and his foot on one of the stool’s rungs. To Hans, he looked relaxed, cavalier, even. Bastard! Hans thought. He doesn’t give a damn!
“No one even thought to ask me,” Hans went on. He was standing right in front of Viktor, and he slapped his palm against his own chest, emphasizing the words as he spoke. “Me, who has taken care of Ethel since she was a little girl. I was the one who made sure she was always okay, that she never got hurt. Spent all those hours, days even, with her in the treehouse.” He paused and shook his head, then let out an exasperated laugh. “And now,” he said, looking Viktor in the eye, “she thinks she can take care of herself. So does my father, evidently. Good God!” He looked away now and, hands on his hips, strode back to the workbench. He placed his hands on the edge of the bench and leaned forward, head down, tapping one toe. He stayed like that for a bit, then spun around and walked back to Viktor. Raising one hand before Viktor’s face, as if he were about to hit him, he extended his index finger toward Viktor and said, in a low and angry voice, “If you do a single thing to hurt her, Bunke, you’ll have to answer to me. Do you understand?”
Viktor, doing his best to maintain a calm demeanor, despite his inner desire to defend himself, both verbally and physically, simply nodded.
“I gather that you asked my father for her hand before you proposed?” Hans was a bit less agitated now.
Viktor nodded again.
“But you didn’t think to confide in me. Me, your future brother-in-law.” Hans gave his head a disgusted shake.
What can I say to that? Viktor thought. Better to say nothing than to start explaining myself. Is he hurt that I never brought the topic up, never let on that I was in love with Ethel?
“To tell the truth, Hans,” Viktor said finally, “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it. I know how protective you are of Ethel.”
“Damn right!” Hans frowned, then scratched his arm where a bit of sawdust still clung.
“Like I said this morning,” Viktor went on, “I would be, too, in your place.”
“Do you have a sister?” Hans asked, challenging him. “Have you looked out for her?”
“I had a sister,” Viktor told him. That was all he said.
“Then you do know, maybe,” Hans replied, softening a bit. “What it’s like. All I want is for her to be happy.”
“I love her, Hans,” Viktor said, his tone serious and sincere. “All I want is for her to be happy. And safe. Just like you do. I’ll do all I can to make sure she is. We all will,” he added. “I mean, you’re still her brother. Always will be. That won’t change just because she’s getting married. Besides, we’ll still be living here. You’ll be able to keep an eye on us.” He gauged whether a bit of a smile might be in order, and determined that it would. But Hans seemed not to notice.
“Well, actually, it will change,” he said. “I won’t be able to keep an eye on her. Or you.” He’d pursed his lips and was looking over toward the workbench now, instead of at Viktor.
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is, I’m not going to be around here much longer.” Now he turned to face Viktor again.
“Not around much longer? How’s that?” Viktor was the one frowning now.
Hans let out a big sigh and stood up straighter. “I’m going to Illinois, to work with my uncle Ewald.”
At this, Viktor let out a long whistle. “For a while? Or forever?”
“Seems like it’ll be forever.”
“But why?” Viktor asked, although he didn’t much expect that Hans would give him an answer.
“What, now that we’re going to be brothers-in-law, you think suddenly I’m going to tell you all my secret thoughts and desires?” Hans smirked.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all,” Viktor told him. In fact, his mind had begun to race, full of questions about the business and how they’d carry on without Hans. “Does Ulrich know?” he asked.
“You two are so close,” Hans said sarcastically, looking Viktor in the eye. “I’d think you’d already know the answer to that question.” With that, he turned and strode out the side entrance of the workshop, pulling the door closed behind him with just enough force that it banged, but not loudly enough that you could call it a slam.
Viktor sat motionless on the stool for several minutes, as if rooted to the spot. Here, he’d come out to make things right with Hans, but he seemed to have failed completely. He hadn’t even gotten a clear idea of how Hans felt about him marrying Ethel, or even about him personally, for that matter. But he had learned that one bit of crucial information. Leaving for Illinois to join Ewald? That came as a total shock.
Viktor wondered whether he’d missed any clues in the past month. He’d been so caught up in everything to do with Ethel and proposing to her that he hadn’t paid much attention to Hans, aside from the projects they were working on together. Damn it. Great job he’d done of cultivating a relationship with his future brother-in-law.
As he thought over their conversation now, Viktor wished Hans had never told him about his plans. Did Ulrich know? To be honest, Viktor had felt a sting at Hans’ remark about his closeness to Ulrich. Wouldn’t Ulrich have told him what Hans was planning, if he knew himself? Damn it. Now he was in a difficult spot. Do I mention it to Ulrich or not? It’s not my family. Not yet, anyway. Which means, it’s not my business. But it’s not entirely not my business, either… I’m damned if I ask Ulrich about it, and damned if I don’t. And now Viktor realized that Hans was pleased to have put his not-yet-brother-in-law in this difficult position by telling him a secret. Holy hell.
* * *
They set the wedding for June 11th, the Sunday after Pentecost. This would give enough them time to make arrangements for the church in Bockhorn, and for Renate and Ethel to sew the wedding dress and get the trousseau ready. On an early December day, Renate brought up the topic, so that she and Ethel could discuss what all they’d need to make.
“Mama,” Ethel protested, “why bother with that? It’s so old fashioned. It isn’t as if I’m moving away, to his family’s home. Viktor will just be moving into the house. I’ll even be in the same room!”
Renate shook her head. “But Ethel, we need to do things the right way.”
“Who are we trying to impress, Mama?” Ethel protested again.
They were talking while making supper in the kitchen, and at this question from Ethel, Renate set the pot of stew she was about to warm up onto the stove, wiped her hands on a towel, and turned to her daughter.
“It’s not about impressing anyone, Ethel. It’s about starting you and Viktor off on your married life in a beautiful way. You’re beginning a whole new stage of life, and everything about it should be very special and new.”
Ethel nodded. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. And it’s true – I am excited to make a quilt for us.”
“See?” Renate said, smiling, and running her hand over her daughter’s blond hair. “It’s not just a regular day, and we don’t want to treat it that way. We want to celebrate in every way possible.”
“All right, then,” Ethel told her, acquiescing.
“Heavens, child,” her mother remarked, turning back to the stove, “you must be the first girl in the history of the world not to care about a new nightgown for her wedding night.”
Ethel laughed, but said nothing. Her mother was right: She really didn’t care about the nightgown or towels or sheets, or even the wedding dress, if you came right down to it. She knew that Viktor loved her for the person she was, not for any trappings she might adorn herself with. The two of them would be happy to live in the treehouse with a bed and blanket of leaves. They didn’t really need anything other than each other.
* * *
That night in bed, Renate related her conversation with Ethel to Ulrich.
“Like mother, like daughter,” he told her, smiling as he thought back to their own engagement.
Renate objected. “What do you mean? I wasn’t like that!”
Ulrich nodded. “You certainly were. How can you have forgotten? Lorena was going on and on about what she and your mother were going to make for your trousseau, what embroidery patterns they’d use, where they’d get the silk for your dress – “
“I don’t recall any of this!” Renate objected again. “You’re making it up. My dress was made of cotton.”
“And where they’d get the silk for your dress…” Ulrich went on. “And you – “ he held up his hand playfully to silence Renate, who was about to protest once more.
“And you said that you wouldn’t have any of that talk, because none of it mattered. It was too frivolous to spend time and money making fancy dresses everyone would wear only once, and embroidering sheets no one but you and me would see.” Ulrich raised one eyebrow and waited for Renate’s response.
She pursed her lips, so as not to laugh, then raised her chin and replied haughtily, “It was frivolous. And my dress was not made of silk!”
“I know. I remember that very well, too. You told your mother you’d be just as happy to get married in a cotton flour sack.”
Here Renate couldn’t contain herself anymore, and a smile spread across her face.
“So yes,” Ulrich said, “your dress wasn’t silk, but it wasn’t a flour sack, either.”
“That’s right,” Renate relented, taking his hand in her two. “Mama’s a good negotiator. She realized I wouldn’t accept silk, so cotton was the compromise.”
Ulrich nodded. “Yes. That’s exactly the way you originally told the story to me. Funny that you didn’t remember that when Ethel started down the same road.”
Renate gave him a sly smile. “I didn’t want to remember, silly. I knew I was happy with the cotton dress. Maybe I’d even have been happy with silk in the end. Who knows?”
“Cotton was perfect,” her husband replied, pulling her to him. “Come to think of it now, though, the flour sack would have been even more perfect. You bake so much, you’re as good as covered with flour most days, anyway!”
The two of them, married now for a bit more than twenty years, laughed at this memory. Ethel, who heard their merry voices from her room above theirs, smiled, too, imagining how she and Viktor would be just as joyful and in love twenty years hence.
Sue Downing 