Chapter 25
1921
Gassmann homestead
It was early December now, and Viktor had spent the past couple of weeks carrying around the bombshell Hans had dropped on him: the news that he was planning to leave Germany for America and join his Uncle Ewald in Illinois. During this period, Viktor’s intuition and powers of observation were working overtime: He was constantly studying Ulrich’s expressions and mining each word in every conversation, in hopes of learning whether Hans’ father knew of his plans. But Ulrich was a man a few words in his most garrulous moments, and not prone to sharing personal thoughts or concerns. After a week of waiting for Ulrich to reveal on his own what he did or didn’t know of Hans’ intentions, Viktor realized, reluctantly, that he might have to come out and ask his future father-in-law about it. But this would be a big step. How to decide what to do?
Ulrich had spoken to Viktor on numerous occasions about receiving guidance from the trees. This was something Ulrich did talk about. In fact, he was at his most philosophical and open when speaking about the way the trees communicate and share God’s love with us. Receiving the trees’ guidance at this moment when he really needed it appealed to Viktor. But Ulrich never spoke explicitly about how he went about asking the trees for guidance. So Viktor wasn’t quite sure how to go about requesting assistance. Then, one day, when he was out in the forest on his own, hunting, he recalled the afternoon when he’d leaned against the spruce and had the big revelation about how he had lived his life up until now, and how he wanted to live it from now on. He happened to be in a spruce grove at that moment, so he once again sat down and leaned back against one of the older trees in that part of the forest.
He thought back to his experience with that other spruce tree. What did I do then? he asked himself, but nothing came to mind. I was just sitting there, thinking, and then I got an insight. Maybe you can’t consciously ask the trees for help and get it… But that’s what Ulrich seems to do. Might as well try…
Viktor closed his eyes and settled back against the tree trunk. After a minute or so, it seemed to him that he was feeling something in his back: a bit of warmth, maybe even some tingling. But he couldn’t be sure. “Dear tree,” he found himself saying, in a quiet voice, “please help me know what to do”. He stopped. Talking out loud to a tree? Ridiculous! Suddenly feeling embarrassed, he was about to stand up and get on with his hunting. Then he remembered the way Ethel had hugged the big beech tree trunk when they were up in the treehouse. But that’s Ethel, not me. As he was thinking this thought, his back began to feel warmer, and he definitely felt his back tingle, noticeably now. Could this be a sign? From the tree?? He waited to see what would happen. The sensations persisted, and he concluded that this might be the spruce’s way of encouraging him. In for a penny, in for a pound…
“Dear tree,” he said again, a bit more loudly now, “please help me know. Should I ask Ulrich whether he knows Hans’ plans, or just wait for him to bring it up?” Then he waited. The warmth and tingling grew stronger. Viktor realized that this must be an answer to his question, but was it a Yes or a No? How could he tell what the warmth and tingling meant? He frowned and then decided to ask again, two separate questions.
“Dear tree,” he began, “should I ask Ulrich whether he knows?”
He waited, and before long, he felt a pulsing warmth and new tingling, this time in his feet. There was also a calm feeling inside him. Is this a Yes? He proceeded with the second question.
“Dear tree, should I just stay silent and not ask Ulrich?”
Almost as soon as Viktor finished posing the question, he felt the warmth and tingling subside. Thirty seconds passed, and there was no trace of the sensations he’d felt at first. In fact, as he sat there, he noticed that an unpleasant tightness began to creep into his throat, almost as if his airway was being constricted. That must be a No.
Can this really be the way it works? he wondered, the way you get guidance from trees? On the one hand, it seemed insane, but on the other, there was a clear difference in the way he felt when he asked the two questions. This was perhaps the oddest thing he’d ever experienced. But it was also exhilarating, somehow. Thoughts began crowding into his head, rational arguments that wanted to tell him that he was an idiot to put any stock in such a process. But he knew intuitively to turn away from them, because he was feeling a deep calm in his heart. This was the same calm he felt when he asked himself whether he really loved Ethel or not. Intrigued, he wanted to test this method further. But what to ask about? He considered this for a moment, and then inquired further of the tree:
“Dear tree, should I go out on my own in business after Ethel and I are married?”
Instead of warmth and tingling, Viktor felt a strong pain rise up in the back of his neck and travel swiftly down to his chest. It felt as if he’d just been punched in the solar plexus. Definitely a No!
When he asked about whether he should continue to work with Ulrich after the wedding, all the pain flowed away, as if it had simply evaporated, and was replaced by a joyous feeling in his heart, and that now-familiar sense of calm.
Viktor smiled, fully convinced now that what Ulrich had said about asking the trees for guidance was absolutely true. He stood up, turned around, and laid the palm of his right hand against the spruce’s rough bark. “Thank you, friend,” he said. And then, not even caring whether anyone was watching – But who would be watching, out here so deep in the woods, aside from God, maybe? – he wrapped his arms around the spruce and gave it a firm hug. Then he headed off on his way, not yet fully realizing the magnitude of the gift he’d received, the new tool he’d gained.
After receiving what he interpreted as the go-ahead to raise the topic of Hans’ plans with Ulrich, Viktor found himself feeling unsure of when he should ask. Two days after his consultation with the spruce tree, Viktor was seriously considering turning to the trees to pinpoint the right time to approach Ulrich. But then he figured he’d try going by his own intuition. That very afternoon, the two of them were in the wood, cutting the last of the trees they’d marked earlier in the fall to be used for firewood, when Viktor felt an inner urging. All right, let’s go.
“Feels good to be getting these trees down for the winter,” he said, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief, as he and Ulrich laid down the double-handled saw they’d been working with and took a break.
Seated on the forest floor next to an adjacent pine, Ulrich unwrapped a piece of cloth from his pocket and unfolded it to reveal a chunk of Ethel’s cheese and a thick slice of bread. He held it out to Viktor. “Want some?”
Viktor shook his head and, smiling, pulled his own cloth bundle from his shirt pocket. “Those two women take good care of us, don’t they?”
“That’s for certain,” Ulrich replied, as he stacked the farmhouse cheddar atop the bread and took a bite.
“Do you think Hans has his eye on any of the girls in Bockhorn?” Viktor asked. He’d intended to come to the topic of Hans in a more direct way, but this question just popped into his head, so he decided to go with it.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Ulrich said. He sighed and gazed out into the forest before taking another bite of his snack. “I think his tastes run more to Illinois girls.”
“He did make some remark about that when Mr. Walter was visiting, didn’t he?” Viktor smiled, then leaned toward Ulrich. “Can’t see why he’d prefer American German girls. Not at all.”
“Well, of course you wouldn’t,” Ulrich smiled back, although just thinly. “You’ve snagged the very best of the German girls yourself.”
Viktor raised his bread and cheese in a toast. “Now that’s the darn truth!”
After a moment’s silence, Ulrich said, “But if we’re being serious now, Viktor, then you should know I wasn’t joking.”
“About the American German girls?”
“About Illinois.” Ulrich let out a sigh, then stared off into the woods. He continued without turning to face Viktor. “He’s making plans to go there.”
A look of surprise came over Viktor’s face. Not at the news, of course, but at how easily he’d learned what he’d been wondering. So, he does know, Viktor thought. Now the question was whether or not to let on that he knew, too. He paused before answering, and suddenly felt a tingling in his hands. What?? It struck him that this could be guidance from the trees, but how? He hadn’t even asked for help. Even so, he concluded that this was a positive nudge.
“He told me as much, the other week,” Viktor said, in as neutral a tone as he could.
Ulrich immediately shifted his gaze to Viktor. “He did? Now, that’s a surprise.”
Viktor certainly agreed, but he wasn’t quite sure exactly why Ulrich thought so, too.
“The news was a shock to me,” Viktor said. “And that he even told me – that shocked me, too. I’m not sure why he did.”
“Doesn’t make any sense does it? Him going, I mean. Or him telling you, either, to be honest. Nothing against you, son, but Hans hasn’t really taken a liking to you, and he’s not the confiding type, either.”
Choosing not to share his thoughts about Hans strategy in telling him, Viktor simply replied, “No, Sir, it doesn’t make any sense.”
“You’re going to have to stop calling me ‘Sir’ once you’re married to Ethel,” Ulrich told him with a smile.
“Guess so,” Viktor laughed.
Ulrich dug into his bread and cheese. “Say,” he asked after a moment, “if you already knew Hans was leaving, why’d you ask about the Bockhorn girls?”
Viktor shrugged. “I’m not sure. To tell the truth, I wanted to ask you outright whether you knew, but my brain decided otherwise, and I asked about the girls.”
This brought a smile to Ulrich’s face. “I think you’ve got girls – or girl, to be specific – on your mind, Mr. Bunke.”
“You’re right about that,” Viktor agreed. But he also recognized that this was exactly how he might have gone about getting information out of someone in the past, in this somewhat underhanded way, instead of coming right out with a question. He didn’t like that realization about the way his mind was obviously still working, given that he was striving to live free of any ploys now. Okay, then, he told himself. Just keep on the honest track now.
“What he didn’t tell me,” he said to Ulrich, “is why he’s going.”
“Didn’t tell me, either. He just announced it to me. Well, rather, he talked to Ewald first, and then the two of them came to me, right before Ewald left.”
Not knowing the history of Ewald’s own departure, and the damage it did to his relationship with Ulrich, Viktor had no idea what went through Ulrich’s mind when his best friend and his son disclosed their plan to him and asked for his help. But Viktor did feel the sadness that flowed out of Ulrich now, as he talked about Hans and his plans.
“Ewald is working on everything from his end. He’s already sent an invitation to Hans, and submitted whatever other documents need to be put in.” He waved his hand in the air. “I don’t know what all is involved, but Ewald does. He’s handling all he can from there, and I’m helping Hans here.” He took a glance at Viktor. “He’s got to get all kinds of papers together and send them,” he said, by way of explanation. Viktor also detected a shade of relief in Ulrich’s tone. It was as if he was grateful to be able to talk about it with someone. Something suddenly occurred to Viktor.
“Wait, Ulrich… Does Mrs. Gassmann know?”
Ulrich shook his head slowly. “That’s the kicker, Viktor. It’s two months now that we’ve been working on everything, Ewald and Hans and I. All in secret. Trips to the notary and the town hall and the post office in Bockhorn to get copies of records…”
Now Viktor’s face did register surprise, totally genuine surprise. He didn’t know what history had passed between Ewald and Ulrich and Renate, but he intuitively grasped that this was a very delicate situation.
“When will Hans tell her?” he asked as he folded the cloth and stowed it back in his shirt pocket.
“It’s going to have to be soon,” Ulrich told him. “Can’t let it go much longer, not with the holidays coming up. And the wedding.” He managed a weak smile, then added, “But it won’t be Hans.”
“Who, then?” Viktor asked.
“It will have to be me,” Ulrich replied. “There was a lot left unsaid, kept hidden, when Ewald emigrated. Between Renate and me, I mean,” he went on. “I can’t let things play out that way again. Of course, she would be a force to be reckoned with no matter when we told her, but I told Hans it was best to wait until the first paperwork was all done, on Ewald’s end. The further along the plans are, the harder it’ll be for her to derail them.”
“Do you really think she would try to?” Viktor asked, although he knew as the words were leaving his mouth that Renate would certainly be capable of that, if she felt her family was at risk.
“Can’t say. She’s both regular as clockwork and unpredictable at the same time. That doesn’t matter, though. We’re just waiting for Ewald to give us the word that things are proceeding. Should be any day now. Which means it’s time to let Renate in on it.”
“I don’t envy you,” Viktor said simply, and Ulrich understood that this was not a criticism of Renate, but a gesture of support.
“Thank you, son,” Ulrich replied. “And since you’re soon to be a married man yourself, I’ll tell you one thing. Secrets always seem a good idea while you’re keeping them, but never once you’ve told them.”
Viktor could feel the truth of these words in his own stomach. Not mentioning Hans’ plans to Ethel had been hard on him, and it had only been a couple weeks.
“All the same,” Ulrich added, “let’s keep this one between us for now, can we? It’s on me to break the news to Renate.”
Viktor nodded. But as he did so, he felt an unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach. Not as strong as what he felt in the woods the other day, when he asked about setting up his own business and got the “no” answer. But it was an unpleasant feeling, nonetheless.
“It won’t be long now,” Ulrich assured him.
That’s how it came to pass that Viktor ended the day as the keeper of two other men’s secrets. That evening, he sat down on his bed in the larger of the two bedrooms in the workshop and began unlacing his boots. In a way, he reflected now, he’d gotten what he’d wanted ever since arriving six months earlier: He was truly a part of the family now, privy to the Gassmanns’ most private concerns and secrets.
But this wasn’t the way he’d hoped life as one of the family would play out. In his imagining, he and Ulrich and Hans were jovial comrades, always clapping each other on the back or shoulder, their mouths open in broad and joyful smiles. But here, he had quite a different situation: the three of them tight-lipped, jaws set in determination not to reveal confidences that held the potential to tear an irreparable rent in the fabric of their lives. How much strain could this fabric bear?
Viktor’s eyes now fell upon Ethel’s quilt, and he shifted his position, so that he could see it more fully. He loved this crazy quilt that his fiancée had pieced together from bits of fabric that would have seemed unlikely to coexist alongside each other. And yet, Viktor thought, Ethel had somehow managed to use her intuition to arrange every piece just so. She’d carefully stitched each to its neighbor and laid this or that one atop another, in unexpected juxtapositions. In the end, it all came together into a harmonious composition.
Examining the quilt, Viktor decided that it represented the entire Gassmann family – not just Ethel and Hans and their parents, but Ewald, too. Then there was Renate’s sister, Lorena, and her family, too. Viktor had just run through this list of family members in his mind, when his gaze was drawn to a part at the far end of the quilt, right at the spot where it met the end of the mattress. Viktor had never studied this section before. But now, he leaned over onto his elbows and then down onto his forearms, until he could see this small area clearly.
The part in question, about five inches wide by six inches long, was made up of fabric with a speckled pattern of brown against an ivory background. Not speckles, really, Viktor concluded as he examined it. More like diamonds. They reminded him of nail heads. But what caught his attention was something else: Embroidered onto this rectangle of fabric, in lighter brown embroidery floss (more the color of cherry wood, as opposed to the walnut-colored fabric diamonds, Viktor decided) was a sawhorse, with a saddle atop it. And above that, embroidered in gray, was a two-handed saw, just like the one he and Ulrich had been using that day. Oh, and here’s a bed! Viktor exclaimed wordlessly. It was off to the side, rendered in a lighter, more pine-tinted floss. Viktor straightened up. How did I never notice this before? But before he came up with an answer, a crash resounded from the other side of the wall, from inside the storeroom that shared the far wall with his own bedroom.
Jumping up, Viktor strode quickly to the storeroom and opened the door. There, lying on the floor, instead of atop the pegs put into the wall to hold it, was a two-handed saw. Just an average saw, smaller than the one he and Ulrich had been using. But it struck Viktor that it looked exactly like the saw embroidered on the quilt on his bed. Viktor’s mouth dropped open. How did it fall? He sensed that this was not a simple matter of a saw slipping off its pegs. Viktor had heard the family’s tale about Ulrich’s grandfather, Wolf, how he stubbornly remained in this very room when the rest of the family moved into the new log home that Detlef built.
Viktor remembered what Ulrich had shared with him one day in the forest, about how Wolf kept his bed in the storeroom. And how Ulrich had loved riding the sawhorses with his grandfather by his side… Viktor walked over to one of the sawhorses that stood by the wall, and ran his hand over its rough top. As he did so, he imagined Wolf there in the room with little Ulrich, and he felt the happiness that must have flowed between grandfather and grandson. Then, suddenly, Viktor heard a laugh. It was clear as could be, and it was a happy laugh.
Viktor turned around. He was alone in the room. He glanced at the various tools that were hanging on the wall that the storeroom shared with his bedroom – the room, where a bed stood, covered by Ethel’s quilt. The quilt where Wolf’s room is pictured, Viktor suddenly grasped. Then: “My bed is your bed, isn’t it?”he asked aloud, looking in the direction from which the laughter had sounded. Viktor didn’t see anyone there, and, indeed, there was no one there to be seen, just someone to be heard, and sensed. For, at that moment, Viktor laughter sounded again, a bit louder this time. And he would have sworn in a court of law that some unseen person clapped him firmly and jovially on his back…
Viktor took another look around the storeroom, then returned to his bedroom, undressed, and climbed into bed. He noticed that when he extended his right foot, his toes ended up directly below the embroidered piece he’d been studying before his brief visit to the storeroom. How did I never notice this before tonight? he asked himself, even shaking his head in dismay. He heard no reply, but as he leaned back and rested his head upon the pillow, he murmured out loud, “Sorry for leaving you out of the list of the family members, Mr. Gassmann. No offense meant, Sir.” Viktor thought he caught sight of a cloud-like form perched on the chair across from the bed. An old man, it seemed to Viktor. Suspenders atop a billowing white shirt. And a long, gray beard. As Viktor settled back under the quilt, preparing to sleep, a thought drifted into his consciousness. Guess I’m really one of the family now… For better or for worse.
And thus, Viktor closed his eyes at the same time as the two other male members of the future Gassmann-Bunke joint family, and in just the same way: with something to hide. As he lay in bed, his arms crossed behind his head, Viktor reflected on the fact that he had kept his fair share of facts to himself over the years. These included one which he knew would shock Ethel and her family when it came out – if it ever did. He hoped it would never come to light, but that was something he couldn’t entirely control, since other people were involved, too. Ulrich’s words about secrets came to mind then. Followed by the memory of his recent vow to live his life in a straightforward and honest way now. No ploys. No more calculations. But what is all this business now, if not calculations?? He recalled the feeling that had arose in his stomach when Ulrich asked him to keep silent. Damn it! He’d gotten himself out of the spot between one rock and a hard place, only to end up wedged in somewhere else. He pulled his arms out from beneath his head, turned onto his side, and plumped up the pillow with an energetic pummeling, before closing his eyes and wishing for a deep sleep to blot this all out.
However, the whole situation did not fade from Viktor’s consciousness, either during his sleeping, or his waking, hours. He found himself distracted, no matter whether he was cutting trees with Ulrich, or moving along on a furniture project in the workshop, or out on a stroll with Ethel. She, of course, perceived this distance and wondered whether Viktor might be having second thoughts about marrying her. She’d had no experience with men before he came to work and live on the homestead, after all. And although she could guess his moods easily, she found it difficult to intuit what exactly might be drawing his attention away from her. She noticed that he spent a good part of mealtimes looking back and forth between Hans and Ulrich and Renate, scanning their faces.
Finally, after the second day of this, Ethel decided to say something to her fiancé about it.
She chose their evening time together, when, at her request, they had gone to the treehouse. It was on this visit to what had become their favorite spot, that she realized how much Viktor had come to love this place, too. He sat down with his back against the beech tree trunk, spread his legs so that Ethel could sit between them and recline against his chest – in their most familiar pose, these days. Once she did that, he wrapped his arms gently around her waist and sighed deeply, but said nothing They loved to sit there like that, in silence. Not that they ever talked about it. Each just understood that being together this way was soothing to them both. It enable them to let go of whatever had gone on during the day and simply feel each other’s love, and the divine energy of the forest, too. Sitting in the treehouse, they often lost track of time, the darkening of the forest their only clue that night was approaching.
This evening, as always, Ethel felt and heard Viktor’s breathing slow down, and his heartbeat, too. But again, her earlier suspicion was borne out: Something was on his mind, preventing him from fully connecting with her right now. He’s in another world somewhere, Ethel thought to herself. And, indeed, he was.
It was that damned question of whether or not to talk with Renate about Hans’ plans that had captured Viktor’s attention once more. Ulrich had asked him not to say anything, but for the past two days, from the moment Ulrich made his request, in fact, Viktor felt in his gut that he should tell Renate what lay ahead. Maybe it was his old pattern popping up again: that long-standing compulsion to figure out how he could make everyone happy while alienating no one, thereby keeping himself in the clear and unharmed.
But as he considered whether this was his motivation in the current situation or not, he felt the unpleasant sensation in his stomach that he’d lately come to believe was a sign – From the trees? And thus from God? – not to stay silent about the matter. He was, actually, a bit relieved to detect this feeling, since it seemed to him that even noticing what he felt there was an indication that he had shifted his way of approaching life. He’d just posed to himself the question of how to go about not betraying what his stomach was telling him, when Ethel spoke.
“My dear…” she began quietly, and then waited for his reply. It took a few seconds, but she heard him whisper in her ear.
“Yes, dear Ethel?” Then he leaned forward and gave her a light kiss on her earlobe as he spoke. “What is it?”
She laid her hands upon his and noticed how small hers looked by comparison.
“I was wondering… You seem to have something on your mind. Is something wrong?” Then she held her breath, glad that she was facing away from him, in case he was looking for a way to give her bad news.
“I can’t put anything over on you, can I?” he said with a smile in his voice that brought Ethel some relief, as did the playful squeeze he gave her waist.
No longer frightened, she just shook her head. “What is it, then?”
“It’s a matter of a secret someone has asked me to keep,” he said finally.
Upon hearing this, Ethel sat up and turned around to face him, crossing her legs beneath her skirt. “A secret? What secret?” Then, realizing what she had just asked, she laughed. “I’m sorry. It wouldn’t be a secret any more if you told me would it?”
Viktor shook his head. “Two people have told me it now, and I wish neither had. And the second one asked me not to tell a third.”
After letting this sink in for a moment, Ethel said, “Well, all I can say is that I hope no one is asking you to keep something terrible from me.”
“No, no, nothing like that.” He grasped her hands and then took each of her fingers in turn into his, tapping it lightly with his thumb. As he did so, still thinking about what to do, he had a thought, and the thought was accompanied by a lightness inside him, a feeling of calm. Ahhhh! That’s what to do!
He smiled. “In fact, no one asked me not to tell you.”
“Really?” Ethel sat up straighter now.
“Yes.” Viktor nodded. “Do you want me to tell you?’
Ethel hesitated, her lips parted. Unbeknownst to Viktor, she was at this moment listening to what her body – her “little voice”, as she called it – was saying to her. Yes or no?
After a moment, she felt her answer.
“Yes, I do.”
And so he told her about his conversation with Hans, and then what Ulrich had said in the woods.
“I… I can’t believe it!” Ethel whispered. “And yet, I’m not surprised,” she said. “Not after that conversation when Ewald was here, when Hans left the table.”
Viktor nodded. “It does seem connected to that, doesn’t it? I mean, at least in the timing of it.”
“I can see now why you’ve been so distracted the past two days, thinking about it.” Now she was the one tapping his fingers with hers.
“What’s eating me up inside is that your father asked me not to tell Mrs. Gassmann, but I feel inside that I should tell her.”
“Then why haven’t you?” Ethel said, studying his face as she waited for his answer.
He cradled his chin in one hand and looked out into the forest, rubbing his jaw as he thought how to answer.
“I can’t explain it, quite,” he began. “Not to you. Not to myself. Partly it’s because I respect your father so much. He’s the head of your family, after all –“
“The family that you’ll be part of, too, as of next spring,” Ethel reminded him.
“And that makes it harder. I know it’s not my place to tell her, because I’m not part of the family, and this is nothing if not a family matter.”
“Yet, you feel inside that you should tell her?” Ethel asked. “And you don’t know whether to listen to my father or to your own inner feeling.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it,” he told her, both relieved and grateful that she understood his dilemma. I certainly did pick the right girl to marry!
“I don’t envy you,” Ethel told him after considering the situation herself for a bit.
“Tell me,” Viktor said, taking both her hands in his, “have you ever been in this kind of situation? With having to decide between doing what someone wants you to and doing what you feel is right?”
Ethel thought. “Hmmm. Not with any big decisions, anyway,” she said. She held up the hand with the ring he’d carved for her. “For the biggest decision, I knew in my heart that what you asked me to do was right.” She gave him a big smile, which coaxed one out of him, too.
“But with smaller things,” she went on, “yes, I’ve had those times. With my quilts. A client will swear up and down that she wants certain colors, while I have a strong sense that what she’s asking for is all wrong. A couple of times, when I was first starting out, I gave in and did what the client wanted, instead of what I knew was right.”
“And how did it turn out?”
“Awful. Well, at least that’s how it seemed to me. The clients claimed to be happy, because they got what they said they wanted, but I knew the quilts would have been more beautiful, if I’d just totally obeyed my inner voice.”
“But I’ve never seen any of your quilts that wasn’t heavenly,” Viktor told her, quite honestly.
She leaned forward and touched his nose with her index finger. “You didn’t see any of those early quilts,” she teased him. “I learned my lesson.”
Viktor sighed. “But if I tell your mother, she is going to be upset at the news and upset that she didn’t hear it from your father or brother. And they’ll both likely be mad at me, then, too.”
“You may be right,” Ethel told him thoughtfully. “But what Mama cares about most is everyone being happy, and she always wants to know everything about everything. You know that!”
“I do,” Viktor said. “Sometimes I’ve felt like a criminal, what with all the questions she asks me about this or that.”
“That’s right. So if you give her information she can use to help keep everything in the family in order, she’ll be in your corner for life.”
“But I don’t want to do it for that reason,” he said, taking Ethel’s hands again. “There’ve been too many times in my life when I’ve done things just to get something out of it, Ethel. And I made a promise to myself not to do that any more.”
She looked at him intently for a moment. He wasn’t sure what she was doing, but it wouldn’t have surprised him – not any more, at least – to learn that she was tuning in to her heart, asking herself the very question he’d recently posed to himself: Was he marrying her just to get ahead in her family, or did he really love her? Ethel was sure she knew the answer, but a quick check wouldn’t hurt, she decided. So she did look for the answer inside herself, and she discerned swiftly that the love she’d been feeling coming from him these past months was genuine.
“Then I would say to you to go with what you know in your inner being to be true and right,” she told her fiancé. She paused, and then added, “Otherwise you might regret it. And we’re not talking about quilts here.”
Viktor took Ethel by the shoulders and gently turned her around, so that they could sit in their favorite position. As they sat silently, he could feel the love flowing strongly between them, with the divine energy of the trees mixed in, too. When it became clear to both of them that it was time to head back to the homestead, Viktor embraced her from behind, kissed the back of her head, and then spoke softly into her ear.
“I don’t know how I managed to ever deserve you, Ethel. In fact, I don’t think I do! But I’m more grateful for you than I can say. And I love you more than I can say, too.”
Back at home, Ethel checked on the goats and chickens before going into the house. On the doorstep, she ran into Viktor, who was just coming out. Knowing that it was not his usual pattern to be in the house at that time, she gave him a questioning look.
“Just filling up the kitchen wood box for tomorrow,” he told her. Then he squeezed her hand and bade her a good night. She watched as he made his way toward the workshop, leaning down to pet one of the cats as he went.
* * *
The next morning, Hans came up alongside Viktor in the workshop and laid a hand on his shoulder. It felt like an almost friendly act, or, at least, not hostile.
“Tornado warning,” Hans said in a low voice. When Viktor turned to face him with a quizzical look, Hans smiled. “Papa told Mama last night.”
This was the first mention Hans had made of his plan since the day of his tense conversation with Viktor about it. Viktor, for his part, had not raised the topic with his future brother-in-law, not even after his heart-to-heart with Ulrich. But now Hans had brought it up himself.
“So, everything’s moving along the way it should be, then?” Viktor asked. “With all the documents?” As always, he felt like he was walking a fine line between showing a genuine interest in Hans’ plans and upsetting Hans by indicating any great closeness with Ulrich. But as Hans spoke, detailing with great excitement – but in a low voice – which papers had been submitted, and how good it all looked, in terms of him getting approval to travel to Illinois, Viktor saw that his own relationship with Ulrich didn’t matter to Hans in the least any more. Evidently, Hans no longer felt he needed his local family’s love and affection in order to feel good about himself: “I’m going to America!” his expression said.
“Let them all try to top that!”
Viktor figured it would be appropriate to extend his hand to Hans, and he guessed right: Hans immediately grasped it and pumped it hard. Then he even threw his other arm around Viktor’s shoulder.
“Ah, Mr. Bunke,” he said, in a light and friendly tone which communicated that all was well between them now, and his earlier prickliness a thing of the past. “I’m glad you’ll be here to take care of Ethel.” Here he leaned closer and whispered, “Because I’m going to have my own wife to look after before long.”
“Really?” Viktor asked, smiling. “You already have someone in mind? You do move fast!”
Now Hans released both hand and shoulder and put his own hands up in a gesture of denial. “Oh, not quite yet,” he replied with a laugh. “But once I get there, it won’t be long, I assure you.”
“What won’t be long?” Ethel called out to them in her ringing voice. Both men turned to see her standing in the small doorway to the workshop, backlit by the morning sun so that her blonde curls looked like a halo.
Thinking back to their conversation the evening before, Viktor felt a wave of love for her that seemed stronger than it had even twenty-four hours earlier. How can that be?
“Oh, just guy stuff,” Hans told Ethel with a wink. “Giving him advice on his upcoming nuptials.”
“Oh, yes,” Ethel scoffed, laughing. “You with all your experience. I’m sure Viktor has been taking careful notes.” She looked over Hans’ shoulder at her fiancé and, in spite of herself, blushed at the thought that the two of them might actually have been talking about her wedding night. She, too, noticed that she somehow felt even more in love with Viktor this morning.
Viktor said nothing, but just waved the notebook he held in his hand, and pulled out the pencil he’d earlier tucked behind his ear.
Ethel covered her face with her hands out of embarrassment. Then she turned and, floating out of the workshop without seeming to touch the ground at all, she called back to Hans and Viktor:
“Come into the house. Mama wants to talk to us all about something.”
Both men looked at their watches. It was only 10:25. Dinner wasn’t due for another two hours. They exchanged glances, and Hans’ lightheartedness faded, replaced by the expression of a man who knew his death sentence had been commuted, but who still had to face the judge simply as a matter of protocol. At least that’s what Hans hoped to God was the case…
The Gassmanns’ kitchen did, indeed, have the air of a courtroom when Ethel entered, followed by Hans and Viktor. Renate was sitting in her usual spot at the far end of the table, but Ulrich, instead of taking his seat at the opposite end, was standing at Renate’s side, doing his best not to betray any emotion or give any sign of what was to come. The rest of them sat in their familiar chairs around the table.
Renate seemed to have piled her dark braids atop her head with particular precision that morning, and although her eyes had looked red to Ethel earlier, at breakfast time, she hadn’t given them any hint that anything was amiss. But they all knew that it had to be something important for Renate to summon them all in the middle of the morning’s work.
“Your father told me your news last night,” Renate began, without any preamble, looking at Hans and only Hans. “It seems that the whole thing is already quite advanced.”
Ethel cast a quick glance at Viktor, whose face registered mild surprise. Then she looked at her brother and asked, “What plans?” For a moment, she regretted that Viktor had shared everything with her. She also felt a brief pang as she made a decision to make use of the conversation she’d interrupted in the workshop. “Hans!” she burst out. “Are you getting married, too?” Her remark seemed idiotic to her as soon as she’d uttered it, but at least it might convince her mother that she had not known what was going on. That might be a comfort to her… Hans said nothing, and Renate spoke again.
“Hans is not getting married, Ethel,” she said sternly. She paused, and then continued, in the tone of a parent who has been informed that her child has engaged in an act of unparalleled naughtiness. Ethel waited for her to say, “It has come to my attention…” but Renate chose different words.
“For those of you who don’t yet know,” she said dryly, looking to Viktor and then to Ethel, “Hans has spent the past two months planning his flight –“
Ethel glanced again at Viktor, who now looked suitably surprised. At least that’s the way it seemed to Ethel. Did he not tell her last night after all??
“Mama!” Hans burst in, even making a move to rise from his seat. But he fell silent when Ulrich raised both hands and motioned for him to sit back down.
“Let her say her piece,” he told Hans. “It’s the least you – we – can do.”
“His flight,” Renate repeated. “His escape. To America, of all places. To Illinois.”
Here Ethel didn’t restrain herself, and her question was quite sincere. “But Hans, I don’t understand” she cried, leaning forward to stare at him. It had suddenly sunk in that this whole situation was not abstract, but real, and that if it went through, then her brother would sometime soon be half way across the world. “Illinois –“
“Illinois,” Renate confirmed, nodding her head slowly. “Evidently he feels there are more opportunities to be had there, with his Uncle Ewald, than here, in the bosom and comfort of his nearest and dearest family members.”
Ethel could see that her mother, who was tapping the table unconsciously with her right hand, was fighting back tears. Seeing Renate’s uncharacteristic display of emotion, Ethel, too, grew emotional, and felt tears well up in her own eyes.
“Hans,” she whispered, and reached across the table to take her brother’s hand. “Why?”
“Yes, Hans,” Renate echoed coldly, “go on, then. Tell us all why you’re going.”
Hans’ face grew red at this, and he laid his hands flat down on the table top. “I’m not some five-year-old who stole a pot of paint and painted the cows red,” he said, more loudly than he intended. “Don’t scold me like a child. I’m a grown man and I can make my own decisions without having to answer to all of you! I don’t have to tell you a thing!”
Renate was struggling to contain herself, and now she was clutching the skirt of her apron in her lap with both fists, eyes closed. But the tears began pouring out anyway. Suddenly, she resembled not a tornado, but a bent-over sapling left in the storm’s wake. Leaning over, she rested her head on her folded arms. They could all see her shoulders heave as muffled sobs came from her covered face.
Everyone exchanged glances, and then Ulrich silently shooed them all out of the kitchen, back into the yard. Ethel was the last to leave, and as she turned, she saw Ulrich kneeling on the floor, embracing Renate, who had thrown her arms around his neck and was crying, crying, crying. It was the saddest sight Ethel had ever witnessed, and she didn’t understand it, at least not fully. Nor did she ever forget it.
It was only later on, after supper, that Ethel was able to discuss the goings on with Viktor. This evening, they just took a stroll down the road, walking along the border of the Gassmann property, in the direction of the Walters’ farm.
“So you really did just take in the firewood last night?” Ethel asked as they strolled, hand in hand in the grass alongside the dirt road.
Viktor shook his head. “No, she was alone in the house, and I told her.” Then he turned to look at Ethel, who knitted her brows in confusion.
“But… She said that Ulrich told her last night.”
“That’s true, he did. He told me as much after supper while we were felling some birches this morning.”
“And was he upset that you told her first?”
Viktor stopped and turned to face her. “That’s the thing, Ethel. He doesn’t know I told her.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Viktor agreed, as he began walking again. “Unless she didn’t tell him. And it seems she didn’t, because your father thanked me this afternoon for not breathing a word of it to her.”
Ethel was the one to stop now. “He did?” When Viktor nodded, she said, “That explains why Mama made such a show of announcing the news to you and me. ‘For those of you who don’t yet know.’”
“Yes,” Viktor replied. “At first I didn’t understand why she did that, because she knew full well that I knew. But then I guessed that this was her way of giving me a signal that she hadn’t shared with your father that I had told her.”
“A signal that she would keep your secret-sharing to herself,” Ethel said thoughtfully.
“I guess so. But why?”
Ethel looked into his eyes and then embraced him. “Maybe she loves you and doesn’t want things to get off on the wrong foot between you and Papa before you and I are even married.”
“That doesn’t sound totally right to me,” Viktor said. “She has no reason to protect me that way.”
“No, it doesn’t feel that way to me, either,” Ethel admitted. She paused, and then laid her hand on Viktor’s chest. “But she does have a reason to protect Papa,” she said quietly. “From thinking you betrayed him by telling Mama something he’d asked you not to.”
Viktor sighed. “Now that makes sense,” he said wearily. “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t…”
They continued their walk mostly in silence, both reflecting on how the morning had played out.
As they turned around and headed back toward the homestead, the setting sun glowing yellow and red ahead of them, Ethel shared one of the thoughts that had come into her head during the silent part of the stroll.
“Now I see why Mama looked so, so sad when we left the kitchen this morning,” Ethel said. “At least part of it, anyway.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, tell me this. How do you think I’d feel if you were keeping a big secret from me, and I had to hear it first from someone outside the family?”
“It’d break your heart, I think,” Viktor told her.
“That’s right.”
They walked home hand in hand, sobered by Hans’ news and their own, private thoughts about what that news would mean for them, and for the rest of the family.
Sue Downing 