Chapter 34
August 5-6, 1949
Gassmann-Bunke homestead
Near Varel, Germany
The day is nearly here. Tomorrow morning, Marcus will drive Ethel and Lina to Oldenburg, to the train that will take them to Marseille. There, on August 7th, they will board their ship, and sail to New York, arriving on August 20th. Their trunks have been packed for days already and stowed behind the stairs leading up to the second floor, awaiting departure.
Today, Ethel has finished sewing together the fabric pieces that will comprise the top of the quilt she is making for Marcus and Kristina’s wedding. Renate and Lina have been telling her for days not to push herself to finish it before she leaves, but she has been stubborn about it, and finally, this afternoon, she sews the last seam. Now it is late afternoon, before dinner, and she has laid the quilt top out on the bed in the room she shares with Viktor, to get a sense of how it will look as a finished quilt. She has smoothed it down as best she can and is standing at the foot of the bed scrutinizing it, when Viktor quietly comes into the room. He walks over beside her and looks at the quilt top, too. They stand there in silence for a minute. Then Viktor speaks.
“It reminds me of the day we went to the Kropps’ together. When you were delivering the quilt for Hannah, and I was going to talk about plans for the wardrobe. Remember?”
Ethel nods, and a smile – both happy and tinged with sadness – comes to her face.
“You wouldn’t tell me anything about it while you were working on it,” he goes on. “I had to wait, like everybody else, until you spread it out on Hannah’s bed, just the way you’ve laid this out here now.”
“Yes,” Ethel says softly. “I didn’t want you getting any ideas.” Then she laughs. “But it was too late for that, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, yes,” Viktor tells her. “I was already gone by that point. Head over heels in love.”
“Me, too,” Ethel admits. But her tone is not light, as it would have been, had they had this conversation before the family’s second visit to Groening.
“You were?” Viktor looks at her in surprise.
Ethel nods. “I just never told you. Didn’t want it to go to your head.” Another smile, although she is still looking at the quilt top.
Viktor leans over to study the design, resting his arms on his knees so as not to put them on the fabric.
“Look!” he says, extending a hand to point to one spot. “You added a butterfly here! Like the ones on Hannah’s quilt. And is it out of the same fabric? I don’t quite recall.”
“Yes, yes,” Ethel replies, more animated now. She steps forward, too, and runs her finger over the spot where she has appliqued a large butterfly sewn from blue and pink fabric on top of the spot where three other fabric strips meet. “I remembered how happy it made me to create that quilt, so I wanted to tuck a butterfly into this one, too.”
Now Viktor reaches out and points to a different swatch of cloth, pale yellow with tiny brown flowers. “I do remember this one,” he tells her. “It’s from the quilt you made for us, to mark our first wedding anniversary.” He leans over to inspect it, then, cautiously, places his hand on top of it.
“That’s right,” Ethel says, and her voice is very soft.
Viktor can tell from the way she speaks that she is crying, and when he stands up and turns to look at her, there are tears in his eyes, too. He takes both of her hands in his.
“Ethel,” he says, running his index finger over the beechwood ring he carved for her so many years earlier, “when I asked you to marry me, I told you I didn’t want to ever force you to jump off a cliff in order to be my wife. And then that’s exactly what I went and did.”
“I don’t think you had any idea you were headed for a cliff yourself, did you?” Ethel asks.
“No! I didn’t,” he tells her. “Please believe me.”
In the next moment, he is on his knees before her, still clasping her hands in his. At first, he is staring down at the floor, but then he raises his eyes up to meet hers. His voice is hoarse and grief-stricken as he speaks. “I have no right to ask you to forgive me, Ethel. But I tell you with all my heart, that I regret all I have done to hurt you and the family… and all the others I have hurt.” He lowers his lips to her hands and kisses them. “But I intend to find a way to make it all right. And if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I swear to you that there will be no more cliffs.” Now he leans his forehead against her hands and begins to sob quietly. Ethel doesn’t pull her hands away, but neither does she give Viktor any encouragement.
In the weeks since Peter’s and Lina’s healings, since the revelations about her husband’s wartime acts, Ethel has struggled as much as any of the other family members, perhaps as much as all of them put together, even. While the others got a respite from the situation each night, Ethel has had to face her husband – and herself – every evening when she and Viktor have gone up to their bedroom for the night. All day, every day, Ethel has found herself thinking obsessively about what she would, should, could say once the two of them were alone again.
What she has most wanted to say to her husband is nothing at all, and for him to say nothing to her. And, in fact, that is the way things played out for a few nights after the family’s second visit to Groening. That first evening, when Viktor sat out by the goat pen until Ethel went out and led him back in, he tried to talk. But she made it clear that she was not prepared to discuss any of it at the moment, and that she would let him know when she was prepared – if that moment ever arrived.
Now, on the eve of her departure with Lina, she feels far more prepared to take a trans-Atlantic voyage, than to initiate the conversation her husband so desperately wants – and his desperation is clear in his eyes every night when they get into bed. “Tonight?” he seems to be asking her with his gaze. And each night, her negative answer has been obvious in her face. Some nights, she looks long and searchingly into his eyes, while remaining silent. Other nights, she hugs him briefly, or, sometimes, for a minute or more.
It seems to Viktor, during these longer embraces, that she is seeking to learn some deep, inner truth through her contact with his body. Meanwhile, he concentrates on telling her, with his heart, that he loves her, loves them all, and is prepared to do whatever she wants, if only she will agree to find a way to move forward, together. For he senses, as does everyone else in the family, that it is all up to Ethel now, this decision about how the family will proceed.
This is just the way things played out during the “Schweiburg period”: It was Ethel who made the decision to go after Viktor, with Marcus and Peter in tow. Back then, when Ethel first began talking about following Viktor to Schweiburg, Renate’s mind immediately traveled back a few years, to when Hans chose to emigrate to America. The pain of being excluded from this decision, of being denied the chance to sway his thinking, was still fresh in Renate’s heart, and she wasn’t about to miss her chance this time. Unwilling to be silenced, she readily shared her views and advice with Ethel, pressuring her to stay on the homestead and let Viktor sort out his own life at a distance, where he couldn’t wound them with his lies. But Ethel kindly, but forcefully, asked her mother to leave her to decide for herself. She chose to go to Schweiburg. AndRenate released her fiercely-guarded decision-making role only with great difficulty and anguish.
Thus, we can see that years later, in 1945, when Lina summoned a similar forcefulness to demand (as Renate saw it) that she be allowed to take on chores, this was not, actually, the first time a Gassmann or Bunke child had had a say. That was just a convenient story that Renate told herself. That was easier than allowing her mind to revisit the devastating moments when her two children had exercised their free will – and she ultimately, had had no say in either matter. Back then, in Ethel’s case, just as in the case of Lina’s chores, Renate recast her own powerlessness as a story of consciously lending support to a choice she initially opposed. As Ethel prepared to leave the homestead for Schweiburg, Renate told Ulrich that Ethel’s decision was for the best. “Besides,” she told her husband, “They’ll be in Schweiburg. That’s well outside my jurisdiction.” Ulrich knew enough to simply nod and congratulate his wife on her clear thinking.
“And here we all are again,” Renate tells herself now, in August of 1949. “Another situation.” And yet, she recognizes that her response is different. She notices no fear inside, no impulse to push Ethel in any certain direction. In fact, she is surprised by the ease with which she is now able to wait, day after day, week after week, to learn how Ethel wants to proceed. She notices a bit of relief, too – relief that the weight of this decision is not resting on her own shoulders. And confidence that whatever Ethel ultimately does will be the right thing for all of them.
Marcus, too, is content to allow his mother her free will. That hadn’t been the case in the 30s, when he was a teenager. They were back living on the homestead by then, but it was clear to all of them that Viktor was still involved with violent agitators in Varel and Schweiburg. Marcus was not shy about voicing his concerns, about urging his mother to drive “that monster” away. He got no further than Renate had, half a dozen years earlier.
But now, Marcus seems the most at ease out of all of them with the uncertainty of how the present situation will play out. That’s because he has already had his say on the matter, at the breakfast table the morning after Lina’s healing. So, no matter what his mother ends up doing, his own path forward is clear to him. Groening may have urged him to not despise anyone, but he has decided for himself: He will not forgive his father.
For her part, Lina has often thought in recent days, grateful for the distraction of getting ready to travel. Thank goodness for all the preparations! Now, on the last day before she and her mother are to set off, everyone – especially Viktor – is on tenterhooks. She has to decide before tomorrow morning, doesn’t she? they all think. Even Ethel, who has, by now, made a decision, is nervous as she ponders how best to share her thoughts with her husband.
As Viktor joins his wife in their bedroom, as they look at the quilt together, Ethel reviews the conclusion she has come to: She just cannot give Viktor the forgiveness he is pleading for. Nor does she feel she can send him away. The family has been through so much these past months – years, and even decades, really. It has become clear to her that she has to sort everything out, piece by piece, the way she’d plan a quilt, the way she created her “pictures” as a little girl. But she can’t simply force things to fall into place. She must wait for the creative impulse to arise, and then allow it to guide her to just the right solution, just the right arrangement. And for that, she needs time. “This trip will give me that,” she says. She realizes that she has spoken aloud only when Viktor lifts his head and looks up at her.
“What do you mean?” he asks, barely breathing. “What will the trip give you?”
Ethel looks down at Viktor where he is kneeling before her, and meets his eyes. “The peace and calm I need to decide how to proceed.”
“But…” Viktor begins, but Ethel interrupts him.
“I know, I know. You want me to tell you right now. Do I forgive you or not? Will we remain a family on this homestead, or not? But I’m saying to you that I just cannot answer those questions yet.”
“Then… What…?” Viktor asks.
“Lina and I will go as planned. I’ll think things over. And it will all fall into place.”
Viktor makes no reply, but his head slumps forward in disappointment. He is still clasping his wife’s hands in his.
Ethel lowers herself to the floor, too. Pulling her hands gently from Viktor’s, she wraps her arms around his neck and lays her head upon his shoulder. He brings his arms around her back and embraces her, but she can feel his uncertainty about how tightly he is allowed to hold her now. Then he lowers his head, so that the two of them are kneeling, cheeks touching. Their flowing tears mingle as the last rays of the day’s sun spread into the room and briefly illuminate the butterfly on the quilt top, before fading, suddenly, into the shadow of twilight.
* * *
In the morning, they have a quick breakfast. They are all grateful that there is no time to linger over the meal: this day is so full of strong emotions, that it would be torture to have to make idle conversation. Ethel has shared her decision with Renate, who has informed the others. Except for Lina, who will have the trip ahead to distract her from the cares of life on the homestead, and Marcus, whose own way forward seems clear to him, they all feel at loose ends. How are we supposed to manage here, with all this uncertainty?
They have all made their real goodbyes already, the day before, so now each member of the family heads off to his or her routine tasks, striving to treat this like just another day. Before going back into her room to sit for a few minutes before they leave, Lina calls out to her father as he turns to walk out the kitchen door.
“Papa,” she tells him, “Don’t go yet! I have something for you.”
With a look of surprise, Viktor stops. She walks up and hands him a small bundle of cloth. Unfolding it, he sees that it is a little sack, with a drawstring.
“For your tin foil ball,” Lina tells him. “Like this one,” she explains, showing him the pouch where she keeps the ball Bruno Groening gave her. “I made this for you, so you can always carry the ball from Mr. Groening with you.” She shows him how he can loop his finger through the drawstring and wrap his hand around the sack. “So you’ll never lose it.”
Viktor is so touched that he doesn’t know what to say. So, he just gently wraps his arms around Lina and holds her tight for a minute. She allows him to do this, making no attempt to sort out the conflicting feelings that rush into her heart and mind. There will be time enough to examine them during her trip. As Viktor stands there, his feeling his daughter’s arms loosely wrapped around his waist, he hears her whisper something to him.
“Trust and believe, Papa. Trust and believe.”
And then, she is walking back across the kitchen. He watches her vanish into her bedroom.
Viktor looks down to study the pouch Lina has made for him. He sees that it is made of the very same fabric that Ethel used to make their first anniversary quilt. Did she know that when she chose it? He turns and walks swiftly out of the house, across the yard, clutching the pouch tightly in his hand.
Even as he is crossing the yard, walking past the clotheslines, he hears Ethel in the kitchen, calling out to their daughter.
“Lina? Marcus is pulling the car up. Did you hear? Are you ready?”
But before he can hear Lina’s reply, or the engine of the Opel Kapitän as Marcus pulls it up by the door, Viktor is stepping onto the path that leads into the forest. To the treehouse…
To be continued…
Sue Downing 