Chapter 26

July, 1949

Gassmann-Bunke homestead

The day after Viktor worked the equivalent of a magic trick that secured Marcus’ support for taking Lina to Herford to meet Bruno Groening, an atmosphere of excitement and almost frenzied activity dominated throughout the homestead. This was so unlike these people who, despite the fact that they all had the ability to see clearly the path before them, generally moved along that path with deliberateness, rather than wild abandon. Ethel was the only one in the family who tended to float ahead with a lightness that seemed based on whims, but which was, in reality, based wholly in her strong intuitive connection to the world around her. 

But this ethereal nature of hers had, as we’ve seen, been a bit dampened by the struggles of the previous two decades.  Even so, when the decision was made to take Lina to Herford, Ethel’s lightness somehow worked its way back up through the layers of sadness and worry that had settled upon her over the preceding twenty years.  Viktor was the first to glimpse its reappearance, when she broached the topic of the trip with him that one night before bed.  He saw that, as his wife told him about Groening and about how Lina wanted to go to Herford to see him, she seemed to come alive.  It was as if little points of her long-buried light began to penetrate her skin, more and more, until, finally, he saw before him the Ethel of 1921, fully illuminated, the way she had appeared to him in the early days of their acquaintance, and then, courtship. It was this sight, combined with his own, heart-opening experience in the forest that one day, that made it possible for something of the Viktor of those early days to resurface, too. And although neither he nor Ethel spoke about these changes that were taking place in each other, something shifted between them, as we have seen, and it was this shift that convinced Viktor that they must get Lina to see Groening.  He couldn’t explain why he was so certain of this, but he felt very keenly that therein lay the key to making things right in his family. If just the thought of taking Lina to Herford brought the brightness back into Ethel’s whole being, then what might happen when they actually got there?

   Perhaps surprisingly – because in other ways he was so very calculating – Marcus was the other member of the family who tended toward impulsiveness.  He seemed to have inherited his father’s ability to see every situation for what it was and judge where the personal benefit lay.  Still, the two of them differed: Viktor, by the time he reached the age Marcus was now, had realized his tendency to manipulate others, and had sworn to follow a different road for the rest of his life. But Marcus had not yet gained this insight. He was still firmly on the path of self-interest. 

Like the younger iteration of Viktor, Marcus had no use for, or belief in, God. His suppertime refutations of God’s existence were quite sincere, rather than constituting the idle philosophizing he tried to pass them off as. Early in his life – even on up into early adolescence – he made a great effort to believe in God. There was a great deal of mention of God and His supposed powers in the household, even though the Gassmann-Bunkes were strictly Sunday worshippers. So, when Viktor beat him for an infraction, Marcus cried out to God in his heart, begging for an end to his father’s brutality. The beatings persisted. When he prayed to be allowed to use the rifle, this prayer was, indeed, granted, but the terms of the agreement turned out to be so harsh that it felt to Marcus as if God was just laughing at him. It was this incident with the rifle that destroyed any scrap of belief in God that he might have still had. After that, Marcus swore he would never pray for anything again. And on the recent evening, when he fled to the forest after Viktor’s announcement that Marcus would have to come back and work at home, all of Marcus’ resentment toward both his father and toward God erupted in an explosion of anger: As he swung the dead birch branch against the ground, over and over again, it was the rifle he was imagining smashing, smashing, smashing.

Thus, early in his life, Marcus was left without God to turn to. Finding himself in this predicament, he didn’t seek guidance from the trees, or from some thin stream of the divine deep within himself. Rather, much in the way his grandmother, Renate, had done before the suppertime discussions about God led her to see things differently, Marcus felt – no, knew – that he could rely only on himself. He would determine and forge his own way, based solely on his own judgment.

Let’s be clear: In this approach, he did differ from his grandmother in one important way. Renate had always firmly believed in God. It was just that she never – until now – included Him in her decision-making process. Marcus, however, felt that he was fully on his own. He saw no one around him whom he could trust to help him make his way through life. As he saw it, his father actively strived to thwart him. (When following this train of thought, Marcus conveniently disregarded how Viktor had gotten him placed in the Censorship Office during the war, and in that plum Civil Service position afterwards.)

The Civil Service position in Varel was absolutely key to Marcus’ long-range plans, and he was committed to fighting to keep it. He may not have heard God whisper to him in the darkest part of the night that this job was part of His plan for Marcus. And he may not have felt this idea flow into him from the sturdy, reliable trunk of a spruce tree at his back. But he did feel every bit as convinced of the plan’s rightness as if he had come by this guidance in one of those ways. That was because Marcus did feel something deep inside him, a power that he tapped into when he was faced with making a decision. He found it more difficult to calm himself down than Viktor did with his spruce tree, more difficult to get into a state that would allow him to sense this “something”, but he had developed a way to do this. 

Not every night – because sometimes he was just too agitated, as he’d been when he pounded the birch branch against the ground – but every couple of days, late at night, he took a seat on the edge of his bed. The first time he did this was the night before he started working in Varel. Full of anxiety at beginning this new post, overcome by fear of not meeting his new boss’s– or his father’s – expectations of him, he found himself sitting on his bed, bent elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. He was so anxious, so beside himself, that he even stopped breathing without noticing it.  But he still felt his heart pounding.  Then, reflexively, he gasped. The sudden intake of air calmed him, and the loud exhale through his mouth helped slow his heart rate, too.

In the years following that first experience, this process grew into a habit of sorts. Marcus rested his hands on his knees and breathed deeply – in through his nose, out through his mouth, until he felt his breathing slow – until it felt like the very core of him shifted out of his muddled head or his tight throat or chest, and settled firmly into his abdomen. When that happened, Marcus felt both calm and strong. First his belly grew warm, and he felt a mild pulsing there which grew in intensity as the minutes passed. Then this pulsing spread outward, in all directions, throughout his body.

Marcus never would have described the pulsing he felt as the divine power that Lina and their grandfather mentioned feeling when they were in the forest, or as something that came from God. As we’ve seen, God was just not in the picture for Marcus. What he sensed within him as he sat on the edge of the bed of an evening – he thought of it as just a power. It was a neutral strength that existed in him without any of the divinity or sweetness or loving overlay that Lina and Ulrich seemed to associate with what they felt flowing inside them.  If someone were to push Marcus to define this power, he would say, with a shrug, that it was simply his core, his essence. It didn’t come from anywhere or anyone else. It was just… him.

Marcus had developed the habit of embracing the ideas and insights that came to him when he felt this power pulsing steadily within him. He somehow recognized that the ideas that came through to him when his essential power was flowing were to be trusted – he just knew what to do – but that the ones that flew into his head when he was agitated did not serve him well. This he learned through trial and error. And although it was often very difficult for him to keep from acting on the spur of the moment, under the influence of the agitated thoughts, he tried his best to hold back at these times. He strived to wait until he could have a quiet moment alone, before making any decision. It seemed to him that following this procedure represented the key to expressing his own free will – which he prized so highly – and to avoiding falling under others’ control.

So, what about the moment at the supper table, then, when Viktor extended his hand to Marcus, with the promise that Marcus could stay in his job in Varel, if Lina went to see Groening, and was healed? Wasn’t it an impulsive decision that led him to reach out and take his father’s hand? In fact, it was not. As Marcus listened to what Viktor said, he sensed his power, his essence, settling firmly into his core. He felt strong and calm, and deep within him, he felt clearly that agreeing to this bargain was the right step to take, even though he couldn’t have said, at that moment, why it was right. He just knew that it was.

For this reason, once Marcus accepted his father’s offer – and hand – over supper the day before, he felt an inner urge to move, move, move, to make everything happen before it could fade away like a mirage.

Certainly, everyone else in the family felt an urgency about the situation, too, even if each individual had his or her reasons for supporting the plan.  They were all grateful that the initial discussion did not devolve into a tense argument over the real heart of the matter: Could this Groening really heal Lina? No one could explain what had kept them from talking about this over supper the day before – and since then, too. It was as if everyone knew that they were on the cusp of an event that could truly transform all their lives, and understood intuitively that asking the obvious question might destroy the fragile fabric of this opportunity that had somehow come their way.  For this reason, they focused on the practical details: Since the unanimous thought was that time was of the essence, they decided to head off for Herford on Friday.  Today was Wednesday. That gave them only two days to make all the decisions prepare for their journey.

Looking at the maps, they calculated that it would take them half a day to drive to Herford, and half a day to drive back. But there was no telling how long they would have to wait to see Mr. Groening, assuming they were able to see him at all.  This thought – that something might prevent the meeting – came to everyone in the family, but, being Gassmanns and Bunkes, they didn’t voice it, as if they feared that expressing it aloud might draw that result toward them.  Instead, they threw themselves into preparations for a trip that might stretch to two or three days, if they ended up having to wait for an audience.

  So, in addition to carrying out their usual daily chores and work, each family member took on additional tasks that would contribute to putting the plan into action – except for Lina. She had no extra assignments.  She was in such a state of anticipation and distraction, that it was all she could do to take care of darning the socks without stitching the mending to her apron through inattention. Finally, seeing how worked up her daughter was, Ethel rolled her out into the yard. “Take a good, long stroll, dear one,” she told Lina.  “Enjoy that wheelchair while you still can. Once we’re back from Herford, we’re going to really put you to work!”  Lina laughed and began rolling herself toward the gate. A minute later, she was moving faster and faster down the lane, for once full of joyful expectation, instead of frustration and hopelessness.

Given the high level of excitement around the homestead, everyone was actually grateful to have extra chores: It wasn’t just Lina who had excess energy to work off! It was Wednesday morning, and Renate was baking extra bread to take with them. Meanwhile, Ethel checked the cheese supply in the cellar and set about making some fresh goat cheese for the trip.  There was plenty of bacon they could take, and some smoked sausage, too.  Kristina offered to take on the task of readying pillows and blankets: If they did end up having to stay in Herford for several days, who knew what conditions there might be like?

Peter and Viktor loaded a china cabinet they’d just completed into their pickup truck (acquired two years earlier, thanks to the extra income Marcus’ job brought in) and set off for Varel to deliver it to clients there. On the way, they dropped Ulrich off at the Walters’ farm, where he planned to talk with Lorena and Stefan about possibly borrowing their truck. Of course, they’d need it only if Marcus failed to complete his assignment: He was to ask at his office to see whether any of his coworkers would lend him a car for a few days.  If not, the whole extended Gassmann-Bunke family would head south to Herford in the two pickup trucks.  That wouldn’t be ideal, and even if Marcus arranged a car, they’d still have to take one of the trucks, because they certainly could not all fit in one car…

It was quite the discussion at the table the evening before all this activity, when they got down to deciding who would go to Herford, and who would not.  At first, Viktor said that he and Ethel would take Lina on their own. But then, Renate asserted her right to come along. “It was my idea in the first place!” she cried, although by then, nearly everyone knew this was not the case.  Next, Lina declared that she didn’t want to go without Kristina (who was grateful for her friend’s devotion). Marcus insisted on being part of the travelling party, if only so he could make sure the plan proceeded in a timely fashion. As he saw it, the sooner they got Lina to Herford, the sooner he could rescind his letter of resignation. Ulrich had been hanging back in the conversation, but when Renate looked pointedly at him, he coughed and said that, as head of the family, he’d better come along, too. Besides, he was the one who knew how to get the pickup started up again if it stalled. At this point, Peter, who’d noticed his own secret hopes in his heart, announced firmly that he wasn’t about to be left behind, if the whole rest of the family was going.  That left only little 9-year-old Ingrid.

“What about me?” she asked, brightly, already looking forward to the prospect of what she interpreted as an adventure, rather than a last-ditch effort to help Auntie Lina.

Almost in unison, and with only slight differences in phrasing, Kristina, Renate, and Ethel immediately told her, “You’ll stay with Aunt Lorena and Uncle Stefan while we’re gone.” Crestfallen, Ingrid was about to object, but Kristina silently gave her a stern look, and she closed her mouth and slumped in her chair, dejected.

By late afternoon on Wednesday, all was in readiness, or on track to be ready by Thursday evening, when they intended to pack everything, in preparation for an early morning departure on Friday. Loaves of bread were cooling on the counter, and fresh cheese was draining and would be ready to be packed in crocks the next day.  These would be placed into baskets alongside cured sausage wrapped in cloth. Renate made sure there was also plenty of fruit – fresh berries and dried apples.

But all of these preparations seemed minor achievements compared to the news that Marcus shared when he arrived home from work.

“I’ve gotten us a car!” he announced proudly as he sat down with them around the table for their evening bread and salami. “I’ll pick it up after work tomorrow.”

Lina, who’d been sitting with her long braid wrapped around her wrist, raised her arms in such jubilation that the freed braid flew into the air above her before falling back to her chest. “Marcus, you did it!” she cried gleefully. She clapped her hands together with a joy that reminded her parents and grandparents of the light-hearted young woman Lina had been before her accident. It did their hearts good to see it.

Spirits were understandably high that evening. They all felt restless, and since the sun was still setting late in the evening at this point in the summer, they didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves.  If Marcus had brought the car home this evening, they would certainly not have been able to restrain themselves from heading out that very minute.  As it was, though, they had to wait another day. And after all, as Ulrich reminded Renate, there were still things to take care of on the homestead tomorrow, so that they could be sure that everything would run smoothly while they were away.

Renate and Ulrich were the only ones who remained at the house that early evening, having decided to “take in the air” by sitting outside the back door in two rocking chairs Viktor carried outside for them.  Peter headed to the workshop to start organizing the wood for a set of dining room chairs he and Viktor would work on once they got back from Herford. Marcus, feeling in an expansive mood, uncharacteristically offered to help his brother. Like the others, he didn’t quite know what to do with himself, and he had to keep himself busy until it was time for his usual evening chat with Kristina.  As for Viktor and Ethel, without even talking it over, they immediately set out for the treehouse, where they had both found so much peace in the past.  With a bit of luck, perhaps they could resurrect this way of connecting to the divine and to each other.

Lina and Kristina had hoped to have a bit of time to discuss the events that were about to unfold, but Ingrid, knowing that she would soon be separated from her mother for at least a day or two, pleaded to be able to join them on their evening stroll. Kristina didn’t have the heart to deny her this, and Lina acquiesced, too.

“Come on, little one,” Lina told Ingrid. “I’ll race you to that fallen log by the path into the woods. See it?”  She leaned forward in her chair, hands poised on the wheel rims, and made the noises of a car engine being revved.

Ingrid laughed and set off at full speed before Lina could even call out, “Ready… Set… Go!”

Lina smiled, too, and turned around. “Come on,” she told Kristina, “You’re going to have to push me if we’re going to have any chance of catching her!”

And thus it ended up that the three of them reached Lina and Kristina’s favorite talking spot almost at the same time. But Ingrid was the first to touch the log. In fact, she sprawled across it, holding her side, although none of them could say whether the ache was from exertion or laughter.  Just a moment later, Lina’s toes touched the log, too, as Kristina pushed her right up to it.

“You cheated!” Ingrid chided them. “Mama, she was supposed to do the race on her own!”

Kristina froze for a moment, wondering how Lina would respond.  But she needn’t have worried.

“I will race you on my own next time,” Lina told Ingrid cheerily, reaching out to touch the girl’s flushed cheeks with her two hands.  “I promise!”

By the time the sun set and darkness was beginning to fall, Ingrid was in bed. Lina and her parents and grandparents were all inside the house, busying themselves with whatever they found to occupy their hands or their minds.  Peter was still in the workshop, sitting at the workbench, shoulders hunched, staring down at the plans for the chairs, but without really taking them in.  Having Marcus out there with him had done the opposite of quell his anxiety, and he was grateful when his brother finally went outside to talk to Kristina.  The door to the yard was shut, and Peter was happy about that.  He had no desire at all to hear their personal discussions.

Peter knew the two of them were courting, of course. No one in the family had any doubts about that. What Peter couldn’t understand was why Kristina had fallen for his brother.  Doesn’t she see through him?? Without even realizing he was doing so, Peter viewed Marcus and everything he did through the lens of their childhood. When he looked at Marcus, he only ever saw a bully.  It was beyond his capabilities to imagine that his brother could actually feel tenderness for someone.  As Peter saw it, his brother was tainted by meanness and aggression. It never would have occurred to Peter that his own experiences shaped how he saw his brother.  Once a bully, always a bully. That was Peter’s view regarding Marcus. And so, over the previous two years since Marcus began courting Kristina, a combination of anger and worry and indignation and envy took root in Peter. Since he was convinced of the durability of Marcus’ negative character traits, he worried that Kristina might suffer at Marcus’ hands, and when this thought came to him, his own persistent anger at his own and Lina’s mistreatment rose up.  But he immediately stuffed it down again. (After all, Marcus was the angry one, not him!)

Then there was his disbelief that Kristina had chosen Marcus over him. Not that Peter saw himself as any prince charming, but for God’s sake! He, Peter, was the nicer one, the better carver, the handsomer one.  He knew all of this to be true.  Of course, there was his gimpy leg, and Peter had spent the previous two years telling himself that if only he was as physically whole as Marcus was, then Kristina would see clearly which of the two brothers was the better bet for her. Hence the envy.  Hence the high hopes that he, too, placed on the visit to Bruno Groening.  If Lina managed to see Groening – even if they all just had to stand out in that yard, in front of the house – then they’d all be there with her. That meant there was hope. For now, though, it was Marcus and Kristina sitting together outside the workshop.

Like everyone else on the Gassmann-Bunke homestead, Kristina was full of excitement about the coming journey to Herford, and when Marcus joined her, her face – her whole being, really – shone with joyful anticipation.  She even patted the spot next to her on the bench, something she had never done before.  Every other night, she waited meekly, her hands folded demurely in her lap, as if she were holding her breath and waiting to see whether Marcus would really come out to talk with her.  Now, though, she seemed to have come alive in a way he hadn’t seen before. 

Seeing this change in her, another person might have drawn the conclusion that she was just excited for Lina, but Marcus – being Marcus – interpreted her new openness as an adoring response to the tremendous feat he’d accomplished that day: securing his boss’ car for the trip.  She’s proud of me!  This emboldened him, so that he gave her a big smile and a strong hug as soon as he sat down. He leaned back against the wall behind them, still smiling, stretched his arms out above his head, and then slowly lowered them, so that one fell to his side, while the other came to rest around Kristina’s shoulders.

“I can hardly believe it,” Kristina said, turning to him. “Lina’s actually going to get to see Bruno Groening!” She raised her hands in front of her and brought them together, as if she was getting ready to clap them together.

Marcus nodded and ran his right hand over his hair, smoothing it, but said nothing.

“I can’t wait to see what it’s like there – in Herford,” Kristina went on, animatedly. “How does he actually heal the people who come?  It’s so mysterious!”

“Hard to know what to think of all that,” Marcus replied, in a noncommittal tone, “but if she gets back on her feet again, that’s what counts.”

“When she gets back on her feet,” Kristina said, as if reminding herself. Then she turned herself on the bench so that she was facing him with her whole body. “We all have to believe he can do it, believe for her!”

  “I’ll leave that to you all,” Marcus told her.  “I’m just the driver.” He smiled, to underscore the joke, but Kristina looked at him closely.

“Do you not believe that Mr. Groening can heal her?” she asked quietly.

“Kristina,” he said, gently pulling her closer to him, “What do I know about these things? I don’t believe or not believe.  Seeing is believing. Isn’t that what they say?”

She nodded, and he went on.

“Right. So, if Lina gets healed, then I’ll believe it. Like I said, for now I’m just the driver.”

“Don’t you think, though, that it will help her if we all believe it’s possible?”

Marcus paused, trying to find a softer way to express what he was thinking. Finally, he said, “Don’t you think that if he can really do what all those people say he can do, then it doesn’t matter what we think?”

Kristina pondered that. “I never thought of it that way,” she replied thoughtfully. “You mean, if he really is that powerful, then one of us not believing won’t keep Lina from being healed?”

“Something like that,” Marcus said. He wanted to distract her from this potentially dangerous topic, and he was happy that his words had come across as more positive than his actual thoughts on the subject. “The main thing is, day after tomorrow, we’ll head down there and find out exactly what this Groening can do.” 

Kristina, shifting her focus to the actual trip, began talking about what was really most important to Marcus. “It’s so wonderful that you were able to convince your boss to lend you the car!”

“Didn’t take much convincing,” he told her, sitting up a little straighter.  “He was happy to help.”

Kristina leaned her head on his shoulder. “He must think a lot of you, Marcus.”

She couldn’t have said anything more pleasing to him, or in a more adoring tone.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he laughed, but he squeezed her shoulder and briefly leaned his head down to touch hers.  His tone sounded light, but his stomach was in knots, as he tried to judge when the best time would be to say what he wanted to say.

Kristina allowed her head to remain on Marcus’ shoulder. She was enjoying this closeness with him and the new lightness between them.  He seemed so at ease…

“He’s not the only one, you know,” she said after a minute.

“Not the only one what?” Marcus asked, turning his head toward hers.

Here Kristina grew shy and, sitting up again, looked down at her lap.  “The only one who thinks a lot of you.”  She waited a moment and then glanced over and met his gaze.  He was smiling, and in just a very genuine and happy way, so she went on. “What I mean is that I think a lot of you, too, Marcus. More than a lot.  Much more than a lot.”

He removed his arm from around her shoulder and took both of her hands in his.  “I’m so happy to hear that,” he told her, his voice low, but strong. “Because I think a lot of you, too.” He paused.  Now! “In fact, Kristina, I’ve been wanting to tell you that I love you.”

Although she had thought he might have been about to say this, Kristina still blushed and took in her breath sharply. Then she smiled with her whole heart, looked down at her hands inside Marcus’, and said, so softly that he asked her to repeat herself, “I love you, too.”  She wanted to ask him why he had waited until now to tell her this, but her heart was so full of joy that she pushed the thought aside and concentrated on wiping away the tears that suddenly began to flow from her eyes.

Marcus reached up to dry the tears, telling her tenderly not to cry.  Then they leaned their heads together and kissed.  First it was just tentative, soft pecks, but these soon gave way to deep, heartfelt kisses that left them oblivious to everything and everyone but each other. They were so locked in each other’s embrace and joy, that they didn’t even notice Peter when he emerged from the workshop to head back to the house.  He caught sight of them, sitting there in the near darkness, and in his shock and disgust, he nearly said something he would certainly have regretted later. But he caught himself in time and moved soundlessly along his way, toward the dim light that still emanated from the windows of the log home.

*          *          *

It was past the time when Marcus usually got home from Varel the next night, and although no one said anything about it as they sat at the table, eating a light supper, they were all worried that something might have gone wrong. Then, just past 5:30, they heard a motor outside.  They all craned their necks to look out the windows, and Ulrich, who sat closest to the door got up from his seat with surprising speed. He leaned out the open door and then turned around to address them, his eyes shining.

“He’s here!” he shouted, although there was really no need to shout. “With the car!”

They all immediately rose from their seats and headed out to the yard – with Kristina pushing Lina’s wheelchair ahead of her.

What they saw, amidst the dirt and sparse grass and clumps of flowers in front of the workshop was a gleaming, black Opel Kapitän. Marcus climbed out of the driver’s seat, beaming as if he himself owned the car.

“So this is your boss’ car?” Ethel asked, clearly impressed. She ran her hand over the hood, while Ulrich bent down to examine the headlights. 

“Must be one of the new ones,” Ulrich announced. “The old ones had those hexagonal headlights.” He shook his head. “Must have cost a pretty penny.”

“How’d you arrange it, Son?” Viktor asked, and Marcus felt himself swell with pride, hearing the approval in his father’s voice.

“I just talked to him, to Mr. Weiss,” he explained. “Told him we had a family emergency with Lina, here, that we had to go to Herford, and said I was looking for a car to borrow for a few days.”

Renate had come over now and was peering through the windows at the leather seats. “And he just offered you his, just like that?”

“More or less,” Marcus replied.  “He wants me to keep working there as much as I want stay, so he told me he’d help.  And that’s why I’m so late. I drove him home and then took the car.”

Kristina had come up beside him now and was smiling and shaking her head in amazement. “Marcus, you did it! You really did it!” she said, excitedly, and slipped her hand into his without thinking how this would look to the rest of the family.  It did not escape anyone’s notice.

Turning to Kristina, Marcus asked, “Did you doubt me, Tina?”  He had a smile in his voice, but even after the previous night’s avowals of love between them, his heart still seemed to stop as he awaited her response.  But he needn’t have worried. She shook her head fiercely.

“Never, Marcus. Never!”

Just then, their old hunting dog, Stick, came bounding out from behind the workshop and ran full tilt toward Marcus who had, for some reason, always been his favorite. Full of joy, Stick propelled himself headlong at Marcus, leaping up and knocking him back against the car. Marcus laughed and wrestled playfully with the dog, but when he let go, Stick, still playing, leapt up and, missing Marcus, came down against the car door. Marcus’ face went white. Pushing Stick aside roughly, he immediately crouched down to examine the finish.

“Get him out of here! Marcus shouted, to no one in particular. “He scratches this car, and I’m done for!” He tried to make a joke out of it, but they could all see the genuine anxiety on his face. Peter took Stick by the collar and led him to the workshop, where, after moving the water bowl inside for him, he shut the dog up for the night. 

He was just coming out of the workshop when Stefan pulled into the yard, his wife, Lorena, sitting next to him in the cab of their pickup truck. 

As Lorena lowered herself slowly out and down to the ground, Renate, confused, asked:

“Did Ulrich not tell you we won’t need your truck tomorrow? Marcus’ boss lent him this Opel. Look!”

Lorena shook her head, gave the car a glance without really taking it in, then gestured to Renate that she wanted to speak with her in private.  By now, Stefan had gotten out of the truck, too, and joined the crowd. But all eyes were on the two sisters.

Renate bent her head close to her sister’s mouth, because Lorena was speaking in such a low voice it was barely audible.  But when Renate heard what Lorena had to say, she straightened up and looked her sister in the eye, and the rest of them could see her shaking her head, while Lorena slowly nodded, confirming that her words were true.

Visibly saddened, Renate walked over to the assembled family, with Lorena following behind her, and took a position next to Lina.

“Grandma?” Lina asked, her voice tight.  “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“We won’t be going to Herford tomorrow after all,” Renate intoned flatly.

Various cries of disbelief could be heard, and everyone began questioning her at once, demanding an explanation.

“Well,” Renate began, and then, as if she couldn’t bear to go on, said, “Lorena, you might as well tell it, since you’re the one who heard it.”

Lorena, who was shorter and slighter and less imposing than her sister, nonetheless managed to imbue her words with authority.

“I was listening to the radio just a bit ago,” she told them, standing up as tall as she could, hoping her stance could lend them all the strength they’d need.  “And there was a story about Mr. Groening.” She paused, glancing at the confused faces of those before her.  A story about Mr. Groening, Lina thought.  That must be good. More healings, perhaps. But if that’s the case, why does Aunt Lorena look so serious?

“Go on,” Renate whispered, laying a hand on her sister’s shoulder.

“Yes.  Well, they said that as of yesterday, the city of Herford has issued a healing ban against him.”

Lina’s face went pale. She couldn’t speak. 

But Ethel found her voice. “A healing ban? What does that mean, exactly?” she asked, looking intently at her aunt.

“According to what they said on the radio, it means that the city has forbidden him to do any healing work at all there.  And all the people who’ve come to see him – everyone waiting out on the square in front of the house – they’ve been ordered to leave.”

“But what about people who just come to see him at that house?” Lina asked in an agitated voice.  “Maybe he’s still allowed to help them?”

“I’m afraid not,” Lorena replied.  “He can’t do anything that the city officials might consider healing work.”

“But they can’t just drive people away!” Kristina cried, releasing Marcus’ hand and making her way over to Lina, who was sitting stock still, staring at Lorena.

“That’s exactly what they’re doing,” Lorena told them all. “Not like they’re criminals or anything, mind you. But they’ve ordered everyone to leave.”

“It’s a disgrace,” Peter said bitterly. “No one wants anything to do with the sick and the hurt. Just imagine what a scene that must be, thousands of people in front of that house.  People that that city – and our whole country, too – don’t want to admit exist.  Not in our perfect Germany –“

“Stop, Son,” Viktor said firmly, but with kindness. He laid his hand gently on Peter’s back, a gesture that did not escape Marcus’ notice.  “The city probably just doesn’t want giant crowds, unpredictable crowds, gathering to see a man who –“

“Who what, Papa?” Lina asked softly. “Who can do something that no doctors in our country seem to be able to do? Where’s the harm in that?”

“There’s no harm, Lina, of course,” Ethel said.  She’d crouched down beside Lina now and was holding her hand.

Viktor looked down at his hands and paused before he spoke. “It’s just that people, and by that I mean the government, are understandably skittish. I mean, a man comes out of nowhere. A charismatic man…” He didn’t need to go on.

“But Papa!” Lina cried, speaking through tears now, “that’s not what’s going on with Mr. Groening. He’s helping people! Don’t you believe that?”

They were all staring at Viktor now.

“I do believe it, Lina,” he told her, and he was speaking the truth.  “I’m just trying to imagine what the city officials’ reasoning was.”

“From what I could tell from the radio story,” Lorena said, “it was partly that they said the big crowds were a public health concern.”

“Meaning what?” Ulrich asked. Until now, he’d remained silent, standing next to the car and listening to everything that was being said.

“Apparently, they were worried that disease might spread, what with folks all crowded together there.”

Peter snorted.  “What a lie.  What they were really worried about was that good health would spread, and then there’d be no more work for the city’s doctors.” He punctuated his words by jabbing his right index finger into the air before him.

“There was that, too,” Stefan confirmed.  “I heard that part. Seems it was the city’s doctors who went to the city government with complaints.  Something about Groening violating some healing practitioners law.”

“Of course he did,” Peter said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

By now, all the women had crowded around Lina and were hugging and comforting her in any way they could think of.

“But what about Groening?” Ulrich asked.  “What’s he going to do?”

“They didn’t say,” Stefan replied.  “Just that he had to leave town. Not that they were driving him out. But he knew that if he stayed there, then people would just keep coming, hoping to see him, even if he told them he couldn’t see them.”

Marcus, who had been leaning against the car with his arms crossed this whole time, finally spoke.

“Lina, don’t worry,” he said, his voice calm and confident.

But his sister looked at him in disbelief.  “Not worry?” she shouted.  “Not worry, when now I have no hope of seeing Mr. Groening?  Now that I’m condemned to this chair for the rest of my life?”

Even Ethel was looking daggers at her son, wondering what had led him to say something that came out sounding so cruel.

Marcus stood up and put his hands out in front of him, palms open. “Sis, who says there’s no hope of you seeing him?”

“Didn’t you hear Aunt Lorena?” Ethel asked him tartly. “He can’t do his healing work any more.”

“Not in Herford, he can’t,” Marcus responded calmly. “As I understand it, it was just Herford that banned him.  Is that right, Aunt Lorena?”  He turned to his great-aunt, who nodded.

“I mean, they didn’t say that exactly,” she replied, “but they didn’t mention that any other city had banned him.  That’s true.”

Now Marcus allowed a bit of a smile to come to his lips.  “Well, then.  So this Groening has left Herford.  All that means is he’s gone somewhere else, and wherever that is, no one’s keeping him from healing people.  At least not yet.”

“But what good does that do us?” Lina replied, dejected.

“Yes,” Kristina asked Marcus, “After all, he could have gone anywhere. Even out of the country, for all we know.”

“Did the radio say where he was going to go?” Renate asked Lorena, but keeping one hand firmly on Lina’s shoulder.

Lorena shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

“Don’t worry,” Marcus said again, and this time, Peter took a step toward him.  But Marcus waved him off in a genial way. Then he walked up to Lina, squatted down in front of her, and placed his hands on the wheelchair’s arm rests.

“Sis, we’ll find him.”

Lina shook her head. “But how, Marcus? It’s not possible.”

Marcus leaned in until his face was right in front of hers. “It is possible, Lina, and we’ll do it.  We’ll find this Groening. And we’ll take you to see him.”

This was the first time Lina could ever remember Marcus offering to do anything for her, anything kind.  But she could feel that he really meant it, and she wasn’t ready to let go of the straw she’d grasped onto. She looked into his eyes and, seeing there, too, that he was sincere, she spoke.

“Promise?” she asked quietly.

“Promise,” he said with a smile.  And he held out his hand to her.  “Let’s shake on it.”

Lina didn’t hesitate. Wiping her tears away with one hand, she stretched out the other, which was still shaking from all the shock and emotion of the past few minutes, and felt Marcus’ close around it.  She felt the strength in his grip. That didn’t surprise her.  But what did was something else she sensed there. It seemed to her that it was love.