Or Father would say, “Boris, you must have lost your watch or something.” And with a wink at Boris, the two men both knew what it meant.
Next to the church, there was a monument with the names of the fallen soldiers from the First World War, the boys from Gradsko Selo and the surrounding area. Martin Zanton was one of them. This particular church was not the parish church, but a mass would be held there a few times a year for symbolic reasons, and one of those would be to honour those fallen men. The regular services were being held at the parish church in Gomilka.
Later, Monika and Boris were married; their wedding was kept low key due to the Zantons’ still mourning the loss of Martin.
“Monika, I hope you don’t mind if we keep it low key? Your mother will be hurt if things get too rowdy. You know how she feels about your brother, and I don’t have the heart to go against her.”
“Father, that is how the two of us feel as well, so don’t worry.” She was the least likely one of the Zanton girls to want to force things out of proportion. “Mother is the one who usually goes way too far, and you know it. Boris and I are happy just to be together.”
Monika had a happy life with Boris and often came home to the house.
Much later, when she had children, she always brought them along and they often cooked and baked together. The children enjoyed the parties, and the Zantons were never short of those. They always had visitors to spare, and the children were almost invisible and therefore free to do as they pleased.
“Grandpa, do you have any candies?” Tony was always the first to ask.
“Let’s see now — I had some visitors yesterday, and they ate them all.”
“You are just teasing us. You always have some. Besides, you always tell us a story and then we get candy. Are you going to tell us a story?” Andy, too, was by now involved in the conversation.
“Well, if I must!” And before anyone answered him, he would start telling a story. He adored those little creatures, as he called them, but found himself in trouble with Grandma. She was more in tune with the visitors for social purposes rather than wasting her time with trivialities such as children. The youngsters usually fought for Grandpa’s love and attention, which they all felt when with him. Little did they know that there would be enough for all of them, in time. He told them stories and guided them in the right direction.
“How would you like to go frog hunting with me?” He invited whoever was interested in such things. He loved frogs’ legs, especially if they were cooked properly. Monika used to love going frog hunting with him.
“Monika is Father’s favourite,” Martin used to say, when trying to scare Boris away jokingly. “So you better get on his good side if you want to marry her.” He was full of such comments just to tease Boris.
But Father Zanton could not be fooled. He kept an eye on his daughter.
“You are somewhat pale these days, Monika. Is there anything wrong that you haven’t told us about?” He broached the subject cautiously, knowing his daughter very well.
“There is nothing wrong with me, Father, and you shouldn’t be worrying about me. I have a husband who is perfectly capable of looking after me if necessary,” she replied.
“I was just being observant.” He did not appreciate her snapping back at him as being a nuisance. “You are famous for keeping things to yourself and you know it.”
She had been high-strung, but delightful, all her life. There was never a dull moment when she was around. She was also very involved in the church and never said no when somebody needed help. The children always came first, and Boris was right next in line.
“Monika, your father is right, there seems to be something wrong. You are not as cheerful these days; I am wondering if something is worrying you.” Boris also had noticed a change in her. “There is no harm in going to see a doctor just to be sure that everything is all right.” Boris pleaded with her, “Please go if only for the children’s sake.” At this point, he knew that he had better quit before she got really angry.
But Monika must have known something that the others didn’t; she was in denial. Eventually, she had to go and see a doctor, and the x-rays showed early stages of lung cancer. She had lost quite a bit of weight, and her cough sounded like a bad habit. Her father had been right. But the doctor was quite optimistic. With her positive personality and the right medication, she stood a good chance to overcome the illness.
“Boris, you must promise me that you won’t tell the children, at least not just now.” Then she threw herself into arranging everything for the children’s future in case she would no longer be there for them. She would need plenty of rest. Stress was another enemy to most illnesses. But best of all, her disposition was of a sort to provide considerable self-defence against illness. Boris adored her and had called her his “sunshine” when they started dating some years ago.
“It is time to go to the vineyard,” Boris was calling to her. Spruce trees are good for the lungs, so the two of them increased their visits to the vineyard, which was surrounded by them. The “vineyard” was actually a cottage in a vineyard. The building was made of wood and set on a concrete base. It was a popular place for gatherings, for peaceful contemplation, and, sometimes, for assignations.
“Wait — the children are going to the house and they are not ready yet. Come on, kids, your father is being impatient as usual, and don’t you be giving them a hard time at the house.”
“Don’t worry, Mom, we will be playing with Bruno, and Grandpa is going to spend some time with us,” little Katya informed her seriously. She had her mother’s nature and tended to be a bit bossy.
Grandpa spent a lot of time at the Toblars’ keeping Boris company when Monika needed rest and the children needed supervision. She knew that two of her favourite men were keeping an eye on her precious children while she was unable to do so.
Bruno, the family dog, always greeted the children with delight. Sometimes Grandma would send him home with the children, saying that he had better return with Grandpa in tow, as she felt that he was spending too much time with Boris. Monika never had to worry about the children going to, or returning from, the house. They had only to cross two of the neighbours’ backyards and they were there.
Often, the cat would also trail behind them and then stop halfway there and wait for Grandpa and Bruno to come back; then Bruno would happily chase the cat and show off to Grandpa how brave he was. But at the house, the two animals often waited together under the table for some scraps. The aroma of food never failed them when someone was cooking. Life on the farm was good for them.
Monika’s children were very helpful. She had included them in everything right from a very young age. Tony, who was the oldest, liked to spend time with his father. Katya had a say in everything, just like her mother, even though she was the youngest. But Andy liked Bruno the most. He often kept him at his house until Bruno wanted to go home to Grandpa.
“Hey, Katya, you will never need a perm. Your hair is permanently permed,” her brothers would tease.
“Don’t you worry, darling, they are just envious because they don’t have the same beautiful hair,” Grandpa would say to calm her down when she got upset with the boys. “You have my hair, and since the two of us get along so well, they are just jealous . . . Come and give me a hug.” The only time that she really minded the curls was when it came time to comb her hair.
“Mom, can you put my hair into ponytails?” She liked that.
“Yes, darling, you can have your ponytails.”
She was quite a little princess that way.
Summertime was great in the village. Children had plenty of freedom, as it was safe for them to play; or, at times, they would help their parents with farming. In the winter, the firemen always held dances at the fire hall. There was plenty of food for everyone and dancing for the grown-ups. Singing in the evenings was also very popular, es
pecially on the weekends. People seemed to be happy. No one was picky about where they might gather and sing. The Zantons mostly ended up with loads of young people in front of the house on Sundays, and before you knew it, there was dancing, or singing, or both.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lucille and Mark
THERE HAD BEEN A PRIVATE WAR GOING ON at the Zantons’ ever since Mother Zanton found out that Mark was seeing Lucille. Had it not been for the tragedy in the family, which kept Mother occupied, there would have been more to it. But Mother was waiting like a lioness for the right time to strike at what she called a dreadful situation.
“Mark, you will never marry that girl as long as I live. She is not of our standing; you must find yourself a more suitable girl!” She was furious with Mark to even consider marrying the girl.
“Mother, would you have any objections to my marrying Lucille if Martin were still alive?”
“How dare you put me in such a spot as to having to talk about your brother?” she snapped.
“Now, Veronika, you are being totally unfair to the boy,” Father intervened. “You know that we never told Martin who he should have chosen to marry.” He was being gentle about mentioning Martin.
“Only you would say that. You never cared who they would marry, but I have always watched the kinds of girls the boys might marry. This family has a reputation to uphold, and I will not change my mind.”
“Mother, you haven’t even met Lucille. How can you say those things against her?” Mark protested. “You think that wealth is everything, but I disagree with you. I love her and I will marry her if she will have me. However, I would prefer to have your blessing rather than having problems in the family. Don’t you think that we have had enough of those?” He hated arguing with his mother. They all had been through so much in the past, so why not get along? “Lucille is my choice! As much as I dislike being disrespectful toward you, I have made up my mind!”
Since Mark and Lucille were by now serious about their relationship and their future, Mark was hoping that Monika would come to his rescue. Many people knew that the two of them were an item and most of them were happy for them. Most of all, it was nice to see Mark so happy after all the sadness that had threatened his family’s happiness.
“Be patient, son; your mother loves you very much,” his father said.
Lucille was smart, kind, and understanding about the situation regarding Mother Zanton’s stubborn ways. Mark adored her and couldn’t lose her now, no matter what. Even during her illness, he dared not think that she might not recover from her bout with TB.
“You know that we will have to walk a hard path in order to reach our destination,” Mark said, trying to prepare her for the worst regarding his mother. “We do have my father’s blessing, and he will be a great help.” Lucille was not his first love, but he knew that she was the love of his life — regardless of the fact that his mother did not want Lucille in the house, much less in the family.
Lucille was well aware that she was not welcome at the Zantons’ home. But when she was in Mark’s arms, she knew that someday she and Mark would overcome that barrier. Whenever they were at the vineyard, everything seemed right, and Mark assured her that he would never let her go. “There is no way that Mother can win this one. I am certain that Father is working in our favour when they discuss our relationship. He is our rock. We all go to him for advice and understanding.”
Mark’s brother, Martin, was a very outgoing young man, but Mark was deep. While his brother had a winning smile, he also had a roving eye. Mark, on the other hand, was more serious and loyal. The girls that Mark dated before Lucille didn’t leave any lasting impressions on him. Lucille provided something different for him, something unique. She was brilliant. How he longed for her. The shy and gentle touch that she provided sent a message of love. She really appreciated good things, and when it came to love, there was depth. Loyalty and compassion were at the top of her list, and Mark returned the same.
Lucille said, “I recall the sleepless nights when my brother Joe went away to America the first time. Then, after he left the second time, I felt this numbness. They all felt that I was too small to understand. Mira and I are close now, but back then, we didn’t talk much, and I was much too obsessed with my big brother. Ivan always cared and showed it, while Joe was unable to express himself. He was just like my father and didn’t know it.”
“I know the feeling. My sister Magda is just like Mother, and they clash on a daily basis.”
“My life had very little promise or light until you stepped into it,” Lucille added.
“My father has a very kind heart. The winter after Martin died, he and Mother hardly ever talked. It was just too hard to talk about it. Our whole family stayed very much apart, totally divided, instead of standing united. Remember how Mother forbade us to talk about Martin? You were the one who gave me hope and comfort during those trying times. You were the only one who cared about somebody else, rather than yourself.”
“You must forgive her for some of the things she said after Martin died. People say things in anger or in grief that they wouldn’t say otherwise.” Lucille tried hard to be fair. “She had high hopes for Martin, and all those hopes were shattered with his death. Any mother would be distraught after losing a child at any age. The fact that he died in action didn’t make him any less dead. I feel for her. She likely lashed out at all of you out of sheer frustration and sorrow.”
“My father, however, didn’t have the same frame of mind and he suffered silently. One could sympathize with both. Most parents would rather die themselves than lose their child, for it would hurt less and be easier to take. We should not have to go to war in order to experience, or even appreciate, things like that. However, you do value life more after seeing or hearing of horrors that a war brings.”
Nevertheless, Mother Zanton always rambled on about anything and everything. She was somewhat spoiled, and when you feel superior to others, you feel compelled to live up to your reputation or face humiliation.
“It is sad,” Mark continued, “but actions speak louder than words. My sister Magda inherited the same trait, and the two of them are always trying to outdo one another. We all just roll our eyes sometimes in disbelief.”
“Helena doesn’t say much,” Lucille commented.
“Helena never gets a chance. There is no room for her opinions. She is totally intimidated by the two of them. Monika does her own thing and ignores both of them quite successfully. She used to use Boris as her scapegoat, when the two of them were first dating. Being the man that he is, he would do anything for her. He promptly tells Mother and Magda that they are too much alike and therefore both guilty.”
“And he gets away with it?”
“Yes, quite easily,” Mark added. “Mother likes him and always has. Boris grew up being afraid of her. He never disliked her, but she intimidated him. By the time he started dating Monika, he had made it a lifetime commitment that he would someday overcome this intimidation and plough through that starchy barrier. Knowing quite well that should he get into much trouble doing so, Father would surely come to his rescue — and let me tell you, he would be speaking for everyone involved and affected by these two characters.” They laughed. Talking like that always brought them closer, and it was less intimidating for Lucille. It was quite well known that Martin was Mother’s favourite, Monika was the family’s delightful troublemaker, Helena was afraid of her own shadow, Magda was the witch, and Mark was simply Father Zanton’s double and, therefore, a symbol of stability.
There was no question that Mark would now, after the death of his brother, be the one to take over. Mother Zanton was, however, determined regarding Lucille. Instead of getting to know her, she preferred to indulge herself in a bit of self-pity as well as self-destruction, just so she could get the attention she so desperately needed in order to achieve her goal: stopping Lucille from c
oming into the Zanton family. How wrong she was and did not know it.
“I have no intention of ever knowing that girl. I know that she has been ill and she couldn’t possibly fit into our circle.” She made it clear what she meant.
Mark hinted, “My father inherited the farm and all the rest. You would think it was Mother who had inherited.” He was becoming more and more frustrated with his mother. “Father is more giving and wise.”
Chance plays a big role in our lives, and these were hard times for Mark, but he was determined to win this time. Mother repeatedly tormented Mark to find himself a wife, as long as it wasn’t Lucille. She had her own idea as to whom her son should marry. The woman was a local schoolteacher, and Mother, being a snob, would have preferred that Mark kept up the tradition and married well. But Mark kept his cool and would not give in to her whim.
Father tried to console him, “Just hold on, son; time will tell. Mother will come to her senses. She loves you very much and thinks that she is doing you a favour.”
Mark explained to Lucille, “Mother never worked on the farm, as she prefers to keep up her social status. She figures someone will need to replace her eventually.”
“What about the farm? Does your father not have her support at all?” Lucille inquired.
“Mother is too busy spending money and never gets reprimanded for it. There is work to be done, and her expensive tastes cost money. We have a vast proportion of land and two businesses, but cash is not in the picture. When you have hired help, you have to pay them; as well, there are household costs, business costs, and five children to feed. There should be restrictions on lavish parties and extreme spending.” By now, Mark was wishing he didn’t have to take over and could just live with Lucille at her home, without all those headaches. “No wonder I miss Martin so much!” He was desperate and felt sorry for saying that — but he really missed his brother very much.
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