“It wasn’t that. I was simply wrapped up in an unhappy home where things didn’t go right, not to mention the illness that surrounded us. I was totally unaware of being unhappy while I worried about being unhealthy. On top of which, I worried about Mother for as long as I can remember.”
“What do you remember the most vividly?”
“Joe’s leaving, and later, Mother dying. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
These private conversations often took place in the evening by the fire, while the children were asleep. Helena would be snuggled in her own quarters and Grandpa would often fall asleep right in the living room in front of the burning stove. That was his favourite spot.
“Father, you better go to bed. You are interfering with our conversation with your snoring.”
“What? Who is snoring?” He never admitted to snoring. According to him, he was only resting his eyes. “I was listening to you all this time.” Laughter . . .
“Let me give you a hand.” Mark would pull him up, and off he went. The next day, he had no recollection of anything at all. He simply enjoyed being in their company and it didn’t matter what they were talking about.
“Father, you promised me that we would go for a ride today to see Uncle Ivan,” little Mark reminded his father. “After all, a promise is a promise.”
“Oh, right! I did, didn’t I. Well, let’s get ready and we might even invite your sisters to come with us. They might want to see him as well. Go and see if they want to come.”
“But Father, if they go with us, can I sit in the front with you?” the boy was now getting concerned.
“Yes, of course you can. I am sure your sisters won’t even want to sit there.”
Wrong! The first thing that Vera said was, “I am sitting in front with Father.”
To which Lucille replied, “Vera, the boys are sitting in front and the girls are sitting in the back!”
“Then I am not going!” Vera protested.
“So get off the wagon. You are making your father late by complicating things again.” Lucille was determined to win this one. “Hurry and get off the wagon!”
At which point Mark Sr. didn’t feel like going anyway.
“Get down, Vera. If I have to go and pull you off the wagon, there will be a price to pay, and you know it.” Lucille was not backing off, and Vera slowly retreated.
Vera was only eight years old at the time but her stubbornness was overwhelming. She was a so-called “control freak” even at that young age. At the same time, she was not feeling all that great, which didn’t help. It made her quite irritable.
“I think I better take Vera to see Dr. Loncar. She is very cranky,” Lucille commented.
“So what else is new?” Mark teased gently.
“I know what you mean, but I am worried.”
“Lucille, we’d better run some tests; I suspect it could be arthritis.” Dr. Loncar seemed alarmed.
“But how could that be? She is just a child.”
“There is such a thing as juvenile arthritis. A child can get it and luckily, in most cases the child will outgrow it, usually by the time it reaches puberty. Let’s hope I’m wrong. We will soon see.”
Sure enough, the tests showed that she had been stricken with arthritis. This was not good news. Grandpa was especially devastated by it. He was crazy about the kids. And they felt the same about him.
This shook Lucille beyond belief. Panicked, she said to Mark, “What if this has something to do with my previous illness?”
“I honestly don’t think that it has,” Mark reassured her and he truly believed it.
Dr. Loncar reassured her, “No, Lucille, it has nothing whatsoever to do with you. This is rare, I have to admit, but it has nothing to do with you or anybody else. So relax and help her for the time being. Time will tell, and let’s hope for the best. With proper medication, she should be all right.”
“If this persists, will she still be able to go to school?” Lucille wondered.
Grandpa was being a total sweetheart and kept her company. Vera read books to him in order to keep up with her studies. She was an excellent student from the very beginning.
Leni enjoyed snuggling up against her and tried to keep her company; she was good-natured and often put others ahead of herself.
Marie was the one who spent a lot of time in the kitchen with whoever was cooking something that smelled good. She enjoyed helping. “Auntie Helena, may I help? I promise not to make too much mess. And if I do, I will clean it up.”
“You can help me make it, and Grandpa will help us eat it, all right?” Helena said.
“Mark, would you like to help us bake?” Leni inquired.
“No! Don’t you know that cooking and baking is not for guys? Where is Father?”
“If you don’t want to help, then I don’t want to tell you where Father is,” Leni said, pouting.
“Oh, girls! I will never understand them.”
“Now that came from his father, I am sure of that,” Helena added.
Grandpa just grinned to himself and said, “This boy will go a long way with women. He knows how to handle them even at this age.” It seemed really comical to him. Deep down, he wished that he had been more assertive like that while he still had a chance with Mother; but by now, of course, it was too late.
“Now, don’t you go encouraging him. You know that Lucille will not approve of it.”
“Now, Helena, if I was to do that, I would most likely be in trouble for the rest of my life as there are enough women in this house to see to that. Don’t you think?”
“Oh, Father, you know that we love you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Grandpa Zanton
Says Goodbye
THE VINEYARD WAS A POPULAR PLACE on Sunday afternoons, especially in the summertime after they had been to the church. This place had been a sanctuary for generations, and for Mark and Lucille, it was their cherished love nest. As cottages are known to bring people together, so did this one, which had always been referred to as “the vineyard.” And that is because it was located right at the core of Zanton’s Vineyard. It was where the wine had been made from the grapes picked right on the premises. It was located less than two kilometres from the village.
From the Zantons’ house to the vineyard, you passed only one other house, which was located halfway from the Zantons’ and the forest. The house was in an enviable location, all by itself, and as soon as you reached the forest, you were able to feel the total serenity of it. Hardly anyone ever disturbs the quiet, and there is no greater pleasure then seeing the forest creatures at close range and in their own environment.
It takes your breath away when you observe how a doe guides and protects its offspring and at the same time manages to provide some fun and some leaping play. The youngster gets into a playful position to buck and disobey the parent, its eyes going into a guilty mode, if only for a moment, then leaping suddenly, frightening not only the mother, but several other creatures in the surrounding areas as well. The youngster is now reprimanded and coached about caution; and then nudged nose-to-nose in a gesture of love.
Often, you spot a buck nearby, watching the whole process and protectively standing by. In a nearby creek, the water soothingly flows, invoking a feeling of calm. They say that water has power; yes, it does: the magical power of tranquility. And it seems to see things that are not visible to the human eye and know secrets that are hidden from us.
As you walk, some birds will follow you and make certain sounds of reproach or even some friendly chatter. If a bird has a nest nearby, it will try to persuade you to take a swift departure so as not to disturb its brood. The others are lonely and very sociable, so they follow you for company. Even some squirrels will follow you but they only do it to get food from you. Chipmunks are another popular creature in
the forest.
Sometimes, a fox will spot you and discreetly move as you move, then stop as you stop. You always get the feeling of someone — or something — watching you. You expect a human being to do things like that. Dogs, too, have a tendency to stop as you stop.
There are snakes and/or other reptiles that will move the grass or leaves somewhere near you and spook you. If you attempt to pick up chestnuts along the road, you had better be prepared to get pricked by the shell, not to mention grabbing a frog by mistake! Then there are the rabbits, whose droppings you may find before you spot them, as they lay in the safety of Mother Nature’s arms. Only when startled will they hop away.
The vineyard and its surroundings were very important to the Zantons; they treated it as their second home. It was never the structure itself that pulled people to it. It was the symbol of it, the bonding, the escape, and the good times that it had brought to the people (family and friends alike) for generations. It was basically an in-ground cellar with a wooden structure on top of it. But most of all, it was the location. From there, you had views of Gradsko Selo, Lipa, Gomilka, and more. You felt empowered up there.
The cellar was built of stone and had very thick walls. Inside, there were barrels of different kinds and sizes. These barrels were not on the floor but were mounted on four-inch-thick poles that were inserted into the wall, thus creating support for the barrels.
One day, Mark Sr. tried to insert one of the poles into the wall. “What is wrong with this hole? I can’t get the pole in,” he complained to Grandpa.
“There must be something obstructing it inside,” Grandpa replied. So Mark reached in with his hand to try and pull out whatever was there.
“Ouch!” he panicked and pulled his hand out, on which hung a live mink holding on to his finger and nearly biting it right through. Minks have very sharp teeth and can be very vicious if attacked or startled.
Grandpa Zanton, and likely his father before him, used to bring his cronies to the vineyard, and they often got themselves quite tipsy. And by now, since Mark was unable to do much hard work due to his poor health, he likewise brought his buddies.
He would reminisce with Lucille, “Whenever I am there I think of the time we spent together. How happy we were regardless of all the opposition in the family.”
“It was there that we first made love. Remember?”
“Those were good times, and I will never regret it.”
“Neither will I.” She remembered walking barefoot in soft moss around the cottage. “I especially enjoy those days when we pick grapes and make wine. Everybody has a good time.”
“Yes, I think some of them come to help, others for the companionship, and yet others just to get drunk — free of charge. And that is fine as well. Don’t you think?” They both laughed.
“As far as carving our initials on those trees and harvesting the grapes, it is very much our family tradition. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mark said.
“I know. There is nothing more important than family traditions and family history. It gives you security, stability, roots, and peace of mind,” Lucille agreed.
“I just wish that we didn’t have to worry about the impending war.”
“Yes, I heard more bad news on the radio this morning.” Lucille was trying not to sound alarmed.
“How do you prepare for a war when you don’t know if or when it will start — much less where?”
“I worry for the children. Leni is still so small.”
“Father is quite ready to join Mother and Martin. He says he would rather be taken to his death than see another war.”
The two old men that lived in the neighbouring cottage were always included in the gatherings at the vineyard, and were a great addition. Their names were Tom and Stan.
“I can’t think of having those gatherings without Tom and Stan. What do you think?” Mark said to Lucille.
“The two of them live for those occasions. By the way, what was their origin?” Lucille inquired.
“I have no idea. You will have to ask Grandpa about that. I never even thought of asking.”
“Grandpa, where did Tom and Stan come from? I mean, originally?” Lucille asked.
“I don’t know, my dear. The two of them came to this village as gravel pit employees. In fact, they were night watchmen, and that is why they needed to live nearby. The two of them soon became a valuable asset to all the surrounding cottagers, as well as to the vineyard owners. They provided a safe presence.”
“What Lucille is asking is, what do you know about them before they came here?” Mark added.
“I never asked. However, it was apparent to me that Tom had a past that he kept to himself. I quite honestly never even wanted to know. A man who is a good man has the right to his privacy.”
Tom was quite cottage-bound from the start, whereas Stan, on the other hand, had a social life; and he provided for the two of them in later years. They got along quite well, and later, when Tom became very ill, Stan stood by his buddy.
They had their pension, but it wasn’t much, so Stan would come into the village for help and special treats, as well as some comforting advice.
“Anna, when Stan comes in, please make sure that he gets some soup and a few other goodies to take with him, will you?” Lucille wanted to help.
There were rumours that Stan had dated a girl from a neighbouring cottage, but her mother wanted him for herself, and that became a bad situation. After that incident, he just about gave up dating altogether. So, coming to the Zantons’ cottage was about as exciting as it got.
Tom and Stan became two of Grandpa’s cronies and they often joked about who would go first.
“When Tom’s days became numbered, a lot of people were sad, as he had become quite a legend. We all felt that with his death, there would be an end to an era,” Grandpa remembered.
At the beginning of 1936, while the snow still covered the ground, Tom was laid to rest. That sent a message to the rest of the cronies, including Grandpa Zanton, who said that he might not see the next winter snowfall. He was by now eighty-six years old and had certainly made peace with reality. “I am glad that Drago comes more often these days. He helps me spend my time around the house, like at the table at the front; and we both enjoy the kitchen, where Helena spoils us both.”
“Grandpa, you are a good man and deserve the best,” Lucille would say, while putting his favourite goodies in front of him. Have a treat.
“Grandpa, do you have any goodies for us?” The children would climb up on his lap and look right into his face, as if to say, “Listen to me — I was first.” So he had no choice but to comply.
Christmas came and went, half-happy, half-sad, as even the children noticed Grandpa’s latest vulnerability. An old wives’ tale says, “If an owl is seen very close to the house, or if it comes right onto the window ledge, there is going to be a death in the family.” However, at The House, there had been an owl coming for years, and the Zantons were joking that they were going to adopt the bird, since the whole family had become quite fond of it.
“Owls are wise and beautiful, but Grandpa knew better, for the owl was not the only wise creature around,” Mark sadly remembered later.
Lucille was pregnant again, much to Grandpa’s dismay. “Do you people not realize that Lucille is approaching her forty-second birthday? Why must you jeopardize her life with yet another pregnancy?” But as soon as he said it, he felt sorry for interfering.
“Grandpa, I will be just fine,” Lucille comforted him.
Mark put in, “Father, you know how I feel about Lucille. I will always take care of her.”
“I would like to stick around until you have this baby, just to make sure that everything will turn out all right. I know Mark. He will fall apart if anything happens to you. Besides, I don’t want to miss the happy occasion.” Grandpa tried to put it lightly,
but it was with a heavy heart. When Mark and Lucille had first told him about the baby, they wanted to encourage him and distract him from the owl situation. Furthermore, so much bad news was coming through the radio regarding the world affairs. At the same time, Lucille was afraid to tell him about the baby because she feared that he would get angry with Mark for being insensitive, as Grandpa used to do in the past.
“I know I’m not a young woman anymore but I am feeling fine [which was untrue].” She felt she was losing her best friend. Father Zanton had been her rock, her guide, her protector, and, in her heart, her “Guardian Angel.”
The pregnancy was a difficult one this time.
Helena complained, “Lucille, you are lying through your teeth. Even I know that you are not doing well this time. I have a hard time breathing just by thinking of losing Father, not to mention possibly more than that. Father is my best friend. He has always been there for me.”
“He has been there for all of us,” Mark said as he came into the kitchen. “Helena, we will all miss him.”
On Easter Sunday of 1937, Father/Grandpa Zanton died peacefully, surrounded by his loved ones.
The light simply went out, and the owl had been right. A big part of the Zanton legacy died with him. Certainly, a part of him wanted to join his son Martin and his beloved wife, Veronika, in their final rest.
Summer came, and so did Uncle Drago, who appeared quite lost without his brother. He was a witness to the will and he oversaw the girls’ being paid their shares.
“I feel relieved regarding the girls’ being paid out. Uncle Drago seemed to feel quite proud to be there for the occasion. Don’t you think?” Mark commented.
“Yes, so do I,” Lucille confirmed. “He is in deep mourning as well. I tried to comfort him and failed; however, he managed to come to my aid. He has that calm approach like Grandpa.”
“It runs in the family. How come I don’t get the same compliments?” Mark teased her.
Mark had to depend on the hired help again, to give Lucille some time to herself. She took Grandpa’s death harder than did Mark. He at least pretended to be strong even though they all knew that deep down inside him, he cried as well. He and his father had been very close, and Mark was a softy when it came to his father.
A Touch of Light Page 18