A Touch of Light

by Cilika Kunovic

  “Mom, why do you keep things from us? Did we do anything wrong?”

  “No, of course not, Leni, why would you even ask me that?” Lucille tried to smooth things out.

  “But Silvia and I are not allowed to stay in the kitchen at night when you discuss things.”

  “What things, my dear?”

  “I don’t know what things. That is why I’m asking you how come we don’t get to be there?”

  “Now Leni, there are certain things that you simply wouldn’t understand. Where is Silvia?” Suddenly, a chill went through Lucille, something she was unable to comprehend. She turned around and quickly went outside as if she felt the need to save Silvia. She yelled to Leni, “Where is your sister?”

  At that point, Leni was worried and wondered why her mother had panicked all of a sudden.

  “Leni, I am asking you a simple question: Where is your sister?” Lucille was frantic by now. Then, suddenly Lucille saw Helena standing in front of the house talking to someone quite calmly. In the meantime, Marie came out as well because she heard her mother questioning Leni about Silvia.

  “What is wrong, Mom?”

  “Lucille, you look like you just saw a ghost. What is the matter?” asked Helena. “Is Leni all right? Is she in trouble? Oh, I see her now. Look who is here!”

  “Uncle Drago, how good to see you again!” Lucille cried.

  “Well, I came for a reason. Grandpa sent me to look after all of you.”

  “I am quite certain that Silvia feels his presence quite often,” Lucille said. “She talks about Grandpa, and yet we all know that she never met him. At first, I was pretty sure that she meant you — but to her, you are Uncle Drago and Grandpa is Grandpa. What do you make of it?

  “I don’t know if I should be happy or upset the way Silvia is showing a connection with unusual things . . . the way she holds the little duckies when they sense danger and the way she feels sorry for them . . . I don’t think she knows what it is she is feeling, but she is capable of making them feel better.” Lucille tried to sound him out.

  “Children are innocent and pure. Just let it be.” Drago was comfortable with the way things were.

  However, war or no war, there were duties to meet, chores to do, and there was church to attend. Mark and Lucille kept to the old routine as much as possible. That is one of the basics for stability in life and it gives comfort. If, or when, that stability is broken, the children, more than the adults, find themselves on shaky ground. After all, it is not only the animals that are creatures of habit.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  A Tragedy

  AT THIS STAGE OF YOUNG MARK’S LIFE, he already had his own horse, as his pet and his best friend. When he was first given the horse by his father, he was overwhelmed with the gift.

  “Father, can we name him ‘Ram’?”

  “What makes you say that, son? Where did you come up with that name?”

  “I am not sure. I think maybe I was dreaming about it . . . I just like the name. Is it all right to name him ‘Ram’?” The boy could not stop talking. He was overly excited and simply could not stop.

  “Now, Mark, you must not neglect your schoolwork over this horse,” his father warned him.

  Before this, young Mark was an outgoing young boy who had plenty of friends in the village. He had a great personality and was popular at school as well. But now, his heart was with Ram and only Ram.

  “I am worried about our son. He is spending much too much time with his colt,” Lucille protested.

  “As long as he keeps up with his schoolwork, there is nothing to worry about.”

  “That is exactly what I am talking about,” Lucille said. “I have been keeping an eye on his homework and I don’t like it.”

  “He is willing to help with all the horses, not just Ram, and has proven to be quite responsible so far.”

  The young colt was supposed to be just a hobby for Mark, at first. Ram’s mother had brought a lot of pleasure to the family. Being good-natured, anybody could ride her. If any of the kids would stray too far, the horse would turn around and bring him or her back home. She also had a habit of getting free from the stable and would march right through the front entrance of the house!

  The lobby was large, and the door leading into the kitchen was made of half wood and half glass. The next thing you saw was this horse’s head looking through the glass half of the door into the kitchen. And the more often she repeated this stunt, the more amusing it became to everyone. Later, the young colt would tag along in the same fashion.

  As the colt grew, young Mark would ride it, train it, groom it, and just plain love it.

  The well in front of the house, located under the famous huge tree with its spreading branches, was sometimes used by young Mark and Ram as a jumping target. The tree and the well had been there for generations. The ground was higher at the back of the well, so Mark would ride the colt around the tree and triumphantly make a swift jump over the well.

  His father was the first one to witness this stunt, which caused him to freeze on the spot.

  “Oh, my goodness!” was the only thing that his father could say. He had this instant vision of the boy and the horse accidentally hitting the well — and who knows what then?

  “Are you out of your mind?” But young Mark just laughed and pleaded with his father to let him do it again, to which his father responded, “If your mother were to see you doing this, and me standing here watching you, she would kill us both!”

  The colt was high-spirited and when it was very young, Mark Sr. used to take it to the gravel pit, where he helped transport the gravel. The mare was part of the pulling team, and the little one pranced around happily. The men who worked there often pinched the colt to make it jump. They liked the fiery colt, but this later backfired, because it made the colt too frisky.

  Ram was happiest when with young Mark, and the same could be said in reverse.

  “Why don’t you go around him, while you are grooming him, instead of crawling underneath?” his father inquired.

  “Oh, I don’t know, I suppose it’s just one of those things,” the boy answered. He also competed in jumping with Ram. There was a definite loyalty between these two.

  By now, his mother was aware of his stunts with Ram. “I wouldn’t make it a habit, if I were you. I am losing sleep over this circus of yours.”

  Young Mark used to sleepwalk at night.

  “Mark, I found you in the stable standing beside Ram again last night. We have to do something about this,” his father complained.

  “I don’t remember doing anything like that, Father . . .”

  “We are going to have to bolt the front door to prevent you from getting yourself killed one night. I know that you don’t know what you do in your sleep, but this is not something we should overlook. I want you to have a talk with Dr. Loncar to see what can be done about it.”

  “There is nothing wrong with me,” young Mark protested. He was embarrassed, but these things are known to happen between children and their pets.

  “That boy is neglecting everything and everyone in order to spend time with Ram,” Lucille protested.

  Young Mark was by now going on fifteen years of age. He was very responsible, not only regarding Ram, but also with the other horses. He, being the only boy in the family, and being fully aware that his father expected him to get into the swing of things on the farm, took it upon himself to do just that. One other thing that he did was to train Ram to walk and trot beside his mother, the mare; and since they were similar in colour, it was quite a sight to see.

  Mark had a tendency to do things in a hurry when it came to meals, homework, and going to and coming from school; but when it came to being with his best friend, Ram, there was no such thing as hurry. He would stand on the wagon and sing for everyone to hear. This was his world and he revelled i
n it.

  Nothing bothered him when he worked with any of the horses, for that matter. He felt relaxed with the horses, as if there were a natural connection between him and these animals. “Mom, come see this!” he would call his mother and try to impress her by jumping over the well.

  “Mark, you and your father are both out of your minds over this jumping,” his mother protested.

  Then, one late November morning, before he and his sisters were to go to school, young Mark had it arranged with a neighbouring blacksmith to bring Ram to get his “new shoes,” as Mark would joke. So this had to take place before school.

  “Mark, you have hardly touched your breakfast,” Lucille protested.

  “Mom, I don’t have time to argue right now. I have to be at their place by seven o’clock.” He left the girls still eating and scurried into the stable to get Ram and then quickly stopped in front of the house to wave to his mother as usual. The young colt was handsome, and so was the boy.

  Silvia, who was brushing her hair, heard her mother at the front door and came to join her.

  As Mark reached the curve of their driveway, he stopped, looked back, and waved to his mother with a long look. Then he rode away.

  Lucille turned back toward the kitchen, and Silvia followed her, chatting.

  “Silvia, I am not in the mood for chatter right now; go and get ready for school.” So the girl retreated back in to the living room to finish brushing her hair.

  Then it happened.

  The blacksmith’s sister came storming into the house, screaming uncontrollably, “Lucille, Lucille! It’s, it’s, Mark! He is, he is, he has been hurt!”

  Lucille froze on the spot. “He is dead, isn’t he,” was her reply. Suddenly, a shadow came over her, a shadow that would never go away. Everything became a blur. Lucille ran from the house. “Mark, Mark!” Lucille was screaming. They all ran to him, but it was over.

  Mark Zanton Jr. had died instantly. All there was to see was a small black mark on his chest; however, it was a fatal one. The coroner pronounced him dead. It was unbelievable. The Zantons were completely shattered in a way that no words could explain. Their lives would be completely changed from now on.

  Mark was one month short of fifteen years of age. That once happy boy, who devoted his whole well-being to this horse, was killed in a freak accident by the same horse.

  “It was an accident, Lucille, an accident. I was right there. It was an accident!” The woman was trying to convince the Zantons that it wasn’t anybody’s fault.

  “Just tell us what happened,” Mark Sr. asked once the initial shock passed and young Mark’s body had been removed from the premises. “If you were right there, then where was Anton?” Mark asked. “Where was he at that time? Was he still in bed as usual, when he is supposed to be waiting for people to arrive?”

  “I went to call him, while Mark tied the horse, and I came back outside to tell him that Anton would be right out. The boy was talking to Ram, and he walked to the other side and then, as he was coming back to this side — ” She went into hysteric sobs.

  “Go on — and be careful what you tell us, because it is important that we know the truth,” Mark said.

  “I had just finished feeding the chickens before the boy came so I was still outside.”

  “Go on, tell us the rest. And calmly, as nobody is accusing you of anything.” But in Mark’s mind, there was a hurricane boiling.

  “Well, the chickens were climbing up on the pumpkins, what was left of them, and for some reason, the pumpkins started rolling. The chickens freaked out, and Ram got scared, just as the boy walked right behind him [more crying]. The horse kicked back, and young Mark was hit.”

  “So Ram kicked him in the heart?” Mark Sr. was about to pass out, when Lucille came over to him and held him hard.

  In other words, the horse got spooked by the chickens and kicked back, right into Mark’s heart. The boy died instantly. It was an unfortunate and freak accident.

  “How could something so tragic happen out of this innocent love between a boy and a horse?”

  The horse knew, or rather sensed, that something was terribly wrong. And to make things worse, Mark Sr. tried to punish Ram out of sheer agony. Ram was frightened and this freaked him out even more. He became a very defensive animal.

  “Mark, you must understand that Ram feels the loss of our son as well. It is unfair to treat an animal badly. I know that you don’t mean it. You have never in your life been mean to anyone, including the animals.” Lucille tried to reason with her husband.

  “Oh, I know. And I feel bad for even thinking about it, but it hurts so much.”

  Vera, who was known to hold a grudge against anyone and anything, did the same with Ram. She had a good yell at him. Later, when she finally tried to make peace with the horse, the horse would have nothing to do with her. He bucked her so severely that she had a real fear of him from then on.

  “That horse never liked me in the first place. I am not going to have anything to do with it,” Vera protested. But animals have a sixth sense.

  Mark Jr. died in November 1943. His life had been very short but it had been a very happy one. That, at least, was of some comfort to the family. It makes us realize that we must appreciate the good things in life while we can. Besides, that horse brought young Mark a lot of pleasure in his short life. And let’s not forget, things happen for a reason.

  Mark’s funeral was something else!

  The word had spread of the tragedy and the response was overwhelming. It really was unbelievable. He was laid out in the living room where there was space for people to stand around the coffin. People poured in to pay their respects to the grieving family.

  Helena felt that it would have been better if she had died instead of young Mark, whom she adored. People truly feel with their hearts in a case like this, when someone so young dies.

  “Vera can’t go to the funeral. You know that, don’t you?” Lucille said to her husband.

  “What does Dr. Loncar think about it?” Mark replied.

  “He has ordered her to stay in bed for her own good. He says we don’t need another disaster.”

  It so happened that Vera was finally overcoming her juvenile arthritis. At the time, she was going through a form of cleansing. She started coming out with severe boils all over her body.

  Dr. Loncar said, “I have been hoping for this to happen. This is the way the body is rejecting all the bad blood and getting rid of the problem in this form of cleansing. However, she must stay in bed for now. She can’t bring her brother back but she can save her own life.”

  It was heartbreaking to see the three Zanton girls at the funeral. With Vera at home in bed, Mark Jr. being the one they were burying, that left Marie, pale-faced and terrified, standing in front of her father and looking up at her parents for comfort, while the two of them, barely able to stand, suffering in their grief, were unable to think past Mark Jr. Then there were Leni and Silvia, both completely overwhelmed and lost, Leni holding Silvia’s hand like a little mother hen. On and off, Lucille kept looking down at them.

  All of their cousins were there to support them, as well as many other relatives. An enormous number of people showed up for the viewing, and many were asked to come back to the house after the funeral.

  “Listen, children, only two at a time may go and see Vera. Understood?”

  During the viewing, while young Mark lay in his coffin and Vera was bedridden in the next room, the war was rampaging around them without a pause. One wonders how we can go on, yet somehow we do.

  “They say that everything happens for a reason. Somehow, I can’t see how this could possibly have had a reason for happening. Can you?” Lucille was trying hard to make any sense out of it all.

  “No, I am afraid I can’t.” Mark could hardly speak.

  Uncle Drago suddenly stepped in with what
he hoped would be comforting, “There is a saying that goes like this — ‘A family that prays together stays together.’ The Zantons have always been able to pull through.” There was not much else that one could possibly say. “Just look at all the people who are coming to see him.”

  Sometime after all this, Ram’s mother died. That was when Mark and Lucille decided to sell Ram to an animal institute where they studied such animals. It was mainly out of fear that the horse might kill somebody else, even if not on purpose. And as expected, this eased a lot of pain — more than anyone could ever have known.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The War Takes Its Toll

  HITLER WAS BY NOW FIGHTING ON TWO FRONTS: Britain, with her American allies, to the west, not very successfully; and Russia to the east. But he was gradually being beaten back from his previous conquests, the so-called “ethnic cleansing.” However, certain Nazi groups, such as the Gestapo and the SS, still continued.

  While young Mark lay in his coffin in the living room, as was the custom then, two German officers came to the house, saluted properly, and asked for him.

  “We are here to see Mark Zanton Jr.; where is he?”

  “You mean Mark Zanton Sr.,” Lucille promptly corrected them. “What is it you want with him? He is my husband.”

  “Mrs. Zanton, we want your son, Mark Zanton Jr. This is an order!”

  By now, Lucille was scared and pointed to the living room, where both of her loved ones could be found.

  “This is my husband, Mark, and that happens to be my son, Mark.”

  The two officers both saluted, paused for a moment in front of the coffin, then made a prompt about-turn, saluted again to Mark Sr. and Lucille, and marched back out. Lucille followed them out the door and, once outside, without the mourners, the officers asked her what had happened.