Inherit the Past

by Susan Finlay

  “I guess Sofie’s grandfather isn’t the only secretive and stubborn old man.” With that, Max got up and sulked over to the edge of the water, sat down on the dew-dampened grass, and looked out over the foggy lake. The fog reminded Max of a cup of dark roast coffee with steam hovering over it, swirling and mysterious. God, what he wouldn’t give for a hot cup of coffee right now, or for a soak in a warm bath. On a lark he stuck his hand into the water to test it. Cold and slimy like yesterday. No surprise. He pulled his hand out of the water and dried it on his clothes, continuing to stare into the murky pool. For some reason he couldn’t explain, he felt a sadness descend on him.

  “Are you ready to get started?” Sofie sat down next to Max and put her hand on his shoulder.

  He gave her a half-smile. “I suppose.”

  “Give him some time. He may become more forthcoming as he gets to know you better.”

  “It’s frustrating. He’s my grandfather. I’m supposed to trust him, but how can I when he’s being evasive? Hell, all we have here in this century is Gramps and Birgitta. Our lives are in their hands.”

  Sofie put her arm around his shoulder. “I empathize with you, but we must be patient. My grandfather was similar in many ways. Perhaps that has something to do with their growing up during the war, worrying about air raids, and hiding from soldiers who took over their towns and homes. Fighting was actually going on all around them, including the women, children, and the elderly. Soldiers fought in the streets and in the countryside, killing each other.” She paused. “Of course I could be wrong. Their secretiveness might have nothing to do with the war. Sorry to go on about that. Just an idea.”

  “I think you may be correct. No need to apologize. It actually helps.”

  She smiled. “Anyway, he’s survived here in this century for twenty years, too. We have to trust that he knows what he’s doing.”

  Max sighed and then managed a smile. “You’re right. And at least we have each other. I mean, I’m sorry I got you into this and caused you and your family problems, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m also happy you’re here.” He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently.

  “I feel the same way.” Sofie smiled affectionately.

  Tobias suddenly shouted, breaching the moment. “Gramps says we have to go now.”

  “Okay,” Max shouted back. “We’re coming.” He jumped up, helped Sofie up, and held her hand as they walked over to the carriage and horses. Max lifted Tobias onto Karl’s horse, then helped Sofie onto her horse. Today, Max was riding horseback again. As they rode, he watched Sofie squirm. She was having as much trouble as he was, trying to get comfortable. He’d hoped that after days of riding, they would get accustomed to the hard saddles, the rough roads, and the dreary travel. No such luck. At least Tobias was light in the saddle and small enough that he could lay down on one of the seats in the carriage if he wanted.

  Max noticed two deer casually munching grass in a distant meadow. The setting—tall grass, trees, wildflowers reminded him of Montana or Wyoming. He momentarily pictured himself in the Old West as a cowboy wearing buckskin pants, chaps, vest, bandana, boots with spurs, and a gun holster and the lurching wagon behind him as a covered-wagon traveling to California during the gold rush. He relaxed and breathed deeply. Then, as if trying to snatch his peace, another thought flashed into the forefront of his mind: Yeah, but if he had traveled back in time in the U.S., he’d be able to speak the language, fit in better, and wouldn’t need to rely as heavily on Sofie. His muscles tensed again suddenly. He didn’t want his dependence on her to end.

  Sofie seemed to sense the change. “Is everything all right?”

  Max said, “Everything’s fine. I could get used to this, you know.”

  RYAN AND ANNELIESE sat in the carriage, both shifting repeatedly as they tried to get comfortable. The seats were somewhat cushioned, but didn’t come close to the luxury of the leather seats in his mother’s SUV, and the cushioning certainly did nothing to counteract the jostling and rocking of the vehicle over the bumpy road. Ryan eyed the more comfortable bench where Birgitta and Lotte sat. He considered sitting up there in place of one of the old women, but that would mean he’d have to try to converse with the one who was driving, and language problem or not, he didn’t have any desire to do that.

  The two old women on the bench had finally stopped arguing. For the first few days, they’d sniped at each other every chance they got. Now, they barely spoke. That suited Ryan just fine. Karl, Sofie, and Ryan’s father were on horseback and that suited Ryan, too.

  Anneliese got along with the women okay. Her grandmother sometimes seemed to baby her and would glance back at them sometimes with a reproachful kind of look, especially when he was holding Anneliese’s hand or cuddling with her. Twice, when she’d caught them kissing, she’d stared daggers at them. Anneliese would move away from him for a little while, but then would move closer to him as the day wore on and her grandmother stopped checking.

  He’d tried off and on to communicate with Anneliese ever since they’d met. Through gestures, he’d figured out her age—seventeen—one year younger than him. He knew she was learning to build clocks, but he’d heard that from Karl, not from her.

  She’d tried to talk to Ryan in German, and he’d tried to talk to her in English. They each understood a few words here and there, but it was liking communicating with his family’s dog who understood the basic words—fetch, dinner, outside, walk, goodie. Everything else was gibberish.

  Ryan had watched his dad with Sofie. The old man hadn’t wasted any time cozying up with her. Was it any wonder Mom had left him? Of course in all fairness his mother hadn’t wasted any time, either. Sofie was too young for his father, and way too pretty. She seemed to like his father, though, unless that was only because of their situation. She needed him for protection. On the other hand, they needed her, too. Sofie could speak both languages. So could her son. Hmm. That gave him an idea. If he could get Tobias to ride in the carriage again, the kid could translate for them. When he got a chance, he’d try to talk him into it. Shouldn’t be too difficult.

  FOR ONCE LOTTE was in charge of the carriage, and it was about damn time, though she could do without the smelly horses. She wrinkled her nose at their disgusting stink. The only thing worse than the horses themselves was the dung piles they left on the road. Other horses tromped on top of the piles, splattering the dung onto whomever happened to be nearby, as had happened to Lotte a few minutes ago when a vehicle traveling in the opposite direction had passed by their carriage. Most humiliating was Birgitta’s chuckling. Lotte wanted to smack her. Max and Karl and the others doted on the beasts as if they were part of the family. Bah.

  When traffic thinned out on the road, she relaxed her grasp on the reins and listened to the conversation between Birgitta and her granddaughter. Birgitta was leaning over the back of the bench on which she was seated and was peering through the window at Anneliese. “You should not be chummy with the boy. He is a stranger and he will be going away soon. Back to his own time.”

  Well, that was news to her. What made Birgitta think that? Was Karl holding back information?

  “But großmutter, I like him. He is kind and he is handsome. Where else will I meet someone like him?”

  “You are an innocent young girl, Anneliese. You do not know his kind. I do not want you with him and your father would not, either.”

  “I am not a baby anymore. I can make my own decisions.”

  “You will bring shame on this family if you are not careful. I can send you back to your parents if you refuse to listen to me. Is that what you want?”

  The girl grumbled loudly.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, Max and his grandfather rode side by side, but had not spoken since they’d left the campsite. Max glanced sideways, appraising Karl. His hair was shoulder-length, shaggy, and gray; his moustache and beard were bushy, with tiny breadcrumbs entangled in them like flies caught in a spider’s web. The man no longer seemed the jolly mi
ddle-aged man Max remembered from his childhood, back when Karl had visited the family in the U.S. Back then, Karl would attempt to chat with everyone he met, not caring that his English wasn’t perfect. Back then, Karl’s hair had been a blend of gray and brown and his face had been clean-shaven. Back then, Max had never really gotten to know his grandfather well. His mother had told Max and his sister stories about her childhood and her parents. Why hadn’t he paid more attention? Of course, had he paid attention, he still wouldn’t know this older, more secretive version of Karl, but it might have given him some more background, more context.

  Breaking the silence, Max said, “Hey, Gramps, I was wondering about my mother. What was she like when she was a little girl?”

  He didn’t answer right away. “Monika . . . my girl . . . she was good daughter. Almost never got into trouble. Good pupil, too. Complained about having to walk long way to school, though.” He turned his head and smiled at Max.

  “Yeah, Mom never was one for long walks. The family would go on hikes and she’d always lag way behind.”

  They rode on in silence again. The scenery was beautiful, but after days of looking at it in slow motion, Max was bored. Sofie’s words about the war came to mind.

  “What was the war like?”

  Karl turned his head and stared at Max. “I have not thought of that in years. Why you ask?”

  Max shrugged. “Just wondered. Mom didn’t talk much about that time period. I know she wasn’t born until after the war, but I figured she would have heard stories.”

  “Ja. I was a kid during the war, myself. I was almost fifteen when it ended. Some kids my age were forced to fight. Fighting all around us. Riesen was lucky. Not many bombs. Everyone was always terrified. Not much food. Farms fared better. My mutter grow crops and we survive.”

  “I guess in some ways it prepared you for this time period.”

  He nodded. “Ja.”

  “Was your father a soldier in the German army?”

  “Ja. He have no choice. All men forced to join.”

  “Did he survive?”

  Karl’s jaw tightened for a moment, then he said, “Nein. He was killed in action. We did not know for long time whether he was dead or alive. Families got separated. Some found each other again. Some not.”

  Again silence. Max had never really thought about it before, but his great-grandfathers on his dad’s side of the family could have fought in some of the same battles—but on opposing sides. Could possibly even have killed Gramps’s father. Changing the subject, he said, “You and Grandma didn’t want more kids?”

  “Why you say that?”

  “Mom was an only child.”

  “We had two more babies. One was stillborn, and the other died a few days after birth. Most people den were poor. Did not have good medical care after war. Took long time to rebuild country.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Your grandma grieved and did not want to go through it again.”

  “I can understand that. I wish I could have met her. What was she like?”

  Karl didn’t answer. He kept his attention on the road. When they came to a shady place where they could pull off, he did. “We take a rest and eat what we bought yesterday.”

  Ryan walked over to where Max and Karl were tending the horses, and said, “Any chance we can sleep in a gasthof for at least one night? It’s too hard sleeping on the ground every night, and the bugs are driving us crazy.”

  Max said, “Oh, that would be wonderful, wouldn’t it? I have to admit when we passed by that inn—gasthof—last night, I wanted to jump down from the carriage and go back.”

  Karl grunted, but again didn’t answer.

  AFTER WHAT SEEMED like weeks of traveling—Max had lost track of how many days it had been—his hope of finding Monika began to fade. They’d inquired about her every chance they’d gotten, from merchants who sold them bread and other food items along the way, to other travelers camping alongside the road.

  When Max expressed this concern, Karl told him to keep a positive attitude. Max hadn’t told anyone, but for the first time since they’d started searching for his mother, he wondered whether she was still alive, and if so, would he even recognize her if he saw her on the street? He and Gramps had changed physically and emotionally over the last twenty years. It was a good bet his Mom wouldn’t recognize them. Max had seen dozens of toothless women in ragged clothes begging in the villages and a multitude of haggard women yelling to passersby to come buy their goods. And what about the people working in the farm fields they passed or those walking, some barefoot, on the road? For all he knew, they may have passed by his mother and didn’t know it. That begged yet another question: Did she even want to see her family? Would she run to them, or would she look the other way and pretend she didn’t know them?

  Monika had gone to Germany to visit her family all those years ago, supposedly because she was worried about them. Max had learned later from his father during the investigation into her disappearance that they, Max’s parents, had been having marital problems and had needed time apart. That didn’t mean she didn’t love her kids, did it? Hell, Max still loved his kids although he was no longer married to their mother.

  Truth was, though it pained him to admit it, almost everyone he loved had left him for some reason or another. His mother. His wife. His kids. He closed his eyes. God, he desperately needed his mother to be alive and to still want him in her life. He needed to be wanted again. Sofie was great, and he was hopeful they might have some sort of future together, but romances were too iffy. He didn’t want to believe it of Sofie, but if she was like the other women Max knew back in the U.S., she might be using him until they got some place safe.

  Max sighed and tried to pull himself out the doldrums. To help pass the time as they rode, Sofie sometimes gave Max German lessons. He caught up to her and asked about some new words. She smiled, clearly happy that he was interested in learning her native language, and continued to tutor him. He still had trouble understanding the dialect that most people here used, and it was especially difficult when people spoke fast, slurred their speech, or used bad grammar, which was most of the time, but at least he was able to pick out some words and follow along occasionally when Sofie, Tobias, Karl, Birgitta, and Lotte spoke in German.

  This afternoon, Max and Sofie lead the travelers, with Ryan on horseback, too, but of course Ryan trailed behind them. Karl rode inside the carriage for the first time. Max had ridden alongside the vehicle for a while, peeked inside, and had been surprised to see his grandfather sleeping, his head leaning against the carriage’s interior wall. Max had never seen the old man sleep during the day. Did that mean he was ill or was getting discouraged, too? Or perhaps his age had caught up with him.

  Sofie looked over at Max. “You look sad. Are you all right?”

  He sighed as he tried to sort out his feelings. “We’ve found no clues whatsoever about my mother. I feel like we’re swinging at a piñata with blind-folds over our eyes and the piñata keeps moving. Do you know what I mean?” Someone on horseback cut in front of him, causing his horse to skitter. He pulled back on the reins and the horse quickly settled down. Silence followed. Finally, he spoke again. “I’ve seen enough news and detective shows on TV, to know that in solving crimes and mysteries, the trail runs cold very quickly. In most cases, investigators say the first twenty-four hours are crucial. It’s been twenty damn years since my mother and grandfather got separated. We don’t stand a chance, do we?”

  Sofie said, “I wish I knew the answer. If it’s any consolation, everything in this century is slower than we’re accustomed to and people aren’t as mobile. Monika, if she’s still here, most likely would have stayed near the Baron’s home—or at least somewhat near the city of Augsburg. Think how difficult it would have been for her to travel. Just look at us.”

  “Then why didn’t Gramps find her? He went to the Baron’s home.”

  “She might have been there still. Peo
ple don’t always tell the truth.”

  “You mean Gramps, or the Baron?”

  She shrugged. “We should check Augsburg and the surrounding area, don’t you agree? Perhaps even Ulm since it’s a big city.”

  “I guess that makes sense. Sorry. I’m having a hard time with all of this. We could go on this way for years. That scares me. Honestly, I admit that I’m also getting really tired of riding all day long every damn day. Don’t know how much more I can stand.” He squirmed, and then rubbed his aching backside.

  “I understand more than you could know.” She reached her hand around and rubbed her back side, smiling.

  After a brief silence, Max asked, “What would you say about us venturing off this road onto one of the side roads for a while? I see them occasionally, and some of them look enticing. If we get off the beaten path, we might travel faster, you know, not have to deal with all the carriages, wagons, horses and pedestrians. Plus, a less traveled road would probably have fewer ruts and holes.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Max” Sofie said, shrugging. “You may be right. But we don’t know where those roads lead, perhaps only to a farm. I’m afraid that instead we could lose time and have to backtrack to this road. We could also easily get lost, not knowing these roads.”

  Max sat quietly pondering the dilemma as he rode. At the next juncture, he said, “Oh, what the hell?” and turned onto the minor road, then looked back to make sure Birgitta followed, which she did.

  By late afternoon Max was still feeling pleased with his decision and said, “Well, I have to say this is a much more pleasant route. Less noise and less stink.” He sniffed at the air and chuckled, then reached over and held Sofie’s hand. Today, she had braided her hair in a long plait down her back. She looked beautiful to Max, even with dirt smudges on her face and blades of grass in her hair.

  “I’m still not sure about this road,” she said, “but I was beginning to feel ill back there from the smell on the main road. I feel much better now and am glad you made the decision to try this route, even if we do have to retrace our steps.”