Inherit the Past (The Bavarian Woods Book 1)

by Susan Finlay

  An elderly woman wearing a silver scarf tied around her head, and carrying two large bags of what appeared to be groceries stood in the kitchen doorway, her cold eyes boring into him, the outer edges of her eyebrows slanted up, and her nose wrinkled in disgust, as if he were an alien from Mars. How many times had he seen that expression today as he and Ryan had wandered through the city asking for directions?

  Max bent his head downward, averting his eyes to avoid a confrontation and found himself staring at a frumpy skirt that reached down to mid-calf but not hiding her thick ankles.

  Sofie said, “This is my great-aunt, Lotte Furst.”

  Max was about to ask if she spoke English, but before he got the chance, Lotte and Sofie were speaking to each other in German. He caught a few words here and there: his name, America, grandmother, house.

  Lotte turned her attention back to Max and waved her arms. In awkward English, she said, “You go home! No help.”

  Max and Ryan exchanged glances.

  More animated conversation between Sofie and Lotte ensued. Max heard his grandmother’s name. Something flickered in the old woman’s eyes, but she didn’t say anything. Max wondered if he’d imagined it. Then he heard ‘Wengenhausen Straße’.

  Suddenly, the older woman rattled off a long series of German words ending with an emphatic, “Nein, nein, nein.” She folded her arms and walked away.

  “No translation needed for the last part,” Max said.

  “Tante Lotte says that she won’t step foot near that house and neither should we. My grandfather made her promise to stay away and to keep me away, too.”

  “Because people called my grandmother a crazy witch?”

  A loud grunt nearby made everyone turn around and stare. Lotte had returned to the kitchen and was walking toward Max. He thought she was going to beat him with her bags of groceries, intent on him leaving. He backed up. She moved past him, set down her bags on the kitchen countertop, and started unpacking one of them.

  Sofie said, “I think we’re ready to go.” She picked up one of the bags the boys had packed and motioned for the two boys to grab bags, too. Max took the cooler. They started walking towards the living room.

  Lotte hissed, then picked up one her bags and followed them. She said something to Sofie on the way out the door.

  “It looks as though my great-aunt is going with us.”

  Great! Max forced himself to smile and pretend he was okay with it.

  Twenty minutes later, they passed through a large sentry gate and out of the city proper. Max breathed in deeply the heavenly sweet scent of fresh country air and fresh mown grass. They soon turned onto an unpaved road, which proved easier on Max’s already aching feet than the uneven cobble. Overhanging branches from numerous trees provided shade over the road and a welcome relief from the afternoon sun. Max smiled as he observed Tobias and Ryan walking ahead of them, side-by-side, swinging their bags, chatting away like best friends and laughing. Max, Sofie, and Lotte walked side-by-side, too, taking up the width of the narrow road. Lotte walked on the other side of Sofie, apparently wanting to be as far away from Max as she could get while staying close to her niece. Max decided that worked for him.

  He gave Sofie periodic sidelong looks as they walked. His best guest at her age was thirty to thirty-two. He appreciated the way the sunlight glittered off her hair like a halo, making her silky blonde hair look like glossy spun gold. He also appreciated her form-fitting blue jeans accentuating her slender, shapely figure. He also liked Sofie’s choice of a silky lilac sleeveless blouse covered with small white flowers. It looked cool and refreshing, went perfectly with her copper summer tan, and stretched nicely across her not insignificant chest when she walked. Max could hardly take his eyes off her, though he had to be careful not to make his appreciation too apparent; he had received death daggers from Lotte once already when she caught him looking at Sofie. But ultimately it was Sofie’s voice, soft and whispery, that appealed to him most. Her slight German accent when she spoke nearly perfect English added a delightful charm.

  Good God, I shouldn’t be thinking about her that way. Hell, I shouldn’t be thinking about anything other than finding my house and selling it to have money to live off until I can land another job.

  Did he have the worst luck, or what? Swore off relationships, then found his dream girl in a place where he couldn’t speak the language and everyone treated him as if he were from Mars. Not to mention everywhere they went, they were constantly chaperoned by a nine year old, an eighteen year old, and Grunhilda. Crap!

  Suddenly, Sofie looked at Max with her head tilted and a question in her eyes. Had he said it aloud?

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Max cleared his throat and said, “I’m fine, I was thinking about my family.” He waited for her to ask questions about his family, about his life. He had given her the perfect opening. But she didn’t say anything.

  As they continued walking, Sofie began humming a German song that he remembered his mother used to sing when he was little. His mother had sung it whenever he or his sister was ill. Wow, he hadn’t thought of that song in ages. He could vividly picture his mother even after all these years—brown hair and blue-gray eyes, a German accent that years of living in the U.S. couldn’t erase. She’d been embarrassed by her accent and had said many times that she worried it would reflect badly on her children. It only bothered him once, that he could recall, when he was four-and-a-half-years-old. That was in 1973, while he and his family still lived in Texas. On that early spring day, neighborhood bullies had cornered him a block away from his home while he was walking back from a friend’s house. They’d taunted him, saying that his mother was a Nazi. He’d gone home afterwards and told his parents. He’d asked them what a Nazi was. They’d explained, carefully, and assured him she wasn’t one. ‘Those boys were only repeating something they’d heard on television,’ his dad had said. Later that evening, when Max had gotten up from his bed to go to the bathroom, he’d overheard his parents talking about the bullies. He’d stood in the dark hallway, out of their sight and listened. His mother was upset and said the boys more likely heard it from their parents. His father didn’t refute it. After that, she’d worked on improving her English and trying to blend in more. Five months later, shortly before Max started kindergarten, the family moved to California.

  For the first time in years Max thought about the phone call his father had received from the German police twenty years ago, telling him about the disappearances of his mother and grandfather. His father had jumped on the first flight to Germany to find out everything he could and to help find his wife and father-in-law. Max should have gone as well, but he’d been too busy with his fiancé and with college. It hadn’t occurred to him at the time that his mother was more important—and the rest of it could wait while he fulfilled his family obligations.

  He pushed away the thoughts and concentrated on the scenery instead. The air was fresh, with a gentle breeze and filled with chattering birdsong. Tobias stopped once in a while to pick up rocks or chase butterflies or pick up bugs. He’d occasionally scamper back to where the adults were and show them his newest prize. Ryan waited for him to return, but never followed the younger boy. He obviously didn’t want to walk with them.

  “I suppose he doesn’t get his bug collecting from you.”

  “Ah. Well, I can’t say that I’m particularly fond of bugs, though I do like dragonflies and butterflies and birds. I guess I like winged creatures.”

  “Oh, you’d have a field day with Minnesota mosquitoes then,” Max said, taunting. “My dad used to take me on camping, fishing, and hunting trips there. Minnesotans jokingly call mosquitoes their ‘state bird’.

  Sofie laughed. “I do draw the line. If it bites or stings, I have no interest.”

  Max laughed.

  “What about you? Do you collect anything?”

  Max beamed. Finally. She was asking something personal about him. “I have an odd collection of antiques
, mostly weapons such as rapier swords and daggers.”

  Sofie gave him a startled look and he winced. Damn. He said, “Don’t worry. I’ve never actually used the weapons. They’re for display only.”

  Sofie looked suspicious.

  What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t have mentioned those. His ex–wife hadn’t liked them, either. She’d put up with the sharp weapons as long as he kept them in a glass case where their kids couldn’t get at them. But when he said he wanted to buy a handgun and go to target practice, she’d put her foot down.

  “I really am a very safe guy.” Max stuffed his hands in his pockets and felt for all the world like he’d been caught with illegal contraband or something. “I just have an interest in history and artifacts. About ten years ago, I began collecting antique furniture. Then, a few years later, I found some really cool swords at a garage sale and I was hooked.”

  She nodded noncommittally.

  Lotte gave him an odd look, and he wondered if she’d understood any of the conversation.

  “I assure you my interest is purely in their historic value. I was in a fencing club in college. Probably wouldn’t even remember how to wield a sword or rapier after all these years.” He chuckled. “My other collection, I’m embarrassed to say, is science fiction. I have bookcases full of sci-fi books and DVDs.”

  Sofie smiled. “I have bookcases and boxes full of every imaginable kind of book. The sad thing is that I’ve read them all. I guess that tells you a lot about my life.”

  Tobias stopped suddenly and turned around.

  Max said, “What’s wrong, Tobias?”

  “How long have we been walking?”

  Max looked at his watch. “About thirty-five minutes. Why?”

  “Shouldn’t we be there by now?”

  Max shrugged. “Let us know if you see the house. It could be tucked away in the woods.” Max was looking forward to finding the house, yet he was in no rush to end this walk, feet notwithstanding. The weather was perfect and the fresh air mixed with the smell of flowers, pine, and summer grass brought back fond memories of camping trips with his parents when he was a child. He was delighted when the road turned and wound its way past a dilapidated mill and along a rushing river. The white water crashing over rocks was invigorating. “I didn’t know that we were close to the river,” Max said. “Though I did see it now and then from the train.”

  “Oh, yes,” Sofie said. “This entire area is geologically interesting. Astronauts studied this region in preparation for their moon landing. And the history of this valley makes it valuable for research scientists.”

  “You’re not going to make me guess why, are you?”

  She laughed. “People used to believe the valley depression was caused by a volcanic eruption. It’s now widely believed that the valley was created by the violent collision of a meteorite some fifteen million years ago. When the meteorite impacted a local graphite deposit, it created millions of tiny diamond pieces, all less than 0.2 millimeters across, which were then embedded in the compressed rock, called Suevit. That Suevit was quarried and was used to build some of the stone buildings in the area.”

  “Fascinating. Tell me more.”

  “There are numerous quarries around the Ries Crater: Gundelsheim, Aumuhle, Limberg, Romheim, Iggenhausen, Wemding, and Alteburg. There are a couple of abandoned quarries, too: Wengenhausen and Gosheim, and another that is disused.” She stopped talking for a moment. “Oh, that’s why the street name sounded familiar. I suppose that whoever named this street knew about the Wengenhausen Quarry. Anyway, the meteorite has become a popular source of many sagas and tales.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah. What kind of stories?”

  “Magic, trolls, and other mythical creatures supposedly living here, possessing all the personality traits from unparalleled virtue to unmatched evil. Of course the famous Brothers Grimm fairy tales are more widely known.”

  Max chuckled. “I had no idea. Now I’m really curious about Grandmother’s house. No wonder she was so unusual.” He gave a mischievous smile. “Do you think she actually was a witch or something?”

  Sofie laughed and a faint light twinkled in her green eyes. “I certainly hope not.”

  Suddenly Max was somber. “That does raise an interesting question though.”

  Sofie looked at him quizzically.

  “Well, since my mom and Gramps disappeared from this area, and the area is known for its legends and stories, well, it is a little weird isn’t it? I guess people don’t believe in that stuff around here nowadays.”

  “I believe,” Tobias said. He and Ryan had slowed while the adults were talking, and were now walking alongside them, listening.

  Sofie smiled and looked down at her son. “Well, some people believe in the legends, but they are mostly merely fairy tales. Sorry, Tobias.”

  Max gave him a conspiratorial look. “What do you say we keep a look out for those trolls and other creatures, just in case?”

  Tobias beamed at him, and Sofie laughed and shook her head.

  “Mom, do you think we can camp out around here tonight? I never get to do that. It would be fun.”

  “Sorry.” Sofie shook her head.

  Moments later, Tobias and Ryan sped up and gave them a backward glance. Ryan yelled back, “I’ll yell if I see any goblins or trolls.”

  Max grinned when Tobias or Ryan stopped now and then, glancing off into the woods on the right side of the road, before continuing to walk again.

  Minutes later, Tobias stopped abruptly and turned slightly to his right. He shaded his eyes, and then looked back at the adults. “There it is!” he shouted, bouncing up and down in excitement. He started to run, flailing his arms and swinging the bag he was carrying. Suddenly, he dropped the bag, and had to backtrack to pick it up. Soon, he was off and running again, with the others not far behind.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “MAN!” MAX SAID. “I can see why it got a reputation. Reminds me of the witch’s house in Hansel and Gretel or some other fairytale. Kinda intriguing, but a bit spooky at the same time.”

  Was Lotte smiling? It vanished so fast that Max couldn’t be sure. But why would she smile if she didn’t understand English? He’d wondered about that earlier, too. Then he remembered Sofie’s comment about some people in Riesen speaking English but not wanting him to know because that would mean they should help. Damn, sneaky old woman. Was she one of those Rieseners? Better keep an eye on her.

  “Yes, it certainly is,” Sofie said. “The house is wonderful, although it needs some serious attention.”

  “You betcha. I can’t wait to see the interior.”

  The land around the house was part forest and part farmland, with the cottage set slightly into the forest on the right side of the road. The ancient house was surrounded by a low crumbling old wall made of the same fieldstone as the house, but the wall rose into an archway over a cobbled entranceway. At some point in time a flowering vine of some sort had been cultivated to drape over the stone archway, but had gotten out of control and needed serious pruning. Nearby, apparently part of the house’s property, three cows grazed in a grassy pasture, and a barn and several acres of crops stood basking in the midday sun. Max didn’t know enough to tell what was growing here, but he knew that the crop field wasn’t in the best shape, to be kind. He suspected the farm had become a hardship for his grandmother, remembering that the attorney had told him she was around seventy-seven when she died. He hadn’t offered the cause of death and Max hadn’t thought to ask. Looking around the place, Max imagined she must have worked hard out here all alone, and that she hadn’t had the easiest life.

  When they got up closer to the house, all five stood staring at the medieval looking stone cottage with its steeply pitched thatched roof. It seemed odd to him that it had a thatched roof, since that wasn’t common in Germany. Moss was growing on the wall of irregular stone courses, which made Max think of some of the old buildings at Harvard, his old college. Most interesting of a
ll was the round turret in the center, housing the arched front door. The house wasn’t a mansion by any means, but was impressive for a medieval cottage. The yard inside the low stone wall was a canvas of old gnarled trees, flowering bushes, and garden blooms in a vivid array, mostly wildflowers, which carpeted most of the ground between the house and wall.

  Max stood next to Sofie, closed his eyes for a moment, and breathed in the glorious scents of lilacs, cornflowers, lilies, and many other flowers he couldn’t identify. To his amazement, he felt a peacefulness descend upon him.

  When he opened his eyes, he noted a couple of the gnarled trees held ripening fruit. His eyes wandered along the pebble pathway that weaved through the lovely blooms and trees right up to the front door. He turned and looked at his companions. “Shall we?”

  Tobias smiled and jumped up, and without a glance back, he ran ahead, tripping over some loose pebbles on the path.

  Sofie smiled and shook her head, and Max chuckled softly. Ryan shook his head, then rushed to catch up with him.

  Max, Sofie, and Lotte walked slowly toward an unpainted picket fence and gate. The gate bisected the fence and cut across the path directly in front of the house, about thirty yards from the front door. Tobias stood next to it, waiting, and rubbed at his scraped knee. Ryan was a few feet away from him, acting nonchalant.

  As the adults approached the gate, Max stopped for a moment and looked around, his gaze settling on a rocky escarpment that was part of a ridge to the right of the house. To his delight, a narrow waterfall cascaded from the top of escarpment into a stream below. He smiled, thinking he must be dreaming.

  Tobias said, “Can we go inside?” He bounced up and down, in spite of his hurt knee. “Ple . . . ease!”

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” Max asked.

  “I think it is.”

  “I guess we’ll try the key and see if it works. I can’t believe we found it. This place is amazing from what I can see.” He felt giddy, like a schoolboy about to dissect his first frog.

  He unlatched the gate, and they walked up to the arched wooden door with black iron-hinges and handles. He stood for a few moments, studying the house and surrounding blooms, taking in the red-berried cotoneaster that added an effortless magic and mystery to this entrance.