Tanglewood Grotto
Page 8
Ryan’s face turned red. He sat down and said, “Sorry.”
Ingrid looked at Sofie. How much should she tell them? If she told them she’d already seen the man back in Riesen, they would know she’d been lying, or at least withholding information. No. Better to act as if this was all knew information. “I know it’s a common name. But my Helmut has been gone for thirty-two years. It might not be him, but we check out, ja?”
Sofie scrunched her forehead and whispered, “You told me that he left home when he was eighteen; that you’d heard from him a few times after he left home, and that he was all right. Did you lie about him, too?”
Ingrid felt her own cheeks getting warm. “I didn’t want you to think he’d run away from home to get away from me. I wanted everyone to think we were still on good terms, at least for a while. You don’t know how much it hurt me when he left.”
Sofie sighed, then shook her head. “So you’re saying he did exactly that—left home to get away from you?”
She shrugged.
“You already knew about the time portals back then, didn’t you?” Apparently realizing her own voice had increased in volume, she paused and then lowered her voice. “All that time we were trying to figure out what had happened after we landed in that cave, you already knew. You pretended you were as baffled as we were.”
Ingrid bowed her head, staring down at the table, barely holding back her tears and unable to look Sofie in the eyes. She deserved Sofie’s scorn.
No one said anything for several moments. Finally, Ryan said, “It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”
Ingrid looked up. She hadn’t expected that from Ryan.
He continued. “Let’s get to work and find out if this guy is her son. If he is, he might be able to give us more information about Vikktor and the portals.”
Sofie nodded, but said nothing. After a few moments, she whispered, “How do you propose we talk with Herr Furst, when we told the Feldgendarms we didn’t know the family? If they find out we may have a connection, we will move to the top of their suspect list.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
MAX YANKED ON the long hair on the back of his head as he sat on his horse and surveyed the open fields ahead of him and on either side, trying to decide what to do next. The tall grass swayed in the gentle breeze, and unless Tobias was lying down in the grass, he wasn’t anywhere nearby. Behind Max was their village, and far in the distance ahead of him was Riesen. Max had searched within a two mile radius of Möbius, checking Lotte’s grotto first, since he thought Tobias might have gone there to make himself a hangout. What ten year old boy wouldn’t want a fort or other kind of place to call his own? Sofie and Tobias had described it to Max as a kind of miniature cave, so he knew he had found the right place. No sign of him there, either. Tobias’s cat had been hanging around Möbius all morning without Tobias, which had struck Max as strange. Those two were always inseparable. No one in their village had seen the boy since breakfast. He didn’t know where else to look.
Max rubbed his beard and stared again toward Riesen. The boy probably wouldn’t have hiked all the way there by himself, would he?
Oh crap! He might have, but why would he do that? Tobias was upset yesterday afternoon, but they’d had a good evening and he’d seemed happy when they retired for the night.
He thought about their conversations. Tobias was excited they were getting more farm animals and disappointed that Gramps was delayed in bringing them to Möbius. Did the boy think he would get the animals himself? No, Tobias was a smart kid. He would know that was impossible. Hmm. He might think he could convince Gramps to bring them. That could explain why he didn’t take the cat with him.
A short time later, Max entered his grandfather’s clock shop and asked if Tobias was there.
“Nein, I have not seen him. Why would he be here?”
Max explained what had transpired.
“Mein Gott, do you think someone has kidnapped him? It’s not like him to take off like that without his cat. He would not do that.”
“I don’t know what to do, Gramps. I hoped you knew where he was. What if he found one of Vikktor’s caves and got transported back to the future by accident? That’s been one of my biggest fears, you know.”
“That is unlikely. And it would not explain why the cat stayed home.”
“I guess you’re right. I didn’t think about that. Unless . . . what if the cat was with him and didn’t time travel? What if she wasn’t close at the time, and then she came back home to alert us?”
Karl paced across his workshop, one hand combing through his hair, the other on his hip. “He also might have gone toward Dinkelsbühl to find his mother. You said he wanted to go with her, Lotte, and Ryan. Maybe he thought he could catch up to them, and then they would be forced to let him stay.”
Max’s mouth gaped open. He hadn’t thought of that possibility, either. When he had a moment to think, he said, “It’s possible, I suppose, but it would be crazy. There’s no way he could get there on foot, especially by himself.”
“What if he found someone to give him a ride?”
“God, I hope he didn’t hitchhike. In any time period, that would be dangerous.”
Karl nodded.
Max said, “What should we do? I’m lost.”
“I will ask around and see if anyone has seen him. Did you ask your people?”
Max nodded. “That was the first thing I did. No one has seen him since breakfast.” If they were in the twenty-first century, he and Tobias and Sofie would all have cell phones. He would be able to track his son and would be able to find him and bring him back, without ever having to worry Sofie that he’d been transported by the time portal.
“Go home. I will ride out to see you this afternoon, after I’ve asked around here. Maybe Tobias will show up by then.”
Max thanked him and rode back home at a turtle’s pace, his mind playing all the different possibilities of what might have happened to his stepson.
When he arrived and found that Tobias still hadn’t returned, he paced the construction site, then searched every cabin, every nook and cranny.
Nothing. No sign of him.
He plopped down on a rock and bent his head down, thinking about what Tobias had said yesterday.
“Don’t call me son. I’m not your son,” he’d said, and then he’d run into the house, crying.
“What? Why are you talking like that? You know I think of you as my own son. I love you.”
“No you don’t. I heard you and mom talking the other night. I know that you two are expecting a baby. Your own child. I’m not good enough.”
“Tobias, a new baby has nothing to do with you. We love you and always will.”
He’d run into the house, crying.
Max had soothed him, and everything had seemed fine between them after that, but what if Tobias was still upset? What if he ran away from home? A shiver ran through Max and he could barely keep from crying. He couldn’t bear to lose Tobias, and it would kill Sofie.
JENNY SCREAMED, LANDING on her hands and knees, her forehead grazing the ground but luckily not hitting hard, since she’d braced herself for the impact after being tossed around like clothes in a washing machine. She turned her head to look behind her to see where the light was coming from and screamed again, seeing a large glowing spinning vortex, from the direction they were thrown, large enough to swallow them whole.
“Mom, what . . . what is that thing?” Lisa yelled loud enough to be heard over the loud whooshing sound. “Am I imagining it?”
Hearing her daughter’s shaky voice, frightened, standing there in the swirling light, Jenny realized she had to be the adult for her daughter. Forcing herself to get a grip, she said, “I don’t think so because I’m seeing it, too. I thought maybe it was me, thought maybe I hit my head harder than I thought, but you’re seeing it, too. This is insane.” She walked over and hugged Lisa for several moments, then pulled back and asked, “What do you think it might be?”
Jenny shook her head, thinking about her daughter’s idea. “I don’t really know anymore.” It certainly sounded crazy, like one of the sci-fi movies the men liked to watch, but nothing else came to mind. “If that’s what it is, we should try to go back through it, to get back home, right?”
“I . . . guess so.”
“Are you okay?” Jenny asked. “No broken bones. Can you run?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Then let’s go for it. At the same time. One . . . two . . . three . . . go!”
They both started running, but the opening disappeared before they reached it, and all light in the tunnel with it.
“Oh no!” Lisa yelled. “Oh my God! We’re stuck here. Wherever here is.” In the dark Lisa started screaming hysterically.
Jenny couldn’t see her, but carefully moved toward the sobbing sounds. When she touched Lisa’s shoulder, she reached out and enfolded Lisa in her arms again and stroked her hair. As she calmed Lisa, assuring her it was all right and telling her that they would get through this together, it struck her that this must have happened to Max and Ryan and that’s why they never contacted her. And so here we are committing the same mistake. Just great!
She rocked Lisa for a time and while doing so, unbidden, her mind visualized the robot from an old science fiction television series she’d watched when she was a kid. The robot was waving his arms and screaming ‘danger, danger, Will Robinson’. She half smiled at the ridiculousness of her thought, and then she sat down onto the floor, bringing Lisa with her. If Lisa had just sprained an ankle or broken a bone or hit her head and suffered a mild concussion, she would know what to do. She wouldn’t be happy about her daughter getting injured, but she would have answers and be able to get her back to her old self without too much difficulty. But this—this swirling light, this possible vortex and the pitch blackness, the odd smell of sulfur or whatever it was, this feeling of being lost in space left her speechless, helpless, and totally bewildered.
Lisa had quieted, and seemed now to be breathing normally, and asked, “Mo . . . mom, do you th . . . think this is . . . what happened to Grandma, Gramps, Dad, and Ryan?”
“I’m beginning to think that,” Jenny said, trying to keep panic from voice. “Whatever that means. We need to find a way out of here. There must be another way, besides that whirly thing, right?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see anything in here.”
Jenny stared into the blackness. Her head felt fuzzy, maybe due to the spinning she’d felt before crash-landing here, or maybe because of the loss of sight. A scream was still threatening its way up from deep inside her. She took a deep breath, hoping to squelch it, now remembering the flash lights. She said, “Do you still have your light?”
“Oh. Yeah, I think so. I stuck it in my jeans pocket when the spinning started.”
“I put mine in my purse,” Jenny said, rummaging through the purse by feel. Then, having felt its shape, pulled it out and turned it on.
Between their two lights, after total darkness, they could actually see quite a bit. At least it seemed that way. Heavenly light. Not enough to illuminate every cranny, but enough to move around.
The two stood and began slowly searching their prison. The tunnel roof closed in after what she thought was a couple hundred yards, and they had to revert to crawling on their hands and knees, holding the lights in their mouths. After a while, Jenny sat back and shook her head in despair, resting and trying not to cry. She didn’t want to upset Lisa more than she was already and, not knowing how long they would be here, she decided that they couldn’t afford to become dehydrated. “Have you seen anything that looks like a way out of here? We can’t keep crawling through this cave.”
Lisa sat next to her and groaned. No. My knees are beginning to hurt badly and I think I ripped a hole in one of my pant legs. My hands feel like they’re on fire from all the rocks and dirt.”
They weren’t certain it was a cave, but that’s all they could figure. They’d seen and felt stalactites and stalagmites, felt water dripping down in spots, and once, almost fell into an opening that Jenny feared was a bottomless pit.
“Mom, I’m really scared. The battery on my light is getting low.”
“Mine is, too.”
“When those go . . . oh, God, I remember reading that a person can go crazy if they’re kept in pitch blackness for long. What if . . . what if we don’t get out of here?”
Jenny had to stay positive for Lisa’s sake. Lisa had, in a manner of speaking, said earlier today that Jenny was the mother and was supposed to take care of her kids, no matter how old they were. She took a deep breath, let it out, and said as calmly as she could, “We’ll get out. Somebody will find us. Why don’t we turn off the flashlights for now and conserve the batteries? We’ll lie down here for a while and rest. Then we’ll try again in a while, okay, sweetie.”
“You promise. You promise we’ll get out of here.”
“Yes, just get some rest, okay?”
INGRID STRUGGLED TO keep up with Ryan and Sofie. Their legs were longer than hers and they were decades younger than her. Why the hell didn’t they think of that and give her some help? They passed houses, and Ingrid looked up at the people looking out their windows, watching them. Probably think we’re the murderers. She wanted to stare back at them in defiance, but she didn’t dare. They’d probably take that as a confession. Rotten people. Just because we’re outsiders, that doesn’t mean we’re killers.
She stopped in the middle of the street, bowed her head, and stared down at the cobblestones, feeling a bit of vertigo. Take a deep breath, she told herself. After a moment, she felt better. When she looked back up, Ryan and Sofie were standing up ahead, facing her with questioning looks.
She rushed toward them as fast as her legs would take her. “Sorry. I don’t like holding you back like this. I’m trying to keep up.”
Ryan twisted his mouth.
Ingrid was sure he would spout out something derogatory the way he usually did, but he didn’t say anything. He glanced at Sofie, and then stepped close to Ingrid. Putting his arm around her shoulder, he leaned down and whispered, “You can lean on me. I’ll help you.”
Ingrid opened her mouth in surprise, then closed it and smiled sweetly at him. “Oh, that is kind of you, Ryan. Danke.” Wow! Maybe he was softening toward her. Maybe not everyone was rotten. She stepped into pace with him and felt happy.
After a moment he said, “I’m supposed to be your grandson, right? It’s a grandson kind of behavior, isn’t it? We want people to believe our story.”
Ingrid turned her head to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, ignoring her now. The realization that he hadn’t been kind after all but was merely playing a role hit her and she felt her spirit deflating even lower than before.
They passed by tall narrow houses butting up against neighbors on both sides, with sharply angled rooflines and dark orange roofs, so typical of the small towns of the time period. Ingrid was surprised a few minutes later, when they neared the house where the murder had supposedly occurred. With the crowd dissipated, they were afforded a clear view of the neighborhood, an obviously wealthier section, Ingrid could tell because there was actually space between the houses and grass in front of each, and beautiful frescoes on the house walls. Standing now in front of the home where Herr Stumpf had died, Ingrid took in the blue and pink and green frescoes that decorated the white building. Dark blue shutters and medium blue window boxes with pink and purple flowers adorned the windows. Lovely. Cheerful. Or they would have been on another day. Today the closed shutters and the flower bouquets on the doorstep painted a different picture. Grief. Sadness.
Sofie turned to Ingrid and Ryan and said, “I’m not sure if this is an appropriate time to call on Herr Furst. Should we wait?”
Ryan said, “Yeah, I agree. But
the longer we stick around here, the greater the risk and the more the expense. We don’t have much money left for food and lodging, do we?”
“There is that,” Sofie said. “We’ll see how Herr Furst responds to our enquiry. Then we’ll decide whether to proceed.” She visibly took a deep breath and then knocked on the door.
No one came. She shrugged and almost looked relieved. She turned around to leave.
“Can I help you?”
Ingrid and Sofie both turned back at the same time and stared at the man who had opened the door and spoken. It was him—the man she had seen talking to the priest in Riesen.
Sofie spoke to him and offered their condolences.
He said, “Danke.”
“We are looking for a lost relative. We came to Dinkelsbühl because someone suggested he might be here. This morning, not knowing anyone here, we went to the local church to see if the priest knew him. He told us he did not but he thought your father-in-law might. We were stunned when we heard the news.”
Herr Furst didn’t respond immediately, instead turning his head briefly to look at something. That’s when Ingrid saw the young man and young woman in the back of the house, half hiding and trying to peek at the visitors.
The son and daughter the people in the gasthof had talked about! Ingrid’s breath caught. The boy was the spitting image of her son, Helmut, at seventeen, just before he left home.
She must have been staring at them, because Helmut said, “My children are not used to strangers.”
Sofie said, “We are sorry for the intrusion, of course, especially at this difficult time. We would not be here, except that my grandmother”—Sofie pulled Ingrid toward them—“upon hearing your name in town, thought you might be related to us.”
“I do not think so,” Herr Furst said. “I do not have any relatives here.”
Ingrid studied the man’s face. He had her son’s blond hair and green-gray eyes and his nose, but this face staring at her was much older and weathered looking than the face that had left her thirty-two years ago. It had a good stubble of beard and mustache and tiny crinkles around his eyes and mouth. How old was this man? She couldn’t tell. She’d never been good at guessing people’s ages, and in this century it was even harder. Of course her son, if he was still alive, would be pushing fifty.