by Marya Stones
Mike got out of the car and said, “Come on, Greta, I’ll introduce you to Resi. She runs the farm with her husband. Her daughter, Marlene, will no doubt take us to the kittens right away.”
Marlene, a blond, ten-year-old girl, came running toward Mike.
“There you are, finally!” she called out. “Come, we have to go take care of the cats.” They gave each other a hug, and then Marlene tugged on Mike’s sleeve.
“Hey, not so rough, my beauty,” Mike greeted Marlene. “I brought support along. This is Greta, a good friend of mine.”
“Hello, Greta,” said Marlene and continued to pull on Mike’s sleeve.
Greta bent over a little, and said “Hello, Marlene. I’m so eager to know how I can help you two.” At Marlene’s appearance, Greta immediately had a déjà-vu. The girls in Boston whom she took care of as an au-pair would be Marlene’s age now.
Somebody called out from the barn:
“Ah, I hear Mike’s voice!” A few moments later a woman who had to be Resi stepped into the yard. “There you are – and you’ve brought a guest. That’s good timing. I have a quiche in the oven; we can have a bite later, if you want.”
“Oh, that sounds great,” Greta said spontaneously. “I’m Greta, and I’m happy to be able to be here. You’ve created a real jewel here by the lake.”
Resi, a tall and hardy woman with medium-length ash-blond hair beamed at Greta. She was wearing overalls with a plaid shirt underneath, and stood barefoot in clogs in front of her.
“Nice that you’re here,” Resi said. “Mike had mentioned that he was bringing someone with him.”
“How do you actually know each other?” asked Greta curiously and a litte surprised at her own forthrightness.
“Oh, we’ve known one another for many years. Before I began to run the farm with my husband full-time, I was active in the same field as Mike. We sometimes shared the same projects, and could pass clients on to each other. It was an exciting time, but I’m glad that I’m out of that shark-tank and no longer work in the media business. Every day, life here is much different and I enjoy having time for my daughter. Where life takes one and where one lands is certainly unforeseen. I definitely didn’t imagine myself running a little farm with a market in the country by the lake.” She looked around briefly and Greta saw the pride in her eyes. “And what do you do,” Resi asked, “and how do you know each other?”
“I’m a flight attendant with Lufthansa and Mike was a passenger on one of my recent flights to New York. And, well, now I’m here on your farm and have to wonder a little too, how that happened. Actually, we haven’t known each other all that long and . . .” Greta stopped. It seemed strange that she was suddenly so talkative. But Resi was so friendly and open that it seemed a matter of course to feel trusting and confident in her presence. Besides, today developed altogether differently from what was expected. It was so intense and full of surprises and everything seemed so noteworthy.
Don’t think about it, shot through Greta’s mind.
This is how it’s supposed to be!
Then the women heard Mike calling: “Greta, come here! I need you.”
“I’m coming!”
“And bring a bucket of warm water with you!” Mike added.
Greta shrugged her shoulders, and looked at Resi uncertainly. Resi reacted immediately and showed Greta the water spigot in the barn, and a bucket nearby, too.
“Put the rubber boots on,” Resi said and pointed to a pair in the corner, “otherwise you’ll ruin your beautiful boots. They look really super – suit you well!”
“Thanks,” Greta responded. She smiled at Resi and was happy about the spontaneous and candid compliment.
“I’ll go take the quiche out of the oven,” Resi said and wiped her hands. “You don’t need me right now.”
Greta put on the rubber boots, filled the bucket with warm water and walked across the yard to the restored stable. On the way she saw a few free-range chickens and geese, waddling through the grass in the adjacent meadow. Two dogs lay by a wall, allowing the evening sun to warm their fur. It was really like a picture book, beautifully harmonious and idyllic.
When she arrived at the stable she squinted; the sudden darkness on the other side of the stable door hampered her sight. But her eyes adjusted quickly to the lack of light inside. She discovered Mike and Marlene, both kneeling on the floor in front of a small box filled with straw. Greta stepped closer. Inside the box lay three teensy-weensy kittens. They were still blind, had completely gummed-up fur, and wriggled their tiny legs. One could just make out the softest meowing that Greta had ever heard.
“Oh, dear,” Greta whispered, “what’s the matter with the poor little things?”
“Imagine,” Marlene said, her eyes trained on the little cats. “They almost died, but now, many hours later, they’re still alive. They were born last night and had an infection. The veterinarian said that they probably wouldn’t make it and we’d have to put them to sleep. Our family doctor, Christian, was here. He lives next door and came over and said that we had a possible chance. At night, he gave them special globulin and said that if they make it until this evening, they’ll survive. In any case, they’re all sticky and dirty since all three had horrible diarrhea.” Marlene bent over and picked a little straw out of the box. “I changed the straw again and again,” she said. “Now we have to wash the kittens, however, so that the mother will accept them again. Otherwise they really won’t survive.” She turned to Greta. “Come, let’s start.”
Marlene picked up a kitten, and with her free hand gathered a little fresh straw and dipped it into the warm water. Then she washed the wailing kitten. Mike and Greta followed her lead. Thus, all three now sat next to one another, each with a sticky little cat in their arms, with the hope that the mother cat would accept the babies again. No one said a word during the entire procedure. Silence prevailed as all of them were sunk in thoughts of their own. Marlene broke the silence after she had cleaned her kitten, rubbed it dry with straw, and laid it into the little box. She looked at Mike.
“Mike, could you please say a blessing and a prayer for the kittens?”
Mike looked up and nodded.
Greta was completely overwhelmed in watching Mike respond to Marlene’s wish as if it were a matter of course.
This man manages to surprise me on an ongoing basis – Unbelievable!
Mike laid his kitten in the box. He looked at Greta; she too was now finished with her little cat and laid it next to the others. As the animals lay next to one another, seeking each other and snuggling, it seemed almost as if they weren’t meowing so pitifully any longer. Mike took Greta’s and Marlene’s hands into his own, turned to the kittens and said in English:
“May your life be blessed, may God guard and watch you, no matter what may come. May your mother come to feed you and take care of you. May love always be with you. Amen.”
While Mike was speaking, it seemed as if a spell held sway over them and the kittens; as if the stable had become a little brighter; as if the light shone a little more intensely. Their clasped hands became very hot. The kittens had stopped meowing as if they wanted to hear Mike’s words. A little shiver of happiness ran down Greta’s spine.
After the short quiet pause, the little ones began meowing again. The spell seemed to have passed and reality had returned.
“That was wonderful,” Greta said to Mike.
He smiled at her. “We have to go away for a little while so that the mother can get to her children. She’s already standing in the doorway, watching us.”
Marlene and Greta turned their heads, and sure enough – the mother cat had come to see about the kittens. The three of them had hardly moved away from the kittens when the mother was already at the box, beginning to lick her children. She had accepted them again.
Greta and Mike returned to Resi, and Marlene stayed in the barn. She wanted to watch the mother cat a little while longer to see that she was giving the kittens milk.
“I didn’t know, but I was sure that if the little ones survived the day, that they would have a good chance.”
Resi added, “It’s like this, Greta — you have to know that Mike has a particular talent for such things. He once saved the life of my mare and her foal in quite a spectacular way. In fact, he is an extraordinary man! A little metaphysical, and he seems to have a wire to the other world.”
“What other world?” Greta wondered.
Resi put the quiche on the table. “The supernatural world,” she replied, as if it went without saying, “or, if you wish – the world that we can’t see, where we go after our death, the world of angels, the good spirits, the world of unconditional love –. “
“Now you’re going a bit too far, Resi,” Mike interrupted her. So mystical and lofty I certainly am not. You’re going to frighten Greta. I’m really not a freak!”
“Didn’t say that you were,” Resi said with certainty. I know and only say what’s true. You have already saved the animals on this farm several times. That’s a fact. And I’m certain you have this gift from your mother. But now to worldly things: Bon Appetit! Dig in, there’s enough here. Pour yourselves some wine, please; it goes perfectly with the quiche.”
Greta had gone completely silent. These topics about the supernatural world, the world of angels, and such – she had already discussed with Nathalie again and again. At the bottom of her heart, she was sure that there had to be something true in all this talk. Nevertheless, most of it didn’t square with her rationality. It was too mysterious for her, not logical enough. Actually, she stood in her own way somewhat. The path to these topics was too irrational for her.
And now she was here with Mike who, according to Resi, had a wire to that “other world.”
Hm, what is the meaning of this and where will it lead?
Marlene, who had come from the barn to get something to eat, stepped inside. She seemed very satisfied and told Resi in great detail how the mother cat had accepted the kittens again.
All of them listened to Marlene, enjoyed the quiche, the wine and the warm sun in the yard. It was a perfect evening. The cats, the dogs in the sun, the chickens and the geese that made their rounds, quacking. The simple and wonderful meal on the table, the people, who so happily and completely took her into their midst. If Greta could have stopped time, she would have done so at this moment.
She imagined the situation in a painting, one that precisely reflected her mood. And she had once earlier seen such a painting.
“Do you know what?” it slipped out, “I feel as if I’m in Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party.”
“Have you seen the original?” Mike asked, immediately picking up Greta’s topic. “It hangs in Washington, D.C. in The Phillips Collection. The original is a miracle.”
Greta shook her head. “No, I only know The Oarsmen’s Lunch in Chicago, but I can only agree with you. Renoir could indeed capture true miracles with paint and brush on canvas: The colors, the atmosphere, it’s exactly like here and now.”
Greta beamed; it was as if time had actually begun to pass a little more slowly. That Mike was also knowledgeable about Renoir and apparently admired his work didn’t surprise her at all anymore. She was surprised too often by him today. She wanted simply to enjoy the time and not stand in the way of the pleasant feeling of being appreciated, accepted, and included – just as she was, and especially not with her own rational, critical thoughts.
Resi was enjoying the atmosphere as much as Greta. One could see how satisfied, relaxed, and at ease she was. “And exactly because I can create this atmosphere here,” Resi said to Greta, “and it’s up to me to protect this atmosphere, I love being here. Although I don’t know either the Renoir in Washington or the one in Chicago, I do know precisely what the two of you are talking about. It’s a little magic in the air.” She spread her arms wide, expressively. “One senses it between us, one sees it in the light, and perhaps you can also taste it in the quiche and the wine.” Resi raised her glass. “Cheers, my dear ones! To life, to love, to family, our roots, our values and all that which makes us happy.”
Everyone listened to her toast and touched glasses.
As they put the glasses down again, Mike turned to Greta who was sitting next to him, and whispered in her ear.
“I have something else planned for you today. The journey continues. We’re not staying here.”
Disappointed to lose the moment so quickly that she actually wanted to hold onto, but nonetheless curious, Greta asked: “Yes, where are we going?”
Mike rose dramatically, pulled Greta by the arm, looked at Resi and spoke loudly to the circle: “My dear ones, following this superb toast I can’t do anything but. I must carry Greta away immediately. In other words: Please don’t be angry, but we’re gone from here!”
Resi laughed aloud. “That doesn’t surprise me. It was nice to have you here. One should not delay travelers.” She turned directly to Mike. “Take care of yourself and let us hear from you.” And to Greta: “Greta, I look forward already to seeing you again – and you’re sincerely welcome anytime.”
Greta felt that she was caught by surprise. “Isn’t anyone going to ask me?” she said, nonplussed. It seemed evident and clear to everyone that the time had come to break up the get-together. But she didn’t feel that way at all. As always, the answer to her question was a resounding “No!” from the circle.
Everyone, including Greta, laughed loudly.
“That’s the way it is with Mike,” Resi added, “it’s always been that way and it will probably always be that way. You can start getting used to it already.”
“Getting used to what, then?” Greta asked, curiously.
“He is extraordinary!” was all that Resi gave as an answer. She hugged Greta warmly and whispered in her ear, “Just like you!”
Mike was standing by the car and called to Greta. She didn’t have a chance to ask Resi what exactly she had meant.
Quickly she exchanged the rubber boots for the new ones, and also hugged Marlene, and walked to the car. Everything was so surreal. Yes, really, so strange. Maybe that’s what Resi meant. And perhaps it was that Greta felt so well in the circle and in the present surroundings which was a little strange, and seemed a bit uncanny. And yet everything felt so right and good.
Mike started the motor and a moment later they had left the farm behind.
In the car, Mike had turned up the music, and the top was still down. They drove a short distance on the country road, and then onto the highway.
Greta didn’t have a clue where they were now headed. She had noticed only that Mike was not driving back to Munich. But she didn’t want to ask him right now. Moreover, it was too loud in the car.
The feeling of allowing oneself to be carried away was completely wonderful, a feeling that she had not experienced for a long time. It was suddenly so freeing, not to have to bother about anything, not to worry, to plan, or to direct, but at the same time to know that everything is okay, to be protected and cared for, almost a little like a child. The difference was that she was consciously aware of the state of her feelings. She was aware of having given up the responsibility for what was about to occur. She didn’t know what lay in store.
That has a lot to do with trust, shot through her mind. Trust means security. Trust also means to be open, to get involved with someone. All that was happening to her now. She felt herself not only drawn to Mike, but also sensed that she was completely open and trusted enough to give herself to him. The fears in herself which she otherwise knew so well felt as if they had been blown away. Questions such as: Am I too fat? Or too thin? What does he think of me now? How do I look? What should I say now? All of that seemed to have no place in her head at that moment.
Mike reached for her hand. She all
owed it and so they drove holding hands on the highway, toward a destination as yet unknown to Greta.
In the meantime, it had become almost dark, but the wind caused by the airstream was still warm and mild.
At a given point, Mike turned off the highway and drove along another country road. The airstream had diminished and now Greta was very curious about the impending destination.
But first Mike had a question: “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Greta answered, “very okay.”
“Are you happy?” Mike continued.
Greta hesitated a little, but couldn’t do anything but affirm even that, with a broad smile. “Yes, I’m happy. Can’t you tell?”
Mike looked at her quickly from the side, held her hand a little tighter, and said: “Yes, I can tell.”
He smiled at her and seemed just as happy as she was herself.
“Where are we going?” Greta finally got the chance to ask.
“You’re so curious,” Mike teased.
“Tell me,” Greta urged.
“Okay, we’re driving to Austria. I have friends there, in Salzburg. My Austrian friend, Sigi, is giving a little party today at his place, which is really beautiful. From his terrace, there is a view of the entire Old Town, the Castle, and the Salzach River. Besides, there’s the super delicious young wine, the ‘Heurige,’ this season’s vintage, and the ‘Salzburger Nockerl.’ Have you had them?”
“No, honestly I haven’t, but naturally I’ve heard of them,” Greta replied.
Shortly thereafter they arrived in Salzburg. Greta had been there once many years ago. She didn’t know her way around town, but Mike on the other hand drove through the streets as if he had been here yesterday, sure of his destination.
“How come you know your way around so well here?” she asked.
“I know Salzburg well through Sigi. He’s a real estate broker and we’ve done a number of projects online together. His clients have, in part, become mine. It’s a network, so to speak. In the meantime, Sigi has become a really good friend. Whenever I’m in Munich, we always get together. He also has a place there.” Mike turned into a small lane. “We’re here,” he said. Mike parked the Mini right on the street, which was so narrow that only one car at a time could pass through.