“What’s that, Mommy?” Beth asked.
She opened the gate and they went inside the enclosure. She walked from one to the other of the tombstones, reading the inscriptions. Erich Fritz Krueger, 1843–1913, and Gretchen Krueger, 1847– 1915. They must have been Erich’s great-grandparents. Two little girls: Marthea, 1875–1877, and Amanda, 1878–1890. Erich’s grandparents, Erich Lars and Olga Krueger, both born in 1880. She died in 1941, he in 1948. A baby boy, Erich Hans, who lived eight months in 1911. So much pain, Jenny thought, so much grief. Two little girls lost in one generation, a baby boy in the next one. How do people bear that kind of hurt? At the next monument, Erich John Krueger, 1915–1979. Erich’s father.
There was one grave at the south end of the plot, as separate from the others as it was possible to be. It was the one she realized she had been looking for. The inscription read Caroline Bonardi Krueger, 1924– 1956.
Erich’s father and mother were not buried together. Why? The other monuments were weathered. This one looked as though it had been recently cleaned. Did Erich’s love for his mother extend to taking extraordinary care of her tombstone? Inexplicably Jenny felt a stab of anxiety. She tried to smile. “Come on, you two. I’ll race you across the field.”
Laughing, they ran after her. She let them catch and then pass her, pretending to try to keep up with them. Finally they all stopped breathless. Clearly Beth and Tina were elated to have her with them. Their cheeks were rosy, their eyes sparkled and glowed. Even Beth had lost her perpetually solemn look. Jenny hugged them fiercely.
“Let’s walk as far as that knoll,” she suggested, “then we’ll turn back.”
But when they reached the top of the embankment, Jenny was surprised to see a fair-sized white farmhouse nestled on the other side. She realized it had to be the original family farmhouse now used by the farm manager.
“Who lives there?” Beth asked.
“Some people who work for Daddy.”
As they stood looking at the house, the front door opened. A woman came out on the porch and waved to them, clearly indicating she wanted them to come up to the house. “Beth, Tina, come on,” Jenny urged. “It looks as though we’re about to meet our first neighbor.”
It seemed to her that the woman stared at them unrelentingly as they walked across the field. Unmindful of the cold day she stood in the doorway, the door wide open behind her. At first Jenny thought from her slight frame and sagging body that she was elderly. But as she got closer, she realized that the woman was no more than in her late fifties. Her brown hair was streaked with gray and twisted high on her head in a carelessly pinned knot. Her rimless glasses magnified sad gray eyes. She wore a long, shapeless sweater over baggy, double-knit slacks. The sweater accentuated her bony shoulders and acute thinness.
Still there were vestiges of prettiness about the face, and the drooping mouth had well-shaped lips. There was a hint of a dimple in her chin, and somehow Jenny visualized this woman younger, more joyous. The woman stared at her as she introduced herself and the girls.
“Just like Erich told me,” the woman said, her voice low and nervous. “‘Rooney,’ he said, ‘wait till you meet Jenny, you’ll think you’re looking at Caroline.’ But he didn’t want me talking about it.” She made a visible effort to calm herself.
Impulsively Jenny held out both her hands. “And Erich has told me about you, Rooney, how long you’ve been here. I understand your husband is the farm manager. I haven’t met him yet.”
The woman ignored that. “You’re from New York City?”
“Yes, I am.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Our daughter Arden is twenty-seven. Clyde said she went to New York. Maybe you met her?” The question was asked with fierce eagerness.
“I’m afraid I haven’t,” Jenny said. “But of course New York is so big. What kind of work does she do? Where does she live?”
“I don’t know. Arden ran away ten years ago. She didn’t have to run away. Could just as easily have said, ‘Ma, I want to go to New York.” I never denied her. Her dad was a bit strict with her. I guess she knew he wouldn’t let her go so young. But she was such a good girl, why she was president of the 4-H club. I didn’t know she wanted to go so bad. I thought she was really happy with us.”
The woman’s gaze was fixed on the wall. She seemed to be in a reverie of her own, as though explaining something she had explained many times before. “She was our only one. We waited a long time for her. She was such a pretty baby, and so wanting, you know what I mean. So active, right from the minute she was born. So I said, let’s call her Arden, short for ardent. It suited her real nice.”
Beth and Tina shrank against Jenny. There was something about this woman, about the staring eyes and slight tremor, that frightened them.
My God, Jenny thought. Her only child and she hasn’t heard from her in ten years. I would go mad.
“See her picture here.” Rooney indicated a framed picture on the wall. “I took that just two weeks before she left.”
Jenny studied the picture of a sturdy, smiling teenager with curly blond hair.
“Maybe she’s married and has babies too,” Rooney said. “I think about that a lot. That’s why when I saw you coming along with the little ones, I thought maybe that’s Arden.”
“I’m sorry,” Jenny said.
“No, it’s all right. And please don’t tell Erich I’ve been talking about Arden again. Clyde said Erich is sick of listening to me always going on about Arden and Caroline. Clyde said that’s why Erich retired me from my job at the house when his dad died. I took real good care of that house, just like my own. Clyde and I came here when John and Caroline were married. Caroline liked the way I did things and even after she died I kept everything just so for her, as though she’d be walking in any minute. But come on in the kitchen. I made doughnuts and the coffeepot’s on.”
Jenny could smell the perking coffee. They sat around the white enamel table in the cheerful kitchen. Hungrily Tina and Beth munched at still-warm powdered doughnuts and drank milk.
“I remember when Erich was that age,” Rooney said. “I used to make those doughnuts for him all the time. I was the only one Caroline ever left him with if she went out shopping. Felt almost like he was my own. Still do, I guess. I didn’t have Arden for ten years after we wuz married but Caroline had Erich that first year. Never saw a little boy loved his mother more. Never wanted her out of his sight. Oh, you do look like her, you do.”
She reached for the coffeepot and refilled Jenny’s cup. “And Erich’s been so good to us. He spent ten thousand dollars on private detectives trying to find where Arden went.”
Yes, Jenny thought, Erich would do that. The clock over the kitchen sink began to chime. It was noon. Hastily Jenny got up. Erich would be home. She wanted terribly to be with him. “Mrs. Toomis, we’d better run. I do hope you’ll come and visit us.”
“Call me Rooney. Everybody does. Clyde don’t want me to go to the big house anymore. But I fool him. I go up there a lot to make sure everything’s nice. And you come back here again and visit. I like having company.”
A smile made a remarkable transformation in her face. For a moment the drooping, sad lines disappeared and Jenny knew she’d been right in guessing that at one time Rooney Toomis had been a very pretty woman.
Rooney insisted they take a plate of doughnuts home. “They’re good for an afternoon snack.” As she held open the door for them she started to turn up the collar of her sweater. “I think I’ll start looking for Arden now,” she sighed. Once again her voice had become vague.
The noon sun was brilliant, high in the heavens, shining on the snow-covered fields. As they turned the bend, the house came into view. The pale red of the brick glowed under the sun’s rays. Our home, Jenny thought. She held the girls by the hand. Was Rooney going to walk aimlessly around these acres looking for her lost child?
“That was a very nice lady,” Beth announc
ed.
“Yes, she was,” Jenny agreed. “Come on, now. On the double. Daddy’s probably waiting for us.”
“Which daddy?” Beth asked matter-of-factly.
“The only one.”
Just before she opened the kitchen door, Jenny whispered to the children. “Let’s tiptoe in and surprise Daddy.”
Eyes sparkling, they nodded.
Noiselessly she turned the handle. The first sound they heard was Erich’s voice. It was coming from the dining room, each angry word pitched slightly higher than its predecessor. “How dare you tell me that I might have caused that stain! It’s obvious that you let the oil rag touch the wallpaper when you dusted the windowsill. Do you realize the entire room will have to be repapered now? Do you know how difficult it will be to get that pattern again? How many times have I warned you about those oil rags?”
“But, Mr. Krueger . . .” Elsa’s protest, nervously loud, was cut off.
“I want you to apologize for blaming that mess on me. Either apologize or get out of this house and don’t come back.”
There was silence.
“Mommy,” Beth whispered, frightened.
“Sshh,” Jenny said. Erich couldn’t be that upset over that little smudge on the paper, could he? she wondered. Stay out of it, some instinct warned. There’s nothing you can do.
As she heard Elsa’s sullen, unhappy voice say, “I apologize, Mr. Krueger,” she pulled the children outside and closed the door.
9
Why is Daddy mad?” Tina asked.
“I’m really not sure, love. But we’ll pretend that we didn’t hear him. All right?”
“But we did hear him,” Beth said seriously.
“I know,” Jenny agreed, “but it doesn’t have anything to do with us. Now, come on. Let’s go in again.”
This time she called, “Erich, hi,” before they were even in the house. Not pausing to allow an answer she called again, “Is there a husband in this place?”
“Sweetheart!” Erich hurried into the kitchen, his smile welcoming, his entire manner relaxed. “I’ve just been asking Elsa where you were. I’m disappointed you went out. I wanted to show you around myself.”
His arms were around her. His cheek, still cold from the outdoors, rubbed against hers. Jenny blessed the instinct that had kept her from visiting the farm buildings.
“I knew you’d want to give us the tour,” she said, “so we just walked across the east fields and got some fresh air. You can’t imagine how wonderful it is not to stop for a traffic light every few feet.”
“I’ll have to teach you to be sure to avoid the fields where the bulls are kept,” Erich smiled. “Believe me, you’d prefer the traffic lights.” He became aware of the plate she was holding. “What’s that?”
“Mrs. Toom gave that to Mommy,” Beth told him.
“Mrs. Toomis,” Jenny corrected.
“Mrs. Toomis,” Erich said. His arms dropped to his sides. “Jenny, I hope you’re not going to tell me you were in Rooney’s house?”
“She waved to us,” Jenny explained. “It would have been so rude . . .”
“She waves to anyone who passes,” Erich interrupted. “This is why you really ought to have waited for me to take you around, darling. Rooney is a very disturbed woman and if you give her an inch she’ll take a stranglehold on you. I finally had to lay it to Clyde that he must keep her away from this house. Even after I retired her, I’d come home and find her puttering in here. God help her, I’m sorry for her, Jenny, but it got pretty rough waking up in the middle of the night and hearing her walking around the hall or even standing in my room.” He turned to Beth. “Come on, Mouse. Let’s get that snowsuit off.” He lifted Beth in the air and to her delight sat her on top of the refrigerator.
“Me too, me too,” Tina cried.
“You too, you too,” he mimicked. “Now isn’t this a good way to get your boots off?” he asked them. “Just the right height isn’t it, Mommy?”
Apprehensively Jenny moved nearer to the refrigerator to make sure that one of the girls didn’t lean forward too far and topple off it but she realized there was no need to worry. Erich quickly yanked the small overshoes off and lifted the girls down. Before he put them on the ground he said, “Okay, you two, what’s my name?”
Tina looked at Jenny. “Daddy?” she said, her voice a question.
“Mommy said you’re the only daddy,” Beth informed him.
“Mommy said that?” Erich put the girls down and smiled at Jenny. “Thank you, Mommy.”
Elsa came into the kitchen. Her face was flushed and set in angry, defensive lines. “Mr. Krueger, I finish upstairs. You want me to do something special now?”
“Upstairs?” Jenny asked quickly. “I meant to tell you. I hope you didn’t bother to separate the beds in the children’s room. They’re on their way up for a nap.”
“I told Elsa to straighten the room,” Erich said.
“But, Erich, they can’t sleep on those high beds the way they are,” Jenny protested. “I’m afraid we’ll really have to get them youth beds.” A thought occurred to her. It was a gamble but it would be a natural request. “Erich, couldn’t the girls nap in your old room? That bed is quite low.”
She studied his face, waiting for his reaction. Even so she did not miss the sly look Elsa threw at him. She’s enjoying this, Jenny thought. She knows he wants to refuse.
Erich’s expression became closed. “As a matter of fact, Jenny,” he said, his tone suddenly formal, “I intended to speak to you about allowing the children to use that room. I thought I made myself plain about the fact that that room is not to be occupied. Elsa tells me she found the bed unmade this morning.”
Jenny gasped. Of course it had never occurred to her that Tina and Beth might have gotten into that bed when they were wandering around before she woke up.
“I’m sorry.”
His face softened. “It’s all right, darling. Let the girls nap in the beds they used last night. We’ll order youth beds for them immediately.”
Jenny prepared soup for the children, then took them upstairs. As she pulled down the shades, she said, “Now, look, you two, when you wake up, I don’t want you getting into any other beds. Understand?”
“But we always get into your bed at home,” Beth said, her tone injured.
“That’s different. I mean any other beds in this house.” She kissed them gently. “Promise. I don’t want Daddy to get upset.”
“Daddy yelled loud,” Tina murmured, her eyes closing. “Where’s my present?”
The cakes of soap were on the night table. Tina slipped hers under her pillow. “Thank you for giving that to me, Mommy. We didn’t get into your bed, Mommy.”
Erich had begun slicing turkey for sandwiches. Deliberately Jenny closed the door that shut the kitchen off from the rest of the house.
“Hi,” she said. Putting her arms around him, she whispered, “Look, we had our wedding dinner with the children. At least let me fix our first by-ourselves meal on Krueger Farm and you pour us some of that champagne we never got around to finishing last night.”
His lips were on her hair. “Last night was beautiful for me, Jenny. Was it for you?”
“It was beautiful.”
“I didn’t get much done this morning. All I could think of is how you look when you’re asleep.”
He made a fire in the cast-iron stove and they sipped the champagne and ate the sandwiches, curled up together on the couch in front of it. “You know,” Jenny said, “walking around today made me realize the sense of continuity this farm has. I don’t know my roots. I don’t know if my people lived in the city or country. I don’t know if my birth mother liked to sew or paint or if she could carry a tune. It’s so wonderful that you know everything about your people. Just looking at the burial plot made me appreciate that.”
“You went to the burial plot?” Erich asked quietly.
“Yes, do you mind?”
“Then you saw Caroline’s grav
e?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And you probably wondered why she and my father aren’t together the way the others are?”
“I was surprised.”
“It isn’t any mystery. Caroline had those Norwegian pines planted. At that time she told my father she wanted to be buried at the south end of the graveyard where the pines would shelter her. He never really approved, but he respected her wishes. Before he died he told me he’d always expected to be placed in the grave next to his parents. Somehow I felt that was the right thing to do for both of them. Caroline always wanted more freedom than my father would give her anyway. I think that afterward he regretted the way he ridiculed her art until she threw out her sketch pad. What difference would it have made if she’d painted instead of making quilts? He was wrong. Wrong!”
He paused, staring into the fire. Jenny felt that Erich seemed to be unaware of her presence. “But so was she,” he whispered.
With a tremor of anxiety Jenny realized that for the first time Erich was hinting that the relationship between his mother and father had been troubled.
Jenny settled into a daily routine that she found immensely satisfying. Each day she realized how much she had missed by being away from the children so much. She learned that Beth, the practical, quiet child, had a definite musical talent and could pick out simple tunes on the spinet in the small parlor after hearing them played only a few times. Tina’s whiny streak vanished as she blossomed in the new atmosphere. She who had always cried so easily became positively sunny-dispositioned and showed signs of a natural sense of humor.
Erich usually left for the studio by dawn and never returned until noon. Jenny and the girls had breakfast around eight and at ten o’clock, when the sun was becoming stronger, bundled up in snowsuits and went for a walk.
The walks soon assumed a pattern. First the chicken house, where Joe taught the girls to collect the fresh-laid eggs. Joe had decided that Jenny’s presence had saved his job after Baron’s accident. “I bet if Mr. Krueger wasn’t so happy about your being here, he’d have fired me. My maw says he’s not a forgiving man, Mrs. Krueger.”