Kris (11 page)

I eventually found the old cottage after walking and walking once again over the snowy rolling hills to where I had deposited the infant Nikko what seemed a lifetime ago.

As I arrived upon the fateful scene, all seemed so quiet and unnatural. Time had become frozen like the world around me. I was by now tired and world-weary as I trudged onward through the snow.

When I eventually reached the cottage I hung the rattle of snowflakes over the great knob on the weathered and splintering wood plank door. I was committed to leave my infant brother in peace with his new family as I had left the others. But as I released the rattle, the door creaked slowly open. Inside, the dark and lonely shell revealed the tale of a home long abandoned to the elements. I pushed harder on the door.

Old, discarded broken furniture littered the cottage floor. There was evidence that life had indeed prevailed here some time in the distant past, but the cottage now was mired in disregard and decay as if forsaken ages ago.

Fury and pain burst from my lungs and ignited explosively, shattering the silence with my shrill cries. I smashed and destroyed the tables and chairs; I beat the walls and ripped the mantle from the fireplace. I wailed in my suffering and self-condemnation.

I had lost Nikko. She was right. I couldn't take care of them. She was right. I wasn't strong enough. I did not deserve them. She had been right!

Gerda received me without judgment as we reunited. Soon, I settled upon a course of action and headed out for the only place I knew to turn.

When I reached the carpentry, I put Gerda to rest and quietly slipped inside to announce my presence. The shop was empty. The apprentices would not arrive, for it was Christmastide, and I knew Josef and Gabriella would be together still at breakfast as the morning came alive.
But I could not bring myself to interrupt their privacy and intrude upon their gentle sanctuary.

I sat alone in frustration and embarrassment for quite some time, running my fingers along the smooth curves of a set of chairs in front of Josef's workstation. I thought about that fateful day when hunger and a growing storm had first driven me there, how Josef had insisted that I replace the broken chairs. And in anguish and desperation, I lifted a chair and smashed it in to the others.

I could hear Josef's hurried footsteps as he rushed into the carpentry from the house. He was holding a large, sharp knife and stood ready in the doorway to defend his home and life.

He slowly began to relax as he saw me sitting slumped over amid the remnants of the chairs I had shattered, and he watched me for a moment without uttering a word.

“I broke the chairs,” I confessed.

“I see,” Josef said. He walked over to retrieve one of the sturdy chair legs I had shattered.

I followed him with my eyes to see how this would finally matter.

“This is not the scrap wood you broke last year,” Josef said.

I pointed to the area where Josef kept his stock. “It's just common.”

“Sha!” Josef interjected. “This is carving you haven't learned yet.” Then he looked at me for another long moment and offered his consideration. “I could teach you.”

Josef walked closer and stood looking down at me with kindness. “It might take a few months, perhaps longer, years, as slow as you learn.”

I reeled up and threw my arms around Josef's waist, and he awkwardly held me, placing his hand upon my head. And I cried. For my mother
and my father, for our village, for my brother Nikko, and finally for myself, I cried.

When I was all cried out, Josef slowly lifted me to my feet.

“Let us see if we can convince Gabriella to make you some breakfast.”

As I walked with Josef into the kitchen, he placed his hand upon my shoulder and softly said, “Next year, son—you don't have to break the chairs.”

I
returned to my chores as an apprentice and to the daily lessons
Josef provided at the carpentry. The other apprentices looked at me in a new light after my surprising return, though I do not believe they were altogether happy to see me. I also think my fierce outburst from the prior year had left them a little hesitant to push my patience, lest they again release my demons. I grew even stockier or stouter or huskier or however nicely you would say it: I got a tad fatter. Gabriella's food only tasted that much better as I became
more present to life. Of course, this did not go unnoticed or without endless comments from Markus and especially Noel, which sent them tittering and laughing like schoolgirls. Nonetheless, I went about my duties with renewed vigor and continued to advance in my skills and knowledge. Thankfully I had lost some of my single-minded obsession, which allowed me to see the world again for its beauty and possibility. Sarah was in no small part a glorious object of that awakening. Now that I was more aware of my surroundings, it also meant that I felt more of the sting from my fellow apprentices jibing.

How thankful I was to be home, here in this place of good work and industry, and to have such generous souls as Josef and Gabriella to look after me. As I began to lose details from the memory of my earlier life, the carpentry shop felt more like home than any I could recall. A child's memory can be like that. Even so, my existence was not complete, not yet. I knew there would always be a gnawing emptiness inside where I had once felt the love of my brothers and sisters, whom I thought about during every passing day. There still lived a guilt and pressing responsibility over the loss of my infant brother Nikko.

Projects and orders came to us with regularity, and if we were not always burdened with commissioned work, we generated a steady flow of well-made pieces for Josef to peddle to his appreciative customers abroad.

The church pews Josef built were given extra care, made of strong and lasting materials of beauty, as fitting a house of God. We worked together under Josef's guidance to assist him in finishing these finely crafted pieces, and with great pride we prepared to deliver them into use. They would add a significant beauty to whatever church gave them a home.

I remember clearly the day we carried the last of those fine pews outside, loading them into an old and beaten flatbed wagon. Noah, a man of some girth and substance, had arrived to collect the pews on behalf of the district church. He delighted in coaching us as Josef, the other boys, and I struggled to lift the heavy pews into the wagon bed.

“Lift! Careful, now!” Noah exclaimed as if we needed his constant direction and warnings. “Take it easy, Josef. Make sure the short one doesn't get himself crushed under that thing!” Noah pointed to little Jonas. Then our rotund supervisor laughed at his own statement as if he had hit upon a point of humor all of us should relish.

Jonas looked about curiously to question why he was being mocked.

“Gently, gently—all right. Good!” Noah encouraged us as we finally got the pew into the wagon.

“You could help lift, you know,” Josef retorted.

“I could, yes,” Noah chuckled, and he began to pick at the gaps between his teeth with a small splinter of wood.

“All right, boys, we're almost done. Grab that last one, and we're finished!” Noah said with encouragement. And he grinned a big toothy grin.

“Lift!” Josef instructed.

“Watch the edges!” Noah warned. “If that pew is scratched, it won't be worth a tinker's fiddle to me. Easy with it. Whew!”

We all stopped to catch our breath, and Josef wiped his brow with an old, worn towel as Noah slapped him on the back.

“See! That wasn't so bad, old boy. That's what we call teamwork.”

Josef twisted and stretched his back to relieve the pain. “Okay, boys. Take a few minutes to rest. Then get started straightening up the workshop.”

“Hold there a moment,” Noah demanded. He reached into his pockets and pulled out rock candy suckers for each of us boys. This was an unheard-of treat and made all his japing and cajoling worth the experience.

“Now, get on!” Josef commanded.

As the others went inside, I drifted out of sight and lingered just around the corner of the carpentry so I could observe the men and listen to their conversation. Josef obviously treated this man as a friend, and I wanted to hear how friends spoke to each other. I had never yet had a close friend and confidant, someone my own age with whom to compare and share experiences and perspective.

Noah began to rub a mild scratch off one of the pews as Josef watched him. “Yes sir, Josef, I am most pleased,” he stated with appreciation.

“They turned out good, didn't they?” Josef said. “Strong, sturdy. Of the finest quality.”

“So, what's your guarantee?” Noah asked.

“I don't see you needing a new batch while I'm still in business. Not if they're treated right.”

“Good man! That's what I like to hear,” Noah exclaimed emphatically. He continued to examine the workmanship of the benches and rubbed his plump fingers across the fine grain of the wood.

“So, that will do it?” Josef asked.

“Um. Come to think of it, not quite,” Noah confessed. He began to search his large pockets for something and then waddled over to the wagon and rummaged through a sack stashed underneath the driver's seat.

“It's the funniest little thing.” Noah grunted. He struggled to find the object with great determination. “Never seen anything like it. It was left
for Kendra last Christmas, and she and Leah just would not stop arguing over it.”

“Kendra?”

“My daughter,” Noah said proudly.

“Noah! You and Layla risked another one?”

How I now struggled to restrain my interest. Kendra? Was this my Kendra? Of course! This could be the church that had so miraculously appeared out of the night. I inched closer and strained to hear what they were saying, trying to capture all the news of my sister.

“No, of course not,” Noah chided him. “You see … this is why you should show up to service more often. You might stay more up to date on current events!”

“I will follow that advice when you do!” Josef laughed.

Noah looked at Josef with a crooked smile. “Listen, God and I have an agreement. I tend to His house six days a week and He gives me Sunday mornings off.” Noah stopped for a moment to catch his breath, as all the activity and talk had tired him. “I'll tell you about Kendra,” he said. “It's a story though. A strange one, too.” He stopped again upon locating the desired object and signaled his success. “Found it. Take a look at this.” He tossed Josef the wooden mechanical duck I had carved and left for Kendra in the church donation basket.

Nervousness and fear washed over me as I saw the wooden duck in Josef's hands, and I was sure I would soon be found out. So I hurried into the safety of the carpentry to rejoin the other apprentices.

Markus was organizing tools as Noel stood behind him, sucking on his candy. Jonas was engaged in cleaning off Josef's workbench and collecting small, leftover pieces of wood. He spun around and sat down
as I came into the room and made loud, sucking noises on the hard candy in his mouth.

I grabbed a broom as if preparing to sweep, but in my abject panic I continued to watch the men outside through the window.

Noel began to complain to the others. “He gives us these stupid suckers. Does he think we're babies or something?” He pulled the sucker out of his mouth for a moment and looked to the other boys for response. “Almost killed us with those ugly benches. You know what I mean, Markus?”

Markus tried to ignore him. “Noel, would you just shut up and try to get some work done?”

“Huh? All I'm saying…” Noel began, but he stopped short as Sarah entered the room carrying a basket loaded with fresh bread and muffins. Her silhouette broke the light pouring through the carpentry doors. She didn't walk, she flowed. Sometime over the days since we had last seen her, she had gained curves that we had not perceived before. If we hadn't noticed them previously, with all certainty we noticed them then.

I tore my eyes away from Sarah to watch the exchange between Josef and Noah. It was one of the few times in my life that I was able to deny her my attention.

Sarah swooshed by, gently brushing me with her dress as she passed, and approached the other boys, dragging my attention back to her.

“What have you got there, Jonas?” she said coyly.

Jonas smiled broadly while sucking loudly on the candy. He seemed to swell with pride because Sarah had addressed him while ignoring the others and me.

“Jonas is still sucking on his pacifier.” Noel laughed.

“Looks as though you have one, too,” Sarah said to him. And as Noel tried to respond, Sarah slapped him on the back as she walked by. He was cut short by the impact of her hand and began to choke, coughing the candy up and spitting it out and onto the dirty, dust-ridden floor.

Markus thought this was hilarious and pointed at Noel and laughed. Jonas also started to chuckle.