An Uncommon Family

by Christa Polkinhorn

  Mrs. Schatz seemed somewhat appeased. “Well, okay, I won’t push you. Just remember”—she shook a finger at him—“you’re not getting any younger either.” She looked him up and down and he instinctively pulled in his slight potbelly. “Well, I’ve got to go, have some baking to do.”

  She shuffled across the hallway toward the door. Mentioning the baking was another attempt to lure Jonas. She was an excellent baker and well-known among her neighbors and friends for her cakes and pies. Her heavy hips and the bulges around her waist were a testimony to her love of sweets.

  At the door to her apartment, she slightly raised her hand. “If you change your mind, you know where we are.”

  “Thank you kindly, Mrs. Schatz,” Jonas said. “I have quite a lot of work to do, but perhaps next time.”

  He closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. In the kitchen, he unpacked the groceries. He put the lettuce, zucchini squash, tomatoes, basil, and a piece of mountain cheese into the refrigerator. Picking up a ripe apricot, he inhaled its sweet smell and bit into it, then went into the living room.

  As usual, when he came back from an errand or a trip, he stood a while in front the photo of his wife, Eva. A beautiful face with wavy, shoulder-length blond hair, shiny blue eyes, and the touch of a cute snub-nose smiled at him. He smiled back and sighed. “Hi there,” he whispered.

  His neighbor wasn’t the only person who tried to nudge him toward female companionship. His son in Denmark and his daughter, who spent a year in the United States, brought the topic up occasionally. “Dad, remember what Mom said before she died? You shouldn’t pine for her; you should live and have another woman in your life.”

  He gently touched the frame of the photo. There is no other woman. Only you.

  At the bar, he poured himself a shot of whisky, went into the kitchen and dropped a few ice cubes from the freezer into the glass. He shook the glass and watched the golden liquid swoosh around. Coming back into the living room, he opened a couple of windows and the floor-length glass door, which led to a small patio on the rooftop.

  Jonas’s penthouse apartment was light and airy and tastefully furnished. His Danish background was visible in the uncluttered elegance and the light colors of the sofa, drapes, and the simple wood furniture. A few of Jonas’s paintings were hanging on the wall.

  To the south, he had a view of a small section of the river and part of the lake. Across the river stood the Fraumünster Cathedral with its five stained-glass windows designed by Marc Chagall. If the weather was good, Jonas could see the mountains in the distance.

  It was still warm on this hot summer day. The sun was setting behind the buildings, surrounding them with halos of gold. The strip of the lake Jonas could see from his apartment sparkled in the last light of the evening. Jonas was thinking of the little girl and her aunt. He sighed, remembering the look on the child’s face when he lifted her up. How well he could relate to that feeling of sadness and despair.

  Jonas loved children and now that his own kids were grown and his grandchildren lived in Denmark, he made do with the children he taught privately. He enjoyed teaching. It made him feel needed and the company of his students helped him push away the loneliness for a few hours.

  The thought of working with Karla, however, filled him with excitement for another reason. In the two pictures he had seen of hers, he detected an unusual talent. Her drawings were still rough and unpolished, of course. But skill and craft could be taught. What was more important was the degree of passion and the level of personal expression, which was rare in a child so young.

  What Karla needed now was the willingness to learn and to practice, which Jonas believed she had. He had seen it in her eyes when she asked him if he would teach her. How long her endurance would last, that was another question. Children changed as they grew up; they developed other interests, they got bored. He had seen it happen many times. He remembered his own children, the years of paying for piano and violin lessons and just when they were getting good at it, they became interested in video games and dating.

  Jonas picked up his pipe, stuffed it with tobacco, and lit it. He closed his eyes, enjoying the earthy taste. He had stopped smoking cigarettes years before, but he treated himself to an occasional pipe. He stepped outside and stood on the rooftop patio, watching the last golden and orange hues of the setting sun fade into the approaching dark.

  He smiled. “Well, Karla, what do you say? I think it’s worth a try.”

  Chapter 4

  It was past noon and the sun was high in the sky. Karla and Maja were sitting at the edge of a pond near their home underneath a weeping willow. Its hanging branches formed a bell shape and the leaves skimmed the surface of the pond. The pond was one of the children’s favorite hangouts. When they were quiet—which wasn’t often—they could hear the rustling of leaves in the summer breeze, the quacking of ducks, and an occasional splash from a leaping fish. It smelled earthy, of algae and clay.

  Karla, with her elbows propped on her knees and her head cradled in her hands, was watching as a family of coots slowly emerged from behind a patch of reed. Mother, father, and a flock of chicks floated across the pond. As if on command, the adults dipped their heads into the water and the babies followed. They kept diving and coming up again until the two adult birds swam on and the little ones followed them single file.

  Karla watched them disappear behind a bend in the bank where the pond veered off to the left. She felt the familiar sting of homesickness. “A family,” she murmured, “a real family.” She turned to Maja. “Last night, I dreamt about Mama again. She was standing by my bed. When I woke up, she had disappeared.”

  Maja nodded and skimmed the water with her hand. “I know how we could see our mamas again,” she whispered.

  “How?” Karla sat up straight and brushed her shoulder-length black hair out of her face. She starred at Maja with her large dark eyes.

  Maja was seven, a year older than Karla. She was a thin girl with a skinny, boyish figure, short blond hair, and blue eyes. She scudded closer and gave Karla a conspiratorial smile. “Back home, my grandmother told me once that at night, when there’s a full moon and you’re on a mountain or high hill, a gate in the sky opens for a short time and you can see right into Heaven.” The girl nodded emphatically.

  “Have you ever seen it?” Karla asked, wrinkling her forehead.

  Maja shook her head. “No, but if you can see into Heaven, you can see the dead, the angels, can’t you?”

  Karla nodded. “I guess you could,” she whispered.

  “Perhaps we could see our mothers,” Maja said.

  Karla was quiet, thinking things over. She wrapped her arms around her tanned legs and glanced at the water. Maja’s pale calves dangled in the water.

  “I’ll have to ask Anna,” Karla said.

  “No. We can’t tell the adults.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Grandma said that adults can’t see into Heaven.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because their hearts aren’t pure enough. Only young children can see Heaven.”

  “We can’t go alone in the middle of the night without telling the adults,” Karla said.

  “Of course we can. We just get up after they’ve gone to bed and sneak out of the house.” Maja scratched at a scab on her leg.

  “What if Anna or your aunt and uncle check on us?”

  “Don’t be such a scaredy-cat. Don’t you want to see your mama again?”

  “Sure, I want to, but . . .”

  “Think how much fun that would be. If you are too chicken, I’ll go by myself.” Maja pulled a snit.

  “Okay. I’ll come. Do you think they can see us in the dark?” Karla was getting excited as well.

  “Of course, silly. And there will be light from the moon.” Maja picked up a small flat stone, and skipped it across the water. It bounced off the surface several times.

  “We have to find out when the next full moon is,” Karla said.


  “I have a calendar at home which shows the full and the new moons. I’ll bring it to school tomorrow.” Maja sat down again.

  “But where shall we go? There aren’t any high mountains nearby.”

  “We can climb up to the Egg. That’s a high hill. I bet we can see from there.” Maja pedaled her legs in the water and splashed a few drops on Karla.

  Karla dunked her hand and sprayed Maja. The two girls giggled, then got up and raced each other across the meadow.

  During recess at school the following day, Karla and Maja studied the colorful calendar Maja had brought.

  “We’re lucky. There’s going to be a full moon next Monday.” Maja pointed at the round yellow dot next to the date. “That’s just when vacation starts. That means we can be out late at night and we don’t have to get up early to go to school the next day. The weather forecast is good, too. Clear sky. Great.” Maja playfully punched Karla’s arm.

  Karla nodded. It sounded like a great adventure. She only wished she could tell Aunt Anna about it. She was sure that Anna had a pure heart and wouldn’t spoil it. It was so difficult to keep a secret. But she didn’t want to disappoint Maja.

  Chapter 5

  “Karla is intelligent, but very unfocused,” the young man told Anna.

  Anna was having a meeting with Karla’s main teacher about her progress in school. Mr. Winter was sitting across from her behind his desk, which was stacked with neatly arranged piles of papers and books. The late-afternoon sun shone through the window, bathing the sparse office and the serious face of the handsome young man in a pale light.

  “What do you mean?” Anna peered at him.

  The teacher sat up straight. “For one thing, her mind wanders and she’s often unable to concentrate. She doesn’t pay attention. She sits in her chair, either looks at me with a blank expression on her face—you can tell she’s not listening—or she gazes out the window. When I call on her with a question, she looks startled, as if she’d just woken up from a dream.

  “I tried all kinds of things. I moved her away from the window. I called on her more frequently, so she wouldn’t have a chance to fall back into her daydreaming. She tries to listen, but after a while I catch her again staring into space.

  “I thought that perhaps the subject I teach doesn’t interest her, but the other teachers have the same experience. Karla is very absentminded. Interestingly enough, her written work is better and she excels in her art class. She draws and paints far beyond her age, as the art teacher told me.”

  Anna nodded. “I know; she loves to draw and paint. It’s something that makes her happy. I found a professional art teacher for her.”

  “Yes, it may encourage and perhaps help her. However, she needs to snap out of her daydreaming during the oral lessons, or she won’t be able to graduate to the next class.”

  “Why wasn’t I told of this earlier?” Anna asked in a sharp voice. “I didn’t know she was doing poorly. At first, she wasn’t happy in school. As you know, her whole life was turned upside down when her mother and grandmother died. She's had so many changes, so I'm not surprised that she’s still suffering. But she made a few friends, she did her homework, and she never complained about school.”

  “I'm sorry. Perhaps I should’ve let you know earlier, but I also knew about her background and thought that things would improve with time. Lately, however, I realized that she needs help—perhaps counseling—and I was going to call you about it.”

  Anna sighed. “I took her to a therapist in the beginning, right after she moved in with me. He felt, however, that Karla was dealing with her pain in a normal way and that with lots of love and attention she'd slowly get over it. I think that was an overly optimistic assessment. Perhaps she needs professional help after all.”

  “I do know of someone I can recommend,” Mr. Winter said. “She takes care of some the children here who have been traumatized. I’m sure we can do something to help Karla.”

  The teacher shook hands with Anna. It was only now that Anna realized why he looked so familiar to her. His shiny black hair and piercing blue eyes reminded her of Nicolas, her husband.

  After meeting with the teacher, Anna went back to her bookstore. It was still quiet there, no customers yet. She watered the few plants, then walked around rearranging some books and putting a few toys, which were lying on the floor in the kids’ corner, back into the crates.

  Her bookstore was fairly small and it was a constant struggle to find enough room for all the books and videos she kept. Gazing out the window, she squinted her eyes against the glare from the sun. She turned around, and gave the tall birch-wood shelves a last look-over, then turned to a package of new books that had just come in. She unpacked the box, took out each book, opened it, and held it to her nose. She loved the crisp smell of new books, fresh off the press. The ink had a slight synthetic aroma, not unpleasant, but rather exciting. Each book contained a secret, a new insight perhaps, an exciting adventure.

  She began to label them and entered their data into the computer. She had a difficult time concentrating on her task, though. After a while, she stopped and sighed. The talk with the teacher worried her. She had had the impression that Karla had been doing okay in school. At least, she didn’t seem to have had any major problems.

  How could I have missed the signs? she wondered.

  One of the books she unpacked was a travel book about the United States. The picture on the cover was of the Statue of Liberty in New York. “America,” she murmured as she turned the pages. She scrunched her forehead and took a deep breath.

  Why am I surprised? I’ve missed the signs before.

  The resemblance between the teacher and Nicolas, her husband, and the picture on the book reminded her of her life in New York City, where she had lived as a young woman. It had been an intensely happy as well as sad time.

  I sure fell for him. I was so much in love. And then—

  The doorbell rang and a friend of hers walked in. Anna surreptitiously dabbed her eyes and forced a smile. “Hi there.”

  Petra peered at her. “Something wrong?”

  Anna shook her head, then pointed at the picture of New York. “Just thinking of old times.”

  Petra came over and looked at the photo. “New York, huh?” She put her hand on Anna’s shoulder. “Why does it make you sad? Want to talk about it?”

  Petra was a good friend. They lived in the same village and both loved books. After a slight hesitation, Anna felt she could confide in her. “Why not? Let’s have some coffee.” She pressed the button on the espresso machine.

  “You know that I was married?” Anna said as she put the cups on the small table in the corner.

  “Yes, but you never gave me any details. It seems to be a taboo subject.”

  “Well, yeah, I don’t like to dwell on it. But anyway, I met Nicolas, my husband, at a party in New York City. I was studying library science. He was a Mexican citizen and was finishing his degree in architecture.”

  “I knew you lived in New York for a while. I didn’t realize you studied there,” Petra said.

  “One of the reasons was my father. He was an American citizen. After my parents got divorced, he moved back to the United States. I spent most of my vacations with him in New York City. I loved New York. It was such an exciting place. I applied for the library science program at the Pratt Institute. I got in and decided to stay.

  “Anyway, Nico and I started going out and we fell in love. He was very handsome. He had jet-black glossy hair and intense blue eyes.” Anna gave a wistful smile. “He was part Gypsy. His mother was a descendent a tribe of Spanish Gypsies. His father was English.”

  “Sounds exotic,” Petra said.

  “Yes, well, he was everything a young stupid woman like me would fall for. Attractive, charming, mysterious, intelligent . . . and an excellent liar.”

  “A liar? That doesn’t sound so good,” Petra said.

  “You can say that.” Anna sighed.

  “
So what went wrong? Was he unfaithful?”

  “Well, there was more to it.”

  The door opened and another woman entered. She looked around the bookstore, then came up to the counter and asked Anna about a book she was looking for. Anna went over to the bookshelves. She couldn’t find the book, so she did a search on her computer. She turned to Petra. “Sorry, I’ll tell you the rest later.”

  “No problem,” Petra said. “I’ll have to leave anyway. I have a dental appointment. But I sure want to know more.” Petra gave Anna a quick hug and left.

  Anna lifted her hand in a good-bye gesture, then continued to search for the book. “It’s a children’s book,” she said to the woman. “I don’t have it in stock but I can order it for you.”

  “That would be great, thanks,” the woman said. “It’s for my daughter’s birthday.”

  Anna smiled and typed the information into the computer. It was a book of poems for children with cute illustrations. She ordered several copies and decided to give one to Karla.

  Chapter 6

  The sirens shrieked from far away. Someone banged on the car door. Red paint splashed all over. “Karla, Karla,” a muffled voice called.

  Karla shot up in bed; her breath came in spurts. Slowly the nightmare dissipated, but the voice and the thudding sounds against the shutter continued. Karla kicked back her comforter, got out of bed, and opened the window. Maja’s pale face lit up briefly in the moonlight.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered. “Where have you been? I’ve been knocking forever.”

  “Psst. Be quiet. Don’t wake Anna. I fell asleep. I’ll be right out.” Karla was already dressed. She grabbed her jacket and climbed on top of the window sill. Her bedroom was on the first floor and faced the back of the house. There was a light thump as she jumped onto the gravel path in the backyard.