Tanglewood Grotto

by Susan Finlay

  Tanglewood Grotto

  Tanglewood Grotto

  A Bavarian Woods Mystery

  By

  Susan Finlay

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Tanglewood Grotto is Copyright © 2016 by Susan Finlay.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written approval of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  First Edition

  Cover Design by Ken Dawson

  Paperback ISBN-13:978-1536866193

  Published in the USA

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction, and all the characters and places and events are inventions. The walled city of Riesen, Germany, does not exist, although some may recognize different aspects of it in the medieval towns of Bavaria. The Ries Crater which is mentioned in the book is real. Oddly, I chose the name of my fictitious town before I did any research. When I learned about the crater, I was delighted because it fit so well. I did a significant amount of research for this book and series, and although I have been to Germany, it was very long ago, and I therefore used author creativity to fill in the gaps.

  CHAPTER ONE

  OCTOBER, 1789—

  LOTTE FURST STOPPED, peering at the hand-painted cuckoo clock sign hanging above the door of the wattle-and-daub house and shop belonging to Karl Kimmel, her long-time friend—or nemesis, depending on one’s point-of-view. Her previous foray into town to confront the eighty-year-old curmudgeon had yielded nothing, as the shop had been closed up tight and no one had answered the door when she knocked. This time, from her position across the street, she could already see the top half of the door was open. She took a deep breath and gathered her courage to confront him, and made her legs amble forward into the roadway. Less than a quarter of the way across, a sudden thunderous clatter of horse’s hooves cascaded off the walls of the buildings lining the cobbled road. She turned in terror, having seen several people over the past few months get knocked down by horses here in the Riesen area.

  Mein Gott! The rider was coming right at her. She screamed and literally flung herself aside, miraculously kept from falling, turned, and squeezed her back up against a wall, holding her breath.

  After the rider passed, exhaling, hands shaking, Lotte thought, that bastard must have heard me—how could he not have! The rider had tromped close enough to her to splash bits of dirt and mushed manure onto her rumpled skirt. What a mess! What did I do to deserve that? She didn’t even know the man. You can’t trust anyone, she thought, shaking her head and wiping the dirt and manure off as best she could. Yuck!

  When the horse and rider were out of sight, she eased her still shaking varicosed legs forward again, glancing left and right and making sure no one was watching her and no more horses were headed her way. She stopped underneath the clock shop sign and peeked inside the top portion of the door. Not a soul within sight. Hmm. Though it might normally be proper to call out before entering, what if Karl’s crazy granddaughter was there and heard her? Deciding against announcement, she instead reached out, grabbed the door handle, and quietly opened the door. She held her breath and stepped inside, hoping she would find Karl alone. She needed to speak with him without his granddaughter around.

  What luck! Karl stood behind the counter, his back to the entrance. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak.

  “Grandpa, when will I get to visit Ryan again?” Anneliese said. “He’s been waiting for me.”

  Lotte froze. Mein Gott! Slowly, she began backing up, hoping to get out the door before the girl saw her.

  Anneliese suddenly shrieked, covered her mouth with one hand, and waved with her other hand, looking as if she’d seen a monster.

  Oh nein, nein! This wasn’t supposed to happen. Lotte struggled to get her legs to work, wanting to turn around and run, but they wouldn’t budge. Her heart pounded hard and she couldn’t catch her breath. Clutching her chest, she almost fell backwards but caught herself in time.

  Karl turned his head toward her, his eyes growing wide with shock at seeing her. He, too, seemed frozen.

  That moment of his hesitation somehow released her and set her legs into motion.

  Gott, please don’t let them come after me, she thought as she ran out the door, not daring to look back. Her ankles half-twisted several times on the rough cobbles, and she moaned in pain. The road wasn’t built for someone to run on, yet she somehow managed without breaking anything. She turned onto the next street, which luckily was a dirt road and easier to run on, giving her a chance to speed up. Big mistake, she realized when halfway down the block she tripped over something in the road and went sprawling into the dirt.

  Her face missed the ground, arms and elbows having absorbed the fall, yet dust from the ground somehow found its way into her nose and mouth. She tried to spit out the dirt, as she propped herself up and got to her knees. Before she could pull herself further upright, someone grabbed her shoulder and yanked hard, pulling her to her feet.

  Lotte struggled to get free. “Stop! You’re hurting me. Let me go!” She turned her head to get a look at her captor. Karl.

  Now that she was standing, Karl let go of her arm. At least a foot taller than her, he stared down into her face.

  She pursed her lips and tried to give a defiant look to cover her fear.

  “Why are you running away from me, Lotte? Did you come to my shop expecting to find someone other than me? What are you doing?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at a crowd of onlookers who had gathered around them. “We need to talk, but not here. I . . . I thought I could catch you alone in the shop.”

  He glared at her. “You shouldn’t have come, foolish old woman. Now that Anneliese knows you are in Riesen, she will wreak havoc on you. Go away. Hide yourself. I can’t protect you.”

  “I’m not asking you for protection. But you owe me,” she said. “I took the blame for what you did.”

  His eyebrows rose in question.

  “You think I don’t know it was you who killed your wife? I saw the whole sordid scene in the stable. I didn’t judge you. You were protecting your grandson. I understood. I might have done the same if I were in your shoes. But now I need you to help me find my brother. Vikktor is the only one who can send me back home to the future where I belong.”

  Karl didn’t respond.

  Lotte tugged at her own hair. Why did he always have to be so stubborn? “You want to be rid of me, don’t you?” Still nothing. “Admit it, damn you.”

  Karl sighed. “I can’t help. Vikktor doesn’t want you to find him. He wants nothing more to do with you. He told me so. Go away, old woman! Go far away!”

  Lotte felt as if someone had slapped her face. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she wanted to die, not only because of the harsh words, but also because of the disdain and pity evident in Karl’s eyes as he watched her. She swiped at the tears with the back of her dirty hand, which she suspected only made her look worse.

  “Oh, verdammt noch mal, Lotte!” Karl pulled her out of the middle of the street and into an alcove, then whispered, “I shouldn’t be helping you, but . . . you’ve lost weight in the two months since I last saw you. Your clothes are filthy. Are those the same clothes Monika gave you?”

  She nodded, feeling her cheeks heat up with her shame, her embarrassment.

  Karl sighed out loud. “Oh, all right, I will bring you some of Birgitta’s clothes. I was going to donate them, anyway. Wait for me near the church, ja?
”

  She squeaked out a response, though she wasn’t sure if he heard it.

  But as Karl turned away, about to leave, one of many memories of him lying to her sprang to mind. She grabbed his shirtsleeve. When he looked over his shoulder at her, she said, “I appreciate the clothes, don’t get me wrong, but you can see that I don’t fit in here. I need to go back to the twenty-first century. I’m not you. I don’t have anyone or anything here and I’m too damn old to start a new life. Seventy-six years. At least you were only sixty when you got stuck here.”

  “Ja, I know that. You want me to feel sorry for you, and I do, but you brought this life on yourself when you pushed Sofie and Max away. You could have had people in your life.” He paused, turning around to fully face her and rubbed his long white beard. “All I can offer you is suitable clothing. Take it or leave it. After that, I recommend you clean yourself up. And rid yourself of that awful smell before you change into clean clothes.”

  “Of course. But not much use going to the trouble of washing myself when I had nothing but these filthy rags to put back on.”

  He nodded, yet his eyes remained steely. “That’s a sorry excuse, Lotte. It would have helped to wash yourself. Well, no use dwelling on that now. Head far away from here. Go get on with your life. You’re stuck here, same as me. I’ve found a place for myself. You need to do the same.”

  Choking back tears, she somehow managed to say, “How do you expect me to get far away?”

  “Many people walk long distances. You’ll get used to it. I suggest you change your name and stay away from Sofie and her family. It’s too late now to make amends. You don’t want to get them in trouble, do you?”

  “Of course I don’t.” She looked downward and began wiping her hands on her skirt, unsure whether she was making her hands cleaner or dirtier from her filthy skirt, as she tried to quiet the anger and despair fighting within her before she spoke again. She finally raised her eyes back to Karl and said as calmly as she could, “Danke. I appreciate the clothes and any other handouts you might spare.”

  He nodded, then started to turn back around to leave but stopped short. “You must promise to leave Riesen immediately after I bring you the clothes. I cautioned Anneliese to stay in the shop and not say anything about your presence, but she doesn’t always do what she’s told. She may have already gone to notify the Feldgendarms. Remember, meet me near the church.”

  “I promise.” She watched him walk back toward his clock shop, and then she turned and surveyed the area. The onlookers had gone back to minding their own business, so she walked straight toward the church. She hid in a dark alley a few feet from the church’s door to wait.

  A short time later, she heard voices. Two men. One she recognized as the priest’s. She’d met him once when she and her family had first arrived in Riesen months ago. His voice was gravelly and easy to remember. The other voice sounded familiar, too, but she couldn’t place it.

  “Tell your father-in-law that I wish him good health, Helmut. I will try to visit him soon.”

  “Thank you, Father. We look forward to your visiting us in Dinkelsbühl.”

  Helmut? That’s why the voice sounded familiar. He sounded like her Helmut, her son. At least from what she remembered after thirty-two years apart from him. Foolishness. She was probably letting her imagination go crazy. He was in the twenty-first century, probably living in an ultra-modern house with a wife and a few children. Children she would never meet. Even if she got back home, she wouldn’t meet them, because she didn’t know where her Helmut was living. She’d pushed him away, too, long, long ago.

  She rubbed her forehead, then tried to shove the idea that the stranger was her son out of her mind. Leaning out, she peeked around to catch a glimpse of this Helmut. He had longish blond hair, a beard, and a mustache. Hmm. This stranger could be her son—there was something familiar about his appearance, too—but after all these years she wasn’t sure she could recognize her own son if she was staring him in the face.

  The man turned and started walking toward her. She tried to get a look at his eyes. He was almost upon her now, but she still couldn’t see his eye color, still couldn’t make out his facial features or tell if she knew him.

  She stepped out of the shadows, intending to speak to him, but Karl grabbed her arm and pushed her back into the alleyway.

  “I have four clothing outfits in this package, a bit of money, and miscellaneous items including soap in the second package. Take them. Follow my advice and leave Riesen immediately. It’s not safe for you here. I had to give Anneliese a tonic to calm her. She is vowing to tell the Feldgendarms that you are here. Go!” He shoved the wrapped packages into her arms and left, without looking back at her.

  Lotte stepped back into the light, hoping to catch another glimpse of the stranger, Helmut, but he was no longer in sight. She held back tears as she tried to figure out what to do. The priest had mentioned Dinkelsbühl—that Helmut lived there. What if she rented a horse and wagon, loaded these two packages and her other meager belongings, and rode there?

  What if he wasn’t her son?

  She hesitated. So what if he wasn’t her son? Karl had told her to leave town. Wasn’t Dinkelsbühl as good a destination as any? It wasn’t far away and she could find it, since she’d been there several times in her own time period.

  That decision made, she walked straight to the stables, juggling the two bulky packages as best she could, and enquired about renting a horse and wagon, or even a horse without a wagon.

  She checked, but the stable master indicated she didn’t have enough money. Besides, she was a woman traveling alone and the stable master flatly refused to rent to her.

  Head hung down, spirits hanging even lower, she trudged to the gate heading out of the walled city of Riesen, holding her breath and praying no one would stop and arrest her. Only when well through the gate did she begin to relax and breathe normally.

  She stopped, turned, and looked back one last time to be sure she wasn’t being pursued. She told herself she would never go back to that awful city. Never. There was nothing more for her there. Karl was right about that.

  Tears welled up in her tired old eyes as she trudged off the road, through the meadow and into the woods. Nothing to do now but go back to her makeshift dwelling in a tiny grotto until she figured out a plan to get to Dinkelsbühl. Her old arms were already weary from carrying the packages, and she had to stop and set them down several times along the way.

  As she neared her home, she thought back on what Karl had said. She didn’t even know for sure how long she’d been back in this century. Karl had mentioned that she’d lost weight since he saw her two months ago. Two months. That sounded about right, she supposed.

  She closed her eyes momentarily, remembering the first time she, Max, Ryan, Tobias, and Sofie had gone inside the clock shop, hoping to find Karl. Given Karl’s measure of time, that must have been about four months ago.

  Simple furnishings adorned the shop’s front room then; three high-backed chairs, a small table, and two shelves. Near the door, a sturdy wooden counter greeted customers. Behind it, half a dozen magnificent intricately carved cuckoo clocks crafted in beautiful dark wood with folk and forest scenes hung on the wall.

  What had struck her and Sofie as odd was that in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, cuckoo clocks had been made and sold only in the Black Forest region. They should not have been made here in Riesen until much later. That was their first clue in their search for Karl, that Max’s grandfather had also time traveled from the future and was using his knowledge to his own advantage. What ultimate impact this had on the future time line was unknown.

  Before the woman who was running the shop—later they found out she was Birgitta Kimmel, Karl’s wife—closed the door behind them, they got a glimpse into a back room. It looked like a clockmaker’s workshop, cluttered with assorted pieces of hardwood, pipes, lead pine cone weights, pendulums of various sizes, and a dozen or more clocks in
various stages of production. Most of the tools, at quick glance, they couldn’t identify.

  Hmph. She stopped again, set down her packages and crossed her arms. It’s not fair. That schweinehund has a legitimate business, a comfortable home, and enough money to get by, while I am living like a refugee. And I’ve never killed anyone!

  “DID YOU HEAR something, Valkyrie?” Tobias whispered. The sun hadn’t set yet, but the dark canopy of gnarly trees with yellow, orange, and brown leaves made it feel darker and later than it really was, and his imagination always kicked in when it got dark. Nervous, his eyes darted all around, looking for whatever could be making the odd hammering sound that had spooked him. He wasn’t close enough to Möbius, their tiny village, for any construction sounds to carry. Besides, even if he had been, the hammering didn’t sound like any noise he ever heard there. No, he imagined this was more like something he’d heard about in troll or goblin stories residents told around the campfire in the evenings.

  He shook his head. “Eh, maybe it’s just a woodpecker, you think?”

  Valkyrie rubbed her furry body against Tobias’s leg, mewing softly, not being much help and apparently not really caring.

  Tobias squatted down and gave her an affectionate scratch behind her lynx-like ears, almost forgetting about the sound. He smiled to himself, studying her adorable Norwegian Forest-cat-face, a face that reminded him of a masquerade mask because of the white around her eyes and on the bridge of her nose, and black and chocolate around her mouth and chin. It always made him smile.

  The hammering slowly faded away, leaving only cat purring, mixed with the gentle sound of leaves blowing in the autumn wind. Tobias laughed when he noticed the cat’s long hair rippled and floated in time with the same breeze that effortlessly danced cascading leaves from the nearby trees. Cool! It’s all connected, like a fairy had performed a magic spell, he thought.