Tanglewood Grotto (The Bavarian Woods Book 2)

by Susan Finlay

  Deciding to approach her with caution, she started with a simple question. “Your children and grandchildren are all living in the area, but what about the rest of your family. Are any of them living near?”

  “Hmm. Well, my parents are long gone. I have a sister who lives on a farm about a half day’s ride from here and a brother who lives near Dinkelsbühl. We had a sister here in Riesen, but she died a few months ago.”

  “Oh. Sorry to hear that. I guess we’re all getting to an age . . .”

  “Oh, no, she didn’t die of old age. She was murdered.”

  “Right here in Riesen?”

  “Nein, it happened while she was on a journey with her husband and his family.”

  A few months ago. Murdered. On a trip with her husband’s family. Chills ran up and down Ingrid’s spine. Mein Gott!

  “What was your sister’s name? Is her husband still here in Riesen?”

  “Her name was Birgitta. She was four years younger than me. Her husband Karl and her granddaughter live here. We do not see much of them, not recently anyway. They are still in mourning.”

  Ingrid placed her hand over her heart, as if that would get her heart rate back under control. When she was able to speak, she said, “My condolences to you and your family. Such tragedy.”

  Gretchen nodded, and dried a dish. “We had another sister who left home with her lover more than sixty years ago. They moved far away and never came home. She never even said goodbye.”

  “I am sorry for you. That must have been difficult on the family.”

  “Ja, we missed her terribly. We found out later—twenty years ago—that she had passed on. She was the first of my siblings to die, even though she was the second youngest.”

  Ingrid didn’t say anything as she tried to absorb all the news. So, Gretchen was the sister of Karl’s first wife, Margrit, who had time traveled into the future with Karl when she was a young girl, and also the sister of his second wife, Birgitta, whom he married when he got transported into the past a second time. Oh, this was too much. No wonder Gretchen seemed familiar.

  Looking more closely at the older woman, she could see hints of Margrit, one of Ingrid’s oldest friends. She and Margrit had spent many evenings together over home-cooked meals in Margrit’s house. Ingrid sighed, for the first time in months missing her friend.

  “I know Birgitta’s husband, Karl,” Ingrid said finally. “It’s been ages since I saw him last. What a strange coincidence that he married your sister. Did you and Werner introduce them?”

  “We did not have to introduce them.” She smiled a bittersweet kind of smile. “An interesting story. I told you that our sister, Margrit, left home with her lover. That man was Karl. He’d met the whole family a couple of months before when he became a farmhand. Margrit loved him from first sight and it didn’t take long for him to whisk her away from the family and her home.” She stopped talking for a moment while she scrubbed a pot. “Where was I? Oh, I remember now. No one saw either of them, again, until twenty years ago. Karl had returned to tell them Margrit had passed on. Birgitta was there, visiting our ailing parents after her husband passed on. I guess she and Karl, both grieving, comforted each other. They married a few months later. Such a good man and a good husband Karl was to her. He still grieves for Birgitta.”

  Ha! Margrit had lived another twenty years after Karl time traveled the second time. The scoundrel had lied through his teeth and married her sister knowing full well his wife was alive and alone in the future. And then he’d killed his second wife. Gretchen didn’t know, that was for certain. Ingrid could hardly keep from spitting.

  “Did they ever find Birgitta’s killer?” Of course Ingrid knew they hadn’t, but what had Karl and Werner told her about Birgitta’s death?

  “Nein. It happened at a gasthof, in the stables. We are sure the killer was a highwayman, a wanderer. You know how they hide out and look for easy victims.”

  “Why would someone victimize her? Did she have a lot of money on her?”

  “Oh, ja. She and Karl are wealthy. His clock shop does not bring in a lot of money, but he has another business. I have never been clear on the type of business, but it is apparently quite profitable.”

  Well, that was news to her. Karl was always talking like he didn’t have much money. Were Werner and Karl feeding Gretchen a pack of lies?

  “The family’s farm—it was your parents’ farm?”

  She nodded. “When they passed on, our brother, Stefan, inherited it. He didn’t want it, so he gave it to Birgitta’s son since Raimund had always wanted to be a farmer. Birgitta and Karl were already living in Riesen. Karl had been an apprentice for a clockmaker for many years by then, and was ready to work alone. He bought his own house and clock shop. I never understood how he got all that money. I heard he bought some property near Riesen, too.”

  The wheels were spinning inside Ingrid’s head. Money. So much money. The part about Birgitta having a lot of money on her and Karl making lots of money might have been wrong, but he did own a nice house and a clock shop. And he had bought that property where Max and Sofie were building the house. How did he get all that money?

  Vikktor. It all came back to Vikktor, didn’t it? Was Karl working with Vikktor and making a good living from it? That made sense. And he’d made them all believe he was barely scraping by. He’d made them all camp out alongside the roads while they were traveling to find his daughter, Monika. That esel. They could have stayed in gasthofs every night and eaten decent meals. She squeezed her fists.

  Then she remembered he’d left word with neighbors that he’d gone to visit Anneliese’s parents at Birgitta’s son’s farm right in the middle of the search for his missing great-grandson. Sure, the boy wasn’t technically related to him, but Tobias was Max’s son and everyone thought Karl and the boy had formed a bond. Very strange behavior, leaving like that. Was Vikktor involved, waiting there for him? What if he’d taken the boy there? Sofie and the others had gone to Dinkelsbühl, not to the farm. Was Tobias in danger?

  Trying to appear calm and not show anxiety, she gazed down at her clothes, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles in her skirt. Take a deep breath. Slow your breathing.

  Once she felt herself sufficiently back together, she glanced up at Gretchen and, as luck would have it, she seemed oblivious to Ingrid’s internal apprehensions. Ingrid wondered how she could leave the house and take a trip to the farm without alarming the dear woman.

  Thinking quickly, she said, “You know, Sofie’s son desperately wants some farm animals for their farm nearby. Would your nephew have animals to sell, do you think?”

  “Oh, ja, I am sure he does. He raises cows, pigs, sheep, and chickens,” she replied, drying the last pan.

  “Splendid. I wonder if I can talk Peter and Johanna into taking me to the farm to have a look. It would help me to have something else to occupy my time while waiting for Sofie and the others to return.”

  Gretchen emptied the dish pan out the window, dried her hands, and nodded. “I will give Peter directions to get to the farm, if you do go. I am sure Werner would not mind if I loan his sister our wagon and a couple of our horses. Oh, and I can send some gifts with you.”

  Ingrid thanked her, then rushed out of the room to look for her grandchildren. She found them outside alone.

  “Where are your friends today?” she asked.

  “They have gone to school or to work,” Peter said. “We are bored.”

  “Would you help me with something?”

  Peter gave her a quizzical look, then glanced at his sister, a look of apprehension in his eyes.

  “It’s a trip I need help with,” Ingrid quickly added.

  “Oh, ja,” he said, suddenly brightening. “Where to?”

  “Well, I need to go to a farm where Gretchen’s nephew lives. I told her we were interested in buying some farm animals for Sofie’s new farm.” She leaned in and flicked a finger, beckoning them to come closer. “It is a secret, too. I also want to check to see
if Vikktor is there and if he has Tobias. I think he may be there.”

  “Huh? I thought everyone was looking for him in Dinkelsbühl.”

  “That is right,” Johanna added. “I am sure Papa said that is where they were going.”

  “Do you remember hearing about Karl Kimmel?”

  Both teens nodded.

  “Well, I just found out he may be working with Vikktor. And Karl has gone to that farm in the middle of a search for his great-grandson, Tobias. Does that not sound odd to you?”

  “Ja, it does. You think Karl may have taken Tobias to the farm?”

  “That is what I am worried about. If he did, Tobias could be in grave danger and there will be no one to help him—unless we travel there. If he is not there,” she said, shrugging and smiling, “then we will have a short outing, which will keep us from being bored, ja?”

  “We will go,” the twins said in unison, anticipating an adventure.

  “Wunderbar!” Ingrid clapped her hands together. “We will talk to Gretchen. She said she will give directions on how to get there and will let us borrow their wagon and horses. Remember, we must pretend we are going there just to see about getting farm animals.”

  “We can do that,” Johanna said, conspiratorially, all smiles.

  Ingrid studied their young faces. “I must warn you. It could be risky. If Vikktor is there and has taken the boy hostage, he might attack us if we try a rescue. Are you sure you want to put yourselves at risk?”

  Both appeared to sober at the warning, looked at each other momentarily, then turned to Ingrid and as one answered, “We are.”

  A short time later, loading a wagon with clothing, food, blankets, and the gifts Gretchen was sending with them, Ingrid’s nerves jittered. She hung her head down, trying to think through what she had set in motion. Was she doing the right thing? If Tobias was there, would they be able to help him or would they just make things worse? Would she be putting her own grandchildren at risk? She clutched at her heart and sighed deeply. It was one thing to put her own life in danger—she was after all, seventy-six and not in the best of health; she had had a full life—but Peter and Johanna had their whole lives ahead of them. They were her family now, even if Helmut didn’t take her in. She should put them first.

  But then she pictured Tobias as he’d looked when he had found her in her grotto, eyes wide with surprise and rushing into her arms. Her will turned to butter and tears threatened to fall. Tobias might not be biological family, but she’d helped raise him from infancy. She’d been there during Sofie’s pregnancy, lending her help where she could, and she was there in the hospital delivery room when he was born. She had even helped toilet train him and teach him to talk. Did it matter if he wasn’t biologically related to her? She loved the boy. How could she not go there to help him if he was in trouble?

  She steeled her nerve and raised her head up high. All right, she might not have been the best mother to Helmut, and maybe she would get a chance to be a grandmother, or maybe not, but she was still a great-aunt to Sofie, related or not. She would find Sofie’s son and return him to his mother. Peter and Johanna knew the risks and were willing to take them on. What’s more, they were strong and determined, just like Sofie. They would survive this challenge.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “MOM, WHAT IF we can’t get back home? What if we’re stuck here permanently? That would be so horrible. I mean, I’m glad we found Dad and Ryan, but I don’t want to be stuck in this dirty place. I don’t think I could handle that, could you?”

  “I know. I’m trying not to think about that,” Jenny said, as she attempted to fluff up the bed she’d slept in the night before, not an easy task, fluffing up a bed consisting mostly of blankets on top of wood. Frustrated, she thought, haven’t they heard of goose feathers stuffed in between cloth and sewn together? Geez. She shook her head. “We have to stay positive. Your father thinks this Vikktor fellow knows how to get us all back to our time. All they have to do is find the guy and convince him to send us back.”

  They were still in the cabin, cleaning up after Franz, Magda, and their little girl left to do whatever it is they needed to do. Jenny was reminded of the girl holding onto her mother’s skirts as Magda tried to wash clothes in the river or knead bread in the kitchen. What a horrible place to raise a child.

  Lisa said, “Ryan and I didn’t have much time to talk before he and Sofie left to look for her son and Dad, but he did tell me that Vikktor was almost impossible to find. He also said that Dad has to stay here in the past and build the house he’s working on, because if he doesn’t it could change our family’s history. Can you imagine how long it’s gonna take him to build that house that Dad inherited back in the future? That’s so weird, huh. Pretty profound stuff, but kinda funny, too, inheriting the house you built.”

  Jenny sighed. The progress on the house was slow as molasses as far as she could tell. “I think your father needs to hire some people who know what they’re doing. They way they’re monkeying around, they’ll never get it built.”

  “Ryan says they don’t have the money to hire people. All the people working here get nothing except free room and board and a chance to get some work experience they can use to get better jobs later on.”

  “They don’t have decent tools and it’s going to start snowing here anytime now. All they’re doing is wasting time. Your father should sell this land, assuming he owns it.”

  “You’re not listening, Mom. Dad has to build it. Ryan said the stone house that we time traveled from has to be built above the cave. Everything could change if it isn’t built. Like maybe Dad will disappear, which means Ryan and I would disappear, too.” She flapped her arms around and looked agitated, not that Jenny could blame her.

  “Okay, then he could contract someone to build it to his specifications and offer to let them have the house once it’s finished. He won’t need to live in it if he gets back to the future. Problem solved.”

  “Mom! It’s not that easy. What if they can’t find Vikktor, or if he refuses to help? It’s not like we can sue him for not helping us get back to the future. If we even tried to go to the police, we could be arrested, possibly even tried as witches or something for such a ludicrous story, you know what I mean?” She plopped down on the bed, placed her elbows on her knees, and rested her chin on her upturned hands. “I don’t even know if they burned witches on stakes in Germany in the eighteenth century, but I know I’d rather not find out the hard way.”

  “Things would be easier if we could communicate with these people. We’ll wait until Max and Ryan return, hopefully with good news. Try to calm yourself down, sweetie.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who might disappear if the house isn’t built. Sure, you’re calm, but way too pessimistic. That’s not helping me calm down.”

  Jenny shook her head, and left her daughter sulking in the cabin. She headed outside to clear her head and to survey the building project. Her nursing experience wasn’t of any use here, but she’d seen many of the professional building sites for buildings Max had designed. This one looked like crap. Someone needed to whip these young men into line, and without Max around, it looked that that someone was her. The two men, Stefan and Wilhelm, who had ridden out with Sofie and Ryan had returned from their search empty-handed, and not knowing what had happened with Sofie and Ryan, had decided to stay put until they knew more.

  She thought back to her college German and made a decision. She mustered up her nerve and called the men together for a little chat about construction. Max was creative and talented, but he wasn’t a supervisor. She was. Now she had a mission. She would get these young men working as a team, if it was the last thing she did. Getting the house built and saving her children was top priority.

  KONRAD RUSHED OVER to Felda who was standing outside near the front porch of the farmhouse screaming and moaning, bent over at the waist, her hand covering her mouth. He had been out in the barn with the three additional men h
e’d rounded-up for the search party. They had arrived back at the farm perhaps ten minutes earlier and had been searching for Max, so far without luck. Karl had arrived back a few minutes later, having gone in a different direction to look for men, and brought back only one additional searcher. When Konrad reached Felda, he grasped her shoulders, bringing them upright so he could see her face. “What is wrong? Why are you crying?” He had never seen anyone so hysterical before.

  She tried to talk, but the words wouldn’t come out. Her eyes were glazed over, and he wasn’t sure if she was even seeing him.

  “I will go inside and see what has happened,” Karl said, stepping around Konrad and Felda. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder before stepping through the threshold. “Keep her out here.”

  Konrad nodded. Something awful must have happened. The last thing he remembered before they’d left was Raimund stomping around and ranting. He’d heard the tail-end of the rant from outside the barn. Chills ran up and down his spine. Had Raimund and Felda got into a physical fight? She seemed all right, at least physically. Raimund, being much bigger than her, would definitely have the advantage—except in the unlikely event that she had somehow pushed him down the stairs. That would be enough to send her into hysterics, would it not?

  It seemed an eternity before Karl returned. When he did, he stood in the doorway, his face glum, and stared at the crowd of men—the men they had gathered for the search party, plus several of Raimund’s sons and farm workers who had apparently realized from out in the field that something was happening at the house.

  “What’s wrong with Mutter?” one of the sons, Dieter, asked as he rushed forward and pulled his mother into his arms. She burst into uncontrollable tears.

  Karl choked, hesitated, and then said, “I do not think she can answer right now. She is in shock. It is Anneliese. She has been stabbed.”

  “What? My sister? Is she—” He stopped in mid-sentence, his face turning white. He obviously knew the answer to his own question, without even finishing the question.