Rudy shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, that makes sense. But it doesn’t necessarily mean that they would have abstained.”
“I know.”
Rudy thought for a moment. “Maybe they couldn’t get married because it was somehow forbidden by the boy’s religion.”
“But why? I mean, they were Lutherans. As far as I know, the Lutheran Church does not put restrictions on their clergyman getting married,” I said. “If he were studying to be a priest … well, then that I could understand.”
I was quiet a moment. Stifling a yawn, I looked at my husband and decided that he needed to be hugged. I gave him a good, long, firm hug. He kissed the top of my head and stroked my hair with his free hand.
“You’re happy, right?” I asked.
“Happy with what?”
“Us. You know, our marriage. I know I can be a bit…”
He opened his mouth to say something and I stopped him.
“Just don’t answer that,” I said.
We were both quiet again. “So what else happened in the diary? Just the fact that she got pregnant shouldn’t have been enough to make you cry,” he asked.
“Well, I know this sounds strange, but there were these wolves in the diary. These two wild wolves that lived here on the property. And the wolves’ story sort of parallels Anna’s story,” I said.
“How so?”
“The farmers found a few animals missing. You know, a bloody trail leading into the woods,” I said. “A pig here, a sheep there…”
“Everywhere an oink-oink.”
“Oh, you’re too funny,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” Rudy said. “Go ahead.”
“Think about it, Rudy. Here’s an animal who is a predator. It hunts to survive. And sometimes the pickings are slim. Suddenly, man moves into its territory and what does man do? Man brings all these pigs, cows, and sheep and confines them. Man has brought the wolf dinner and put it in a box so it can’t run away from the wolf. I mean, what wolf in its right mind is going to go after a wild deer that it might have to chase ten miles and then still might not catch, when it can just walk over to Farmer John’s house and take one of those little pigs that are inside a fence and can’t run away? Well … the farmers…”
“They killed the wolves,” Rudy said.
“At first they just killed the male. They hunted him down, killed him, took his pelt as a souvenir,” I said. “They left the female to mourn and try and take care of their young on her own.”
“And?” Rudy asked.
I just stared at him.
“Well?” he asked. Then he realized what I wasn’t saying. “Anna’s lover?”
“According to Anna, the parson beat her lover to death and hung him in her father’s barn.”
“What?” Rudy’s eyes grew wide. It was unfathomable. He couldn’t digest it. I could see it in his eyes.
“Now, I don’t know how Anna knew that it was the parson, or if she just suspected it was the parson,” I said. “But either way, the lover ended up dead and hanging in her barn. It was awful.”
“So then what happened?” he asked, and took another sip of his coffee. A bigger gulp this time, since it had had time to cool off.
“So, then Anna wanted to die. She spent days just lying around and refusing all nourishment. Her mother was frantic, but her father … her father felt as though she had deserved what she had gotten. He told her, if you sin, you will be punished.”
“Pretty heartless,” Rudy said.
“Well, he cried along with her. And she talks about how her father eventually came to her and told her that no matter what, he did love her,” I said. “But it was Anna’s brother, Sven, who really brought her around. He told her she had to eat or the baby would die, and then all that existed of her lover would be gone for good. So Anna began eating.”
“And the baby was born,” Rudy said.
“Yes, the baby was born. And her diary literally skips most of the pregnancy. Things were quiet for a while,” I said.
“Until?”
“Until the farmers found the female wolf.”
Rudy’s expression darkened. “I don’t want to know,” he said. “Why do you get involved in this kind of thing?”
“Aunt Sissy is the one who asked me to read it,” I said. “Knowing what I know, I couldn’t not finish it.”
“Okay, so what happened?” he asked.
“They trapped the she-wolf in a neighbor’s shed. Some old building that the neighbor was going to tear down anyway. Then they burned it down. With the wolf inside.”
Rudy just shook his head.
“Oh, but the worst part is Anna … She somehow knew what was coming. She said in her diary, ‘I know I shall suffer the same fate as the she-wolf. Our destinies are intertwined. But at least her cubs survived. Maybe Emelie will live on.’ Lord, Rudy. I just put those papers aside and bawled like a baby.”
“Because Emelie dies with her mother in the fire.”
“Yes,” I said. “Two months old. It’s more than I could think about. Anna knew when she was trapped in that cellar that her baby was going to die with her.”
I swiped at a tear.
Rudy hugged me close. “See, this is why I’m happy,” he said.
“What?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m happy because I’m married to a woman who cries over a baby and a wolf and a girl whom she never knew, and who lived a hundred and fifty years ago,” he said.
“Oh, jeez,” I said and sniffled. I pulled a tissue out of my pocket and swiped at my nose.
“So, what’s the last entry in the diary?” Rudy asked.
“Emelie’s baptism. Anna took her to Cedar Springs to have her baptized. She wouldn’t have her baptized here in Olin, at her church. She said that even though the parson was now gone, she couldn’t bear to have Emelie baptized there. I guess the parson moved on,” I said. “According to Anna, it was a gorgeous day. She went only with her brother. Her parents wouldn’t go. And she cried at the thought of her lover looking down from heaven upon his little girl’s dedication to God.”
“Man,” Rudy said. “What an amazing story.”
“I know now why Aunt Sissy didn’t want to part with the manuscript. I don’t want to part with it either, because I want to make sure that whoever has it will really appreciate it. I can’t stand the thought of somebody tossing it in a wet basement or using it for kindling, or letting their kids color on the backs of the pages. But, yet … I don’t want to keep it either.”
“So, what are you going to do with it?”
“Well, I think I’m going to come along fishing with you guys and see if Mister Bloomquist is the descendant of Sven. Of course, he probably won’t know if he is descended from Sven. But if he is, then I’m going to check him out first. If he seems ruthless and heartless, you know, like somebody who could care less about a manuscript written by his great-great-grandfather’s sister, then I’m going to donate it to the historical society. At least there I know it will be taken care of. Maybe I’ll stop in the cities and see if there is a depository of some sort for historical manuscripts. In Minneapolis or St. Paul, it will most likely be read and at least preserved. I feel like Anna deserves that,” I said.
“You know,” Rudy said, “there are millions of stories like Anna’s down through the ages. She wasn’t the only one.”
“I know, but she’s the only one who told me her story in her voice.”
“I understand,” Rudy said. He took a big deep breath and sighed. “I think I smell breakfast. And I think I hear the fish calling my name.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Hey, you and Colin won’t care if I tag along today, right?”
“No, I don’t care,” Rudy said.
I turned around to find Colin standing in the doorway. “So, you’re fishing with us today?” he asked.
“Looks like it.”
“Hope you can swim. Because I’m terrible about tipping the boat over.”
&nb
sp; “Ha, ha, ha,” I said.
Colin smiled, but there was something in his eyes that wasn’t humor.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. He said nothing. “Were you listening to our conversation?”
He blushed and shrugged his shoulders. “I was coming to get Rudy for breakfast … I couldn’t help but hear it.”
“How long did you stand there? You could have said something,” I said.
“I wanted to hear how the story ended,” he said. But his eyes were communicating more than that. He had been there last night. When I saw the wolf. I wondered at that moment if he had actually seen the wolf, too.
“I’m starving,” I said.
“Oh, your aunt made pork chops for breakfast,” he said. “The woman is my hero.”
“If I had known that all it would take was breakfast chops to make you respect me, I would have made them for you a long time ago,” I said.
“Yeah, but you can’t cook,” Colin said.
“I can so! Rudy, you had better come to my defense or you will be sorry,” I said.
“She makes wonderful cereal,” Rudy said. “The best in two counties.”
Eleven
Olin Lake was beautiful in the morning light. The sunlight looked like little golden flakes of glitter floating on top of the water. The Olin Marina was a nice establishment, with scores and scores of boats docked out in front of it. Off to the left was a sign advertising the rental boats. Probably another ten or so boats, all uniform in design, were resting there. Rudy pulled the truck into the parking lot and we got out and walked into the marina.
“So these boats over here, do they belong to the locals?” I asked Rudy.
“As far as I can tell, all of those boats belong to people who don’t have lakefront property and want to keep their boats in the water.”
“How big is this lake?” I asked as I shielded my eyes from the sun and looked out across water that had no end.
“It’s about twice as big as White Bear Lake,” Colin said.
“And how big is that?”
“I don’t know,” Colin said. “Big.”
The marina had a restaurant and rest rooms inside, along with a bait shop that sported rods and reels, battery-operated socks, you name it. You could even get your fishing license here. The man behind the counter was just a kid, really. He was maybe eighteen or nineteen. He smiled as soon as he saw Rudy and Colin. “Hello, gentlemen,” he said. “Your boat’s waiting for you.”
I looked at Rudy.
“We rented a boat for the whole week.”
“I thought you guys were going to try out a few of the lakes.”
“We liked this one so much, we decided not to mess with it,” Colin said.
“Oh,” I said.
“This is my wife, Torie,” Rudy said. “She’s coming out with us today.”
The kid nodded and waved.
“Um, I was wondering … Are you a Bloomquist? Are you the owner?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “I just work here. Saving up for college.”
“I see,” I said. “Is Mr. Bloomquist in?”
“Brian? No, he won’t be in until about noon,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said. I turned to Rudy. “You guys can bring me back around noon, can’t you? I mean, you stop for lunch anyway, right?”
“Sure,” he said. “Not a problem.”
And so we headed out onto the lake. I have to admit, I was a little excited as the boat zoomed away from the marina. Even if I didn’t like to fish, I still loved being out on the water. I had brought my camera along and began snapping pictures almost as soon as my butt was in the boat. Colin made me put a life jacket on. At first I couldn’t figure out what good that would do my camera if we capsized, but then I realized he was concerned for my well-being. Golly, gee. Twice in one vacation.
It wasn’t long until Colin had a nibble, and then almost before I could get the camera aimed, he brought the fish up out of the water and I snapped the picture. An hour or so went by and I was just enjoying the lap of the water against the boat, smelling the water … and okay, the fish smell was a little irritating, but I tried not to let it bother me. Rudy finally caught a fish, and I got to snap a picture of him, too. Then I asked Colin to take one of me and Rudy. He took three or four.
“Hey, you should get your picture made with Colin,” Rudy said. “I don’t think there’s a picture of the two of you since his wedding.”
“So?”
“Come on,” Rudy said. “Get over there.”
“Oh, all right,” I said. I scooted over by Colin and put my arm around him. “Hi, Dad.”
Rudy snapped the picture just as Colin rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you share the same genetic material as my wife,” Colin said.
“Oh, I don’t pretend one bit that my mother didn’t get all the good genes, because she did. My mother’s perfect,” I said.
“Well, as perfect as a woman can be,” he said. At first I thought he was serious and I had my fist all balled up and was ready to just knock him into the water when he started cracking up laughing. “Sorry. I tried to keep a straight face.”
Things went back to being quiet. I kept looking through my camera lens trying to find just the right picture of the lake. I snapped a few pictures and then we were ready to head in for lunch break. As we approached the marina, I couldn’t help but notice how quaint it looked. It would have been a classic piece of Americana if it weren’t for the falling-down boat shack on the property next to it.
We got out of the boat and I stretched and screamed. “Oh my God, I have a crick in my back. Oh, jeez, oh, jeez, oh, jeez.” Rudy rubbed the middle of my back with the palm of his hand, while Colin just rolled his eyes and waited patiently. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to sitting in one position all day.”
I hobbled into the marina to find a different man standing behind the counter. I tried to remember how Aunt Sissy and Roberta had described Brian Bloomquist. He didn’t seem all that bad. I walked up to the counter and smiled. “Mr. Bloomquist?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m Brian.”
He was about forty or forty-five, really tall and really blond, with dark, smoky eyes. “Hi,” I said. “I’m Torie O’Shea, and I’m here from St. Louis, visiting my aunt.” Since St. Louis is the closest city of any size to my hometown of New Kassel, I always just tell people that I’m from St. Louis when I’m on vacation. It’s too hard to explain exactly where New Kassel is.
“Glad to have you,” he said.
“Yes, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”
“What sort of questions?” he asked. “You can tell Kimberly Canton my answer is still no.”
“Uh … this has nothing to do with that, whatever that is. This is a more personal matter,” I said.
“What did she do now?”
“Who?”
“My ex-wife,” he said.
“No, it’s not that personal,” I said.
“Well, then, what the hell do you want?” he asked. He was obviously confused, and the lines between his eyebrows sort of gave that away.
“I was wondering how much of your family tree you know?”
“What, like my great-great-grandpa and all that crap?”
“Yes,” I said. Okay, maybe he wasn’t the best candidate for ownership of a hundred-and-fifty-year-old diary. “On the Bloomquist side. I was trying to track down somebody in a particular branch of the family.”
“Is there money involved? If so, I’m descended from whoever I have to be,” he said and smiled.
“No,” I said.
The expression on his face fell from the pure elation just moments ago when he thought he might actually have money coming. “Oh, uh … I know that my grandpa’s dad, my great-grandpa, he was mayor of Olin back in, like, the turn of the century,” he said.
“Which century?”
“Oh, you know like 1902 or somewhere around there.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Mmmm, boy, let me think,” he said. He looked at the ceiling for a few seconds. “Seems to me I wanna say John.”
“Is that as far back as you know?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Any other tidbits of info? Any family legends that you know of? Anything you can give me will help,” I said. “I’m trying to figure out if it’s the same Bloomquists. Like, do you know where your family came from originally? Where they lived?”
“Mmm, Dad told me once that the Bloomquists were from Sweden, and that they’d lived here for a long time. Well, my dad grew up in town, but I think somewhere back there somebody owned a farm—but like that’s a real help. Most people before 1900 owned a farm, right?”
“Right,” I said.
Brian looked around the room, his gaze landing on a few customers. I knew that he was getting antsy and wanted to take care of business.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Bloomquist,” I said.
“Oh, call me Brian.”
“Brian.”
“Did I help any?”
“Yes,” I said, although I wasn’t sure how much. “Still haven’t made the connection yet, but if I do, I’ll let you know.”
“Great,” he said. “In the meantime, enjoy the lake.”
I caught up with Rudy and Colin at the front door. “Well, did he know who Anna was?” Rudy asked.
“Nah,” I said. “I just asked how far back he could go on his family tree and he remembered that his great grandpa was once the mayor of Olin. John was his name. That’s probably one or two generations removed from Sven, still.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Rudy said.
“So, what are you going to do with the manuscript?” Colin asked.
“Well, I think I’m going to check out John. If he was mayor, there has to be some information on him somewhere. I want to find out who his parents and grandparents were. If he is descended from Sven, then I want to try and find other descendants, other than just Brian.”
In Sheep's Clothing Page 8
