Kris

by J. J. Ruscella

  When time allowed and I was not with Gerda, I sketched designs for toys I imagined and began the creation of a playful toy bear that would move and dance as its parts were manipulated. Cutting pieces to fit precisely was no easy task, and I practiced on small joints at first to improve my techniques and gain a tighter fit.

  Josef saw the bear one day in its earliest form and picked it up to examine it. As he moved the pieces of wood, the little bear came to life. Josef immediately laughed in response and made playful growling noises like a bear cub as he danced with the toy in the workshop. The four of us boys watched, mouths hanging open in surprise at his unexpected playfulness. I suppose that was the day I first realized we are all children at heart. When he was through with his amusement, he looked around at us awestruck boys, set the toy gently on the shelf, and gave me a little wink.

  Markus craned his neck to see what Josef had enjoyed so much. Later I caught him carving a poorly formed neck of a wooden duck, which could have doubled for the neck of some misshapen mythical creature. As Markus carved, its over-shaped and malformed head snapped off in his hands. He violently chopped away the identity of the wooden figurine so no one would see his degree of failure. Looking back, I should have helped him. But I was too young to understand the envy he had over my deepening relationship with Josef or his fear of losing his position as lead apprentice.

  Oblivious, I continued developing my new inventions and found myself in love with each new toy. Long hours were spent each day completing the chores Josef would assign to me, and at night I worked by the light of a single lantern to improve my sketches and toy designs. I was not deterred from my mission, no matter how dark or cold the night, or how fiercely the wind might threaten outside. I carried on until I could not work another moment, and when sleep overtook me and demanded I surrender, I drifted off in chaotic dreams upon my cot with the few toys that I had made resting beside me.

  Sometimes in the night Gabriella would leave a tiny cake or a freshly made cookie near my cot in case I should awake and choose to return to my efforts. But if I was so fast asleep that even a tempest might not rouse me, she would extinguish the lantern and leave me to my slumber, hands hanging off the edges of my cot, holding my open journal or clutching the beginnings of a wooden snowflake I was making for Nikko. He was going to be a year old and ready for something to shake, so I made a ring with little snowflakes—copies of my mother’s pendant for him to rattle and to prove our relation to the old couple with whom I had left him since he would have no recollection of me.

  Birds and bears were my inspiration as the other gifts began to represent their intended loved ones. The dancing bear was of course for Garin, a reminder of a connection to an earlier life and a whimsical promise of joys to come. For Tomas, I created a woodpecker that would peck its way down a wooden pole anchored to a base painted to look like a tree. When placed at the top of the pole, the weight of the bird would create a rocking action as it slid down. For Talia, I made a climbing bear that hung from two separate strings connected to a small horizontal stick attached to a hook. As the strings were pulled first to one side and then the other, the bear climbed from one arm to the other till it reached the top. Jess was still young, so I made her a goose that, pulled with a rope, would waddle behind her as she walked. When it came to Owen, I wanted something that would inspire his imagination. I came up with a wooden carousel of flying swans that carried little boys on their backs. The swans hung from strings attached to a central pole, and as the top of the pole was turned, the birds would fly in a circle.

  Kendra, alone and old enough to remember our loss, deserved something special. I drew up plans for a beautiful toy duck whose head and wings would move as a simple lever was pulled and twisted in her fingers. With the exception of the bear, all the other toys relied on tricks. This required real ingenuity. I lost myself in the mechanics of the turning wheels and axles. As I worked assembling the puzzle pieces of the toys, the other apprentices watched with much fascination, though they tried to pretend they were busy with other tasks and had little interest in what I was creating.

  Sarah watched me too from a corner of the room, and when I held the duck aloft and made its wings flutter as if to fly, I could hear her gasp behind me.

  “It’s magnificent, Kris,” she whispered into my ear. Her hand rested on my shoulder. I am not sure what was more thrilling, the triumph of completing the duck or the warmth of breath from her whisper. As I turned to look at her, our noses bumped. I was mortified. In her embarrassment, she grabbed her breadbasket, skipped out of the carpentry, and closed the door behind her.

  Markus, Jonas, Noel, and I continued to learn and develop under Josef’s direction, but the other apprentices took many opportunities for granted and wasted chances to enhance their skills where I did not. They had full lives and families and little joys that came from both. I had the blessing of learning and building to occupy my mind. Lack of focus left room for troubling thoughts to enter my days and nights. Work was my weapon against those unwanted ghosts.

  I enjoyed designing and sketching plans for new chairs and tables and sometimes worked on several pieces at a time to help Josef complete the orders he had on hand. It was time-consuming work, especially since Josef wanted each finished piece to be of his standard.

  Often I would ready several sets of legs for chairs or tables and pile them in stacks until they could be joined with chair backs and seats the others might be working on.

  Josef’s skill at wood engraving was well known, and I delighted in watching him work with delicate, firm strokes as he cut with a burin, a small knife with a V-shaped tip, into the wood. With that knife he could capture anything, from landscape and animal to the most elegant scrollwork. My favorite was the Borre knot work, reminiscent of our lost Viking heritage. One day, as he was engraving the sides of a pew for a church in our district, he called me to his side.

  “Kris, I want you to try your hand at this,” he said as his hands unconsciously continued their masterful work.

  Josef selected the precise chisel for each task and set about with it and his mallet to cut and score the wood. Periodically he would blow away the fine shavings and brush aside the dust to examine the lines he was cutting. Halfway through he handed the mallet and chisel to me.

  “Make sense to you?” he asked.

  I could only nod my head affirmatively, as I wondered whether I would ever be able to make such a glorious pattern as this.

  Josef pointed to one of his finest masterworks and challenged me. “Now, do the next six of those. And don’t mess it up. They’re coming for them in two weeks.”

  What? I fumbled with the tools as I considered the significance of the task at hand and the importance of the work Josef had directed me to do. The pews were all but done. Any error would destroy weeks, maybe months, of work.

  Josef laughed gently at my hesitation. “Go on, boy. Take your time. See the image in your mind as you set about engraving. If you can see the results you desire clearly in your thoughts, you won’t fail.” Then he chuckled as I swallowed hard and set the chisel to the wood.

  Jonas laughed as though he understood the joke and then yelped as a small block of wood hit him in the back of the head.

  Noel stood next to Markus on the other side of the room with a scowl as Markus juggled another block of wood from hand to hand and looked for me to make a blunder as I set about my assignment.

  Gabriella interrupted the awkward scene carrying a tray piled with breads and pastries and a pitcher of fresh milk, which she invited us to come and enjoy.

  “All right, my busy bears.” Gabriella chuckled. “Time to reward you for your hard work.”

  She laughed even harder as the boys rushed to the platter, eagerly grabbing at the food.

  Josef wiped the dirt and wood shavings from his hands with a cloth lying nearby and went into the kitchen.

  I stayed at my workbench and studied the engravings I was about to continue.

  “Strudel! Fanta
stic!” Jonas shouted, as he and the other boys ripped into the food.

  I set the chisel and mallet aside briefly and picked up Kendra’s mechanical wooden duck, setting the gears into motion, and the duck into animated life as a boost to my self-confidence. I could do this.

  Gabriella patted Jonas on the cheek and then looked over to my workbench. “Now Kris, don’t forget to eat,” she said as she followed Josef inside.

  Noel snickered under his breath. “Forget to eat.” He elbowed Markus, who was busy stuffing his face. “Guess he thinks he’s too good to eat with us!” Noel scoffed.

  As I got up from my work and dusted myself off, I was hit hard in the side of the face with a roll that Noel had thrown.

  “Bop!” Noel laughed.

  “Ooooooohhhhh!” Marcus teased.

  “I’ll feed you, piggy!” Noel shouted at me.

  Markus cautioned him sarcastically. “Noel, Kris looks angry. He might come over here.”

  “Like to see jelly belly try,” Noel mocked.

  “Did you hear that, Kris?” Markus said loudly.

  I tried to ignore their insults and went back to studying the engraving.

  “Hey Kris, where’s your family?” Jonas asked innocently.

  “Yeah Kris, where is your family?” Noel taunted.

  “Away,” I replied.

  “Do you miss your mother?” Markus taunted. “Hey Kris, what happened to your parents anyway?” he continued. “What’s wrong, didn’t they have enough food for you?”

  Markus and Noel broke into uncontrollable laughter as they approached me. Markus came around in front of me, and Noel approached me from behind, picking the roll off the floor that he had thrown at me. Threateningly, he tossed the roll from hand to hand.

  “What are you working on over here, Kris?” Markus asked.

  Noel jumped forward and snatched the toy duck from my work table. “It’s a stupid little toy,” Noel mocked.

  “Let me see it,” Markus demanded.

  “Give it back!” I shouted at Noel as I tried to take the toy from him.

  Noel jumped aside and threw the toy to Markus.

  “He speaks!” Markus laughed. “We don’t get to hear his silly voice very often.”

  “Give it back right now!” I said firmly, the boiling anger building in my words of warning.

  “It’s not like I’ll break it,” Markus said patronizingly. He held the toy duck out to me. And as I reached for it, Markus smashed the duck on the edge of the table, shattering it.

  Snorting like a pig, Noel jumped on my back and tried to shove the roll into my mouth. Markus kicked the pieces of the toy across the room and laughed at the sounds Noel was making.

  I was a dam bursting from of all the anger I had held inside. I wanted someone to hurt. I wanted someone to accuse. By breaking that toy they had injured one of my family. Worse, in that moment, they became responsible for every wrong I had experienced over the past year. Unwittingly they had given my fury and anguish a focal point.

  Noel hurled off my back and into the workbench, where he landed with a crash. Markus tried to back away; he could see the vehemence and insanity in my eyes, but too late. I grabbed the front of his shirt and cracked him across the temple with the heel of my fist. His legs went limp and he slumped to the floor. Without hesitation I was on top of him, pummeling him relentlessly. Blood began running from his nose and the corner of his mouth. He flailed his arms at me to no avail as he tried to issue a weak defense.

  Josef yelled to us as he came quickly into the room. “All right! That is enough!”

  But I did not hear him.

  “How could you?” I screamed. “How could you leave me?”

  “Enough,” Josef bellowed.

  But I could not stop myself.

  Josef grabbed me by the collar and snatched my arm as I tried again to engrave my impassioned message on Marcus’s face. As Josef pulled me away from my bloody target, Markus jumped back up, ready to fight. Josef stepped between us and grabbed Marcus by the shoulder. “This ends now! Have Gabriella clean you up. Go home. All of you! There’s nothing more here for you today!”

  Noel and Jonas quickly followed Markus through the door, scared. Josef watched me as I scrambled frantically to collect the broken pieces of the duck from the ground.

  “Kris,” Josef said sternly to me—though I was blind and deaf to him. “Kris!” he roared as he seized both my shoulders and my attention.

  As I looked at Josef, seeking both his understanding and forgiveness, he began to take the broken pieces of the toy from my hands.

  “The world hurts us all, Kris,” Josef said. “None of us gets to own pain.”

  And with that, he snapped the last pieces of the duck together and handed me the toy.

  Chapter 3

  Expectations

  As Christmas approached, I replaced the broken chairs asked of me, taking pride in the craftsmanship and the knowledge that my debt had been paid. I set them side by side in the carpentry shop for all to see The next morning I collected my belongings and wiped the wood shavings and dust from the toys I had created. I placed them carefully in a large sack that would protect them from the weather on my long and difficult journey ahead. I organized my bedding and left my sleeping area neat and clean, then set my journal in the center of the cot and was ready for departure.

  The journal had been a gift for me, of that I was sure, yet I couldn’t bring myself to take it with me. Deep down, I now believe, I left my writing for someone to read and to discover the painful circumstances that I had faced and lived through. It was selfish. I wanted someone to feel for me, to understand.

  As I looked back over my shoulder, I found Josef watching me from the doorway. I turned to him silently, and we remained silhouetted in that awkward manner, each waiting for the other to speak. Neither of us quite knew how to acknowledge the relationship that had been forged or give voice to the blessings born of it.

  Josef walked over to the eight chairs, which I had positioned in a line along the left wall in front of his workstation. One by one, he inspected each cut and curve, each joint and finish. With eyes and with hands he explored the strength and balance of all.

  “I cannot tell,” he said, almost to himself. Then, as he smoothed his hands along the sanded silken surface of a varnished seat, he announced, “I cannot tell the difference between the chairs that you have crafted and the ones I have made with my own hands.”

  “That is because I have made each one.”

  When he looked up at me, it was with pride and respect.

  “Clean. You have a knack for it,” he said with approval.

  As I moved across the room carrying my sack of toys, Josef stepped aside to let me pass. “You haven’t left any work unfinished?”

  I could only shake my head no. If I had spoken I might have lost the nerve to leave the love this home had given me. So I shuffled past, staring at my shoes.

  A teary-eyed Gabriella hurried from the kitchen and into the carpentry bearing satchels of food for my travels. “Tomorrow is Christmas. Can’t you stay until after the Christmas feast?” she asked. Again I could only shake my head “no.”

  “This will hold you over ’til…” Gabby threw her arms around me and pressed a kiss on my cheek. As she did, she stuffed a few more small bread rolls into my pockets, which now bulged with food.

  I almost faltered.

  Josef interrupted. “Keep that on ice. If it’s frozen it will be harder for the wolves to sniff out.”

  They followed me outside where I greeted Gerda and stroked her neck, then loaded the sleigh. When all was set, I climbed on board.

  There was nothing to say—or there was too much to say. I gave Josef and Gabriella a silent nod and was on my way.

  This was the culmination of all that I had worked toward. In the journal I had drawn a rough and clumsy map of my first delivery, the harrowed journey along the road where I had deposited each of my brothers and sisters. The journal was back in the c
arpentry inside the cubby on the cot where I had made my home. But the image of the map was burned into my thoughts from nights of staring and dreaming and falling asleep to the promises I was determined to keep.

  Lord, hold them safely this last day till I can reach them. Forgive me for who I am and what I have done. See me for who I want to be and what I strive to become. With all my heart and all my soul I want to bring joy to my brothers and sisters. Give me the opportunity to care for these children. And I will give them my life.

  On the Eve of Christmas, one year to the day of my first delivery, I set out to reunite my family.

  Great expectation coursed through my veins and filled me with a growing excitement that I could not now contain. I was at last off to find each of the beautiful souls I had dispatched into the world unprotected and gather them once again as a family. My skills and strengths were now such that I knew I could provide for them and harbor them. I could comfort them and dry their tears and ask their forgiveness for having forsaken them to the harsh unknown.

  As we raced ahead through the snow-blanketed terrain, I imagined what I would find when I discovered my brothers and sisters. How they would shriek with joy to see me! How their eyes would sparkle with delight! How thrilled and excited they would be, just as I was, to meet again.

  Just a few hours. If you can survive a few more hours, I can save you from whatever trials or neglect you might be suffering. Seven children to remake our scattered family. By Christmas I would have a new life and new challenges to address. I was exhilarated with anticipation over the trials I would face as a surrogate parent and protector.

  Time became the watcher that day as I moved through, past, and around it, the same as it would with every delivery in years to come. Time stretched as I looked for the signs I had marked in my mind, indications that I was on the right path. I didn’t notice the passage of the day, so deep was I in my thoughts and imaginings. In my daydreams, time gave up its hold over our sleigh as it traveled great distances, negotiating the tangled paths of my memories, leaping chasms in the forgotten terrain I encountered along my journey, until by some miraculous intervention I came finally to the roadhouse where I had last seen Owen.