Beyond a Reasonable Stout

by Ellie Alexander

  “Sloan, Alex, come in,” Otto said, rubbing his arms. He wore a white wool sweater that I guessed had been hand knitted by Ursula. “Ze air, it is cold tonight, ja?”

  “My math teacher told us it might snow, Opa,” Alex said, greeting Otto with a hug.

  Alex towered over his grandfather. I loved watching the two of them together. Otto, like Hans, had always had an affinity for woodworking. He had created a woodshop in the backyard where he, Hans, and Alex had spent countless hours whittling toy trains and building hand-carved furniture. It hadn’t come as much of a surprise that Hans decided to make a career out of his childhood hobby. I think that Otto and Ursula had been disappointed at first that Hans didn’t follow in their footsteps and opt to manage Der Keller, but at the same time, they were supportive of whatever led their boys to happiness. Hans was obviously happiest when he was coated in sawdust and running a fragrant sheet of cedar through his saw.

  “Can I take Alex for a moment, Sloan?” Otto asked, inviting us inside. “Hans has something to show him, ja?”

  Hans appeared in the doorway. He waved to me and then nodded and winked at Alex.

  “Of course. He’s all yours.” I greeted Hans with a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll go see if Ursula needs help.”

  The three of them hurried off to the workshop. I wondered what Hans wanted to show Alex.

  “Ursula, are you in the kitchen?” I called.

  “Ja. Come in, come in.”

  The vintage kitchen paid homage to the Krauses’ roots with a blue-and-white-tile backsplash, butcher-block countertops, and a hanging pot rack above the island with dangling copper pots and pans. A collection of German china was displayed above the sink. Ursula stood at the stove, a traditional alpine-style apron with creamy white lace tied around her waist. Her cane was propped against the cupboards.

  “Shouldn’t you be using that?” I asked.

  “Ja, but it is too hard when I am making ze dinner. I will use it when I am walking, I promise.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “Isn’t the idea to use it all the time so your hip can heal?”

  Ursula swatted the air. “No. It is fine, Sloan. I will take it easy. You can set ze table, okay?”

  I gave her a stare that I usually reserved for Alex. “I’ll gladly set the table, but I’m keeping an eye on you, young lady. If you overdo it, I’m going to force you to sit.”

  She laughed. “You are as bad as my doctor.”

  I knew Ursula’s kitchen as well as my own. I removed a stack of white china plates with a blue filigree design that had originally belonged to her grandmother and placed them on the large oval dining table.

  “Dinner smells amazing. Is that your famous sauerbraten stew I smell?”

  “Ja.”

  Ursula’s stew was perfect fall comfort food, simmered for hours with pork, cabbage, onions, potatoes, carrots, celery, spices, and her magic secret ingredient—crushed gingersnap cookies.

  “Did you peek in at ze cake?” Ursula pointed to the fridge, where photos of Alex in his soccer uniform and all of us at a variety of family picnics and holidays covered every square inch of the double doors.

  “No, don’t tempt me. I might skip dinner and dive right into the cake.”

  “Take a look and see what you zink.” Ursula rolled up the sleeves of her red sweater.

  I opened the fridge. The bee sting cake sat on a porcelain cake plate. Ursula had cut the golden, doughy cake into two layers that were sandwiched together with luscious pastry cream. The top of the cake had been baked with the buttery almonds, toasted with honey. They had crystallized into a crunchy crust.

  “It looks better than I remember it.”

  Ursula smiled. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and removed her apron. I almost jumped to her rescue when she reached for her cane and nearly missed. Fortunately, she caught herself on the counter.

  “It is okay. I’m fine. Come sit.” She motioned to the table.

  I pulled out a chair for her.

  “Will you get some of ze beer? I have bottles chilling in ze fridge. We can share one while we wait for ze men to return from ze workshop.”

  “What would you like?” I returned to the fridge. It was difficult to resist the cake. Would anyone notice if I took a swipe of the oozing pastry cream?

  “You choose. You are ze guest.”

  “That’s so much pressure,” I teased. Then I removed a bottle of Der Keller’s signature German pale ale. It was brewed with imported hops from the village where Otto and Ursula had first met. The beer poured the color of a copper penny.

  I gave a glass to Ursula and sat next to her.

  “Good choice.” She raised her glass to mine. “Prost.”

  “Prost.”

  The beer had a bready aroma and a hint of grapefruit. The first sip brought out the flavor of caramelized toast and candied lemon.

  “It is good, ja?” Ursula sipped her beer.

  “One of the best.” Since we were alone, I wanted to ask her about my parents, but before I could think of a way to start the conversation, she asked about how the wallpaper project was progressing.

  “Would you like to borrow ze steamer?” she asked.

  “We would love to. I told Garrett about it, and he’s ecstatic about trying anything that doesn’t involve sloppy glue remover and scraping.”

  She smiled. “Ja, you will still have to scrape, but it will be easier, I zink.”

  “Thanks again for letting us borrow it.”

  “It is nothing. Do you want me to show it to you?” She started to get up.

  “No. Sit, relax. It can wait until after dinner. You should just enjoy your beer.”

  “Sloan, you know ziz is never a problem for me.” Smile lines creased her face. Her thick white hair made her look almost angelic.

  We laughed for a minute. I shifted in my chair. “Ursula, I’ve been wanting to ask you something, but haven’t been able to figure out a way to start, so I guess I’m just going to come out and ask.”

  “Ja, anything for you, Sloan.” She placed her hand over mine. Her fingers were warm to the touch. “Is it about Mac?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Mac and I are doing the best we can. I would never put you in the middle of it. Mac is your son.”

  She held my gaze with her commanding eyes. “And you are my daughter.”

  I fought back tears. “Actually, that’s what I want to ask you about.”

  She removed her hand from mine. “Ja?”

  “It’s about my parents.”

  A strange look flashed across her face. Was I imagining things? Or did Ursula know something that she wasn’t telling me?

  “What about zem?” She clasped her hands around her pint glass. When she raised it to her lips, I noticed that it trembled ever so slightly.

  It was the same reaction that I had witnessed when she had seen the photo of the woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to me. I had created a gallery wall at Nitro with old photos from Garrett’s aunt’s collection. On opening night, Ursula had stared at the photo in disbelief. Anytime I asked her about it, she denied that she’d had a strange response. Strangely, she had cautioned me not to go searching for answers about my parents. I hadn’t told her about my meeting with Sally. I had needed some time to figure out what our next move was going to be.

  “I met with my social worker a few weeks ago.”

  Ursula’s face went ashen. “Ja?”

  “Yes, Sally. She came to Nitro to share my old case file with me.”

  I waited. Ursula took a large gulp of her beer.

  “Sally, as I’m sure I’ve told you dozens of times, saved my life. If it hadn’t been for her, who knows where I would have ended up.”

  “Sloan, do not say ziz. You have always been strong.” Ursula patted my wrist.

  “Maybe, but Sally was my constant, my one steady point person in a tumultuous sea of changing families. I’m sad that she and I lost contact after I moved here, but we picked right back up where
we left as if no time had passed.”

  “Ja, I can see ziz.” She tried to steady her hands by firming her grip on the pint glass. “What does ziz have to do with me?”

  “Sally is helping me look for my parents.” I didn’t share any details about the missing therapy notes and Sally’s suspicion that someone higher up in the organization had ensured that I would never find my parents. Nor did I mention Sally’s concern that hunting down my history could be dangerous.

  Ursula took another long drink from her beer. She traced the rim of the glass with a shaky finger. “And you want to try to do ziz, Sloan? What if finding your parents leads to unhappiness? I do not want for you to be unhappy. You have a vonderful family with us, ja? Why do you need to do ziz?”

  “I know. I can’t thank you enough for opening your arms to me and making me part of this family, but I have to do this. I have to know what happened. In part because of what’s happened between me and Mac. As hard as it’s been, the past few months have shed so much light on my choices. I don’t want to repeat the past, and in order not to do that, I have to understand my past.”

  A sad smile spread across her face. “Ja. I understand.”

  “Ursula.” I reached for her arm. “Is there something that you know? That you’re not telling me?”

  She set down her beer. I watched as her breath quickened and she blinked rapidly. A tear slid down her cheek. “Ja, Sloan. Ja.”

  My stomach flopped. Maybe I shouldn’t have pressed her. What if whatever she was about to tell me would change our relationship forever?

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  I HELD MY BREATH WHILE I waited for Ursula to reply. She knew something about my parents. Why hadn’t she told me?

  Deep creases formed in her brow. “Sloan, I do not know ze best way to tell you ziz. It happened a long, long time ago, you must understand. And zen, ze men, zey came and zey told me I must not ever speak of it again. I have held on to ziz story for so long I am not sure my memory of it is even correct.”

  “Okay.”

  “So many years have passed. I have zought many times about what to tell you zat I know, and zen I have stopped myself. Can you ever forgive me?” Her hands shook violently.

  I placed my hands on top of hers to try and calm her. “Ursula, you don’t need to ask for forgiveness. I love you, and nothing can change that.” I wasn’t sure that was true. Until Ursula divulged what she knew about my parents, there was no way to know whether she had withheld the truth for good reasons. Still, I wanted to encourage her to continue. The suspense and knowledge that Ursula was involved in any small way was making my head spin.

  “I love you, too, Sloan. Ziz is why I have never told you.” She squeezed my hands and then released her grip.

  “Please, Ursula. I have to know,” I pleaded. My skin felt cold and clammy despite the fact that the kitchen was warm from bread baking in the oven and Ursula’s stew simmering on the stove.

  “Ja. I know. It is time.” She clasped her hands together as they trembled. “You see, ziz was very early on, when we had only been in Leavenworth a short while. Der Keller had only been open for a few years. Otto and I, we worked around ze clock. We were at ze brewery day and night. Hans and Mac too. Zey grew up in ze pub. It was good, and it was bad. We never had a break. Der Keller, it was our life.”

  I had heard versions of this story many times.

  “Otto, he was very worried it was too much for ze boys. We came to America to give zem a good life, but if we were working all ze time, was zat good? We got a late start on our family. We were older zan many of ze parents of ze boys’ friends, and we were running a pub and trying to grow a business. Mac was going to start school, and we were worried zat we wouldn’t have enough time to help him with his schoolwork and care for Hans. Hans was very young, just in preschool. It was hard to manage ze brewery and care for ze boys.”

  My beer had begun to go flat, but I sipped it anyway.

  “Otto received a call from a man who wanted to buy Der Keller. He was from ze East Coast and looking to invest in ze very early craft beer craze zat was just beginning to happen here. He asked if he could come and spend a week here to see ze brewery, meet us, and discuss a deal.”

  “You were going to sell Der Keller?” This was part of the story I had never heard.

  “Ja. We came very, very close to selling.” She hung her head for a moment as if the memory was too painful to bear.

  “I can’t believe it. I can’t imagine Leavenworth without you and Otto. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  Her shoulders hunched. “I will get to ziz. But first, I must tell you about ze visit. Ze man arrived vith his beautiful young sister and her daughter.” She raised her eyebrow and looked at me.

  “You mean me?”

  “Ja, I zink so. You are ze girl in ze picture you found. At least, I zink. I cannot be sure, but it must be you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She nodded. “I know, I vill continue. Ze man, his name was Forest. Ziz is what he told us, but we would come to learn zat he lied about many things.”

  “He was my uncle?”

  Ursula frowned. “He says zat ze woman, Marianne, was his sister, but Otto and I were not sure. Zey did not act like brother and sister.”

  “What do you mean? Do you think they were together?”

  “I do not know. Marianne, she was always timid around Forest. I wondered if she was scared of him, maybe.”

  I tried to stay in the moment, but it was hard not to jump to conclusions. Was Forest my father? Why were they pretending to be brother and sister? And why was she afraid of him?

  Ursula continued. “At first, we were excited. It seemed like Forest was impressed with Der Keller. He told us of his plans to expand ze brewery, hire more workers, distribute ze beer far away. At ziz time, we couldn’t have even imagined zat our beers could be sold in Spokane or Seattle, but Forest was sure zat we would become a national brand.”

  “When was this?”

  She looked to the ceiling for a moment. It was decorated with tin tiles. “Ziz would have been in ze 1970s, or maybe it was very early 1980s.”

  That math worked. I would have been six in 1979.

  “Otto and I could not believe our good fortune. We had never imagined zat someone might want to buy Der Keller. At ziz time, we only had three part-time staff to help with ze brewery and tend bar. It was much like ze size of Nitro.”

  That wasn’t a surprise. When I used to give tours at Der Keller, my talk would always include a brief history on the brewery’s evolution. I would show beer enthusiasts photos of Der Keller’s first primitive equipment and tiny tasting room. Then I would take them through the bottling plant and finish each tour in the restaurant. Inevitably people would be awed by the brewery’s humble beginning compared with today.

  “Forest made us an offer zat we couldn’t believe. Zat is when ze problems began. If it seems too good to be true, zen it probably is, ja?”

  I nodded.

  “Ja.” She shifted in her chair. I wondered if her hip was bothering her or if the memories were painful. “Otto did not trust Forest. He said from ze start zat he had a funny feeling about ze man, but we were new business owners and we were flattered zat he was interested in Der Keller and we had never seen ze kind of dollar signs on ze contract.”

  I had no idea where she was going with this. How long had Alex, Hans, and Otto been in the workshop? I said a silent prayer, begging them not to interrupt the moment.

  “We took ze paperwork to a lawyer, who said immediately it was no good.”

  “No good how?”

  “Forest was not who he claimed to be. He said zat he had many, many business investments, but our lawyer told us ziz was not true. Forest was trying to scam us. His contract was a fake. It would have signed Der Keller over to him for nothing. Our lawyer was sure zat he was trying to take advantage of ze fact zat we were immigrants. He reported Forest to ze authorities and told us not to say
anything. Two days later, some FBI agents came to Leavenworth and arrested Forest. He had done ze same thing many times. He would take control of ze business, drain ze bank accounts, and disappear.”

  “Ursula, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”

  “Ja. It was embarrassing. Otto and I felt so stupid. How could we have trusted such a criminal, and why did we not trust our first instinct?”

  “You can’t blame yourself.”

  “No, no, I do not blame myself any longer. I did for some years after, but zen I came to realize it was an important lesson for us. It made us stronger. It made us realize zat it was worth putting in ze long hours and work to make Der Keller ze best brewery it could be. I vonder if Forest had never come what might have happened. In some ways I must be grateful to him.”

  Not many people would have shared Ursula’s perspective on narrowly missing being scammed out of a business and thousands of dollars. It was just like her to shift from anger to gratitude.

  “How does this relate to me? What happened to Marianne?”

  Ursula stared at her beer, which hadn’t been touched. “We did not spend very much time with Marianne and her daughter. Zey were very private, but we did have zem to dinner one night before we learned of Forest’s true colors. Ze girl—you—were very astute. You would watch everyone with such intensity. You were a quiet child, but so polite and so smart. Otto and I both commented on ziz. But when Forest was arrested, Marianne disappeared along vith you. Ze FBI men said it would be better if we never spoke of what had happened. It was strange, but at ze time, we were embarrassed, as I said, so we set it aside and didn’t worry about it. Zen, we met you at ze farmers’ market. You remember?”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  “I recognized you immediately. Vell, I was not sure, but your eyes, zey were ze same. Otto too. We did not know what to do or say, and zen when we learned your story and how you had been abandoned, we wondered if maybe it was because of us. Did Marianne need to disappear because Forest was arrested? Is zat why she left you? We felt so terrible, but zen we were not sure. It was so long ago. Maybe we were wrong. Maybe it was our imagination. How could we know? We had only met ze girl for a few days, and she was so young, but yet you looked like Marianne. Could it be you?”