And that’s when I made my mistake.
In my excitement I clapped Jake on the shoulder in the way of comrades and then I did the same to Lise Brandt. The moment I touched her she swung around with the crowbar in her hand. If I hadn’t been so quick and leaped back out of reach, that iron bar would have crushed my skull. The sun in its setting had gone red and a long beam shot through a break in the branches of an elm and lit her face with a demon light. Her eyes held a wild look and she opened her mouth and began to scream in the way she had earlier when the fireman had restrained her.
I looked desperately to Jake and shouted above the screams, “What do we do?”
“There’s nothing we can do,” he said. He looked in pain himself as if Lise Brandt’s unfathomable misery were his own. “Just leave her alone and she’ll stop.”
I pleaded with her, saying desperately, “I’m sorry, Lise. I didn’t mean anything.” But she didn’t hear. I put my hands over my ears and backed away.
Ariel rushed from the house calling as she came, “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Jake said. “Frank touched her, that’s all. It was an accident. She’ll calm down in a while. She’ll be fine.”
“I’ve got to get out of here,” I said.
“Go,” Jake said. “Go.” And he furiously motioned me away.
There was a gate in the back fence and I pushed through it. Beyond was the thread of a path that ran down the hill toward the railroad tracks that lay between the Brandt property and the river. I fled the screaming but it followed me all the way down the slope and across the tracks and through the cottonwood trees and it wasn’t until I slid down the riverbank and was on the sandy flat that the terrible sound finally ceased. My heart beat wildly, not just from the running but from the panic of Lise’s awful scream, and I understood only too well why Axel and Julia Brandt had sent her into exile in a place that was far beyond the hearing of most people in New Bremen.
In the blessed quiet of evening I walked along the river toward home. Black terns cut sharp curls above the channel, snatching insects from the air. In the sky the clouds had gone the color of flamingo feathers. I came to the first houses of the Flats and heard Danny O’Keefe and some other kids calling out to one another beyond the cottonwood trees but I didn’t want to join them. I made my way across the dry mudflats and approached the sandy area covered with bulrushes where Danny’s uncle had built his lean-to. From deep in the tall reeds came the rustling of someone headed my way and I slipped into the cover of the bulrushes and laid myself down trying to be inconspicuous. In a few moments a figure passed a dozen feet from where I lay. I saw that it was Warren Redstone. He walked slowly toward Danny’s house, climbed the riverbank, and disappeared. I waited a little while to be sure he was gone for good then stood up and began to make my way through the bulrushes trying to move more quietly than Danny’s great-uncle had. Which turned out to be a good idea because when I reached the clearing where Warren Redstone had built his little lean-to I caught sight of a dark shape lurking at the makeshift structure. I crept forward and once again lay on the sand among the reeds, and in the fading light of evening I watched.
A man was crouched on all fours with his torso deep in the lean-to and his rear end outside. He spent a moment rummaging in the inner shadow then backed out and stood up. The light was dim and he kept his back to me and I couldn’t see who he was. It seemed to me that he was studying something he held cupped in his hands. He knelt again and crawled back inside and this time the beam of a flashlight shot into the dark there. I still couldn’t see exactly what the man was doing but after a couple of minutes he backed out and stood and brushed sand from his hands and from the knees of his trousers. He broke a few of the bulrushes and gathered them into a kind of broom and swept away all sign of his presence and kept sweeping as he backed to the reeds. He reached to his belt and a moment later the beam of the flashlight shot out and played across the sand as if to be certain he’d erased all evidence of his presence there. Then he turned and disappeared in the direction of town.
In the wash of the flashlight beam I’d seen his face. It was Gus’s friend Officer Doyle.
By the time I left my hiding place night was almost upon me. I went to the lean-to and tried to see inside but the dark was nearly absolute now and whatever it was that had so intrigued Doyle was hidden to me. I thought about erasing my tracks in the way Doyle had done but didn’t see any reason and as the bullfrogs began their deep-throated courting I headed home.
12
Emil Brandt didn’t return until the following Saturday, three days before the Fourth of July. He came from the Twin Cities where he’d been transferred to a private hospital for rest and care. Axel drove him to the farmhouse beyond the edge of town. My father was there to meet them and so was I. Emil’s eyes were sunken and his face drawn but he was smiling and Lise made a huge fuss over him and despite her own abhorrence at being touched she touched him lightly several times, her hands like butterflies lighting on his arms and shoulders. Ariel embraced him and held to him a long time and wept.
“I’m fine,” he said to her. And to us all he said, “I’m fine.”
Once he’d delivered his brother Axel didn’t linger. He thanked Ariel and Jake for all their help and then drove away in his big black Cadillac and I thought he seemed greatly relieved to be finished with his part in the drama. My father and Ariel told Emil to rest but Brandt insisted that life resume in its normal way and he signed to Lise giving her instructions to get the chess set and he and my father prepared to play a game.
Brandt said to Ariel, “This will be an interesting chapter in my memoir, don’t you think?”
“Please don’t joke about it, Emil,” Ariel replied.
He reached out and when she took his hand he said gently, “It was an accident. A terrible accident that’s all. It’s finished. Now you should go home. You’ve done enough for me here.”
“No,” Ariel said. “I’d like to stay.”
He nodded and his eyes though sightless settled on her face in a way that made me believe he saw her perfectly. “Very well,” he said. “There’s work to be transcribed.”
Ariel left and a few minutes later from the window of the study came the sound of her fingers dancing over the keys of the typewriter.
My father and Emil set about their game and my father asked me to go inside and see if Lise needed my help.
“Jake’s helping her,” I said.
“I’m sure there’s something you can do,” he replied and it was clear my presence was not wanted.
I went inside and stood in the kitchen doorway. Jake and Lise were busy pulling things from shelves. I offered to help but Jake said they were fine and Lise, when she saw me, made a peeved shooing gesture with her hands and I left. I wandered to the living room and stood looking at a fancy plaque hanging on the wall. It was from a music festival in Vienna and Emil Brandt’s name was inlaid in silver in the center. Through the living room window that overlooked the front porch came Brandt’s voice delivering a chess move which my father countered. Then Dad said, “Not long ago you told me you were happy, Emil. What happened?”