The Days of the Teehaus, Part Two
That was how it began. For the first time since Uncle Artie had left town, Denise had a reason to look forward to her half-days. Sometimes she arrived at the Teehaus first and waited for Fritzi; other times he was there first and looked up at the sound of the bell that chimed as the door swung open. His smile — how bright and welcoming it was when he saw her coming in! And her own smile, she knew, was the same when she caught sight of him.
It was a lovely two months. Every week they met and talked. One time he told her about his boyhood, about growing up in the countryside, tagging along after his older brother Alexander. "Ach, mein Bruder! When we were boys, he was der Adler, und I was der Kolibri…"
"Adler. Does that mean elder? But what is Kolibri?"
"Nein, my dear. Adler is eagle. He was the eagle, und I… You have no guess as to what Kolibri might mean?"
"No, none. I've never heard the word before."
He chuckled. "It means hummingbird!"
"Oh! Eagle and hummingbird — more birds!"
"Ja, true. Adler, you see, was big und brave und he soared above me. Und I, I was small und darting. When he taught me fencing…"
A startled look crossed her face. "Truly? Fencing?"
"Ach ja! Do not look so surprised, my dear Niecie. Under his tutelage, I became very good. Though not good enough, perhaps, to avoid this." He traced the scar on his cheek.
"I had wondered how you got that."
He shrugged. "From a duel. A youthful foolishness. A crossing of blades to prove which was the better man. Und all we proved was that we each could bleed." Again he shrugged. "But that was long ago. Very long ago."
And then, with a chuckle, a reminiscent smile settled over his face. "But getting back to Adler, to Alexander. Ach, but I worshiped him! He was seven years my elder und in my child's eyes, he was perfect in every way. He taught me fishing und shooting und riding, as well as the fencing. I followed him everywhere, sometimes to the point of being an arrant annoyance to him, I'm sure. But if he resented my presence, he never showed it."
…
Another time she told Fritzi about Craig. She couldn't remember exactly when she had first met Craig Sparrow. He had been one of her Papa's law clerks, four years her senior. She had been aware of him, but at the time he began to work for her father, Craig had been a young adult already while she had still been a child, and so they had had nothing in common.
And then had come the War. Denise had been not quite fourteen when it started. One night about a month after the surrender of Fort Sumter, her Papa had come home and reported that two of his law clerks, Craig Sparrow and Joseph Cassiday, had resigned to join a regiment of Illinois volunteers.
She paused. "You know, much later, after we were married, Craig told me something about those early days of the War — that so many of the eager young men were afraid the War would be over before they ever got their chance to fight. He said, 'We were all of us thinking of the banners and the bugles, when we ought to have been thinking of the bullets and the blood.' "
"He was, I think, a poet, your young man," Fritzi commented.
"Oh, he could turn a phrase!" she said proudly. Then with a sigh, she added, "Joseph never came home; he fell at Chickamauga. But Craig returned home as a Lieutenant when the War was over. In fact, during the War an aunt of his had passed away, leaving him some property with a house on it a few miles from my parents' home. So when he returned to Chicago, he had a place of his own. He just needed work, so he went to see Papa at the law office, hoping to clerk for him again."
She smiled. "Papa told me later what happened that day. He'd agreed to hire Craig again and they were standing in the lobby still talking, when a young woman came down the hall, through the lobby, and out the door. Craig turned to glance at her, and was riveted. He broke off talking in the middle of a word to follow her with his eyes. Then he stood gaping at the door for a few moments after she'd left, gave a low whistle, and said, 'Who was that ravishing creature?'
"Papa answered his question with, 'Denise of course.' He paused a moment, then added, 'You know — my daughter.' "
"Ach, found you stunning, did he?" Fritzi commented, a twinkle in his eye. "I know the feeling."
It took Denise a moment to catch his meaning. Shooting him a stern glance for the pun he'd made, she went on with: "Craig swung about and stared at him. 'That? That was Denise? When did she grow up?'
"To which Papa replied, 'While you were gone.'
"After that, Papa began inviting Craig home for dinner with us, sometimes three or four times a week. Mother was distinctly unimpressed. She had always hoped to make me a brilliant match — by which she meant she wanted to find me a rich husband — and Craig was merely a lowly clerk, even if he did own a house.
"Mother wasn't impressed — but I certainly was." Her eyes had gone all dreamy, looking off into the past. "He was everything I wanted in a man. It wasn't just his looks, although…" She laughed and blushed fetchingly. "…he certainly was good-looking! A big man, like, well, like my Uncle Artie. Broad shoulders. About an acre of chest. Big wide smile. Sparkling eyes. Headful of curls — blond curls. Well…" She unpinned the locket watch from the bodice of her dress and passed it to him.
He accepted the locket and opened it, then glanced up at her. "You wear his picture still, hmm?"
She nodded.
He studied the small portrait. Passing it back again, Fritzi said, "He was a fine young man indeed."
She smiled at the portrait, and said, "Yes. Yes, he was." Then she pinned the watch back in its place and continued with, "My Craig — he could fill the whole house with his personality when he wanted to. And he had such a wonderful voice! Like a violin in the hands of a virtuoso. And…" She paused, put her head to one side, then added, "Hmm. It just occurred to me. I suppose Craig was more like Uncle Artie that I ever realized."
"Ah?"
"Yes, you see, back when I was a little girl, Uncle Artie was still an actor. And Craig, once he became a lawyer — and it didn't take him long to progress from clerk to full lawyer — in a way for Craig, the courtroom was his stage. The same way Uncle Artie could hold an audience in the palm of his hand, Craig could hold the jury. He could move them to compassion, or to ire. He also had this useful knack for seeing through lies…"
She fell silent then, her fingers twisting together on the table. Fritzi poured her some more tea and passed her the cup. "Niecie?" he prompted.
She sighed deeply. "We were married one and a half years exactly. Craig told Papa he wanted to leave work a bit early that day so that he could stop at the jeweler's to pick up the small half-anniversary present he'd had made for me." Her fingers found and clutched the locket watch as she fell silent for a few moments. At length she went on with, "There was… there was a runaway wagon, you see. I suppose Craig didn't hear it. He stepped out into the street…"
She looked down at her hand, at her ring finger which showed from its lack of either indentation or tan line that she had worn no ring there for a long time. She raised her eyes again to meet Fritzi's; the dear old fellow was watching her quietly with commiseration in his face. Softly she said, "It was a silly sentimental gesture, I know. But I took my ring off and handed it to the undertaker and asked him to put it in the coffin for me, since it was a closed casket. Otherwise I would have simply slipped it into Craig's pocket myself before they…" Tears were beginning to slide down her cheeks. "…before they buried him." She pulled the handkerchief out of the cuff of her sleeve and hid her face in the lacy cloth.
Fritzi moved his chair nearer so that he could pat her shoulder, murmuring softly to her in German. The actual words meant nothing to her, but the sense was plain enough. Gently he pulled her closer until she was crying on his shoulder.
…
Yet another time he told her a similar tale. He had been a soldier in the army when word came that his father had died. He was given leave to attend the funeral. "I had barely returned from that when…" He shook his head. "I have never understood it. Mein Bruder was one of the finest horsemen I knew. And yet, only a month after we buried Vater, Alexander went out for a ride one day, from which only his horse came back."
"Oh no! But… didn't they find…?"
He nodded darkly. "They found him, ja. How he came to fall from the horse, wer weiss? — who knows? But… der Adler was gone. My world was gone."
Meditatively he sipped some tea. "A year later, almost to the day…" And now a slow smile lit his face. "…I met her. Karla." He fell silent for a moment, gazing off into the past. "Ach, Karla! Shining black hair. Mischievous brown eyes. Und ach! how she loved me!" He grinned. "Just to delight her, I set myself the task of learning several passages from das Hohe Lied…" At the blank look Denise gave him, he explained, "That is the Song of Solomon, you see. I learned such poetry to recite it to her, to see her blush with pleasure." With a grin he added, "Und it worked too!"
He sighed in remembrance. "One of the four happiest days of my life was the day she agreed to marry me. The second of those was the day of our marriage. The next… that was the day, not two months after our wedding, when she came to me und whispered the wonderful secret that we were to be parents. Ach, she was so beautiful as a mother-to-be…" He smiled mistily. "Und the last of those four happiest days — that was the day our Sohn was born." Glancing at Denise, he added, "You can guess, I am sure, what name we gave him."
"Alexander?"
"Alexander Karl, ja. Karl from Karla. I was husband und Poppa now; I had a world once more." He paused to pour himself some more tea, then sat for nearly a minute, saying nothing, before taking a sip and adding, "Und all that changed before our Sohn was five months old. Die Grippe — you would call it influenza — swept through our region. All three of us fell ill of it." He stared into the distance for a long moment before finishing in a barely audible voice, "Und only I recovered." He swallowed hard and closed his eyes.
Denise laid her hand over his. "Oh, Fritzi!"
He glanced up at her, sighed, and with a shrug said, "My world was gone once more." He drank off more of his tea and set down his cup. "They were buried together in the same coffin, alongside Vater und Adler. Und I… eventually I came here to America. But mein Herz…"
He was silent again for a long time before a smile spread across his face. "I could tell you, if you asked me, exactly how old mein Sohn would be right now. He would be thir… ah, thirty-three years, four months, und seventeen days. Mein Alexander Karl."
She squeezed his hand; now it was she commiserating. "Fritzi," she asked at length, "What does mein Herz mean?
"Hmm? Entschuldigung — I beg your pardon. I should have translated. It means 'my heart.' You understand…"
Yes, she understood. Part of her heart would always be in Chicago as well.