The Vines by Shelley Nolden (ebook and pdf reader .TXT) 📕

make for the quarantined children. Nothing had worked, so Cora had prayed that someday, through his son, the doctor would find his former self.

“Willkommen.” The wind carried Otto’s stiff voice to Cora. “I’m . . .” He removed his hat. “Did you have a smooth crossing?”

“Tell him you love him,” Cora whispered, even though she knew Otto had forgotten that phrase.

“I’m not here to see you.” Ulrich turned his shoulder to his father and faced the beach.

The doctor lowered his gaze to the lilies, burning white against his son’s smoky gray suit, and said nothing.

“Sie gehörten auch zu mir,” Ulrich stated, his tenor lower than Otto’s.

“You’re right; they did belong to you, too.” Otto returned his hat to his head with an extra tug that brought the brim in line with his eyes.

“All you cared about was your own sorrow.”

“Es tut mir leid.” Otto raised his hand in an apology but stopped short of touching his son. “I didn’t handle it well. I should’ve—”

“I lost my entire family that day.”

Otto’s shoulders jerked, and Cora closed her eyes to block the tears. For both Ulrich’s and her sake, she wished she’d been more assertive—and relentless—in reminding Otto that he still had a son and a responsibility as his father.

“I’m here for you now.” Otto reached for him.

Glowering, Ulrich stepped back. “What need do I have for you now? When I was eight years old, terrorized by nightmares, that’s when I needed you. Not a Kindermädchen who didn’t believe in ‘coddling’ boys.” His fingers were gripping the flowers so tightly that the stem of one snapped.

Although they’d been living worlds apart, she’d developed a bond with her imagined version of this man, who’d been just as lonely and scared as she was. She too knew how it felt to be fatherless. But, thank God, she’d had her mamaí. A sudden longing to be enveloped in her mother’s warm, fleshy hug gripped Cora so intensely it felt like it was crushing her windpipe.

“Without any help from a father,” Ulrich continued, “I put myself through medical school.”

“I tried to transfer funds.” Otto grasped at the emptiness between them.

“I know. I instructed the bursar to refuse payment from you.” Ulrich brushed a speck from his sleeve. “I don’t need your money: I’ve accepted a surgical position at Bellevue.”

“Congratulations,” Cora murmured, and the bricks absorbed the sound. She’d often wondered what would become of the boy. During the second wave of the Spanish flu, which had blazed across the country in the fall of 1918, killing healthy people his age within twenty-four hours of the first sign of infection, she’d prayed for him. Despite Otto’s lack of relationship with his son, the doctor’s fear that Ulrich would fall victim to the virus drove him to insomnia. One night, well past midnight, Otto infected Cora with the deadly strain. Throughout the dark hours of the months that followed, he feverishly attempted to extract from her an antibody that could end the pandemic. Oblivious to his father’s efforts, largely on his behalf, Ulrich had presumably been braving the streets each day to attend his college classes until they’d been canceled. Surely the mass misery he’d witnessed had served as a calling for him to the medical field.

“A surgeon,” Otto finally said. “Wunderbar.” Wonderful.

Cora tensed. In addition to awe and regret, his tone had been laced with something else. Hope, she realized.

“Jawohl, top of my class. So, you see, I’m doing fine without you,” Ulrich said, his chin high. “I came here today only to honor meine Mutti und Schwester, whom I know almost nothing about, thanks to you.”

Otto put his fist to his mouth, and Cora sensed that he was stifling a sob. She’d seen him do it before, while bent over his microscope or work papers.

“All I know of them, I learned from our neighbors.” Ulrich stroked one of the lilies, and Cora realized he was no longer addressing Otto. “Since my own Vater wouldn’t share even a single memory.”

“Weißt du,” Otto sang slowly, the timbre of his voice rising as he found the melody, “wieviel Sternlein stehen an dem blauen Himmelszelt?” Can you count the stars that brightly twinkle in the midnight sky?

Cora’s mouth hung agape. She’d never heard the doctor sing before. And his voice! So clear and strong, yet vulnerable. Maybe the man he’d once been still did exist.

Ulrich was staring at him, and Cora could tell that he’d recognized the song.

“Deine Mutter, she used to sing that while cradling you in the rocking chair near the stove. That’s how you fell asleep each night, even when you were three. Even the night before . . .” Otto stuffed his hands into his suit pants. “I’ll show you to the site.”

“No, I came alone. I’ll mourn alone.” Nearly choking the flowers, he strode along the seawall.

Wringing his hands, Otto took a step forward, then pivoted to look at the church roof, where he knew she often hid.

Cora held her breath.

The doctor spun toward his son. “Wait, Ulrich.”

The younger Gettler halted but kept his back to his father.

“When you’re done, stop by my lab. I’d like to introduce you to my spezielles Projekt. Just one hour, and you’ll understand why I had to stay here.”

Without acknowledging that he’d heard the plea, Ulrich continued toward the beach.

Otto hurried after him.

Ten years later

October 1936

ora tried to keep the noisy hedge trimmers to a whisper so that she could hear the nurses gossiping in the parlor of their residence. Silence would cause them to suspect her of eavesdropping and hush their voices. She searched for another errant branch, but the shrub blurred into a tangle of thorns. Since Otto’s sudden absence three days ago, she’d been able to see straight only with her eyes closed, while imagining what might have happened to him, and what would become of her now that Ulrich was in charge.

“Maybe he fell in love again.” The woman’s voice had drifted through the open window.

From her crouched position, Cora stretched toward