More Than Words (24 page)
The ruddiness that had returned to his cheeks a short time earlier disappeared before my eyes. I’d likely gone too far with my truth-telling.
“Conrad! Come quick! I need help.” Stefan’s shouts echoed through the woods and delayed the possibility of a rebuke from Conrad.
Oma didn’t stir from her sleep, but Conrad and I jumped to our feet and raced toward the river’s edge. Fear had taken hold, and by the time we arrived, I was gasping for breath.
With his arms lifted high in the air, Stefan was arching backward, pulling up on the pole to hold his line taut. “I’ve got a big one and need help.”
I leaned over and exhaled a deep sigh while Conrad continued to the riverbank. Rather than take the fishing pole from Stefan, he stood beside the boy and offered firm direction.
“That’s it. Pull back. You’re doing gut, Stefan.” The instruction continued until I could see a fish flopping in the shallow water near the bank. Conrad grabbed a net and walked to the water’s edge to scoop up the fish. “A fine big fish you have caught, Stefan.” With a broad smile on his lips, Conrad strode toward Stefan and extended the net for the boy to have a better look.
I stepped forward and peeked into the net. The fish was quite large, and Stefan beamed when I praised his ability.
Conrad extended the net toward the boy. “You will need to get the hook out and then clean it, ja?” Stefan looked up at Conrad as if giving the idea considerable thought. “Or you could throw it back in the water and let it swim away. It’s up to you, Stefan.”
Stefan grinned. “I think I’ll put it back and let someone else have the fun of catching it.”
I stood at a distance while Conrad helped Stefan remove the hook. Then the two of them released the fish into the river. Conrad clasped Stefan’s shoulder. “That was a fine fish, and if anyone doubts how big it was, you tell them to come and ask me. I will tell them it was this big.” Stefan laughed as Conrad stretched his arms wide before slowly bringing them closer together.
Stefan baited his hook with a fat worm and cast his line back into the river. “You think that fish is too smart to let me catch him again, Conrad?”
Conrad shrugged his shoulders. “Who can say? I do not know how smart a fish can be, but if you catch him again, we’ll know he isn’t so clever, ja?”
I hoped Stefan’s interruption had softened or erased Conrad’s memory of my earlier confession. It had been foolish to speak of the published poem. He’d already forgiven a great deal, and I didn’t think he’d look kindly upon a poem being published in a periodical. I remained hopeful as we returned, for his only comments were about Stefan’s fine catch.
As we drew near to the tree, I glanced in every direction. My heartbeat quickened, and I clutched Conrad’s arm. “Oma’s gone!”
Panic wrapped me in its unyielding grip as I scanned the wooded area. Conrad grabbed me by the hand and bid me follow him toward the river. We’d gone only a short distance when I pulled free of him. “We should go in opposite directions. We’ll be able to search a larger area.”
He nodded. “You’re right. But stay close to the river and check there first before you go into the woods. I do not think she would wade into the river, but who can say.”
Who indeed! In Oma’s condition, there was no way to know where she would go. She could be anywhere. “Once we check the river, we should look near the Gypsy camp. She has a fondness for going there when she’s not in her right mind.”
We agreed to go a quarter mile along the river in opposite directions. “Go as far as the high rocks that hang out over the water.” I knew that spot well. Many of the older boys liked to jump into the water from those rocks. I didn’t believe Oma could have gotten past us while Conrad had been helping Stefan net his fish, but there was always the possibility. When she wasn’t in her right mind, Oma had a cunning nature that defied normal behavior. I looked back and forth from the water to the uneven ground in front of me. The fishy scent of the river filled my nostrils, and I wrinkled my nose at the unpleasant odor. I wasn’t certain how far I’d walked when I spotted Oma’s bonnet floating in the water. Fear struck me with a blow to the midsection.
“Oma! Where are you?” I slipped on a rock and momentarily lost my footing. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up in the river and be of no help to Oma.
Frightening thoughts raced through my mind, each one worse than the last. Bushes slapped at my skirt, and tree branches snagged my bonnet as I hurried along the uneven path. Gritting my teeth, I picked up my pace until I finally caught sight of Oma sitting in the water not far from the bank. Relieved yet saddened by the sight, I waved and called out to her. When she stood, I expected her to move toward dry ground. Instead, she waded into deeper water. Her dark calico ballooned in the water like a giant bedsheet. She giggled and slapped at the fabric floating around her. Once again I called to her. But the louder I shouted, the further in she went.
“You should quit shouting. Can’t you see that your squawking is making her go out further?”
I swirled around and was face-to-face with Zurca. I didn’t think he had washed or changed his clothes since he’d come into our store when the Gypsies had first set up camp. His hair was still dirty and bound at the nape of the neck with a scruffy piece of cloth.
Straightening my shoulders, I planted a fist on each hip. “Don’t tell me what to do. She is my grandmother, and she needs to get out of the water before she drowns.”
“Silly woman. Can’t you see that the water will soon be over her head? She’s trying to get away from you. If you keep screaming and she sinks under the water, you will have no one to blame but yourself.”
I stared at him in disbelief. Who did he think he was, telling me what to do! “I am trying to save her.”
“If you are trying to save her, then you should do as I say. Shut your mouth and let me take care of this.” He tapped the side of his head with his grimy fingers. “She is out of her head, so she will want me—not you.”
He spoke with a prideful authority that raised my irritation to new heights. Instead of heeding his warning, I ran to the water’s edge. “Oma! Come to me, right now! The water is too deep.” I stretched out my arm and waved, hopeful I could entice her to come to me. More than anything, I wanted Oma out of the river before she hurt herself. But I also wanted to show Zurca that he wasn’t as smart as he thought—at least not where my grandmother was concerned. I sat down on a rock and unlaced my worn work boots while silently giving thanks I’d chosen to wear them instead of my good shoes that buttoned down the side. Without a buttonhook, it would have been impossible to remove them.
After yanking off the boots, I stepped into the water. “I’m coming, Oma.”
“Nein!” Her scream pierced the air like a shrieking crow. I watched in horror as she backed away and suddenly disappeared beneath the water.
Lifting my feet high, I pranced through the shallows, but soon the water weighted down my clothes and slowed my progress. Oma’s head bobbed to the surface, and I screamed to her. Using my arms I tried to propel myself forward, but the undercurrent held me in place. Zurca splashed into the water beside me and disappeared beneath the surface in a leaping dive.
Moments later Oma’s crown of white hair broke through the dark water. Zurca thrust her heavenward and shook his dark oily mane, causing beads of water to dance in the sunlight. I watched in disbelief, my mind a jumble of horror, disbelief, and astonishment as he swung Oma onto her back. Careful to keep her face out of the water, he held her head in the crook of one arm while he swam toward me using the other. When he neared me, he stood up, guided Oma’s body forward, and lifted her into his arms. I splashed along beside him until we reached the river’s edge.
“Is she alive?” I hadn’t intended to scream, but fear had taken control when I couldn’t see any sign of her breathing. I jerked the sleeve of Zurca’s wet shirt.
He yanked free of my grasp. “Step away!” Turning away from me, he placed Oma on the ground and rolled her onto her stomach.
I remained frozen in place while he turned her head to one side, but when he straddled her body and began to push on her back, I lunged at him with a fury. “Get off of her! You’re going to crush her!”
With a mighty force, Zurca shoved me away and sent me sprawling onto the sandy riverbank. “Get back, woman! I am trying to save her life. She is going to die if you don’t let me help her.” His nostrils flared, and he pinned me in place with a cold stare.
I paced at a distance watching Zurca’s every move, certain he would crush any life from Oma’s tiny frame. My wet clothes clung to my body, and I shivered in spite of the day’s warmth. What would my grandmother think if she should return to consciousness with this man perched over her? In all probability, she’d scream and once again lose consciousness. Yet I had no choice but to trust her to this character who looked as though he belonged in a nightmare rather than real life. He was her only link between life and death.
After he pressed on her back several more times, Oma sputtered and groaned. He yanked the filthy scarf from his neck and swiped at Oma’s mouth. Damp, stringy strands of hair dropped across his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. He spoke to her only once, then lifted up and pushed on her back once more. This time she responded with more gusto. Her coughing and sputtering were soon followed by a squeal, and she twisted to free herself from Zurca’s straddled hold.
Only then did he motion me forward. He rested his hand in the sandy bank and pushed to his feet while Oma clutched his scarf in her fist. “She will be weak. I will carry her back to your store.”
If Oma was in her right mind, she would fight against Zurca’s help. If she was still in her senile condition, she’d probably want to marry him. Either response would be unacceptable. Before I could adequately form a reply, I heard Conrad’s shouts and saw him running toward us along the riverbank. With a quick salute, Zurca disappeared into the woods before I could thank him.
Moments later Conrad dropped to his knees near Oma’s side. “Is she all right? Did that Gypsy hurt her?” His brow furrowed.
“No.” I shook my head. “He saved her life. If he had not come along, she would have drowned in the river.”
Conrad snapped around to look at me. Amazement shone in his eyes, but he didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he leaned close to Oma’s face. “Sister Helga, do you think you can sit up if I help you?”
“Ja.” Her voice was soft and raspy.
Conrad circled her with his arm and elevated her to a sitting position. “I think you may be too weak to walk home. I may have to carry you.”
“Is too far,” she croaked.
Her clear response confirmed that she’d returned to her right mind. Though she would have drowned without Zurca’s help, it was best he had returned to the Gypsy camp. Had he attempted to carry her back to town, Oma would have fought against him and worsened her condition.
“You weigh very little,” Conrad told her. “Besides, it will help to build my muscles.”
She nodded and leaned heavily on his arm. “If it will help your muscles, then you should carry me.”
I grinned at Conrad as he lifted her into his arms. “I’ll fetch Stefan, and we’ll meet you on the road.” My thoughts raced faster than my feet as I ran along the riverbank. Explaining Oma’s wet clothing and recounting the near drowning to my father would be tricky. I didn’t know how I’d justify her condition without saying she’d been suffering a bout of senility. Only God’s intervention could help.
As we continued on our way, I silently prayed Father wouldn’t be at home when we arrived. Perhaps he had gone to visit friends or gone for a walk in the woods—a silly notion, but I needed a thread of hope that I wouldn’t be met by his countless questions about Oma. Today had been worrisome enough without the added concern of another discussion about Mount Pleasant.
When we arrive home, Father was sitting in the parlor. Under different circumstances, his delayed reaction as he glanced at us and then startled to attention would have been most amusing. Today, it only caused concern.
I motioned for him to remain seated. “Everything is fine. I’m going to go into the bedroom and help Oma out of her wet clothes.”
My grandmother beamed at him. “Such excitement, George. I will return and tell you everything that happened.”
“And I shall be eager to hear.” My father picked up his small leather pouch of tobacco. Wrapping one hand around the pipe, he tapped a small amount of tobacco into the bowl.
I hurried into the room behind Conrad. Once he’d settled Oma into her wooden rocker, he gave a slight wave and hurried back to the parlor. I wondered if Conrad had lost all feeling in his arms. Several times on the way home, I’d suggested he rest for a spell, but he had refused. No doubt he’d be quite sore come morning.
I stepped forward and leaned over my grandmother. “Let me help you unbutton your dress, Oma.”
She didn’t argue. In fact, she seemed to enjoy the attention. Once I’d helped her into dry clothing, she was more than happy to let me dry her hair. In order to remove all of the sand and river water, her hair would need a good washing, but she was impatient to return to the parlor and wouldn’t agree to doing that now. She obviously hoped to bask in the attention a little longer.
