Sarah Collins, with Judge Brenner's consent, made the Troller Group Home a sort of lab for her advanced psych classes. Freddy was making good progress with Fred Fulmore, a PhD student. Freddy had quickly bonded because of their names. Fred was the only other person in the world that he knew with the same name. To Freddy, it felt finally like he wasn't alone - that he belonged to a kind of group - almost a family. It felt good to be part of something. Like Marty, Freddy finally felt like he was part of someone else's world.
It makes a lot of difference when you aren't out there alone. It makes you want to be sure your bottom is clean and it makes you stop feeling sad all the time. It makes you feel like you're too grown up to suck your thumb. It makes you feel like somebody.
Linda had turned thirteen and was in legal limbo. Jill Monroe had tried to find her a foster home but no one seemed to want a thirteen year old girl. As Larry's long foster care experience had taught him, prospective parents don't necessarily want to love a kid. They want to be loved and want their friends and neighbors to tell them how wonderful they are for taking in a homeless child. You don't get enough plaudits to put up with the vagaries of adolescence. There are some people who want to love but they are few and far between and too often, they can't cope with the ill treatment the child they have come to love gets from the "system". You can't love and keep your mouth shut. The system gets hostile if you complain and takes the child from you or finds a way to retaliate against you.
The foster care people are always complaining about never having enough foster homes. Loving people who have tried it know why.
The twins were doing some better but still required a great deal of affection and reassurance. They could function reasonably well in school but at home, both became panicky if they thought they had been left alone. For example, on one occasion both Myrt and Ces were in the back yard hanging out laundry. Debby had been playing in the living room and, as she often did, went to the kitchen to reassure herself that Aunt Myrt was there. When she didn't find Myrt, she went looking for Ces. When she found that he wasn't in the house she became hysterical and that, of course, set David off.
David and Debby would not talk to Sarah's students. They cried unless either Myrt or Ces were with them and would do nothing but bury their faces into whichever Troller was holding them when asked a question. Finally, Sarah herself dropped in one evening and had all the children except Linda sit around the dinning room table. She had them draw pictures and Marty, the old hand at this business, pronounced this a really, really, really fun thing to do. Sarah had hoped for that reaction. If Marty thought it was fun, perhaps the twins would think it was fun.
The twins were not close to each other so they could not copy the other's ideas but their pictures were almost identical. They could not think of a happy picture to draw but their O. K. picture was sitting on one of the Troller's laps. Their sad pictures were mostly black with a solitary human like figure, very small and in the lower corner of the paper.
It took several sessions before Sarah and her students pieced their story together. Both their parents had been foster children. They had been separated from their siblings and had been frequently moved from foster homes in which they had become comfortable. The twins had been told these stories when they had asked why they didn't have grandparents like other kids. They were petrified that theirs would be the same fate - that they would be taken away from each other and from Aunt Myrt and Uncle Ces. For several months to come they were to be sad, insecure, frightened children.
Marty, however, was blossoming. His first grade card of the semester was all A's. Talk about a Marty Moment. Henry was covering for Joe that day and court was in session. Henry was given a note suggesting that he call a recess. He was needed in his chambers. Marty needed to see him immediately.
Henry did call the recess and anxiously rushed into his chamber, concerned about what he would find. An ecstatic Marty handed him the report card. Henry praised and hugged the boy but reminded him that he really should not be disturbed while court was in session. "But, Uncle Henry, I got all A's. Did those guys in there get all A's?"
Made sense to Henry. He hugged and kissed the boy again and sent him on his way with a light tap on his fanny. When told the cause of the interruption, the chuckling litigants agreed that no, neither had ever made all A's and that under such circumstances, the recess was appropriate.
Marty didn't like the idea of Ferdinand being penned up all the time. Fritz got to play outside. Scout got to go outside when Marty was riding him. Ferdinand was sometimes let out with the heifers but Marty didn't think it was fair for him to have to play with girls all the time. Marty had seen pictures in his history book of farmers in Europe or someplace farming with oxen. He decided that he would train his "bull" to be an ox. Of course, that required a cart, a single yoke and more knowledge than anyone on Grünfelder had. After asking around, Henry found a hobbyist ox drover up around Ripon.
Both the boy and the "calf" were quick learners and a proud Marty drove his ox cart full of the Troller Kids, Larry, Timmy, David and Daren in the Christmas Parade in Madison the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Erv Lolar, the guy from Ripon thought Ferdinand might be too newly trained so he walked along side but both the boy and the "ox" did just fine. Ferdinand proved to be a very popular addition to the parade. They had never had oxen before and Marty got his picture in the paper. Erv got the parade people to agree that he could bring his team of Brown Swiss next year.
Marty was also asked if his ox could be used in the Nativity Scene in Jefferson during the Christmas season. Marty, having had neither religious nor Christmas experience wasn't sure what that was all about but when assured that Ferdinand would not be harmed, he agreed. For now, at least, the boy was a celebrity but even though there was a major Marty Moment just under the skin, he reacted with a dignity that made his Uncle Henry proud.
Thanksgiving was a new and enlightening experience for almost everyone. Henry had not celebrated any holiday since Annie's death and, of course, he had never celebrated with children. The Friesemas had had no experience with an American Thanksgiving. All of the children but Marty had had a kind of Thanksgiving but it was of the institutional variety - not really festive.
Marty had made pilgrims and turkeys in school since kindergarten and had heard the other kids talk about big meals and relatives but both of those were unknown concepts to the boy. He had some idea that it should be - well - fun but, as much as he wanted to, he could not control the planning of the event. He had to leave that to Uncle Henry.
This was a family holiday and Henry's family now was Marty and the Friesemas. This year, however, his family would include the Trollers and the other children in the group home. When Marty found out who was coming he assumed that it was another party and wondered who got the gifts. Henry explained that this was not a day to get gifts but to be thankful for the good things that had happened to them the past year. There was some hugging and kissing going on as each remembered that the best of all possible things had happened to them this year.
Betje was an excellent cook but she had never cooked a turkey and, as it turned out, neither had Myrt. Marybeth Marshall explained the rudiments and both women were experienced enough to grasp the concept.
Myrt came out at six in the morning. She did know how to bake pies and Betje could follow a recipe and by the time Ces brought the rest of the kids at ten, the house was filled with the appropriate Thanksgiving aromas, which even to the uninitiated promised culinary delight.
Betje found that Myrt was an intelligent and witty woman. The laughing and general merriment that flowed from that kitchen mingled with the aroma and had children and adults alike in eager anticipation. The adults could control themselves but children from the twins to Larry had to repeatedly be shooed from underfoot and from picking at tantalizing tidbits. Linda was allowed to help and proved eager and adept. She was proud of herself. She was one of the cooks.
When called to the table, the children stood there in open-mouthed wonder. Linda had been in one foster home during Thanksgiving and had some idea of how a festive table should look. That knowledge along with Betje's Dutch touch and Myrt's surprisingly aesthetic bent made a work of art. Even Henry was impressed.
Ces surprised everyone, including himself by quietly shedding tears. He was remembering his childhood in that one room shack. He was remembering seven children taking turns using the one tin plate the family owned. He was remembering poke sallit and on a very good day, possum or rabbit or muskrat. He was remembering always going to bed hungry and he couldn't believe what he was looking at. In his adulthood, he had never gone hungry but never in his wildest imagination did he think he'd be party to a feast like this.
Ces did not consider himself a religious man. As a child he had gone to a little backwoods Baptist Church and had some concept of thankfulness and prayer. If there had ever been anything in his life beside Myrt for which to be thankful, this was it. He asked Henry, "Do ya'll mind if I give a word?"
Henry's German Lutheran heritage had also long been ignored but he knew what Ces had in mind and felt it profoundly appropriate. He responded to Ces with a nod of his head.
"Reckon I got no right to come callin' Sir, but this here needs a word. Ain't spoke to you in many a year. Ain't even thought about You that much. That ain't right but I need You to know we is mighty thankful fer what you give us today. Amen"
Marty was puzzled. Who was Uncle Ces talking to? But when you're ten and there's food in front of you, theological questions become of low priority. Marty, as did the rest of the children - and for that matter- the adults, enthusiastically pursued the task at hand. Turkey was really, really, really good. Mashed potatoes were really, really, really good. Even corn and green beans were really, really, really good. Marty didn't know that considering vegetables "good" was a heinous betrayal of childhood.
Aunt Myrt made really, really, really good pies. Since "living" with Uncle Henry, Marty had eaten well but never quite so bountifully. Having almost painfully full tummies was a new and not at all unpleasant experience for the other group home children. Larry, of course, was by now an old hand at consuming large amounts of food and did the fraternity of adolescents proud that day. Uncle Ces, in droll understatement pronounced the meal, "Some better than possum."
The women, including a proud Linda, dove fervidly into the clean up. The men, including Larry, of course, retired to the living room. Henry had to dab covertly at his eyes. He did not wish the joy and contentment running down his cheeks to be misunderstood and place a pall on this general atmosphere of serenity. There was no sense of grief of even pathos in Henry. These were tears of fulfillment, of conviviality, of thankfulness and of love of his Little Bird without whom this day would have been as the last five Thanksgivings - lonely, empty and depressing.
The men chatted to ward off sleep. The children had all gone to Marty's room to play. The kitchen again oozed laughter and good humor. Talk about serenity, this was it. With four food-fortified sub teens, however, serenity is a fleeting thing. The sound of giggling and splashing soon fractured the mood. Mryt and Betje, with the supervisory instincts visceral to the female of the species, went to investigate. The hot tub contained four naked, happy little bodies - diving and splashing and giggling. The fact that all were not of the same gender took neither woman aback. Betje was Dutch and Myrt, like Ces, had been raised in a one-room shack where modesty was an unknown attribute.
Myrt called Ces. "Look at them twins. Ain't they the ones? I ain't never seen them so happy. Ain't that somethin'?"
Debby jumped out of the tub and gave Aunt Myrt a hug. "This is fun." And, then, with a light tap on her bare little bottom she went happily back into the cavorting.
Larry went home about 3:30 but was back in a half-hour in his Grünfelder whites. Part of it was that he had only recently turned thirteen and had lost interest in being a "man" but most of it was that he wanted to impress his former house mates with the clothing that he considered a badge of honor.
The children were dully impressed and Marty again sulked a little. He had asked Henry for "them kind of clothes" as soon as he'd seen Larry's. Henry, however, seeing how much they meant to Larry had not wanted to steal Larry's thunder. He told Marty, "I'm sorry, Little Bird, but those are only for people who work with the cows. As with everything else Marty wanted, after the "shine" had worn off for Larry, Marty got his Grünfelder whites. As a matter of fact, he got them the Saturday morning so he could wear them while driving Ferdinand in the Madison Parade.
Reind needed to supervise the milking so he left at four, inviting Ces to go with him. Ces, though a little smaller, was given a pair of Reind's whites and gumboots to wear.
They checked first at the home place. Things were going well. Everyone had shown for work. Since it was a holiday, Reind needed to be sure that that was the case in all Grünfelder milking locations. Ces was astounded. "You mean you own all them cows?"
"No, Henry own them. I just work for him but I have to keep an eye on the whole herd."
"Do you farm all this land?"
"No, Henry's got about ten men who do the farming. That's in the summer. In the winter it's down to about three. Most of the men he hires are college students from Madison. Ulrick Hoffmann actually does the hiring. His job on the land is the same as mine with the cows. Ulrick's got family here or his family would have been here for Thanksgiving too. Henry's got this thing about once a German, always a German. All of his lead people are German except me. I'm Dutch but that was close enough for Henry. Actually, it would be hard to find someone who wasn't German in this part of Wisconsin."
"I ain't wantin' Henry to know I'm askin' this but do he work for Miss Burtch? I been thinkin' I seen him with her someplace."
"It's more the other way around. That bitch works for Henry in a way. Henry was the judge in Jefferson County until just recently."
"That's where I seen them people at the same place. Soon after they come I went with the twins to court. Them two is real tender in their feelin's and they don't like bein' away from me or Myrt. Caught pure hell from Miss Burtch for bein' there. She said I didn't have no business in that there court and me and Myrt was to stop babyin' them twins.
"Sure do hope she don't come back. Can't hardly get by when she's here. Doin' jest fine with Miss Monroe here."
"What do you mean?"
"Miss Burtch says Myrt and me ain't smart enough to do good with the money. We don't get a check like we do now. She take the money and give us what she want. If she say was do bad, she keep back and we don't hardly get enough to feed them kids."
"I'm sure Henry would want to know that."
They rode silently for a while, Ces wondering if he had said too much. He and Myrt loved those children but they had often felt they could not hold out - either financially or emotionally. What would Miss Burtch do if she would find out what Ces had said?
"Reckon maybe you shouldn't say nothin' to Henry. Miss Burtch can be some troublesome."
"Ces, you don't have to worry about Miss Burtch. It sounds to me like she's breaking the law. Henry needs to know."
"Reckon do she know, she be takin' them youngens from us. We come to like them kids real good and them Twins can't do with to much more hurt."
"Don't worry about it, Ces. Henry can see that nothing happens to the children."
Again, a long period of silence, "Weren't it for them kids, reckon I'd look for me a job with them cows. Reckon I'd take to workin' with them real good."
"I need another man. Come and work for me."
"Oh, I ain't smart enough to do what I seem them men doin'. They was writin' stuff down. I only done three years of schoolin."
"You're smart enough. You just need a chance to learn. There a difference between smart and how much schooling you've done."
"You reckon I could?"
"Sure do."
"Well, be fine but I need to be there with them kids. Myrt can't get them off to school by herself."
When they got back to Grünfelder, Marty had Ferdinand yoked up and was giving rides. Even Betje and Myrt got in to the white ox cart with Grünfelder painted on the side in green. Henry had had it built for Ferdinand and Marty's debut the day after tomorrow in Madison. Henry had suggested the rides. He was concerned that Ferdinand was only seven months old and had been in training only three months. Both Ferdinand and Marty needed the practice.
They did well and Henry was somewhat relieved. He was not so much afraid that Marty would get hurt or that Ferdinand would hurt someone else as he was that his Little Bird would not appear to everyone in Wisconsin to be as wonderful as Henry knew him to be.
When you're ten, even a very bright ten, many things are not easily understandable. Marty knew that today had been a very special day. It wasn't just the food or the fun. It had something to do with Uncle Ces crying before they ate. It had something to do with the twins being happy and having fun and it had much to do with being in Uncle Henry's lap. He'd been in that lap maybe a thousand times since they'd found each other but it never felt quite like this. Something way down inside him told him that today was even a better day than his birthday - maybe even a better than the day he found Uncle Henry. - - Uh, no - no day could ever be better than that day. What was it about this day? Marty had had many happy days since Uncle Henry came into his life but this wasn't just happy. It was ----?
Marty lay in his favorite position - head on Uncle Henry's chest, cuddled deep in those loving arms. He was trying to put words on his feelings and not having success. He knew that he was feeling the same thing that Uncle Ces had been feeling when he cried. "Uncle Henry, who was Uncle Ces talking to before we ate?'
"Uncle Ces was praying. He was talking to God."
"Ah - you said a bad word."
"Little Bird, God is only a bad word if you use it wrong."
"Uncle Henry, nothing really is. How do you know when you're being good and when you're being bad?"
"Marty, you are something. If we're not dealing with semantics, we're dealing with theology or philosophy. That's pretty heavy stuff for a nine year old."
"TEN!"
"Oh, right. I'm sorry."
"What are them words?"
"Marty!"
"Oh, ya, what are those words?"
"They are the names of ways of thinking about things. What you are talking about, Marty are absolutes. An absolute is something that really is. Theologians, those are people who study theology - that's the study of God - and philosophers; those are people who study philosophy - that kind of means knowing things - have been trying to figure out what absolutes are for thousands of years. You're ten and I'm sixty-seven. If they couldn't figure it out in thousands of years you and I won't get it done in the few years we've been alive. I know it's confusing but as you get older, you will decide on what are absolutes for you.
"Many people believe that God is a power or a being who made the world and who knows all the absolutes. When you talk about God that way, it is not a bad word. If you say, "God damn or, some people think that just saying, 'Oh God' is swearing or bad words. Does that help?"
"I guess. I wish things just were and not sometimes this and sometimes that."
"It would make things a lot easier, wouldn't it? But there is one thing that really is."
"What?"
"I love you, Little Bird."
Marty reached up and gave Henry a kiss. "I love you too. Can I have another piece of that orange pie?"
Henry pressed on Marty's bulging little tummy. "That's pumpkin pie. You really think you should? You put another thing in here, you'll explode."
"No I won't. I'll just let a big fart." There would be many more probing theological and philosophical questions as time went on but for now Marty knew how to move the conversation from the sublime to the earthy.