The Friesema's application was, of course, denied. When Henry called Kate to inquire why, she said that the boy's family was now ready to take him back. From his conversations with Larry, Henry had gotten the idea that the boy had been in foster care since he was three years old. Parental rights should have long ago been terminated.
Henry called Mervin Gross and asked that Lawrence Witte's file be sent to him immediately. Marvin said that Kate was out of the office and he would have to get her permission or she'd be very upset. Completely contrary to his usual gentlemanly manner, Henry said, "Now, you listen to me, you goddam wimp. I'm the judge in this county and all matters concerning child wards of the court are mine to decide. I don't give a damn how pissed off Kate Burtch gets. I want the goddam file and I want it now!"
"But you don't have to work with her. She can be....."
"Listen to me, Mervin. I don't give a shit what she can be. I want the damn file and I want it over here now!"
Henry was handed a file in fifteen minutes. It took only about two minutes to realize that he had been sent the wrong file. The dates indicated that this kid was fifteen. Henry looked at the name on the file. It was Lonny Witman. The secretary who had brought it over had simply pulled the wrong file. Probably the one right next to Lawrence Witte's. But, that simple mistake may have opened a can of worms. Lonny Witman's file indicated that he lived at the Troller's group home. Henry knew the kid was not living at Troller's. Where the hell was he?
When the correct file was delivered to him, Henry saw that parental rights on Lawrence Witte had been terminated ten years ago. The child should have been made available for adoption at that time.
Although he knew that he'd live in hell when Kate found out, Mervin was more frightened of Henry's current dudgeon. He quickly approved the foster parenting license for the Friesemas.
Henry also wanted to know from Mervin when Kate was taking her vacation. He had some concerns about at least one child and he wanted to look at all her files. Mervin was to keep his damn mouth shut. Kate was not to know that Henry was going over her files. That's why he wanted to do it while Kate was out of town. If Kate learned of Henry's interest in her caseload and if anything illegal was discovered, since Mervin was her boss, he would be culpable. Henry would throw Mervin's ass so far in jail that it would take an expedition to find him.
Mervin hung up the phone and took a double shot of brandy. His hands trembled. He had to deal with Kate every day and he knew her well enough to know that she did as she pleased. She may well have been stretching the law. He had never known Henry Schmidt to be so angry. If Kate was stretching the law, in Henry's current frame of mind, a stretch would be a break. Mervin poured himself another double.
For all he'd gone through in his life, Larry Witte was a pretty stable kid. He had learned long ago that he had no control over what happened to him and he, as they say, took it in stride. In many ways, he was a normal thirteen-year-old kid with the normal mood swings that come with adolescence. If, however, a psychologist had tested him that week, he would have sworn that the kid was bipolar.
When he thought about the farm and Uncle Reind and Aunt Betje, he was euphoric. He knew he was going to get to go back. They wouldn't have bought him three Grünfelder Farms suits for only one weekend. He had had so much fun and he loved the cows and he - - did he? - should he? love Uncle Reind and Aunt Betje?
Trying to go to sleep at night was the worst. He knew they'd dump him. He tried to make himself hate them but then he remembered being hugged or kissed. He remembered lying there all covered with milk replacer, waiting to be chewed out but instead being held in Uncle Reind arms. He remembered coming out of the shower naked and feeling like Aunt Betje was his mother. But - they'd dump him, he just knew they'd dump him - and then he'd cry himself to sleep.
The next weekend was good. Saturday morning when he got up at four o'clock, Aunt Betje made him go back to bed. "You're just a knaap. You need more sleep than this. You can feed you calves after breakfast and help with the milking tonight. Now, back to bed with you."
She playfully tapped him lightly on the butt. He didn't think. He just turned around and hugged her. He didn't think about being dumped. He was being treated like a son and when that happens, you can't help it - you act like one.
Larry had to be awakened for breakfast. He felt sleepier then than he had at 4:00. It was a good day. No mistakes no mess-ups and while he was there, no doubts. He never thought once about getting dumped. To Reind and Betje the boy appeared much more relaxed. Next week - they'd tell him.
Marty and Uncle Henry went back to the cabin. Uncle Henry could fly cast all day but Marty got tired of it about noon and spent the afternoon with Fritz hunting bear. They are harder to find than lions and you have to go a long way if you're going to get any. Marty lost count of the bears that he and Fritz had gotten but he was sure of one thing. He had no idea how to get back to the cabin. He was frightened but when you live as Marty had, you don't admit fear. As if he were completely composed, he said, "Let's go home, Fritz".
Fritz got them back to the cabin.
Marty sauntered in just at dusk. "I was beginning to worry about you, Honey. I called and you didn't answer. I wish you wouldn't go so far away that you can't hear me when I call."
"Well, Fritz got lost and I had to help him find the way home."
"Fritz got lost?"
Marty knew that Uncle Henry knew the truth but when you cuddle up in his lap, you don't have to admit you were wrong. Anyway, Marty was still a little scared and that havening lap was where he needed to be.
It occurred to Marty that he had not had that feeling since he got Uncle Henry - that thing that was like the whole world was there but that he wasn't part of it. Things happened but he couldn't make them happen or stop them from happening. He felt things but he couldn't make himself feel things or stop himself from feeling things. But now he was part of the world. He could make himself feel happy by just thinking about Uncle Henry and he could make himself stop feeling unhappy or afraid by just crawling into Uncle Henry's lap.
He didn't like that feeling of being lost. It made him feel like he was back on Dort Street and that kids were saying that he stinked and that he was a stealer. When that happened before, it just happened. It was stuff that was in that world of which he was not a part - over which he had no control. But now he was part of the world - or maybe he always had been but he had just not been a part of anyone else's world. That was probably it. He knew that Uncle Henry was just as happy that Marty was in his lap as Marty was happy to be there. Even if Fritz had not found the way home, Uncle Henry would have found him. He was part of Uncle Henry's world and Marty could not think of a better world in which to be.
When Henry couldn't find Marty, he too, felt some of the pangs of his recent past. He felt that emptiness, that despair but only for a moment. There was a boy out there who needed him - a boy whom he desperately needed. He could not be depressed right now. He was needed. So he shouted and called. He was preparing to call the Department of Natural Resources Officer and the State Police when Marty came sauntering in - fear in his eyes but forced bravado on his face and in his demeanor. Henry took the boy into his arms. He needed Marty on his lap as much as Marty needed to be there.
Nothing more was said for several minutes. They had each other. They had their lives back - their worlds back. It may have been foolish. Marty surely would have been found but both knew worlds of emptiness, of fear, of desperation and they had known those worlds too recently. They didn't feel foolish. Marty felt loved and Henry felt, as he always did when he held Marty, blessed. Their worlds were equable again.
The spring sun was setting over the lake. Scattered clouds of varying density were reflecting a myriad of colors. There were shades of yellows, purples, reds and that deep golden crimson that makes any sunset a spiritual experience. The beauty of the sky duplicated itself in the lake. Such beauty has to grab the soul - even of a frightened nine year old boy. What they saw and what they were feeling was the stuff of poetry but it was really beyond poetry. Attempting to reduce that moment to words would have been obscene. It was a private, very personal thing that each could not have described to the other even though they knew they were, at that moment, one soul.
When beauty is beyond even the capabilities of poets, that should be enough. But the graceful swooping over the lake of perhaps a hundred black, swallow-like birds added animation - made the beauty come alive - made that panorama of awe a living thing that bored so deeply into Marty's soul that he found himself crying. He wasn't sad. He was no longer afraid. He wasn't even consciously happy - all the things that usually made him cry. He didn't know what he was but he knew that he never wanted whatever he was at that moment ever to end.
But it did end. The sun sank below the surface of the lake and took with it the colors. The birds headed for their roosts and all that was left in the twilight was the love between Marty and Henry. But it wasn't the same love. They had shared a spiritual experience that somehow had changed them. One cannot have seen and felt what they had and remain unchanged.
Henry said to no one in particular, "The Martins are coming back".
Marty, still somewhat under the spell but still very much Marty said, "I ain't coming back. I'm already back, silly."
"No, no, not you, Honey. The birds are Purple Martins."
"The birds are Martins?"
"Yes."
Major Marty Moment. The boy jumped off Henry's lap and ran around the yard flapping his arms, shouting, "I'm a bird. I'm a bird." Fritz as usual, caught up in Marty's enthusiasm, was running at Marty's heels. Henry was sure the dog was trying to run and flap his legs at the same time.
Eventually an exhausted, sweaty little Marty plopped himself into Henry's lap. "I was a bird. I was flying. How come Fritz was up there with me?"
"Fritz is a bird dog."
"Oh, ya."
"You know what? I bet I'm the only boy in the whole world who is a bird."
"You may be but what's important is that you are my Little Bird."
"I ain't little."
"No, you're a big boy but you are my Little Bird."
Marty snuggled closer. "Little Bird is kind of like a dog name, ain't it?"
"I think you mean pet name."
"Oh, ya, that."
"Yes it is a pet name. It's the kind of name you give to people you love very much."
"I thought so. I like being your Little Bird."