Henry, Reind and Ulrick Hoffmann met occasionally mostly just to keep each other current.Henry had just returned from Indiana and within a week two in-foal mares and a yearling stallion would arrive at Grünfelder. Both Reind and Ulrick were concerned as to the size of the horse herd Henry had in mind and if he intended to allow the dairy herd to continue to grow larger. Three thousand acres were not going to support too many more animals unless Henry intended to start buying feed grain. Had Henry considered buying the Willit place across the road? Those 480 acres could provide pastureland for the young stuff of the dairy herd and enough ground to cultivate to provide enough grain for the additional cows and Henry's horses.
Henry had thought about the land. Homer Willit had died in July and his estate was still in probate. It had not really been a working farm. Much of the land had been in the Soil Bank since Henry had moved to the area. The buildings were in good shape but the house offered a bit of a problem. It was a very large house, probably almost a hundred years old. Henry had never been in the house because he and his cattle had not been particularly welcome intruders into the genteel country life of the very socially conscious Mariel Willit. She was much younger than Homer, a kind of trophy wife and was of a nouveau riche Chicago family. The country living envisioned by a faux, self-acclaimed urban socialite had to do with green fields, gently wooded glades and rippling streams. Cattle and the accompanying sounds and aromas were gauche and highly resented intrusions.
When Henry realized the pique that existed between the neighbors, he offered to buy the Willit property. Mariel, however, would rather fight. Henry had never directly involved himself in the dispute. He left that to his lawyers. Mariel brought a series of harassing suits. She lost them all. These were Wisconsin judges and juries she was dealing with. This was, after all, dairy country and one should expect that people would own cows in dairy country.
The few times Henry had met Homer, Homer had seemed almost embarrassed. After Mariel had left with a gigolo type in a fast sports car and probably a great deal of Homer's money, Homer became almost a recluse. Henry had thought occasionally that he should show some sympathy but Henry was, at the time, in no condition to be a balm to anyone.
All that to say that Henry wanted the land but thought he had no use for the house. It was too historic to tear down and probably too highly taxed to make it a viable rental.
"I'd buy the land but what would I do with the house?"
Reind had a ready answer. "Move Ces, Myrt and the kids out here. I've told you that I have come to depend heavily on Ces. I really need him closer."
Well, of course. He could have his Little Bird right across the road. Henry called Les Daily that afternoon and asked him to get the property purchased.
Marty kept his word. The first two weekends after they returned from Hawaii, Saturdays and Sundays were given to cleaning out the horse barn. Despite Larry cajoling, Marty would not play until he'd "paid-back" Uncle Henry. Henry had told Marty after the first weekend that his responsibilities were met but Marty did not think a kid could earn that much money that fast. He insisted on giving his second weekend to the task. He knew that Uncle Henry gave him too much and was afraid he was being let off too easily. He was determined to pay for the gift he had given his father. He worked hard and long. In the evenings, cuddled in Uncle Henry's lap was one tired Little Bird.
Part of the reason for Marty's diligence, perhaps a major part was that Larry had regular chores. Larry was part of the workforce, part of what made Grünfelder run. Larry was not only loved; he was an important part of making things happen. Marty knew that he was probably the most important thing in Uncle Henry's life and that he did make Uncle Henry happy but he had this yearning to be important as Larry was important. He wanted to contribute so even if he had paid Uncle Henry back, he kept working because it made him feel that he was helping Grünfelder run. After the wood scraps were cleaned up and burned, Marty asked for more jobs. He had chores at Aunt Myrt's but those were like girl things: emptying waste baskets, helping with the dishes, picking up his and Freddy's room - stuff like that. He couldn't even do that at Uncle Henry's. Mrs. Moffet, the cleaning lady, did all that. Anyway, he wanted man stuff to do like Larry had.
Marty was not a perfect child. He had his moods and his foibles, as did every other ten-year-old. He could become irritable if overly tired and he occasionally did things he'd been asked not to do such as going to the woods without telling Uncle Henry or Aunt Betje if she were looking after him at the time. He and Larry would become angry with one another occasionally and he could still be bossy. But he had insight far beyond his years and a kind of innate compassion that so dominated his being that they tended to mask his less desirable traits.
Marty was handsome, cute and talented and was frequently told that. Word of his singing ability had gotten around and, of course, he was the "little brother" of one of the town's most prominent citizens. Marty became annoyed when people told him what a nice, talented boy he was. He understood that many of the compliments were pity for what he had been. It embarrassed him when people gushed over him. He did not want to be pitied. Just as he did not want to be the stinky kid, he did not want to be the "nice" kid. He wanted to be just a kid.
On February first, with a positive recommendation from Jill Monroe, the Friesema's attorney petitioned the Court to wave the usual waiting period and finalize the adoption of Lawrence Witte. Henry also filed an amicus curiae brief supporting the petition. On February fifteenth, Larry officially became Lawrence David Friesema. Reind was so overcome that he held his son in an embrace and wept for fifteen minutes. Betje, no less emotional but a bit more restrained, dabbed at her eyes and stroked her son's hair with the kind of pride and protective air of any first time mother. Henry wept. Marty sobbed. Larry experienced all possible manifestations of joy. To go further into that festivity would become maudlin.
A few other things, however, do need mention. When Reind and Betje could take their attention from their son and again became aware of their surroundings, they found themselves in the embrace of Betje's parents and Reind's sister and nephew. Henry knew that a family cannot be made complete without "family" there. What a joyous reunion.
It took Larry a week to come back to earth. For thirteen years he's had no one. Now he had family: parents, grandparents, an aunt and even a cousin. He was finally a regular kid with all the things regular kids had.
Marty had to struggle with Larry's adoption. Larry got what Marty so desperately wanted. Because he and Uncle Henry had discussed the matter so frequently, he said nothing but he cried himself to sleep for several nights. How can you be so happy and so sad at the same time?
Jan Friesema, not unlike Larry had felt deeply his lack of family. True he had his mother but Uncle Reind and Aunt Betje were in America and that doesn't do you much good when you live in Beverwijk. His Friesema grandparents had been older when his mother and Uncle Reind were born and both had died before Jan had any memory of them. He also knew nothing of his father.
Jan was almost as excited as Larry to have a cousin. He was only two months younger than Larry but looked only a month or two older than Marty. So to him, Larry became a much admired older cousin. Larry accepted his cousin's veneration graciously and knowing that he was held in such high regard continued the growth of his confidence and self-respect. Larry was fast becoming in his own mind what he really always was - a regular kid.
What is it with kids? Jan's English was very limited and Larry's Dutch was almost nonexistent but they found a way to relate. There seems to be a kind of kid wavelength that makes spoken language unnecessary. The boys were fast friends within a day and in the month Jan was there each learned some of the other's language but they communicated mostly in "Kid". It seemed to make little difference that one was born in Europe and the other in North America. A kid is a kid and there is an innate mutual understanding one for the other. Marty understood "Kid" too and he joined in the fun and in the tears when it was time for Jan to return to Holland.