The Jefferson County coroner's office had found Kiki's family in Omaha. They wanted nothing to do with her funeral plans nor did they want anything to do with her child. She had disgraced the family and allowing their friends to know what she had become would certainly diminish their social standing. They would pay for simple burial and would sign anything relinquishing their rights to her child's custody so long as everything could be kept strictly confidential. Lovely people. Their snob stature was more important to them then their own flesh and blood.
Kidnapping carried a life sentence. Rick Olmstead had convinced Vito Punto that he might be able to convince a judge to reduce the sentence if Vito cooperated by getting Kate Burtch to return to Wisconsin of her own volition. Rick knew that he could extradite her but that would take time. He wanted to get this out of the way so the kids could get on with their lives. Lonny and Jenny were already in Madison with Sarah Collins but they needed to get this thing behind them. Both were concerned about having to go to court.
The near kidnapping of Freddy and Linda had completed the decision process for Steve and Irene Brainard and Ted and Sue Fulmore. Those families wanted those kids. They weren't taking any more chances of losing them so they wanted them now! Those children, too, needed to get this thing over with and get on with their lives.
There was one rather serious problem, however. Stevie had not been returned with the other children. Being eleven and not thinking of the possible consequences, when asked by the Chicago Child Protection people where he lived, he said Milwaukee. When contacted, the Milwaukee County people convinced the Chicago people that Stevie's placement in Jefferson County was only a temporary agreement and they were now ready to take him back. Stevie was sent to Milwaukee. Sarah Collins was furious. Stevie was far from well, had just again been traumatized and he needed her. The director of Milwaukee County Child Protection had aloofly informed Sarah that they were fully capable of taking care of their own problems. They didn't need some university know-it-all to tell them how to run their business.
There was no question that Kate would be found guilty. For one thing, she had been seen delivering the children by police personnel. The children themselves would testify against her but the coup de grâce was that Kate, in her infinite wisdom, had written the ransom note in her own handwriting. FBI people in Milwaukee had already matched that handwriting and Kate's fingerprints were all over the note. It had to have been the booze. Even Kate's colossal arrogance would not have caused her to make such a stupid blunder.
Vito was, indeed, an artful liar. He told Kate that if she wanted her money, she had to come up and get it herself. Yes, the merchandise had been delivered to Capo. This part of Wisconsin was so pretty and relaxing and he'd thought stay a while. He could probably get a little action around Madison or Milwaukee. He'd heard they didn't make much book in them towns.
It worked and Kate was arrested as soon as she crossed the state line.
Kate approached her arraignment with her usual arrogance. It was not a crime to walk out of a detox center. However, when Vito and the children were paraded out, she stared, open-mouthed for only a moment and then collapsed. She never completely recovered.
She lay for weeks drifting in and out of consciousness, her left side paralized and her speech slured. Occasionally she would become alert enough to understand her situation. She would then revert to her old abusive arrogance - screaming at the doctors and nurses, demanding her lawyer, cursing and becoming physically, although weakly, violent when refused vodka.
Sometimes she would be aware of the hopelessness of her situation - both legal and physical. She would then mentally replay her life, and anguish over what she knew now to have been so foolishly reprehensible. She knew then that she had never been superior; that she had been jealous of Libby's successes and too lazy to create her own successes. Rather than become what she easily could have become, she had invented the persona which she now was forced to recognize, regret and hate.
Her siblings came to visit and depending on her then current state of rationality, she was hateful or tearfully repentant. She died during one of her belligerent states, screaming at a tearful but resigned Libby. The death certificate listed her death as massive stroke possibly precipitated by her agitation, hypertension and severe liver damage.
Although there was no noticeable change in his demeanor, Marty noticed in himself a new lightness of spirit. He wondered about it. He couldn't think what was making the difference. He was, for all practical purposes living where he really, really, really wanted to live - in his and Uncle Henry's house. Not officially, of course, but that's where he ate and slept and where all his stuff was. So he didn't care what the law said, he lived with Uncle Henry.
He was still getting all A's in school. He had his calf but he couldn't call him a calf anymore where Ferdinand could hear. Since his daddy was from New Jersey or whatever Uncle Henry said, Ferdinand wasn't as big as even the heifers that had a Holstein for a daddy but he was pretty big. He wasn't a year old yet but Marty never said calf around him. Marty thought it hurt Ferdinand's feelings. He had his pony and his bike and Fritz and Uncle Reind and Aunt Betje and Larry and Uncle Ces and Aunt Myrt and all those new kids. He even still had Freddy and Linda for a while yet but as soon as somebody could get all that legal junk worked out, they were going to their new homes. Freddy said it was really neat in Green Bay and if his new mom said he could, Marty could come for a weekend sometime. So far as Marty was concerned, he had everything - but even if he didn't have all that stuff, he had Uncle Henry.
He was even getting to sing but only when he wanted to. Aunt Marybeth was keeping Mrs. Bloom off his back. If Meg Bloom had her way, Marty would no longer be a little boy but her puppet. She would be inflating her ego as she exploited the boy's talent and stole his childhood.
When Marybeth would not let Meg dominate Marty's life, Meg said that Marybeth was interfering with God's plan for Marty. Marty, she said, had a God-given talent and should not be wasting it playing with cows and dogs and horses and particularly not on singing Country Music. He should be developing his voice by vocalizing and doing the classics and, since he would not cooperate with her, she'd have to fail him in music.
It didn't happen. Marty never got anything but the A's he earned in music and Meg Bloom's ears were probably still burning twenty-five years after she discovered that behind that sweet, demure personality of Marybeth's was a real buzz saw. Marybeth was never less than a lady but she was a lady who would not allow herself or those she loved to be walked on.
Anyway, Marty felt that his life had been perfect. The Mrs. Bloom thing had been his only real problem for months beside that Vito thing and Mrs. Bloom quit bugging him a long time ago. Why did he feel like some kind of load had been lifted? How can your life get better when it's already perfect?
When the reason occurred to him, it really, really, really worried him. He knew that he was being bad sometimes. Sometimes he knew he was being bad and just kept on being bad. In a way, it was kind of fun. He didn't know why but sometimes he just had to do things Uncle Henry told him not to. When he did that stuff, Uncle Henry would say, "God! What are you going to be like when you're adolescent?"
But sometime when he wasn't even trying to be bad, he just was. Kiki and Miss Bitch were dead and he was glad they were. That had to be bad. You shouldn't be glad when people are dead. But Marty didn't have to wonder if Kiki would ever bring a druggy around again or if Miss Bitch would ever "take" him or try to make him tell lies about Uncle Henry again. Marty felt that even if those people did bad things to him, he shouldn't be glad they were dead.
"You know what, Uncle Henry. I'm glad Kiki and Miss Bit - - uh - Miss Burtch are dead. I wish I didn't but I just do. That's bad, isn't it?"
"Do you remember when we were talking about your dad and you said that you hoped that he could die so he wouldn't have to suffer anymore?"
"Oh, ya. Kiki was sad and maybe she hurt and now she doesn't. It's not bad to be glad that someone doesn't hurt anymore.
"But Miss Burtch wasn't a druggy. It's bad to be glad she's dead, isn't it?"
"Marty, two things about Miss Burtch. First, no one can be as unkind as she was unless they hurt somehow. I don't know what her hurt was but it had to have been there. Second, Miss Burtch would have died soon anyway. She did not drink beer like your dad but she was a heavy drinker. She drank Vodka and that does the same things to a body as drinking beer.
"Marty, I think you're more glad that people who did bad things to you can't do them anymore. These two happen to be dead but I think you'd feel just as glad if they were in jail or very far away from you. What do you think?"
"Probably, but wouldn't it be better if people could stop hurting or being sad and not be in jail or dead?"
"It would be better but life just isn't that way. It would have been better if your Aunt Annie could have stopped suffering without having to die but it didn't happen. We've talked about this kind of thing before. Annie was a good, good person but she died. I was sad for five years because she died but now I know that I was also glad that she could stop suffering. I'm still sad but I learned that sometimes when something very bad happens something very good like a Little Bird hiding in your bushes happens too."
"I love you too Uncle Henry and you know what? I love Aunt Annie too. How can I love her when I didn't even know her?"
"You love her because you love me and you love what I love."
"Would she have loved me as much as you do?"
"Oh, yes she would have, Little Bird. You're impossible not to love."
"I don't think Kiki loved me."
"You said once that your dad was not the boss of his life. Kiki was not the boss of her life either. She couldn't love you because she loved only heroin."
Marty snuggled into Henry. "You know what? If she did love me, I never would have found you."
There's nothing to say to that. One just has to hold his Little Bird close and shed tears.
Even though Marty felt his life was perfect, Henry knew that there was a specter out there. He had been relieved when Kiki's family expressed no interest in assuming custody of Marty but there was still Mart's family. Actually, the doctors in Milwaukee were surprised that Mart was still alive. He could not, however, last much longer and Henry knew that if any family existed, they would have to be notified of Mart's death and of the existence of Marty. Would they want to take the boy? If they did, Henry could do nothing to stop them. He called Homer Deering and asked him to get on it.
Henry's birthday was April First. That fact had been both the source of vexation and frivolity all his life. In about third grade he had been nicknamed, Fool, and it stuck with him through high school and was a major source of annoyance. He may have been the best student and one of the best athletes but to everyone but the teachers, he was "Fool". Actually, he never really minded when used among his friends or other schoolmates. It was when it was used around some girl he was trying to impress that it was annoying and required explanation. In his adulthood, his birth date was more a reason for good-natured wit. But, he was stuck with it and had survived sixty-eight years of barbs and ribs.
When one is about to become sixty-eight, one's birthday is no big deal. When you're ten, however, and you deeply love the guy who is about to become sixty-eight, it's a very big deal. Had he known all the ladies in Jefferson, Marty would have pressed them all into service. Since he didn't, he had to make do with Aunt Myrt, Aunt Betje, Aunt Marybeth, Aunt Cindy, and the two newest members of his sorority of Aunts, Aunt Sarah Collins and Aunt Irene Brainard. By virtue of being Marybeth Marshall, she became titular chairman of the Martin Tolliver Committee for the Commemoration of the Natal Day of Henrich Ernst Schmidt.
Marty Moments had, in the last several months become rarer and more subdued. Not this one. Marty tried to contain himself because he was sure that Uncle Henry would connect his animation to April 1st and wreck the surprise. Henry did wonder some but did not connect Marty's exuberance with his birthday. He thought it had to do with the worries from which Marty had recently been released.
It turned out to be a hell of a party. A very much-toned down Bill Hatcher was the life of the party. All of Henry's "old" friends were there and being spring, Jim Ritter was back from his winter in Arizona. Of course, all the Jefferson circle were there.
Marty was the cock of the walk that evening. He did not usually display undue pride in his accomplishments but that night he couldn't help it. He'd pulled it off. He'd really, really, really surprised Uncle Henry.
One of the Milwaukee guys had gotten a new, young mal-practice defense lawyer to ask Henry to come for the day and give him some advice on a couple cases. Henry was glad to do it. He missed the adrenaline of litigation. Henry had no idea what was going on in his horse barn while he was in Milwaukee playing lawyer.
Jefferson wasn't that big a town but the Badger was known far and wide and they put on a hell of a feed. Marybeth and Dex had gotten the big money guys from Milwaukee and Chicago to pay for that. There was no entertainment other than good conversation. Wives were there so even Bill Hatcher sounded almost like a Sunday School teacher.
Only one gift was given. Marty had insisted on that. The gift from the old guys was the food. All of the Jefferson People were emphatically told by Marty - NO GIFTS! Just before things started to break-up, a breeder from New York led out a beautifully conformed, extremely well pedigreed, ten month Belgian stallion that Henry had been dickering over. Henry had the guy down to $12,000. The breeder, in jest, told Henry that he better let that little shit do all Grünfelder horse trading in the future. The kid offered $10,500 and said that if he ever wanted to do business with Grünfelder again, he better take it. "If it had been you, I'd have held out for the twelve but how the hell do you say "No" to that cute, persistent little shit?
"I got the check. Where the hell did that kid get that kind of money?"
"Who signed the check?"
"It was a cashier's check from some bank in Frisco."
"Damn, my Little Bird's even got Les Daily wrapped around his finger."
Marty jumped into Henry's arms. "He's from me, Uncle Henry. Just me. I knew you wanted him. I made that guy sell him and I got a good price."
"Yes, but where did you get the money?" - as if he didn't know.
"Uncle Les loaned it to me. He said I could pay him back when I'm twenty-one. I don't know if I can get that much money by then but I'll try really, really, really hard. I want that horse to be from me, not from Uncle Les."
"Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll find a way.
"I love your gift but not as much as I love you."
"Geez, Uncle Henry. Don't cry."
"I can't help it, Little Bird - good food, good friends and the best Little Bird God ever created."
Marty talked Bobby's mom into letting Bobby stay for the weekend. Uncle Henry promised to bring him home Sunday evening.
The boys had worked out a kind of once a month arrangement. They called each other occasionally but each had his own life and was satisfied just to know that the other was all right and to see one another occasionally.
Sarah Collins had been at the party but she knew that was not the time to share the kind of news she had. She called Henry the next day. She had gotten word that the Milwaukee agency had sent Stephen Zubor to a family in Missouri with the intention that he be adopted. Stevie was in no way ready for normal family life. Could Henry do anything about it?
After many phone calls, the help of several lawyer friends in Milwaukee and even the political clout of Hal Burwick, the answer was "No." The child was a ward of Milwaukee County and that court had complete confidence in their Child Protection Agency to act in the best interest of the child. The best efforts of many people not withstanding, Stevie dropped out of their lives.
The number of children in foster care at Martin House was growing steadily and Myrt couldn't always depend on volunteer help. At Marty's suggestion, Henry asked Sarah to interview Maria Rojas. Sarah was impressed. Maria's English was good enough and her Spanish could become very valuable. A trial employment proved her work habits excellent and her learning ability quick. Her children would live with the other kids but Maria was satisfied that they would find time to be a family. It worked out well and Marty was thrilled to have Julio so close. They had played together almost since they were babies. Maria's older daughters could help with the cleaning and some care of younger children and still complete their schooling as well as make a little spending money.
The treatment facility, set some distance from the original house, which housed the foster children, was coming along nicely. Rapport between Henry and the University people was excellent. Legalities had worked out smoothly. The entire complex would be called Martin House but each division: the Group Home and the Ernst Schmidt Memorial Treatment Center would have separate boards. After all, if it were not for Ernst's seed money, none of this would be happening.
Henry would be ex officio on both. Henry would retain ownership of the land and the original house. The University would own the Treatment facility. The University would lease the land on which the Treatment Center was located for a term of one hundred years at the cost of one dollar a year.
If Sarah Collins were ever to be replaced, Henry or his heir would not hire the new director but would have a right of refusal should he not approve of the University's choice. The original endowment for the Martin House was ten million; five million of which was donated by Henry Schmidt. The other moneys came from friends of the University and Wisconsin citizens to whom such a facility appealed. It was a wonderful beginning for a much-needed facility.
In the matter of Mervin Gross, John Miller did arrange a plea bargain. Marvin resigned his position, was placed on five years probation and given a menial job in the bowels of some minor state bureaucracy. He really got off easier than he should have but his cooperation and silence did assist in rescuing Jenny and Lonnie.
The sitting governor at Hal Burwick's behest rejected Ruth Mean's nomination for Mervin's replacement. Henry and Jerry Dissler had had several serious conversations with Hal about the inadequacies of and possible fraud in the State's Department of Social Services. Hal, at first found what he was told hard to believe. As was the case with most politicians, Hal had never bothered to look into the state Department of Social Services. They all had for years just believed what they were told by spokespeople for the department and, of course, kids couldn't vote so why bother. Hal did, however, trust Henry's judgment and after a conversation with Sarah Collins, Hal was so alarmed with what he was told that he persuaded the House to investigate the department. His own son had been a victim of that broken system. He was angry - both at the system and himself. He had no idea what his son - and other children - had been put through. He knew now that he should have made it his business to know.
That investigation was far from complete but Hal had enough information to know that Ruth Mean's suggestions should never be taken and that she herself should be relieved of her duties.
The sitting Governor, Franklin Driscoll, had been defeated in the primaries and polls indicated that there was a very good chance that Hal Burwick would be the next Governor of Wisconsin. With the finesse of a diplomat, Hal kindly suggested that it would be a shame if Frank's administration were remembered only for a scandal in Social Services. It probably could be kept under wraps if Ruth Mean were allowed to quietly resign NOW and move out of state. If she were to stay in Wisconsin, Hal's people would probably have to charge her.
Sarah Collins recommended Fred Fulmore but he would not complete his dissertation and orals until fall. Henry suggested that they ask Art Conrad to fill in. He did. The Social work community was not at all happy that an "outsider" was running their department but word got around quickly that he was a tough old geezer and that the law had better be followed to the letter.
May 19 was approaching. For Henry it was still a day of very mixed emotions but now very bearable because it was the day that Marty came into his life. With Marty's grades, Steve Brainard saw no problem with Marty missing the last week and a half of the school year. Henry had decided they should spend their first anniversary in Alaska. Marty had seen enough last year to be excited to spend a whole month, maybe more there but he refused to go until some kind of homage was paid to Aunt Annie. He asked Aunt Marybeth to help him think something up. All Marty asked was that whatever they did, he'd get to sing a song for Aunt Annie.
Marybeth could think of no better homage than the bell-clear voice of the child Annie would have loved had she been here. She taught Marty a song that Marty liked but it was kind of sad - all except the last verse. All the members of what had come to be known as the Grünfelder Circle gathered at Annie's grave the Sunday before Henry and his Little Bird were to leave. It was really not a sad occasion but there was not a dry eye as Marty sang:
"Beyond the sunset, O glad reunion,
With our dear loved ones who've gone before,
In that fair homeland we'll know no parting.
Beyond the sunset forever more."
Maybe it was a little early in the year to be in Alaska but not for Marty. When they flew over the back country, the snow covered mountains and valleys were breath taking and stuff like moose and caribou and wolves and early rising bears were easier to see in the snow.
And - the best part. You can't take dog sled rides in the summer.
Denali was awesome. It was better while it was still winter. They flew out there twice - both times on clear bright days. In the summer, too often, there are clouds or fog at the top but they saw the whole mountain, glaciers and all. Lord, it was beautiful.
They went almost to the Chukchi Sea to an Inuit village. It was there that Marty got to ride the dog sled. It was really, really, really fun and there was a kid there about Marty's age. Kids are kids and just as with Jan, even though they couldn't speak each other's language, they found a way to communicate and were playing together.
The boy's father through Henry's interpreter, somewhat sadly, told Henry that next year the boy would go to boarding school in Nome. He will learn English and other ways and probably like most other Inuit children who go to Nome, will forget the old ways. "It is very sad", he said, "to see the old ways die. But the government makes us send our children to school. I don't know. They have had much school. I have had no school. Perhaps they know better what is best for our children. I don't know. He is my only son. I will miss him. I will not be able to teach him how to catch the seal or go out to kill the whale as my father taught me. He will learn to eat food from a tin can. He will probably learn to think that his mother and I are foolish. It is very sad. I will miss him.
"See how he plays and is happy. Will he be happy when he goes to Nome or will he learn to drink whiskey and die very young like my brother's son? I don't know. It is very sad."
Henry could empathize but not completely. He remembered with fond nostalgia his rural childhood but he did not have to move from the primitive to the modern. True, life in the early 1900s was rustic. He much preferred modern plumbing to the hand pump and the outhouse but his move through the flow of history had been gradual. This child would make a traumatic leap of hundreds of cultural years and from one ethnic society to another - perhaps a hostile one. Would it be better for the boy to live his life as had his ancestors? Henry didn't know and was glad the decision wasn't his.
They went back down to Anchorage and went whale watching. Ten and a half or not, Marty had an old fashion nine-year-old Marty Moment. Actually, Henry had a sixty-eight year old version of a Marty Moment. There were so many of them and their breaching and fluke slapping - - Awesome! What majestic beasts!