Autumn golds, reds, oranges and yellows crowned the Smoky Mountains, on the crisp morning Bob and Jill married on Clingman’s Dome, highest point in the national park. Most of their guests grumbled as they hiked up a paved path, one and a half miles from the parking lot to the observation tower. Bob shrugged and smiled, telling them to blame Jill—it was her idea.
“What kind of a girl would want to get married up here I don’t know,” Mr. Meade said as he plopped on one of the many benches along the path.
“She’s my girl, Dad.”
“And she’s a good one.” The old bald-headed man looked up and smiled. “You know, I wish your mother was here.”
“I wish she were too.” Bob looked away, and his eye twitched.
“She’d give me a hit in the arm and say, ‘See, I told you the boy would get married.’”
Bob gave his father an odd look which caused Mr. Meade to duck his head.
“Sorry, son, I never did think you’d get married. I don’t know why.”
That’s all right, Dad.”
“She’d hit me again and say, ‘See, he got himself a good job too.’” He did not wait for Bob’s look. “I guess I wasn’t a very good dad. I never did think you’d amount to much. I thought that I’d end up having to pay for your groceries the rest of your life.”
“We better keep moving.” Bob glanced up the path.
***
Already at the top of the mountain in a motorized wheelchair, Heinrich pouted and glowered at Greta who fussed with flowers lining the ramp which circled to the top of the observation tower.
“Woods are no place for a wedding,” he said.
“Oh, Heinrich, this isn’t the woods. This is a nice tower on top of the mountains.” She looked out at the clear panorama. “Jill is very lucky there are no clouds today. You can see all the pretty colors on the trees.” She sighed. “Just like Oberbach.”
“This is not like Oberbach. Oberbach was a dirty little town.”
“How can you say that? Oberbach was our home.”
“Our home, yes, but it was still a dirty little town.”
“Shush, Heinrich, here comes two people and a man with a guitar.”
“Guitar’s not right for a wedding…”
“Shush, Heinrich. I think it’s the minister and his wife.”
The preacher, a fleshy man in his fifties, leaned on the arm of his stout spouse, and managed a smile as he approached Greta.
“Mrs. Smith, your granddaughter certainly has a flair for the dramatic.”
“Schmidt,” Greta said.
“Pardon?”
“Our name is Schmidt.” She put on her tough grin. “Our son Edward, Jill’s papa, changed his name to Smith.”
“Oh.” He recovered fast as he wiped his brow. “Well, she certainly knows how to start a marriage out on a high.”
His wife slapped his arm and laughed.
***
As the last of the guests began their torturous ascent up the path, Jill, in an antique ivory lace gown, eased out of a limousine followed by her mother and father.
“The bottom of her dress will be soiled by the path to the top.” Ed frowned.
“If you bothered to look,” Carol said with a smile, “you’d see Jill picked a street length gown to avoid that problem.”
“Still, it doesn’t seem…”
“You’re sounding like your father,” she said.
“You don’t think it’ll rain, do you?” Jill surveyed the sky.
“I checked with the Weather Bureau, and everything will be fine.” Her mother patted her shoulder.
“Fine? Those people huffing up the mountain will never buy another car from me again,” Ed groused.
“Don’t listen to your father, dear.” Carol put her arm about Jill and led her to the path. “It’s the businessman in him coming out.”
***
Further up the path, Bob and his father sat again on a bench.
“Tell me one thing.” The old man leaned over and asked in confidence, “Has she been with other men?”
“I don’t know.” Bob looked up to see a couple of guests walk by. He smiled in embarrassment, hoping they had not heard his father’s question. “I didn’t ask.”
“That’s good.” His father tapped him on the knee. “Maybe she won’t have nobody to compare you to.”
“Let’s get going, Dad. Jill’s going to beat us up the mountain.”
As they began to walk, Bob’s father stopped him.
“You’ve been with a woman, ain’t you?”
“Keep walking, Dad.”
***
The guitar player shook out his long black hair and began tuning his instrument. Heinrich watched him with disgust. He waved to Greta to come over to him.
“That person with the guitar, is that a boy or a girl?”
“Shush, Heinrich,” Greta said. “That’s one of Jill’s students, a very fine musician, she says.”
“Fine musician, fine place to have a wedding—foolishness.”
Joe, Betty and Ernie reached the top of the mountain, heaving and looking for a place to sit. Just as they settled into chairs, Greta jerked them up and herded them over to Heinrich.
“This is the grandfather of the bride.” She beamed. “And I’m the grandma.”
“I’m Joe Matthieson, Bob’s boss at the television station.” Joe extended his hand. “This is Betty Sargent, our anchorwoman, and Ernie Boggs, our cameraman.”
Ignoring Joe’s hand, Heinrich eyed Betty, a striking blonde in her forties with hard blue eyes.
“I remember you from the court house,” he said, nodding at her.
“Yes, and I remember you,” she said.
“Where is your husband?”
“He had to work today.”
“He doesn’t make enough money to support you?”
“Heinrich! What a thing to say!” Greta said.
“He makes a very good income,” Betty replied, “and so do I.”
Turning his attention to the two men, Heinrich smiled.
“You two men are huffing a lot. Need more hard work.”
Joe and Ernie exchanged surprised looks and then laughed.
“Yes, sir,” Ernie said with a smile. “I suppose we do.”
“Ah, Bob is here with his papa.” Greta looked over Joe’s shoulder to see them reach the top.
“Then we should take our seats,” Betty said, very businesslike, and turned away, with Joe and Ernie following her.
Bob and his father joined Greta and Heinrich.
“This is a terrible place to have a wedding,” Mr. Meade said. Bob elbowed him. “Well, it is.”
“I agree with you, Mr. Meade,” Heinrich said. “This is no proper place for a wedding.”
“Heinrich.” Greta glanced over at the minister who was chatting with some of the guests. “The preacher will hear you.”
“I don’t care if he does. He’s not paying for this wedding.”
“I’m with you, Mr. Smith.” Bob’s father chuckled.
“Schmidt,” Greta corrected him.
Their discussion of wedding propriety was lost in a buzz of voices murmuring that the bride was coming. Jill’s student began an acoustic guitar rendition of classical chamber music.
“Hush, Heinrich. Here is Jill.”
***
Several hours later, the wedding reception was coming to a close at the Schmidts’ house. Joe, Betty and Ernie made apologies about leaving early to return to the station.
“You were lovely, my dear,” Betty said, kissing Jill on the cheek. “When you return from your honeymoon you and I must become fast friends.”
“And don’t worry about a thing while you’re gone,” Joe assured Bob. “Betty will announce you’re in contract negotiations and won’t come back until you get a raise.”
“I will not,” Betty said in protest, a smile around the creases of her mouth.
“Just kidding.” Ernie laughed and poked Bob in his ribs.
Carol walked up and hugged Bob.
“Welcome to the family.” She looked at the others. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“You’re quite welcome,” Betty said.
“Yeah, good eats,” Ernie added.
“With that,” Joe said, looking askance at Ernie, “we must be on our way.”
They watched his co-workers leave, and Bob kissed Carol on the cheek and only smelled a lilac scented perfume. He had become fond of his mother-in-law, hoping she had turned a corner in her fight against alcoholism.
“Thank you,” he said. “You raised a wonderful daughter.”
“No,” she replied, “thank you, for making Jill so happy.” She looked around the room, focusing on Greta, who was busy offering a tray of sweets to the remaining guests, and on Heinrich who sat in his usual easy chair, whittling on a stick, letting the chips fall all over the floor. “Sometimes, it isn’t easy being happy in this family.”
Greta joined them, and Carol stiffened her back.
“Jill and Bob have to be at the airport by three,” Carol said, “and Ed and I are going to drive them.”
“Call over Jill and Ed. I have a present for her, and for you, Carol,” Greta said with a sweet smile. “Meet me in the kitchen.”
Carol looked at Bob and shuddered, then motioned for Jill and Ed to come over from a group of university students with whom they were chatting.
“Your grandmother has a gift for you—and me—in the kitchen.”
“I wonder what that could be,” Jill said, heading for the door.
“I’m afraid to find out,” Carol replied, as Ed pushed her husband into the kitchen where Greta sat at the table wearing an enigmatic, serene look on her face.
“Please, all of you sit down. This won’t take long. I know you have to leave soon.”
Carol sat next to Ed who put his arm around her. Bob and Jill sat on the other side of Greta who gazed at her daughter-in-law.
“This actually goes to Carol, but it’s also a wedding gift to Jill because I know it’ll make her happy.”
“What is it, Mom?” Ed said.
She cupped her hands, held them to her breast and extended them to Carol.
“My heart. It’s an old German heart, sometimes stupid, too often mean old heart, but I want you to have it as a sign of how terribly sorry I am for the way I have treated you since you married my Edward.”
“Oh, Greta,” Carol said, squeezing her hands.
“This ordeal has opened my eyes to how wicked I have been,” Greta said. “Helga, too, showed me how far away I had drifted from the girl she used to know.” She drew Carol’s hands into her bosom. “Helga said it best. It’s not who your parents were, it’s who you are. You have always been a good wife to my son. You have raised my granddaughter to be a wonderful woman. Please forgive me.” A pitiful look crossed her face. “And I don’t want you to think Sebastian and Eva were right. I don’t want you to think I’m a stupid cow.”
Bob watched the women sob in silence as they hugged each other. He smiled as he noticed tears welling in Jill’s eyes and observed Ed trying to maintain a calm façade, although he could tell it was difficult for him. In due course, Greta pulled away, took out a handkerchief and wiped tears from Carol’s face.
“I know it’s my fault that you sometimes drink too much,” she said. “Whatever it takes to help you stop, I will be there. I will go to the meetings with you. I will stand and tell the people it is my fault. You won’t be alone.”
“Sebastian and Eva were wrong. You are not a stupid cow.” Carol bowed her head and cried more. Greta lifted her head and smiled with pleasure.
“Now enough of that,” she lectured. “We have to help Jill get dressed for her trip. She needs her mama now. And if you don’t mind, her silly old grandma wants to help too.”
The three women left the kitchen for the bedroom. Bob stood and patted Ed on his back.
“I think you might want to be alone for a few minutes.”
Ed nodded and then Bob joined the others in the living room. He found his father sitting in a corner drinking a beer and nibbling from a small plate of sweets.
“You can’t understand a word Jill’s granny says, but she makes some good cookies.”
“So you’re having a good time, Dad?”
“Sure.” He watched as Ed came out of the kitchen and joined a group of guests from his company. “Do you think you can get me a good deal on a used car?”
“Sure, Dad. I’m certain I can.”
“Here she comes,” Greta said as Jill came out of the bedroom dressed in a smart, light blue suit.
The other guests gushed and applauded as they grabbed little bags of rice and fumbled with the pink ribbons tied around them. Greta put her arm around Carol’s waist and began to lead the wedding party out the door.
Bob smiled and began to join Jill when Heinrich bellowed out, “Boy.”
Everyone stopped and turned to look at the old man whittling in his easy chair.
“Boy, come here.”
“Oh, Heinrich,” Greta sighed in exasperation and waved her hand at him. “They’ve got to leave.”
“That’s all right.” Bob motioned for the others to go out to the car.
“Come here.”
“Everyone,” Jill called out with a grin. “Let’s go on out.”
All the guests, including Mr. Meade who was nibbling on another cookie, filed out the door as Bob went over to Heinrich who continued to whittle on his stick.
“Yes, sir?”
Heinrich did not lift his eyes but continued to whittle. Bob crouched down on his haunches in front of the old man.
“Did you want to tell me something?”
“Jill, she is a good girl.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It would make me very unhappy to see her hurt.”
“Me too.”
“Come close.”
Bob leaned in.
“You asked me once if I did anything bad.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That man, Hans Moeller, bears didn’t kill him.”
Bob focused on what Heinrich was carving. It was a knife.
“And I…” He stabbed at Bob with the wooden knife. “So you don’t want to hurt Jill.”
Bob took a few moments to comprehend what was going on and what Heinrich was saying to him. He felt cold, even guilty as a co-conspirator, when he realized that Eva Moeller told the truth. Heinrich Schmidt did kill her husband and now he threatened to do the same to Bob. He stood, fixing his gaze on the ancient mass of wrinkled flesh that smiled evilly at him. He took the wooden knife from Heinrich.
“Do you think you can physically overpower me and do what you did to Hans Moeller forty years ago?” He broke the wooden knife and threw its pieces to the floor, turned to leave but looked back at Heinrich. “I feel sorry for you. You’re nothing but a sick, old man who still thinks people are afraid of him. You think you have power? You don’t have power anymore. For some reason, Jill loves you, but that’s not important to you. All you want is to have people fear you, and that’s never going to happen again.”
***
Heinrich stopped smiling as Bob left. He listened to the crowd outside applauding and to a car engine gunning. So he could not make Bob fear him. That did not make Rudolph right. He was strong, brave and a winner, Heinrich told himself. He would prove it by making someone afraid of him. Greta came back, laughing lightly and shaking her head.
“What a beautiful wedding. Reminds me of Oberbach.”
“Mountain no place for a wedding,” he bellowed.
“Nonsense, Heinrich.” Greta began picking up dishes and little bags that once held rice. “It was beautiful.”
Carol and Ed came back in.
“Let me help you with that,” Carol said with a smile.
“No,” Heinrich declared. “You two go home.”
“No, Heinrich,” Greta said. “I’d like some help from my family.”
“Since when did you want her help?”
Carol’s smile faded until Greta came up and put her arm around her.
“Carol is our family, Heinrich,” she replied, “and she is now my friend.”
“I’m tired of having people in my house. Go home.”
“I want to spend time with Carol,” Greta said.
“Go home.”
“I know that tone of voice.” Ed took Carol by her hand. “I think we better leave. He kissed his mother on the cheek. “And don’t worry about it, Mom. We’ll be back tomorrow to help clean up.”
“Edward, no,” Greta said in a quiet desperation.
“See you tomorrow.” Carol kissed her. “And thank you for your gift.”
Ed and Carol departed. Greta went to the door to wave as they drove away. The smile on her face melted as she looked back at Heinrich.
“They didn’t have to go.”
“What gift would you give her?”
“It’s none of your business.”
Narrowing his eyes as he considered her. He did not like the tone of voice she used with him. It was bad enough Bob was insolent to him; at least he was a man. Heinrich would not accept a woman talking that way. He stuck his lip out in a pout.
“I didn’t want the wedding on a mountain.”
“It wasn’t what you wanted,” Greta said. “It was what Jill wanted.”
He picked up his carving knife and reached for another stick on the end table but decided whittling would not make him feel better. Heinrich put them down and folded his arms across his chest. If Bob was not afraid of him, Greta would be.
“I’m tired.”
“Oh, no, Heinrich.” She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “You’re not going to make me carry you, are you?”
“Too tired,” he said.
“Why didn’t you have Edward carry you to bed before he left? He’s a big and strong man. It wouldn’t have hurt him.”
“Didn’t think of it then,” he said. “Think of it now.”
Greta sighed with resignation.
“Very well.” Lifting him over her shoulder, she carried him out of the living room and into the bedroom. “I’m getting too old for this.”
Looking up across the room and without emotion, he released his bladder, wetting her dress with his urine.
“Heinrich,” she exclaimed as she rushed him to his bed. “Why didn’t you tell me you had to go to the bathroom?” Carefully putting him down, she held out her dress and examined its yellow stain. “Ruined. The beautiful dress Edward bought for me. Ruined.”
As she left the room, Heinrich snuggled down into his bed, not minding that his own old blue serge suit was wet. He smiled in self-righteousness, as he listened to Greta’s fussing in the other room.
“I’ll talk to Edward,” she said. “He doesn’t have to take care of this old man. It’s my burden. Edward should have to take this burden for a while and see how he likes it.”
He heard dishes rattling, coffee pouring and then a cup crashing to the kitchen linoleum. He lifted his head, leaning it toward the door so he could hear Greta’s soft sobs. He fell back on the pillow and smiled.