The Cure For What Ales You Read online

  “Do you think that’s possible?” I asked.

  “Not only possible. I think it’s probable.” She paused and flipped through her notebook. “Yep. Here it is. An unidentified woman placed a call to our office to report the kidnapping at twelve forty-five this afternoon.”

  Her cell phone buzzed. She removed it from her khaki shorts and glanced at the screen. “I need to take this. Why don’t you all, including Alex, head home. We’re going to need to do a sweep of your house, Hans. Check for prints. That sort of thing. It might take a while.”

  “That’s okay. Do whatever you need. It’s unlocked,” Hans replied.

  “I’d suggest you stay together in one place. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.” She left to reassign her troops.

  “We can go to my condo,” Mac offered. He tugged on his wet shirt. “I could probably stand to change. At least you might want me to.”

  “Or you can come to my place,” I offered, pointing to the grassy hill above us. “It’s only a few blocks away.”

  “Ja. I zink zat would be nice for Alex,” Ursula said. “Mac, you can go home and change and zen come meet us at Sloan’s, ja?”

  “It is so nice ziz afternoon we can sit on your deck and be together. Ziz will be good for all of us, ja?” Otto caught my eye.

  “That’s decided,” Hans said. He and Mac helped Alex stand up. Not that he needed help, but I appreciated seeing him wrapped in their strong arms.

  We made our way past what seemed to be a wall of police officers. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Alex.

  He’s okay.

  He’s okay. I repeated those two words over and over again on the short walk to my cottage, trying to block out the noise around us, and using Sally’s trick again to center myself in the moment. I took notice of the police vehicles and officers patrolling the area, goats roaming on the hillside, the trickling sound of the waterwheel on the golf course, the smell of blooming jasmine and wisteria, and the trot of the horse-drawn Bier wagon resuming tours through the village. When we made it to the cottage, I reminded myself to keep breathing while I let everyone inside.

  “I’m going to run to the condo and change,” Mac announced. “Need anything?”

  “I don’t think so. Does anything sound good for lunch, Alex?”

  His cheeks were an unusual shade of gray, and his hands continued to tremble. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m hungry, Mom.”

  “How about if we go sit on the deck and soak up some sun?” Hans opened the slider and gave me a knowing look.

  “Ja, ja. Zis is a good idea,” Ursula said with a warm smile. “We will put together a late lunch and bring it outside in a while.”

  Otto joined Hans and Alex on the deck.

  “Text me if you need anything. I’ll be back in few,” Mac said.

  “What if we make Frikadellen?” Ursula asked, moving into the kitchen with me. “It used to be his favorite when he was little. Do you have beef and pork?”

  “I do.” Fortunately I had stocked up on groceries before the weekend, knowing that the stores would be packed with tourists.

  “Good. Let’s get it started, and I can make some of my German potato salad to go with ze Frikadellen.”

  She rolled up her sleeves and got to work mixing ground beef and pork with spices, breadcrumbs, egg yolks, and chopped onion. Frikadellen was like a combination of meatloaf and American burgers. Instead of molding the mixture into a loaf pan, she would create patties, which she would flatten, pan fry, and serve on Brötchen, German rolls. It was the perfect picnic food and would go nicely with a tangy potato salad.

  “Want me to peel the potatoes?” I asked. Having a task, something tangible to concentrate on, was probably a good idea.

  “Ja, zat would be good.” Ursula kept her gaze focused on the counter. “I wish you would have told me about zis, Sloan. I understand why you did not. I know zat we must regain your trust, but it breaks my heart to know zat you have been hurting and scared and alone.”

  “Thanks.” I scrubbed the potatoes in cold water. “In hindsight, I wish the same. I should have come to you. Marianne was so convincing. I believed her. I believed that she had my best interests at heart even when my rational brain told me not to. Why didn’t I trust that? I feel so stupid. I feel like she conned me.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe she did have a reason.” Ursula’s voice was calm and soothing. “If she is ze same woman I met many years ago, zen I must believe she does have your best interests at heart. Ze woman I remember loved you dearly. Zat cannot have changed.”

  “Unless she’s crazy.”

  “Well, we know zat Forest is real, ja? We know zat he tried to steal Der Keller from Otto and me back many years ago now, and we know zat he has been in jail and zat ze police have reason to believe he could be dangerous. Zis is something. Zis makes me believe Marianne may have had a reason to take Alex. I do not know what it could be, but I will stay open until we hear from ze police.” She rolled the meat mixture into large balls. “Sloan, I hope zat you can believe me when I tell you zat you are not responsible for what happened to Alex. Ziz is not your fault, my dear.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. I brushed them away with the back of my hand. “Nothing makes sense. I hate feeling like this. I feel so out of control and like the only thing I can do is sit by and watch terrible things happen to everyone I love.”

  “Ja, it is so terrible. I’m sorry for what you have had to see, but zis is why I want you to know zat it is not your fault.” She placed the balls on a cutting board and used a spatula to flatten them. “Sloan, my darling daughter, will you look at me, please?”

  I met her gaze.

  Her eyes were misty, too. “Zis is not your fault, okay? Alex is fine. We are all fine, and we are together. You are part of zis family and families support each other. We will survive zis together, ja?”

  I swallowed hard. “Yeah, thank you, Ursula. It means a lot to have you here. I was feeling pretty alone this weekend.”

  “You are never alone. You are a Krause. Once a Krause, always a Krause. We will always be here for you, Sloan. Always. No matter what happens with Marianne and no matter what happens with Mac, you will always be my daughter. My only daughter.”

  Those words finally pushed me over the edge. More tears flowed. I had cried more in the last few days than in my entire adult life. It felt cathartic and necessary. I didn’t attempt to stuff them away, I embraced them. My shoulders heaved. Salt stung my skin.

  Ursula wrapped me in a hug. “I know, I know, it is unbearable to imagine our children in danger. He is okay,” she whispered gently as she stroked my hair. “We will survive zis together.”

  Her use of the word survive had new meaning now. I was beginning to better understand her choices for fleeing Germany and for making an entirely fresh start here in Leavenworth. She had done it for her boys, out of the deepest desire to give them a better life. Any residual anger I might have been harboring for her not being truthful for so long fell away as we held each other in my kitchen that smelled like onions and sizzling meat. Ursula was my family, and I had never been happier to know that I belonged to her.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  “OH HEY, SORRY TO interrupt.” Mac walked into the kitchen wearing a fresh black V-neck T-shirt and a pair of shorts. Since our separation, he had gone through a physical transformation, losing the pudge of a beer belly and defining his muscles by spending extra time lifting weights at the gym. It was good to see him looking fit and healthy. Yet more confirmation that our split had been the best choice for both of us.

  Ursula kissed my cheek and released me from her embrace.

  I dabbed my eyes with a dish towel. “Did you see the police out there? Is there any more news?” As I asked the question, I wondered what had happened to Officer Downs. He had taken Garrett and the Nitro team with him to search for Alex at the high school. Thinking about it reminded me that I should probably text Garrett to let him know that everything was okay. He was
probably worried sick.

  “Nothing yet. They thought they had a sighting, but it turned out to be a dead end.” He leaned over his mom’s shoulder. “Are you making what I think you’re making?”

  Ursula swatted his hand. “For Alex. Zis is Alex’s special meal. You will be served last, after Alex has had as much as he wants.”

  Mac raised his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.” He pointed to the mound of potato skins in the sink. “German potato salad, too. Lucky kid.” He reached for my hand, his voice thick with emotion. “Lucky us.”

  I caught his meaning. “Lucky us.”

  He massaged my thumb and then let my hand go. “What can I do? Put me to work.”

  Ursula pointed to the fridge. “You can get drinks for everyone. Sloan, I’m guessing you must have some beer, but if not, we will send Mac to Der Keller for some growlers.”

  “No need. We’re all set. Otto taught me well. I never have a fridge without at least two growlers of beer. You never know when company might come, right?” I repeated a phrase I had heard often from Otto over the years. One of the many perks of working in the craft beer industry was that my refrigerator was rarely without enough beer for guests. When Mac and I were together, we had a separate fridge at the farmhouse that we kept stocked with Der Keller’s ales and pantry staples for the impromptu dinner parties that Mac was notorious for hosting at the last minute. It used to drive me crazy when he would call with an hour’s notice to tell me he was bringing six beer reps home for dinner. Now it seemed more endearing, and it was not lost on me that I’d continued stocking the fridge after our split.

  “Ja. It is our Gastfreundschaft—if we welcome you into our home, it is a great honor and means you are like family and we must have ze beer.” Ursula grinned. “Do you have a large fry pan?”

  I got her set up on the stove, microwaved the potatoes, and whisked vinegar, sugar, and water together for the brine that would go over the warm potatoes. Ursula’s traditional recipe also included hearty chunks of bacon and fresh herbs.

  Mac rounded up pint glasses, growlers, and juice for Alex. I started bacon frying next to Ursula’s sizzling pan of pork and beef patties. Soon our late lunch/early dinner was ready to serve. We took everything outside and gathered around my picnic table, a housewarming gift from Hans. The view from the deck was breathtaking. I could see glimpses of the lush green grasses of the fairways that twisted past cascading waterfalls and dollhouse-sized Bavarian buildings on the golf course. There was a peekaboo view of the Wenatchee through a clearing of evergreens on Blackbird Island. I’d outfitted the deck with outdoor speakers and bird feeders to accompany the hanging flower baskets the previous owners had left for me. It had become my personal oasis. I turned on some classical music on low as I joined everyone.

  Otto stood. “I would like to offer a toast.” He held up his pint glass.

  Everyone followed suit.

  “To my wonderful family. You have no idea how much you mean to us.” He glanced at Ursula, who nodded in encouragement. “Zis terrible zing with Alex has reminded me how important family is for all of us, and with zat, I need to tell you ze truth.”

  “The truth?” Hans shot a confused scowl to Mac and then to me.

  Otto sighed. “First let us toast to our wonderful family.”

  We clinked glasses.

  I had a feeling I knew what he was going to say. I hadn’t expected it to happen like this, but it was time. Holding Otto and Ursula’s secret had been weighing on me. Since we were already deep in the throes of emotions, why not rip off the Band-Aid now?

  Otto rested his pint glass on the table. “You see, we have not been honest with you boys.” He spoke to Mac and Hans. “When your mother and I came to Washington, we were looking for a new start. A new life.”

  “Yeah, you’ve told us that story at least a thousand times,” Mac teased.

  Otto shook his head. “Not zis part, my son. I hope when you hear what we have to tell you, you can forgive us. Almost losing Alex today has shown me zat we cannot keep zis inside any longer. It is well past time we have told you ze truth.”

  Ursula clutched his arm for support.

  Mac and Hans both sat with their legs crossed. Despite their differences in age and interests, their shared genetic code meant their body language often mirrored one another. Alex stared at me, downing his juice and reaching for the container to fill his glass again.

  Otto continued. “You see, zis is not easy for us to share. It is a secret we have been keeping for too long, but ze time, it is now to share it with you.”

  A hushed silence fell over the table.

  Otto inhaled through his nostrils before he continued. “Our family, it is not what you zink it is. You see, in Germany my family name, it became associated with ze Nazis. Krause is not our family name—it is vom Rath. You see, ziz was a very difficult time in Deutschland. Zere was major strife. It was after ze war, and Germany, it was trying to rebuild itself, and zen we had ze Cold War with ze Red Army. Zere were kidnappings and terror attacks. People were afraid. And zey should be. Ze government was searching for many Nazis who escaped punishment after ze war. Villagers were turning in friends and family when names of assumed Nazis were released in ze papers.” He stopped, sighed, took a long drink of his beer, then continued. “You see, I am Friedrich vom Rath, and your mother, she is Helga vom Rath.”

  “I don’t understand,” Mac interrupted. He had uncrossed his legs and sat up, leaning across the long, smooth wood table, as if trying to get a better look at his father’s face.

  “My uncle Ernst vom Rath was accused of being a Nazi. He was not. It was a simple mistake. A shared name. It happened many, many times. We tried to explain to our friends and neighbors in ze motherland zat we had nothing to do with ze Nazis, but times were different. People were afraid. We worried about you boys. How would we raise you with ziz worry and fear? So we made a very hard decision to leave everyone and everything in Germany and come here to start a new life as Otto and Ursula Krause.” He continued with the story of his past that he and Ursula had already shared with me. He went on to explain, with Ursula’s help, their interactions with Forest and Marianne and how Forest had nearly stolen Der Keller from them.

  When Forest and Marianne had arrived in Leavenworth, they had claimed that they were sister and brother. I was just a young child, so my memories of the short time I’d spent in the village with Marianne were fuzzy at best. According to what I had learned from my caseworker, Sally, and Otto and Ursula had confirmed, Forest had made them a very lucrative offer to purchase Der Keller. They were new to the country, and this was long before Der Keller was the successful operation it was today. Forest’s cash offer was tempting. They had nearly signed the deal, which would have had disastrous consequences. Forest had no intention of giving them a dime. He preyed on immigrants like Otto and Ursula who weren’t well-versed in English yet. The contract was fake. Had they signed it, they would have handed their legacy over to him without any compensation. Sally had learned that Forest had a pattern of trying to swindle property and businesses from unsuspecting families like the Krauses.

  When Otto finished telling a story I was already familiar with, everyone remained silent. Tears poured from Ursula’s bloodshot eyes, but she didn’t bother to dab them.

  Hans spoke first. “Thank you for telling us. It’s a lot to take in. I’m sure I’m going to have a lot of questions for you, but it explains some holes from our past that I always wondered about. For now, what I want to say to you is that ultimately I couldn’t care less what happened in the past. I’m a Krause through and through because of you. You have been amazing parents and given us such a great life here. I couldn’t ask for anything else.” He stood up and hugged his parents.

  Mac took a long sip of beer. “I always suspected you two were secret agents or something. Tell me the truth, are you actually spies?”

  Ursula choked back her tears. She laughed and winked at her oldest son. “Could be.”

&nbs
p; Everyone got up and hugged and kissed. It was like a family reunion, only with a family we already knew.

  Alex appeared to be the most confused. “I have lots of questions, but all of a sudden I’m starving. Can we eat?”

  Ursula clapped. “Ja, ja. Let’s eat.”

  We toasted again, and everyone devoured the meal. Maybe it was the stress or the relief, but I found myself taking second helpings of the potato salad and Ursula’s Frikadellen.

  The conversation returned to the Krauses’ past. At first I had wondered if this news on top of the afternoon’s event would be too much for Alex, but I quickly realized the opposite was true. He peppered Otto and Ursula with questions about their village in Germany, their life before coming to America, and what the transition had been like.

  “How did you get used to being called different names?” he asked, taking a huge bite of the roll, stuffed with grilled patties and beautifully charred onions.

  “It was easy,” Otto replied. “We picked names zat we loved. We decided it would be easier to remember zat way.”

  “And was it?” Alex asked. Color had returned to his cheeks. His hands were less shaky.

  “No. From ze moment we boarded ze plane to come to America, we became Otto and Ursula Krause. We never spoke our family names again. Not even to each other. It would be too hard. Too many memories and too much of a chance zat we might slip. When Sloan came to us, zat was ze first time I had heard my given name in over forty years.”

  “Wow.” Alex took a big gulp of juice. “My Oma and Opa have a secret identity. None of the guys will believe it. Can I tell them that you’re secret agents or spies or something?”

  Ursula handed him a napkin. “Ja. I zink you should.”

  “Do you think they’ll believe you were nearly killed?” Mac asked, his tone still on edge.

  Alex glanced toward the green, where two police officers remained on patrol. “Since the village looks like a scene from a war movie right now, I’d say yeah. I think they’ll believe it.”