Chapter Thirty-one Mattie
THIRTY-ONE : MATTIE
DELANEY HORSE FARM
DECEMBER 1969
Despite the earth continuing to spin on its axis, my world had come to a crashing halt two days ago.
I had yet to recover.
Mama's staggering revelation that Gunther Schneider was my father left me reeling. I'd stared at her, wordless, while a thousand questions and the terrible consequences of the answers sped through my mind like a stampeding herd of stallions. Dad had arrived upstairs before I found my voice, and Mama put her finger to her lips, an indication she didn't want me to discuss the subject in front of him.
I'd fled from the room.
For the next forty-eight hours my imagination went in a dozen frightening directions, a jumble of shock, fear, and horror.
Did Dad know Mark and I weren't his children? Had Mama become pregnant by the German prisoner and tricked Dad into marrying her? Did Gunther Schneider even know I existed?
I'd been an emotional mess at dinner and excused myself from the table, unable to look Dad in the eye. Nash knew something was wrong, but I couldn't tell him. Not yet. Not until I had all the sordid details.
But Mama took a turn for the worse during the night.
Dad called Dr. Monahan, and an ambulance arrived, its lights flashing in the pitch-black sky, and carried her to the hospital. There, the doctors determined the tumor was pressing on her brain. To relieve the pain, she'd been put on an IV drip of morphine that essentially knocked her out. We stayed at the hospital all day, but visitors weren't allowed to remain overnight with a patient. Neither of us ate the simple dinner Nash had prepared. When I woke up after a night of tossing and turning, I found a note by the coffee percolator informing me Dad had gone to the hospital. Nash would drive me to town when I was ready.
Now, with morning sunshine streaming through the curtains, I sat on Mama's empty bed, numb. No tears. No wails. No clenched fists. Just mind-numbing nothingness.
That's where Nash found me.
"Tell me what's going on, Mattie." He planted himself in the chair next to the bed. "Something happened before your mom was taken to the hospital. Does it have to do with the letters?"
I met his worried gaze. "My entire life has been one big lie," I said before bursting into tears.
He moved to sit on the edge of the mattress and wrapped his arm around me while I sobbed into his chest. He didn't speak but simply held me, his presence and strength the only communication I needed. I don't know how long we stayed like that, but when my weeping finally subsided into hiccups, he stood and returned with a handful of tissues.
I wiped my face, blew my nose, and took a deep, steadying breath. "The night Mama went to the hospital, she told me something... shocking." I put my fist to my trembling lips, forcing myself not to break down again.
He didn't ask questions but simply waited until I was able to speak again.
"Mama said Gunther Schneider is—" My voice cracked. I swallowed, hard. "He's Mark's and my father."
The widening of his eyes told me he was as shocked as I felt. "Oh, Mattie. I don't know what to say."
I divulged the details of the brief exchange I'd had with Mama that night, Dad's arrival that interrupted us before I could ask questions, and her apparent desire to keep our conversation secret.
"I don't know what to think, Nash." Despair washed over me. "I've never been close to Dad, but he's always been my father. But now, knowing that he isn't , things are starting to make sense."
"Like what?"
"Like why he's always been so distant and quiet. Why he never talks about his family. Why he and Granny Gertrude didn't like each other." I glanced at the picture of Mama and him standing in front of the farmhouse. "Everything I ever believed about myself was false. I have no idea who I am. And now, with Mama so sick, I may never know."
The tears came again. Nash held me, letting me sob until I had nothing left. When the clock downstairs chimed, I realized it was almost noon.
"I should go to the hospital," I said, sniffling. "It's horrible to admit, but I don't want to go. I don't want to see Mama. I don't want to see Dad. I just want to get on a bus or train or plane and go far away from here."
Nash smoothed my hair. "You tried that once." There was no judgement in his voice. Only compassion and honesty. "Sometimes we can't run away from the hard things in life." He turned my face so our gazes met. "I'm here for you, Mattie. I'll go through this with you. You're not alone."
I nodded, unable to tell him how grateful I was to hear that.
We drove to the hospital. Dad met us in the hallway outside Mama's room. I couldn't help but study his face, wondering. When and how had he come into Mama's life? If he wasn't my father, who was he, and why hadn't Mark and I been told the truth?
"Dr. Monahan was just here. Ava's a little better today, but they still have her on morphine." He glanced into the room where my mother lay in a hospital bed, with tubes running beneath the blanket. "I don't think she'll wake up for a while."
He looked and sounded worn-out. While I may not know who he was or how he'd come into our lives, I had no doubt that he loved Mama.
"I'll stay with her," I said. "You should go home and get some rest."
He shook his head. "I can't do that." He glanced at Nash. "I'm sorry to leave you with all the work, but I need to be here."
"I agree," Nash said. "Don't worry about me or anything else at the farm."
I left them discussing care for the injured horse and walked into Mama's room. Her face was pale and swollen, almost unrecognizable. "Oh, Mama," I whispered.
I didn't know what to feel.
Desperation? Grief? Anger?
Why had she lied to me all these years? Why was she dying now when I needed her?
Why didn't God do something?
I needed answers, but none came.
I stood there, silent, confused, exhausted.
Dad approached. "Could you help Nash with chores?" He spoke softly, as though he didn't want to wake Mama. "I'll stay until visiting hours end."
I turned to face him. I wanted to blurt out what Mama told me about Gunther Schneider and demand answers. Demand to know his part in the lie. Or was he a victim of her deception, like me? But now wasn't the time or place for that conversation.
"Nash and I will take care of things at home. You take care of Mama." I paused. "And yourself. Eat something."
"I will," he promised.
Nash and I spent the rest of the afternoon doing farm chores. The work helped keep my mind occupied, but Mama's illness and her deception were never far. When the sun began its slow descent, we headed to the house. Jake followed behind, looking as tired as I felt.
"I'll rustle up something for dinner," Nash said. "You go rest or take a bath."
"A soak in the tub does sound good." I held his gaze. "Thank you, Nash. I don't think we could get through all this without you."
He looked thoughtful. "Mark always said I was part of this family. I didn't believe it, even though your parents made me welcome. But I didn't think I deserved anything good. I didn't deserve to belong. At least that's how I felt back then."
"And now?"
His expression softened. "Now I know he was right. You and your folks are my family. I'd do anything to make sure you're all taken care of."
His words stayed with me as I sprawled in a tub of hot, sudsy water.
Family.
They came in all shapes and sizes. Some were related by blood. Some weren't. I didn't dispute Nash's belonging here with us. Mark would want his best friend to always feel welcome on the farm.
But what about Dad?
In the past few days, I'd learned that not only was he not related to the Delaney family as I'd always believed, but he also wasn't even my real father.
I closed my eyes.
Why, Mama? Why did you keep all this secret?
Unless she rallied, I may not ever have an answer to that question or any of the thousand unknowns regarding Dad and Gunther Schneider.
Nash had ham and cheese omelets ready when I came downstairs.
"This looks good," I said, realizing I hadn't eaten anything all day. My stomach had been in such tight knots, I hadn't been hungry.
We ate in silence for a while before Nash said, "Maybe you should read the rest of the letters from Gunther. They might shed some light on the situation."
I thought of the three remaining envelopes in the shoebox upstairs. When I'd put them away, I'd been confident Gunther Schneider was simply a friend who'd corresponded with Mama during the war.
But now I knew the truth.
He was my biological father.
My stomach churned, and my appetite bolted.
I pushed the plate away, offering Nash a look of apology for not finishing the meal he'd prepared. "I'm afraid to finish reading the letters. I don't even know what to hope might be in them. Mama already admitted Gunther Schneider is my father. Do you know what that means? She wasn't married to him when she became pregnant with Mark and me."
He nodded. "I understand that, but the letters might tell you more of their story."
I blew out a long breath. "I can't believe any of this is happening. First Mark is killed, then Mama is sick. Now I find out that my entire life has been a sham. We're not the happy family I always thought we were. It was all smoke and mirrors, as they say."
Nash placed his hand on top of mine. "Mattie, think about how great your life was growing up. About how much your mom loved you and Mark. About how hard your dad always worked to provide for his family. None of the things you're learning about them now changes any of that." He squeezed my fingers then stood. He stacked our plates and carried them to the sink. "As long as I've known your folks, I've seen what good people they are. Give them a chance to tell you their story before you make a final judgement about things that happened a long time ago."
The truth of his words helped to calm my anxious heart.
I needed to know the entire story. No matter how much it might hurt or frighten me.
I heaved a sigh. "All right. I'll go get the letters."
While Nash cleaned the kitchen, I went upstairs. A glance at Mama's darkened room reminded me that although I was angry with her for keeping her past a secret, I wished she was home, in her own bed.
Nash and I settled on the sofa.
I opened the next letter.
"July 1944. Dear Ava," I began, suddenly struck that I was reading words my father—my real father—wrote to my mother from a prison camp in North Dakota.
My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard.
I wish I could tell you that I am well, but a terrible thing has happened. Dr. Sonnenberg and I were attacked by—
The next words were blacked out.
I am slowly recovering, but my friend is very ill. He has become like a father to me, and I don't know what I will do if he doesn't make it. I have spent many hours praying for Dr. Sonnenberg. He believes in the same God as I do, and our study of the Bible has made him curious about Jesus. He is especially impressed with the writings of the Apostle Paul, a Jewish man like himself. It is my hope we will once again enjoy our theological discussions as soon as he is able.
I think of you often. Memories of our time together are the only joy I have in these long, lonely days.
Yours affectionately,
Gunther Schneider
I stared at the name. "Gunther Schneider," I repeated. "This man, this stranger, is my father."
"He seems like a man of faith." Nash leaned over to read the faded handwriting. " Memories of our time together are the only joy I have. It sounds like he cared about your mom. I wonder who attacked him and his friend."
I refolded the yellowed paper and returned it to the envelope. "Maybe the next letter will have more information."
Headlights from a car flashed across the window.
I hurried to look outside. "Dad's home." I glanced at the shoebox, remembering Mama wanted it to remain a secret from him. Until I had more information, I didn't feel I should confront him. Especially not when he'd spent a long day at the hospital with Mama. "I better put this away. We can read the others later."
When I returned downstairs, Dad was in the kitchen, filling the kettle with water. I heard Nash's voice outside, instructing Jake to do his business before turning in for the night.
"How's Mama?" I asked from the doorway.
Dad turned weary eyes to me. "A little better. Dr. Monahan hopes she can come home by the end of the week. She'll need an IV for pain medication though."
He took a cup from the cupboard. "Do you want some tea?"
I shook my head. "I think I'll turn in."
But I didn't move.
I studied him as he placed a teabag in the cup and poured hot water over it. So many questions spun across my mind.
Why had he let Mark and me believe he was our father? Why not tell us the truth? Wouldn't it have been easier than pretending?
He carried the cup to the table and slumped into a chair. He looked beat.
"I'll go to the hospital with you in the morning," I said.
He met my gaze and nodded. "That would be good."
Nash and Jake returned, and I bid them all good night. It wasn't long before I heard Dad come upstairs and close his bedroom door with a soft click. After twenty-something years of marriage, it must be hard to suddenly find yourself all alone.
I rolled onto my side. Tears trickled down my cheek onto the pillow.
How I wished I could turn back time. I'd keep Mark from going to Vietnam, and I'd make Mama see a doctor much sooner than she had. I'd ask Dad questions about his family, and I'd spend time with Granny Gertrude. We'd be a family, but without the secrets, pain, and grief we found ourselves living through now.
My body shook with silent sobs and deep, soul-wrenching regret.
Like a little lost child, I cried myself to sleep.