double maple tree, just to tease Joe. That tree was way over on the edge of your land, Aaron, and I never could find it
again. I didn’t hide the crows to trap Joe. When you found the crows I thought I was done for, I thought they’d ask how they got into the tree; it couldn’t be natural; somebody
had to have slung them up into that maple. But the question never occurred to them. I figured they’d know who’d killed John—his body was on my land, Melody was chained to this
bed, behind bars. I thought somebody would ask why I’d done that to her. I figured to hang for John Parker. And I would have, Aaron, if there’d been enough snow for John to have left
tracks in and out of Melody’s bedroom.’
“ ‘You let Joe hang for you.’
“ ‘That’s right,’ said Eleazer. ‘You see how it was, Aaron. I wanted time with Melody, to teach her a lesson. That was the reason. I’ve had the time;
I’ve got a lot to thank Joe for.’
“ ‘Are you going to tell this story to anybody else?’ Aaron asked.
“Eleazer stared at him. For an instant, the light came back into his dying eyes. ‘What story?’ Eleazer said. ‘You’re the closest kin I’ve got, second cousin
once removed, Aaron, and if anybody wants to know why I called you over here, it was just to tell you good-bye.’
“Aaron never told anyone Eleazer’s story, either. He went back to the Harbor and wrote it all down in his account book. Then he climbed up to the cemetery on the mountain and carved
the word Vindicated on Joe’s gravestone. He would never explain what he meant by that, and it wasn’t until somebody read his account book, fifty years after he died, that the
truth was known. Aaron never set foot inside the church after he came home from the Stickles place. That told the town everything he wanted them to know.”
Above Falster, the northern lights had faded, and the punctual summer dawn began to bleach the horizon. “We’d better sail,” he said.
Mahican was pulling hard against her anchor cable in the moving tide. Paul helped his father put up the mainsail and take in the anchor. Away from land, there was a brisk wind, and the
sea was rough. It was a long, hard beat back to Rügen with much tacking, and on the voyage home there was no time for talk.
Just before noon, the chalk cliffs of Rügen came into view, white in the gray weather. Paul took the tiller as they tacked into the harbor. Hubbard loosed the sheets as Paul put the helm
over. As the boom swung over the cockpit, Lori and Paul ducked. Their faces were very close together and Lori kissed Paul on the cheek. The wind took the mainsail and it shuddered and snapped.
“Promise me something,” Lori said. “As you live your life, don’t be like Aaron. Don’t be silent. Don’t wait for the truth to wake up like some sleeping
beauty. Make them listen to the truth.”
“All right.”
“No. This is important. Promise.”
“I promise, Mutti,” Paul said.
Lori nodded gravely, as if she had been relieved of a great worry. She went forward and stood beside Hubbard in the bow as the yawl approached its anchorage through flocks of raucous gulls. They
wore matching yellow foul-weather jackets and when Hubbard put his arm around Lori, her slight body seemed to merge with his so that for a moment they formed a single figure. A drifting mist, low
on the water, added to this illusion. Long after he had grown up, Paul remembered his parents as they were that morning.
— 3 —
That summer, life at Berwick changed. The Nazis had been in power for three years and they had had time to put their own people into the police and the local government even in
a remote place like Rügen. The Buechelers were hardly aware of this: they had no contact with the police and the rest of officialdom. After the drab fallow season of the Weimar Republic,
Germany under the new regime had blossomed out in uniforms and banners. Once again, the Germans were happy; the whole country
again. I didn’t hide the crows to trap Joe. When you found the crows I thought I was done for, I thought they’d ask how they got into the tree; it couldn’t be natural; somebody
had to have slung them up into that maple. But the question never occurred to them. I figured they’d know who’d killed John—his body was on my land, Melody was chained to this
bed, behind bars. I thought somebody would ask why I’d done that to her. I figured to hang for John Parker. And I would have, Aaron, if there’d been enough snow for John to have left
tracks in and out of Melody’s bedroom.’
“ ‘You let Joe hang for you.’
“ ‘That’s right,’ said Eleazer. ‘You see how it was, Aaron. I wanted time with Melody, to teach her a lesson. That was the reason. I’ve had the time;
I’ve got a lot to thank Joe for.’
“ ‘Are you going to tell this story to anybody else?’ Aaron asked.
“Eleazer stared at him. For an instant, the light came back into his dying eyes. ‘What story?’ Eleazer said. ‘You’re the closest kin I’ve got, second cousin
once removed, Aaron, and if anybody wants to know why I called you over here, it was just to tell you good-bye.’
“Aaron never told anyone Eleazer’s story, either. He went back to the Harbor and wrote it all down in his account book. Then he climbed up to the cemetery on the mountain and carved
the word Vindicated on Joe’s gravestone. He would never explain what he meant by that, and it wasn’t until somebody read his account book, fifty years after he died, that the
truth was known. Aaron never set foot inside the church after he came home from the Stickles place. That told the town everything he wanted them to know.”
Above Falster, the northern lights had faded, and the punctual summer dawn began to bleach the horizon. “We’d better sail,” he said.
Mahican was pulling hard against her anchor cable in the moving tide. Paul helped his father put up the mainsail and take in the anchor. Away from land, there was a brisk wind, and the
sea was rough. It was a long, hard beat back to Rügen with much tacking, and on the voyage home there was no time for talk.
Just before noon, the chalk cliffs of Rügen came into view, white in the gray weather. Paul took the tiller as they tacked into the harbor. Hubbard loosed the sheets as Paul put the helm
over. As the boom swung over the cockpit, Lori and Paul ducked. Their faces were very close together and Lori kissed Paul on the cheek. The wind took the mainsail and it shuddered and snapped.
“Promise me something,” Lori said. “As you live your life, don’t be like Aaron. Don’t be silent. Don’t wait for the truth to wake up like some sleeping
beauty. Make them listen to the truth.”
“All right.”
“No. This is important. Promise.”
“I promise, Mutti,” Paul said.
Lori nodded gravely, as if she had been relieved of a great worry. She went forward and stood beside Hubbard in the bow as the yawl approached its anchorage through flocks of raucous gulls. They
wore matching yellow foul-weather jackets and when Hubbard put his arm around Lori, her slight body seemed to merge with his so that for a moment they formed a single figure. A drifting mist, low
on the water, added to this illusion. Long after he had grown up, Paul remembered his parents as they were that morning.
— 3 —
That summer, life at Berwick changed. The Nazis had been in power for three years and they had had time to put their own people into the police and the local government even in
a remote place like Rügen. The Buechelers were hardly aware of this: they had no contact with the police and the rest of officialdom. After the drab fallow season of the Weimar Republic,
Germany under the new regime had blossomed out in uniforms and banners. Once again, the Germans were happy; the whole country
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