Читать книгу The Twins - Sheldon Cohen - Страница 4

Werner Stegerwald, Ludwig’s son, was the supervisor of his father’s farm. He was born there, as were his father and grandfathers before him. He was the third of four children. His two older sisters were married. One lived in town, and the other lived in Munich. A younger brother was soon to be married.

Werner was twenty-three years old. He was a short man like his father, not quite five foot six, and had dark blond hair and blue eyes that years later would stand him in good stead in Germany. In spite of his short stature, he was well muscled, honed by intense physical labor on his father’s farm. No one had been able to defeat him in arm wrestling competition. People gave him a wide berth because of his morose manner and rough exterior.

His strengths lay in the physical aspects of farming. He oversaw the planting and growing of the barley and the harvesting, steeping, germinating, and kilning process essential to producing the final malt product. At least fifty percent of the barley was used to make malt and the other fifty percent was used as livestock feed and human food. He took pride in being able to do all the heavy work alone, and this, no doubt, contributed to his enormous strength.

Ludwig had long since learned that his son had neither interest in nor the capacity to understand scientific principles, so the two of them, to Ludwig’s disappointment, never shared the subject together.

Tradition had it that the eldest son would inherit the farm, so Werner made every effort to prepare himself to take over. He had married his childhood schoolmate, Brigid, three years before in 1903. Together they built a small home on the edge of the farm.

To his dismay, his wife was still childless after three years of marriage, and this was becoming a cause of concern for both of them. Ludwig suggested that they had better get busy, for who would inherit the farm after Werner? What Ludwig did not know was that they had been very busy, but in spite of their efforts, she had not conceived.

Brigid was the daughter of a neighboring farmer. She was a five-foot-three-inch beauty with brown eyes and brown-blond hair. She spent her childhood in the presence of a strict disciplinarian father, who was quick to use the lash when necessary.

She found in Werner a man of similar gruff manners, but not prone to the physical violence of her father. This she viewed as a plus. She was quiet and intelligent, but her intellect remained buried, fearful of manifesting itself before the domineering male influences in her life.

One day, Werner came home after a very hard day at work. There were delays because of some faulty machinery that he had to repair. Such a situation would often make him very angry and cause him to scowl in a way that Brigid had learned to recognize. When she saw that look on his face, she would do her best to give him plenty of space by making herself scarce.

On this evening, Werner arrived home dirty and covered with perspiration. He entered the kitchen with its homemade cabinets, tables and chairs that he had built from the trees on his farm.

Brigid was in the kitchen wearing her apron. She had prepared dinner and she took one look at Werner with his dirty, grease-covered hands and face, disheveled hair, and lips turned down into that familiar scowl, and she wondered what would erupt. She knew that there was tension between them and she knew the reason. She twisted her apron strings, as she was prone to do when she was nervous. Their situation gave her considerable depression, which caused her to become more withdrawn. Even her rare smiles had disappeared. Werner would often find her with her head in her hands looking down at the floor, her cheeks pale, and her sparkling brown eyes and hair turned dull. “You better leave me,” she would say. “I can’t give you a son.”

Werner had not responded yet, but she knew how he felt. The support Brigid needed during this very stressful time would not come from Werner; it never had. Her depression continued, and with it, she was losing all interest in the physical side of their marriage, feigning headaches and avoiding him whenever she could.

Werner was becoming more angry and tense. She had been dreading the eruption, but at the same time hoped it would happen so that the issue could be settled. One look at him told her now might be the time. She was right.

“You don’t want to try anymore? Are you waiting for an Immaculate Conception?” said Werner with a stern, angry look on his face, as if that had been the topic of discussion all along. “That only happened one time in history. I’m boiling inside. Why the hell I put up with it I’ll never know.”

“I don’t care what you do,” she said.

“Let’s go to a doctor in Munich and see if he can find out what’s wrong with you.”

“Doctors can’t do anything; it’s an act of God. If you leave, I’ll understand.”

“He was right,” said Werner.

“Who was right? What are you talking about?” she asked, making eye contact with her husband for the first time.

“I talked to Pastor Braun. He said that you would say just what you said. He told me that women get depressed when they can’t get pregnant and want to give up and leave so their husbands can marry someone else.”

“I’d understand if you did that. Why did you speak to Pastor Braun?”

“It took me awhile to get up the nerve. It was digging a hole in my brain. I needed someone to talk to before I blew up. I can get what you have to offer anytime. There are plenty of women out there that might be interested.”

“So go,” she said, her gaze drifting away from her husband.

“The whole thing is driving me crazy. At least the pastor will not shoot his mouth off; he’ll keep it to himself. Do you want me to divorce you?” he asked.

With unchanged expression, she said, “That’s fine. You’ll do what you want anyhow.”

Banging his greasy hands on the clean white tablecloth, he said, “That settles it. Pastor Braun wants to see us. He said to come in tonight. I told him we’d be there another time because I have to go to Alfred’s bachelor party. Tomorrow’s Alfred’s wedding day. Remember?”

Werner turned and left the room. Brigid sighed in relief. The tirade was over for now, but she knew he had laid down the gauntlet. Not a word passed between them the rest of the night.