Lineage(86)

John only nodded before continuing. “They were from Germany. Refugees from the war. There were a lot like them back then, people still in shock and so broken from what they’d seen over there that they pulled up roots and got the hell out. From what I understood, Erwin and Annette had owned a good chunk of land over there when Hitler came to power. They weren’t on the same wavelength with that bastard, just like a lot of common people weren’t, but didn’t dare say a thing lest they would end up in a camp like the Jews. So your grandfather got an idea to harbor as many Jews as he could, to get them to take care of his land and work for him in general. It was almost like that movie awhile back, the one where the German industrialist hires all those people …”

“Schindler’s List,” Lance said as he took another sip of his whiskey.

“That’s it,” John said, pointing at him. “He did something like that. I think it was your grandparents’ way of doing what they could without fully revolting and getting killed. But they weren’t able to keep it up for long. The local SS somehow figured out what was going on. They came and executed all the Jews Erwin had working for him. They cut him too, your grandfather. Cut his face really bad. I only saw him once without the mask he usually wore. They took his nose right off, along with his upper lip too. It was horrible to look at. The way he told it, they wanted to make an example out of him, show every other German what would happen if they helped the Jews. So when the war was over, he and Annette came to America and eventually ended up here. They still had some money after selling their land, and Erwin started a little shipping line of his own with only two small boats to haul ore out of Duluth. After five years, he owned one of the largest lines in the city. That was about when your father was born.”

Lance stiffened and clenched his jaw. Up until this point, he had known nothing of his father’s history, and hadn’t dared to ask when he had still been alive. His mother had avoided questions about anything that resembled the past, so he had grown up oblivious to his lineage.

“I know this is a delicate subject with you, son, but I can’t shy away from it if you want the truth.”

“I do, but I want you to know that no matter what you’re about to tell me or how you remember my father from when he was younger, he became a monster who tortured my mother and me. He was a sadist that fed off our pain and suffering. I think deep down he wanted nothing more than to kill me and it was a freak accident that kept him from eventually doing so.” And you saw him tonight in the restaurant, the voice in his head intoned.

A shiver ran up Lance’s spine as he watched John nod with his eyes closed. “I understand and I think I can shed some light upon why your father was the way he was. Your grandfather was always kind to me. I think he was a good man deep down. He gave me a job when there was none to be had in the area. He paid me above the going rate and spread the word, through his wife, that I did great work caretaking at the place.

“But something was broken inside him. I could see it every time I set foot in the house to collect my pay. He would shamble from room to room like a specter, his shoulders hunched, and he would just stare out the windows at the lake. He didn’t acknowledge your father at all and barely said anything to your grandmother. It was only years later that I started noticing the bruises on both of them.” John licked his lips and raised the nearly empty glass to his lips. He closed his eyes again, lost in years past, as he swallowed the numbing liquid and let it seep through him.

“He was beating them,” Lance said flatly. He watched John’s shoulders slump beneath his light shirt.

John nodded again. “I think the war and the things he saw did something to him and he took it out on your father and your grandmother. I would see Anthony some days, his eye a nasty shade of purple and welts on his neck. Your grandmother’s arms were so bruised sometimes that she had to wear long sleeves, even in the hottest months of the summer. I saw, and I didn’t do anything. I could’ve told someone, anyone, and maybe I could’ve helped your father and grandmother, maybe even Erwin himself. If I hadn’t been so scared. I was terrified of losing my job and favor in the community. It was the only income we had at the time.”

Tears began to well up in the caretaker’s eyes, and Lance felt the urge to comfort him. He reached across the table and touched the thin skin of John’s hand. The old man didn’t acknowledge the contact.

“I thought your wife was a teacher? Didn’t she have a steady job?” Lance asked after a few moments. John pulled his hand away from Lance’s and drained the rest of his whiskey. He sat staring at the table’s surface for a long time before speaking again.