Chapter 18: Redemption

Before we went to bed I stepped outside with Wilbur and Alfred for a quiet smoke, a final drink and an exchange of thoughts. Wilbur insisted on turning on his heaters. It had stopped snowing and the temperature was quite mild in any case.

"Many thanks to both of you, my friends. This was as pleasant a Christmas as anybody could have wished for. It will be most interesting to see what comes out of it. We don't have to wonder about Sabreena, though. A very special woman, Wilbur. You have made her very happy with your beautiful crystal ware. She is so intensely house-proud; I think we are in for a few more treats in the days to come. That book must have been written with people like her in mind.

"But doesn't it strike you as extremely weird that such a minor effort, a relaxed and open conversation with a knowledgeable bookseller, could provide a bounty of this magnitude?

"Alfred, I do think that Lexa will find her fulfilment in teaching young kids, not least your own, eventually. It is so very rare to find a person totally without malice. She will be great. Children are the first to notice properties like these.

"You have not said much all evening. I do hope I have not offended you with that print-out. It certainly does not qualify, at a casual glance, as a proper gift. But the longer we know each other the more I believe that there must exist some connection, however far removed, between us. Looks are one thing, those freaky kids latched onto that quick enough, but you know that there is more to it. If you, we, do manage to find out it should be the greatest gift ever."

Wilbur was adamant that I try my hand at politics. "You have the gift of the gab, Bert. You just have to learn to say as much as you do without saying anything at all. You will be unstoppable. I can already picture you holding forth at the United Nations, slaying this select club of nonentities with your mind-numbing verbal assaults."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Wilbur. Why do you always have to pretend to be devoid of all emotions? I was watching you when you opened Bert's book, you know. Likewise when he saw the Peacemaker. You could not hide anything in those moments."

"I don't have an explanation, Alfred. It's just how I am, I suppose. Life is too short, even in our extended version, to take anything too serious for long. And emotions do slow things up a lot. Though to be honest with you chaps, tonight's proceedings were more than I expected. I would not have believed it possible but I did enjoy myself thoroughly.

"But where do we go from here? With regard to Elise, I mean?"

We retold Wilbur of our plans, Alfred and Lexa to come visiting in my absence and to try and explain to Elise what went wrong and where and how to fix it. I would join up with them if Elise could be convinced that I was not the bogeyman she was made to believe.

Alfred and Lexa would also accompany me to New York, by air this time to speed things up, because I could not be trusted to find my way on my own in the Big bad Apple. Alfred's, not Lexa's saying. The following days, Christmas proper until the 28th, we would spend at leisure, go for a few walks, inspect the property Wilbur found, potter about with his mill if he so wished.

"I do so wish, Bert. While you are here, we should be able to come up with the best possible layout for everything. I can hardly wait."

On Christmas morning Sabreena chased us out of the house after a huge breakfast. She wanted to read and take notes, in short do justice to her roast according to the written gospel, no distractions allowed, and not to come back before we were thoroughly in need of sustenance.

We dressed up properly, boots and hats and other heavy gear, and at Alfred's suggestion took the truck to widen our range.

I was amazed at the great variety the country had to offer. Gently rolling hills, steep mountains, plenty of small streams and rivers, forests and meadows, some of it bare, some of it covered in snow. When we came to a particularly appealing spot Alfred parked the car on the crest of a ridge.

"According to your map, Wilbur, this should be our place, right?"

"Yeah, Alfred, I knew where your twists and turns were leading. Virtually everything you can see from here, in a northwestern direction, is part of the property. The boundary runs along that far ridge over there and extends beyond the stream, including the ponds and the weir just below us. There used to be a homestead on the hillock over there, only the foundations left now, but it is the obvious place to build. You can overlook most of the property from there, yet are out of sight of the neighbours. A cosy place, what do you say? Lexa?"

"Oh Wilbur, this is so beautiful. Dreams come true. But we cannot accept this from you, it is way too expensive. Besides, you are going to need all your money for your mill."

But Wilbur waved her objections away. "You will just have to wait till the first foundation cheque comes in. Then I will be loaded. I have to tell you though, that this piece of land is not on very fertile ground. One of the reasons the present owner went bankrupt. I will be able to buy this against the foreclosure tag. Nobody else seems to want it.

"And, my dear girl, you should know by now that your uncle Wilbur is not the type of character to be cramped by mere filthy mammon. Just say Yes, I do want it to make my realtor, and me and Sabreena and Alfred happy."

After a moment's hesitation he added. "I didn't name Bert because he would have given us another extended speech, something I would not be able to tolerate just now. My fragile body is in dire need of nourishment."

"You lovely, horrible man, Wilbur. I do say yes if Alfred agrees but you have to make up to Bert, to all of us in fact, by taking us to lunch at that fine eatery we passed earlier on. Splash your mammon there, I dare you."

Wilbur's turn to look particularly silly. He had neither money nor plastic on him, since Sabreena usually paid wherever they went.

"Bert, what do you say we leave this welsher stranded here while we enjoy the fruits of the land? A few hours worth of reflection and penitence while braving the invigorating country air will do him good."

"Yes, Alfred, if not for the holiday I would even take away his flask and make him walk all the way home. A pleasant change it should be for him. Clear the cobwebs from his mind. It should not take him much longer than it will take us to enjoy our lunch in leisure."

Lunch was a very pleasant affair, reminding us of our splurges on the island, till Alfred urged us on. "Come, folks, we have to be on our way. We have an appointment we dare not miss."

When we left the restaurant, with I paying for a change over compound protests, Alfred turned left instead towards home.

"Alfred, oh Shining One..." Alfred ignored Wilbur's objection.

After a few kilometres he turned off towards to a small airfield. "We cannot just let Wilbur give us a country estate. We have to inspect it. And what better way than from the air? We shall give Sabreena a buzz too."

A young cowboy was waiting for us next to a substantial-looking plane. "Ah, here you are. Just in time. The cloud cover is breaking up. Beautiful day for flying."

Alfred pointed out on the map that he wanted the guy to fly a few circles over the marked areas, higher and lower as per request. "Can you do that?"

"Hell, nothing to it. I know the entire range very well. Let's get in the air."

The fellow looked like a cowboy but took the plane up with expert ease after a few minutes of warming up and doing his checklist. Lexa was thrilled, if quite nervous, to see her place from the air while Alfred sat in the right seat directing things. It was easy to spot neglected orchards as well as buildings in distress but the place had a special magic to it. Small copses of mature trees were interspersed with fallow fields and a huge solitary oak tree stood on that hill, gnarled and twisted by the ravages of time.

Lexa's eyes became dreamy. She grabbed hold of my hand and whispered. "Bert, this is where I want Alfred to build our house. I love trees, especially the ones growing wide and tall, as if to meet the sun. And our house shall be just as stout. As will be our children, if..."

"No ifs, Lexa, put the dark things behind you forever. What better way than to start out here? You will be happy, look at Alfred."

Alfred was caught up in the exalting idea of starting from scratch. He turned in his seat to give Lexa an enthusiastic thumbs up.

"You see, there you go already."

Wilbur commented that the place could bear a couple of mills as well; the stream ran strongly over some decent rapids. "And fishing should be very good. You will have to make sure that Alfred gets in a few hours of hard work every day. The happy bum tends to get lazy."

"No, Wilbur, there shall not be any mills in this valley. I think that Alfred will agree to leave everything as natural as possible. I do want a landscaped flower garden around the house though. Ooops."

The pilot had lifted the plane up quite steeply to clear the mountaintops. Now for Wilbur's place. As soon as he saw his mills from the air he became a little boy.

"Hey, Bert, isn't this a beautiful spot? Alfred has done exceedingly well. As he does everything, a true genius."

Wilbur pointed out the exact boundaries, starting just below the top of the mountain range, extending not too far out into the open country. "More I don't need, Bert. I have no interest in agriculture whatsoever. I shall buy in the raw fibres as you told me. Too many hassles with farming since it would take up too much time. Now, let's stir up Sabreena a bit."

On his request the pilot took the plane up quite high only to dive, directly it seemed, at the mill. After doing this stunt twice, Sabreena came rushing out, shaking her fists at us. The pilot flew a tight, low circle to let us wave at her. I don't know if she could recognise our faces inside the plane, but it would not be difficult for her to guess that Wilbur had to be part of this spectacle. She waved back once, shook her head and went inside. To extend more loving care to her featherless victim no doubt.

Lexa asked to view the country from very high above, if possible. The man was happy to oblige and spiralled upwards till he reached about 7000 feet.

"My ceiling for today, folks. I dare not violate my flight plan."

Good to have a conscientious man up front and Lexa was able to see all she wanted to. The roads connecting to her property, the route to town, her nearest neighbours. All was well, she was very happy.

After a questioning look at Alfred, pointing his thumb down, the flyer put the plane on the nose once more. I was amazed to see that Wilbur paled and got a strong hold on his flask, yet forsook to drink. Lexa looked frightened and gripped my arm strongly.

"Don't worry, dear, just us boys at play. Alfred getting back at Wilbur I think."

When the plane pulled out of the steep and prolonged dive, the average whoops-factor was very high, evident by the greenish tint we all acquired, but we made it to solid earth without serious mishaps.

"Wilbur, I see you did not quite squash your flask. Hope you enjoyed flying with us. Do join us again. Soon."

Alfred did have a nasty streak to him as much as everybody else. He paid the airline operator and took us away, saying that we should make it home just in time for a drink or two before dinner.

Dusk set in early and the mill looked very peaceful in the fading light, the large tree in the yard illuminated with its multitude of candles.

"A good sight to come home to, Wilbur," I remarked as we turned into the driveway.

"Yeah, good to be home and in one piece, too."

The heady aromas greeting us were out of this world. Sabreena had worked magic. Proudly she called and told me to have a look at our dinner.

"I have done everything by the book, Bert. It has to be good, although those ridiculous pictures were a great distraction at times. Why one would think of illustrating a cookbook with erotic drawings escapes me."

"Ah, my love, that is because you cannot see yourself just now. If you do not look erotic I don't know who does."

A blushing Sabreena told Wilbur off for being a randy old fool; drinks were ready for us, no need for flattery. And why did we have to make so much noise, nearly crashing the airplane into the house?

When we sat down to dinner it was to a feast worthy of the gods. Sabreena was nothing if not a quick learner. The bird and everything with it was perfect, our contented munching only interrupted by our praise for her art.

Wilbur put it into one sentence for us. "Makes you wonder why anybody would bother with tired old turkeys, as long as you can have this."

Thus ended our memorable feast day since early the next morning, holiday notwithstanding, Wilbur insisted I go over to the real paper mill with him, do something constructive.

"I don't know where to begin, Bert. I looked through the book but have not yet a good grasp of all the manual techniques involved."

But contrary to his own words, Wilbur had arranged everything very sensible indeed. And he had cheated. He had taken time out to clean and refurbish the Hollander, re-assemble the presses, wash the felts. The big tub was cleaned, caulked and oiled. One room on the long side of the house was a fully fitted workshop were he could do everything necessary, including brazing and welding, milling and turning.

"Wilbur, how old are you now? You must be gaining on eighty again, if not more."

"Hell, Bert, who cares? I will not set the clock back anytime soon. You guys will know it when I do. But what good is this special time if we don't use it for our gain? Perhaps I am wrong, but I refuse to be reformed."

Damn it, but this heavy matter stuff worked beautiful. We could arrange and re-arrange even the heavy presses at will and as often as necessary. We used chalk to mark off the proposed workflow, where Wilbur would build shelving, where to place the stamp batteries if he decided he needed them. I suggested he build a lift to both attics to save him the strain of carrying paper up and down all the time. He was very quick to agree but called for a break.

"Look, Bert, I have already installed my heavy matter, but I do want a wheel as well, if only for appearance's sake. And I transported a couple of barrels of our good juice over, together with the bread and cheese. Let's have some of that now. I have extended the water pipe from the cellar. The creek water will be for business only."

He was full of praise for the book, claiming that all the answers were there. One just had to come up with the right questions.

Thus we filled our days with work and play and good companionable walks and talks. Much to my surprise it was Sabreena who cornered me for a walk.

"Are you sure, Sabreena? Look outside, the weather is positively filthy."

"Come on, Bert, we just have to wear the proper gear for it. It will be fun."

Sabreena had things on her mind and wanted to talk. But heavy gear or not, this was no climate for communication.

"Alright, Bert, I thought you might balk at a little exercise. I swiped the key to Wilbur's cellar. We will be very cosy there."

We set out for the cellar in what was building up to a small-scale blizzard. The mill house was out of sight very soon, the track to the cellar barely visible. Pity I had not thought of some ball of red thread, it might come in handy later if the snow kept coming down in bushels.

"Bert, you must have wondered why I dragged you out here now of all times. Lexa suggested it, said you would try and help. I don't know if I can carry on much longer. Wilbur is burning the candle at both ends. Every day he is gone suddenly – yeah, only for a few minutes at a time – but he disappears more than once. Then I see that something has been added to or changed at the new mill, things that would take a few weeks, months even, to accomplish under normal circumstances.

"His body can't take the strain forever, Bert. I know that Alfred can heal him at the island. But what if he suddenly keels over here? With a stroke? A heart attack? And this business of taking time out in between is very disruptive in a subtle way. The mood is off when he re-appears. His selfish gains are our losses," Sabreena concluded forlornly.

I got up from our snug corner and picked up two beakers, plates, bread and the trimmings and drew a pitcher of whiskey from the nearest barrel. I was already hungry and thirsty, and my coward's heart was pushing me strongly in the direction of the juice. She eyed me suspiciously.

"Yes, Sabreena, it is definitely too early for drinking, but this is nourishment as well as medicine and we do need it if we are to talk sensibly. You stay were you are, I will settle on this here barrel. Forget about clumsy old Bert, it is world-renowned Doktor Eisenbart you are consulting with now. Cheers.

"As your doctor, love, I hate to tell you that there is nothing I can do about Wilbur's hard living. I tried to talk to him, he refuses to listen. Maybe Alfred can bring a bottle of no. 3 healing for emergencies. Cheers.

"But there is something I can suggest for you if you are prepared to listen. No, no, stay where you are, just listen. It is quite easy in fact: we cannot change Wilbur, so we shall change Sabreena. We will have to make you pregnant, my dear. Cheers."

Sabreena was out of her chair in a flash, took two huge strides towards me and belted me over the eye with a roundhouse swing, so fast and hard that she had me singing in descant and treble before I hit my head on the barrel conveniently stacked behind me. Man down, not quite out. Please note, that I did manage to hold onto my drink without spilling too much. This should tell you something about me.

"You filthy bastard, you probably picture yourself ready to step up to the plate and do your heroic duty, wouldn't you? God's gift to the neglected woman? You worm, I thought you were a friend, not a cheating pervert."

She stood before me, fists ready, bosom heaving, her face a raging storm of emotions, all bad. I could see that she wanted to lay into me again and spoke in great haste.

"Sabreena, hold your fire, nothing like that was on my mind. You got it all wrong. I am your bleeding doctor right now, and I am your friend for God's sake, not your handy neighbourhood stud. Please reconsider before you hit me again. Cheers.

"What I mean is this: Alfred could take you to the island, turn your life cycle back the few years necessary. Wilbur to do the natural rest, not I for heaven's sake. Do you not see it, Sabreena? Even if Wilbur went under, as he is wont to do if he carries on like he is now, he would live on. This is my considered opinion as your doctor. Now you may hit me again if you must. Cheers."

She stood before me as if I, in turn, had slugged her. She was appalled by what I said, that much was clear. But she was also extremely contrite over her sudden violence.

"Bert, move over. I shall refill this here small jug and we will do some more talking. Don't worry, I can't hit you well if I am sitting next to you. You are such a sneaky smart-ass, coming at me like that. Does it hurt much? You do look very impressive, like half of a racoon. I truly am sorry. But you got only yourself to blame. Cheers."

Contrition with her did not seem to be a lasting emotion, but I could tell that she was intrigued by my suggestion. Talking was not an easy matter, my left eye now completely swollen shut, my head still ringing, the drink getting to me in a great rush.

"You, dear girl, should learn to listen and think before you hit. But this is my therapy for your problem. Who knows, Wilbur might even change his ways in time to enjoy his fatherhood. Cheersh."

"Don't you go all slobbered over me now, Bert. How can you be so sure that this will work? Wilbur may take it all wrong, resent me for tying him down. And how ridiculous would I look, all bloated and pregnant and way over fifty years old in real life, you silly excuse for a doctor? But cheers to you too, I am not one to harbour grudges."

Sabreena with the drink taken was a different woman altogether. She snuggled up to my side, put her arm around me – the left one, her hitting arm was still unencumbered – and chuckled heartily.

"Hey, I can see where this idea of yours could have some merit. But damn you, how could I ever put it over on Wilbur? This little shiner I gave you would be nothing compared to how I would look after he finished with me. Tell me that, my friend and doctor, and cheersh."

The more the idea took hold of her, the more she got carried away with the juice. She kept clinking glasses, draining them over my weakening protests, extolling the virtue of sobriety under normal circumstances, yet holding firm that this was quite impossible to attain under moments of greatest stress.

"Bert, we have to come up with a name in time, eventsh might run away from ush, me acshually. Think about it, will you. And let'sh drink to it, before the barrelsh, shmarrelsh run dry. You are not contributing much to our evaluashion of the shi ... shituashion, Bertie. Shame on you, you are so sloshed. Shome kind of doctor you are, drunk and dishorderly. Chee..."

"Shabreena, my hard-hitting friend, eventsh will not run away from you. This little matter ish known to take most of nine monshs, even if you were to shtart right now. Cheersh."

"Don't you shtart that again, you creep. If I could focush a little better I would try my aim again, but it looksh to me like you got two black eyesh already. Sheesh to you."

After that I realised that the consultation was over. I put one arm around her and closed my remaining eye firmly, shutting out the world and all thoughts of pregnancies, wanted or otherwise.

That world had come to its end, Armageddon was nigh. Shaking, shouting, lights flashing, fierce gusts of ice-cold air tearing at me.

"Merciful God, I humbly accept my fate, I deserve it, but please let me die in peace. Let Satan claim me forever."

"Bert, you got to wake up. We must take you and Sabreena back to the house. Get up, walk, you can do it."

Disgustedly, I tried to establish the source of the voice, turning my body since my head was paralysed as of the moment.

"Ah, I thought ash much. Good old Alfred, nagging ash usual, and Lexa ish here too. You do keep strange company, my dear, shame on you. And Wilbur, Wilbur the heavy lord of all matter. It'sh good to see you all, do have a drink. Drink from my half of the barrelsh, all of you. Wilbur is too stingy to share."

I moved over to make room for all of them, but I fell off the barrel and started to hum a little tune I suddenly found in my head for no reason at all.

"Lexa, hold Sabreena in your arms, I will move you both to the mill. We will follow right now with this drunken slob. But he will have to walk till he is sober. Wilbur, grab an arm please, help him stand up."

I was manhandled, roughly and cruelly, out of the door and pushed and pummelled towards the mill, staggering and stumbling but humming all the way.

"Alfred, for Pete's sake. What weird tune is this wretch humming all the time? I feel that I should recognise it."

"Yeah, Wilbur, so you should. It is quite well known in some minor parts of the world, even if it will never make the charts. It's called Deutschland, Deutschland ueber alles."

"Dear God, please guide us all through our times of darkness."

My good friends dumped me unceremoniously onto my bed, with only Lexa worrying over my well-being or otherwise.

"What if he should be sick, Alfred? And what are you going to do about his terrible black eye?"

Her concern penetrated my drunken stupor sufficiently to tell her.

"Lexa, dear, you should dishtance yourself immediately from shish cold-hearted lot. All of them. The one ish a brutish hitter, striking with neither reason nor provocation; the other two are only barely recognisable ash human, cold scientists devoid of compassion. Come morning we shall elope together, leave this shcum behind forever. Dum-ta-dum-ta-dum-da-dum-dum..."

A solid hangover is not to be shunned. It makes one concentrate on essential things, like moving your head one inch at a time. It also makes it easy to avoid unpleasant pastimes, eating and such, for quite a while. I viewed the one-eyed sucker peering at me from my mirror with deep distrust. I did not like him and felt worse than he looked. The house was quiet as a morgue on a Monday morning. Now to face the music.

In the kitchen only Lexa was around to wait on me, the smell of coffee like balm to my sodden brain.

"Oh, good morning Bert. Do you want some coffee? Breakfast?"

"Good morning to you, Lexa. Please keep your essential communications down to a mere whisper. All is not quite well yet. But I shall survive. Coffee will be nice, though. Where is everybody?"

"Sabreena is still incommunicado, poor dear. Wilbur is pottering around in his mill, Alfred is depressed, he went for a walk. The two of you have upset us terribly. What on earth happened? Can you talk about it?"

We would have to tell the story eventually, so I did. Lexa was very much surprised to hear of my solution to Sabreena's problem but could not understand why she hit me.

"Oh Bert, we had such a lovely time together. Does this mean that everything has come to an end? That all our trials and tribulations were in vain?"

"No, dear, it does not mean that at all. Harmony has been restored successfully yesterday. Perhaps a little too successful. Sabreena was ashamed of her misreading me so completely and we made amends. Please talk to her when she is up to it. There is no need for her to be embarrassed over this. In retrospect I do find it extremely funny. We will have a few good laughs together.

"I still believe that my suggestion is valid, though. Wilbur's zest for life is monumental and playing second fiddle all the time will not fulfill Sabreena. She has to find something to give meaning to her life as well. Apart from cooking, that is."

Just then a reluctant Alfred entered the house, his face a study in misery. He brightened considerably when he found me talking to Lexa.

"Bert?"

"Good morning, Alfred. Do not worry yourself. Yesterday's little do is cleared up. No harm done. It would be nice though, if you could get me some no. 2 medicine. I want to fix the eye before Sabreena wakes up. And then I shall go and see how Wilbur is coming on. Ah, talk of the devil. Good morning, Wilbur."

"Good morning, Bert. You do look splendid, fantastic colour scheme you got in your face. What about a hair of the hound, old chap?"

"In a moment, Wilbur, in a moment. I just wanted to come over to you and tell that all is well, really. I have told the story to Lexa, Sabreena will give her version in her time. No mystery here. Alfred, please?"

"Sure, Bert, but let's go together instead of bringing the stuff here. You come too, dear. Wilbur, I think you should be here for Sabreena. As you know, we won't be long."

We went to Alfred's study for his disappearing trick and from there straight to our cave. A dip in the pond was all it took, and not even painful. Eyes shiny, head clear, ravenous like a bear in spring. We made breakfast together and took our coffee outside.

"Bert, you have to tell me, you know. We were devastated by what happened: Lexa cried most of the night; I had that silly tune of yours for an earworm. Not funny at all."

After listening to the story Alfred broke out laughing.

"Oh hell, this is it? I don't know how Wilbur is going to take it but I am relieved beyond measure. We were afraid our little group was breaking up before it had even bonded properly. And it's only a question of a misinterpretation and too much temperament."

"But there is more than that to it, Alfred, and that is what bothers me so much. When we saw Bert's black eye, we immediately jumped to the conclusion that he must have done something very bad. We did not trust him enough to hold back our judgement. That was an ugly sentiment sweeping through us, we should be ashamed of ourselves."

"Yes, dear, you are right and I sincerely apologise, Bert. But we were staggered by the sight of you two – and your condition. We should have waited for an explanation. I am truly sorry, my friend."

"No need for regrets or apologies, Alfred. Appearances were very much against us, I suppose, and it is only human to try and make some sense out of a confusing situation. Every one of us is susceptible. Perhaps I should abstain from doctoring in the future. I was not very successful with Elise either."

"Nonsense, Bert. I don't want to change practitioners; nobody else makes house calls like you do. Besides, I too think your idea has merit. Wilbur doesn't know it yet, but he doesn't stand a chance. And he will like it in the end, of that I am sure. In fact, it will be a good life for them. He busy with his papermaking, she taking care of the little one. Always close together yet not cramping each other's style.