“Vern Ripley?” Max repeated, trying to place the boy, but he was unable to conjure an image.
3
Max thought of the two missing boys as he drove to his parents’ house for supper.
Few crimes happened in Roscommon. He occasionally heard rumors about drunk and disorderlies at the town bar, and several years before a girl had been killed in a hit and run, but Max couldn’t remember a single murder in all his years in the little town and definitely not any missing kids.
He parked his motorcycle behind his brother’s car and hurried into the house, aware he was showing up fifteen minutes late for dinner.
His mother greeted him at the door, tapping her watch before she threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Nice to see you too, Mom,” he told her.
“Max, I wish you’d call if you’re going to be late. At five minutes passed, I started to imagine your motorcycle wrapped around that big beech tree on Kinley Road.”
Max’s mother stood fussing with his hair like he’d regressed to eight years old. She licked her fingers and patted the dark cowlick on the back of his head.
“Mom, it’s fine, please, hands off.”
She continued as if he’d said nothing.
“Mom!” He took her shoulders in his hands and gently pushed her away.
“Aww, is Maxy Waxy getting his bath?” his older brother, Jake, asked, striding into the front hall and folding his hand like a kitten as he pretended to lick his paw.
Max flipped him off behind his mother’s back.
Jake rubbed his hand over his hair and made loud purring sounds.
“You’re next, Jakey,” Marie Wolfenstein told her oldest child as she made a last grab at Max, straightening the collar of his shirt.
Max skipped away, running into the dining room where his father had already taken his seat at the head of the table.
Jake’s wife sat to his right, her pregnant belly pressing against the table’s edge.
“Get behind his ears,” Eleanor called, laughing.
“How are you feeling, Eleanor?” Max asked, sitting in his chair with a huff and pulling on his shirt to skew his mother’s straightening job.
“Well, my ankles are the size of oak limbs, and I have heartburn so bad I’m lucky to sleep for two solid hours every night, but other than that, I’m peachy!” She laughed and winced, putting her hands on either side of her belly to steady its quaking.
“I had heartburn the entire second and third trimester with Jake,” Maria announced, bustling into the dining room with a platter of sausage, Jake on her heels. “Heartburn, morning sickness, and afterward I had stretch marks six inches long.” Maria patted her wide hips and shot a disapproving look at Jake, who’d bent to kiss the top of his wife’s head.
“My little Maximilian, on the other hand,” she continued, looking adoringly at her younger son, “was like carrying a peaceful little cloud. He never kicked, let me eat anything I wanted, and slid into the world with hardly a peep.”
“I always knew I was your favorite,” Max told her, sticking his tongue out at Jake.
Jake laughed and cast his blue eyes toward his mother.
“Mom, don’t try to make him feel better. You prefer me. It’s okay. We inevitably love most what we work for, right? If it gets handed to you, who wants it?” Jake winked at Max.
“Enough out of you two,” their father announced, clinking his fork against his glass so hard Max feared it might shatter.
Their father was big, much like his sons, but where Max was muscular and wiry, their father was barrel chested with big hands and feet.
He smiled, his dark eyes crinkling with joy.
“Maria dreamed of an eagle last night! Jake and Eleanor are having a baby boy!” he announced.
Eleanor’s eyes popped wide, and she shot a questioning glance at Jake, who grinned.
“Dad,” Max started, but Maria cut him off.
“In our family, Eleanor, our children appear in dreams long before they arrive in the world. I dreamed of eagles before Max and Jake were born. My sister, who gave birth to three daughters, dreamed of butterflies during each of her pregnancies.”
“Wow, that-” Eleanor started, but Marie interrupted her.
“My mother dreamed of a beautiful black and gold butterfly before I was born. Two months before she gave birth to my brother, Sigmund, she dreamed of an eagle swooping toward the sea and plucking a fish from the water.”
“It’s all very scientific,” Max offered with a laugh.
Max’s father pointed his fork at him.
“Doubt is the opposite of faith, my son. There is more to this life than your books.”
Max nodded.
“Still, you’d think if dreams could divine the sex of babies, our German grandmothers would have made a fortune.”
“You bite your tongue,” Maria chastised, her eyes sparkling. “We don’t impart our wisdom for silver and gold. Such dreams are meant for our children.” She reached over to Eleanor and rested a hand on her daughter-in-law’s belly. “Do you hear that young man? There is eagle in your blood.”
Eleanor giggled, and Jake draped an arm around his wife, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
“I’d like to tell you the weirdness will end when the baby is born, but we both know I’d be lying.”
Max, Eleanor, and Jake suppressed their laughter as Maria gave them dirty looks, and their father began heaping his plate with food, whistling a happy tune beneath his breath.
“I made sauerbraten,” Maria said, scooping a ladle of the pot roast onto Eleanor’s dish. “The vinegar will help with your heartburn.”
Eleanor smiled, but Max saw her hesitation.
“You sure it won’t make it worse,” Max asked, smelling the pungent vinegar.
Maria glowered at him.
“How many years have I cooked for you, Maximilian?”
“Twenty-seven,” he told her. “Well, maybe twenty-six considering I didn’t have teeth the first year.”
“And have you ever-” she started.
But he cut her off. “And I’ve never gone to bed hungry.” He laughed. “I’m just trying to look out for my brother’s lovely wife.”
He winked at Eleanor, who offered him a thankful smile, though they both knew she’d eat the sauerbraten. Maria had a way of convincing you she’d prepared the perfect antidote for what ailed you. For most of his young life, Max had believed schnitzel cured the common cold.
“How’s school going?” Jake asked, taking a sloppy bite of sauerbraten.
“The usual. Last two weeks of school insanity. The kids are practically eating the wallpaper, and I suddenly have six months’ worth of papers to grade.”
Jake laughed.
“And that’s why,” he started, tilting his glass of wine toward his younger brother, “I’m in the insurance business.”
“And a fine insurance man you are!” Herman beamed, leaning forward and slapping his son on the back. “I’m proud of both my sons.”
“Don’t we know it,” Max murmured. “Oh, Mom,” Max laughed as he saw Maria’s eyes well with tears.
“Such good boys you are,” she agreed, exchanging delighted faces with her husband across the table.
Max grinned and shook his head. Since he and his brother had moved out of the house, their parents had become increasingly sentimental. Every week during Wednesday night dinner, they lavished their sons with praise, and one of them often cried.
They were not typical German parents. Max had met his mother and father’s siblings and their children, his cousins. A cool detachment seemed to reside in the houses of their extended family.