A Backward Glance at Eden

By Harald Lutz Bruckner

Friar Jochanaan's tenure at the Maria Laach Monastery ends abruptly when his lover for more than twelve years, Father Frederick Emanuel, causes a catastrophic fire in an apparent attempt to take Jochanaan's life. After recovering from severe burns, Jochanaan chooses to take the name of his father, Johann von Rondstett, and ends his monastic life

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hideaway Press
• Release date: Mar 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9780578854182

Harald Lutz Bruckner

Harald Lutz Bruckner, author of The Blue Sapphire Amulet, Escape on the Astral Express, A Wanderer on the Earth, The Born-Again Phoenix, Harald's Garland, Lighthouse Mystery, Doretta's Damnation, A Backward Glance at Eden, Obsessive Compulsion, and Forever Greta hails from Germany but has spent his adult life in the United States. His work and educational adventures have taken him from merchandising/retailing, the teaching of German and World Literature, to a career in Audiology and the challenges of working with hard-of-hearing and deaf children and adults. Among his favorite academic subjects to teach were his offerings in sign language. In 1981, he discovered the magic of painting in transparent watercolors and has never stopped painting. Moving to sunny Arizona from the high country of Colorado in 2003, caused a major shift in his subject matter, changing from a primarily realistic orientation to one of total abstraction. Since his retirement from academia, Bruckner pursued his passions for travel, art, music, and the enjoyment of writing.

Book preview

Prologue

JOCHANAAN celebrated his sixteenth birthday on February 6, 1962. Among his many presents, he found an invitation from his mother, Rachel Adina Salm von Graben von Rondstett Unrat. When he read his mother’s distinct handwriting, he was touched by her thoughtful consideration in selecting a special gift. He couldn’t wait to sit down with her at the breakfast table.

Thank you, Mom. I’ll treasure our visit to Hamburg—Germany’s jewel of the North. I only have to wait a whole three days for our adventure to begin. Didn’t Fritz want to come along?

I asked him but he thought this was one event he wanted just the two of us to enjoy. He isn’t as enchanted with opera, and especially Wagnerian opera, as are we. He won’t mind being at home. He’ll keep Elsa company. And if he gets too bored, he’ll have a couple of brews with Walter. I almost said John. I have no idea why he decided as of late to go by his middle name? Well, John or Walter, he’s still one of Fritz’s closest buddies.

images/img-7-1.jpg

The train for Hamburg left on the morning of February 9. Jochanaan liked the elegance of the first-class compartment, and both he and his mother were pleased to have the space all to themselves. Rachel reached into her purse and retrieved the tickets for the Staatsoper Hamburg.

"I thought you might like to know what opera I’ve chosen. I understand Der Fliegende Holländer [The Flying Dutchman] is one of your favorites."

Oh, Mom, I love it. And to see it at a place that is ever-so close to the stormy North Sea. Have you ever been to Hamburg?

I attended a professional meeting four years ago and stayed at the Steigenberger Hotel. Miriam’s father and I would have liked to be in Hamburg while we were still studying in München in the 1930s. That simply wasn’t possible at the time because of the political situation in Germany. I can assure you, no one shall question our religion today.

Let’s hope not. Jochanaan looked at his watch and then at the train schedule. Looks like we’ll arrive in time for lunch. Can we go down to the Jungfernstieg and have our meal on one of the boats? We could enjoy a bite to eat and see something of the city at the same time.

Excellent idea. The performance starts at seven o’clock. We’ll have a light dinner at the hotel. You’ll look nice in the blue suit you brought. I’ll wear a two-piece ensemble and brighten it up with a scarf. We don’t have to be formal. It’s not opening night.

The Hamburg Express pulled into the station promptly at 12:33. They took a cab to the hotel, checked in, and walked down to the Jungfernstieg. The boat ride was fun and their lunch exactly what they had envisioned. As he was getting dressed for dinner and the theater, Jochanaan was humming a tune.

"Isn’t that the overture from Der Fliegende Holländer?" asked his mother.

Yes. It certainly is! You know what inspired Wagner to write the opera, don’t you?

Vaguely. It’s so long since I heard about it when Otto and I studied in München. There was a time I disliked anything Wagnerian because of the composer’s blatant anti-Semitism and Hitler’s veneration of the man.

Mom, that happened all so long ago. What’s important is the man’s creative genius. In 1839, Wagner and his wife fled from creditors under the cloak of darkness and boarded a small vessel in Riga bound for London. The ship was caught in a horrendous storm and nearly sank in a Norwegian fjord. Reading a story by Heinrich Heine and recalling the near-death experience on their voyage through the Baltic and North Seas, inspired Wagner to write his first great romantic opera, Jochanaan said.

I’m surprised you know all those details. I never had the time or inclination to be that well informed. Rachel looked at the passing scene as the train carried them swiftly to their destination.

Jochanaan continued. "Wagner wrote Der Fliegende Holländer over one hundred and twenty-five years ago. Millions have been under the spell of this magical score for all these years. It’s the first opera using leitmotifs (the storm motif, the Dutchman and Senta motifs, the redemption through true love motif, and others) that occur in the overture and link the action in this one-act musical drama."

Rachel could tell her son was already listening to the score in his mind. Jochanaan went on with much excitement in his delivery.

I can’t wait to hear it. The overture is such a powerful precursor of what’s to come in the opera. When I started attending operas with one of my classmates, I was immediately taken by the tragic story of the Dutchman and Senta, the woman who ultimately rescues him from the curse of sailing the seven seas forever.

There you go again talking about romance. Why do you insist on wanting to become a monk? It simply makes no sense to me.

Mom, let’s not spoil the evening. Wanting to enter a monastery and enjoying an operatic story are two entirely different things. Rachel decided to let it go. She was still hoping Jochanaan would come to his senses in the course of the next two years.

The performance was all any devotee of Wagnerian drama could hope for. Senta sang the final words, "Hier steh’ ich, treu dir bis zum Tod" [Here I stand, faithfully yours until death shall us part]. The audience sat spellbound listening as the last chords of the opera faded away. As the curtain fell, a standing ovation rewarded the performers.

Leaving the opera house deep in thought, neither Rachel nor Jochanaan or any of the others envisioned the devastation that would be visited upon the city of Hamburg a week later. Storm Vincinette, blowing off the North Sea, brought the devastating flood of 1962 to Hamburg, killing hundreds and causing thousands to lose their homes and all they treasured. It was one of the great disasters befalling Hamburg, the Pearl of the North.

Chapter 1

THE sirens at Fire House #3 were blaring at 6:31 a.m. on the morning of February 29, 1976. The crew sleeping in the loft of the station had a rude awakening on this early Sunday morning. No one had expected to leap into the day at this ungodly hour, least of all Matthias, who was still sound asleep. Hans, his closest buddy, shook Matt by his right shoulder. Wake up, Matt! Wake up! I’ll catch you at the bottom of the brass pole. Hans was rushing away, grabbing his helmet off the hanging rack. Matt slipped down the pole seconds later.

The engine of the firetruck was running smoothly. Matthias was the last to jump onto the vehicle already in motion. Looks like the Laach Monastery is in flames. It must be some fire. Look how the bell towers of the Abbey are lit by the glow of the inferno. Makes me wonder what happened, Hans said.

The fire engine raced through streets totally lacking traffic at dawn on a Sunday morning. Bells from all churches near and far were competing with the sirens of rushing firetrucks, ambulances, and police vehicles. Fire engine #3 was the first on the scene since it was closest to the monastery.

The crew jumped into action before the motion of the truck had ceased. Hoses rolled off the smoothly functioning spools and connected to the well-marked fire hydrants situated near the target area. Matt stared at the flames emerging from the second-story windows and would have sworn he detected a human figure moving within the room that was ablaze. His suspicions were confirmed by the outcry of a dozen friars watching the burning building. It’s Father Frederick Emanuel. He’s trying to reach the marble staircase and escape. Matt and Hans, gushing water hoses in hand, rushed in the direction of the building entrance. From regular fire drills, they knew that the entrance to the staircase led to the main section of the monastery. Getting closer to the solid wood door, they could hear the desperate yelling.

Flood the door! Break down the damn door. The priest realized what he had blurted out as he splashed water over Jochanaan and himself. We are surrounded by flames. Hurry! That holy water won’t save us for long. The fires of hell are moving ever so close to us.

Matt raised his hand and signaled for help and the need for a powerful beam to break down the door. His signal was instantly recognized by members of the crew. Within seconds four of the men rammed a solid oak beam with all their strength into the lock of the door. On their third attempt, the door gave way, allowing Father Frederick Emanuel to emerge. In his arms he held the young friar, Brother Jochanaan.

Neither Father Frederick Emanuel nor Brother Jochanaan spoke a word other than mumbled appreciations of thankfulness for being rescued. Father Emanuel gently laid his charge on the ground. He needs to be taken to a burn unit at the closest hospital as fast as possible. The young man has sustained severe burns over much of his body. It was only when Jochanaan’s tunic was drawn away from his head that the firemen realized his face was completely blackened.

Matt spoke first. Father, can you explain what happened to this guy? You were the one who rescued him. Can you tell us what you saw?

I was awakened by a loud noise shortly after five and immediately was aware of something burning in the monastery. As I rushed toward a wall of smoke that traveled down the long hallway of our floor and in my direction, I banged on the doors of sleeping friars while making my way to the source of the problem. I kept yelling ‘fire, fire’ and ‘get out of the building.’ Father Frederick Emanuel started to cough. Matt encouraged him to continue.

I realized smoke and flames originated from the cell of Brother Jochanaan. When I entered his room, I saw him standing stark naked next to his work table surrounded by flames. A large blanket and burned tunic were lying at his bare feet. It appeared he had rolled himself in the blanket to extinguish the embers from his burning garments. He was clearly in shock and didn’t say a word as he saw me approach him. I believe the chemicals from his photo lab ignited and caused the explosion and the fire. I grabbed one of his other tunics, wanting to cover his body before I dragged him down to the font where I splashed all available holy water over both of us and rushed down the marble staircase. I knew it would be the only way for us to escape the inferno.

Hans got the attention of the chief and signaled for a stretcher. Father Frederick Emanuel lifted Jochanaan onto the gurney and joined the young friar inside the ambulance. Once the ambulance crew had closed the doors, Father Emanuel bent down to his charge and wiped Jochanaan’s blackened brow with a clean handkerchief. Most of the burns on your body are from the acid that erupted from the exploding canister. You were smart to roll in that blanket. It kept you from becoming a living torch. The bulk of the burns are on your legs and your chest. Your face is merely covered with black smudge, nothing that cannot be solved by soap and water. He pressed Jochanaan’s right hand reassuringly.

Thanks, Father, for coming to my rescue. I have no idea what happened. I know how to handle the chemicals in my photo lab. I’ve done it since I was a young boy. Feel the back of my head. While I was bent over the table and was reading the emerging images, I was struck by something. Last I remember was the smell of cigarette smoke followed by the explosion. You are fully aware that I don’t lock my cell and always abide by the rule of the monastery to never hide behind locked doors. Anyone could have come in and surprised me while I was deeply involved in developing the product of my most recent photo shoot. Jochanaan gasped for air; coughing furiously, he gestured for a tissue. He was shocked to see the black phlegm he’d expelled.

The priest looked on in horror and finally responded. You realize there will be an investigation since a large portion of the monastery was destroyed by the fire. Do you have any inkling who might have tried to hurt you? All of the friars have been with me for years, except young Anthony who joined us three weeks ago. Most of our brothers know of our relationship. Are you aware of any of them carrying animosity toward you?

None was all Jochanaan said before he succumbed to the heavy sedation he had received from the ambulance crew as soon as he was securely ensconced in the emergency vehicle.

Chapter 2

ON the morning of March 2, Jochanaan finally regained consciousness. Opening his eyes, painfully experiencing the brightness of daylight, he recognized Father Frederick Emanuel sitting close to the bed and several uniformed men standing behind the priest. His visitors were huddled and speaking in soft voices. Fire Marshall Heine was the first to address Jochanaan.

Brother Jochanaan, I’m Fire Marshall Heine. If you’re up to it, I would like you to share with us what you recall from what happened at the monastery early on Sunday morning. Father Frederick Emanuel had moved his chair closer to the hospital bed and was practically leaning with his left arm into Jochanaan. Herr Heine was standing directly behind the Father. Jochanaan repeatedly drew in air through his nostrils. It seemed almost like a certain odor was affecting his breathing. Or was it awakening his memories?

The doctors have apprised us of your health condition. We don’t want to put any unnecessary stress on you. Are you positive you are capable of discussing your recollections of the events of last Sunday? Are you OK, Brother Jochanaan? Is something bothering you?

Right now, I’m not in too much pain and have no difficulty recalling what I observed. At this moment, I know a hell of a lot more than I care to share with you. He continued speaking to the Fire Marshall.

I don’t know why, but I had awakened with a chill at three-thirty and went to use the lavatory. I prefer to sleep in the nude but decided to put on one of my tunics after doing my business. I was wide awake and elected not to return to bed and instead started working in my photo lab, wanting to develop the images from my most recent photo shoot. I’ve been an amateur photographer since I was a young boy. Sometimes I wonder if I failed to pursue my true passion. He leaned back into his down pillow, backing ever so slightly away from Father Frederick Emanuel.

"I’d been working for about an hour. Bent over the solution trays, I felt the air move as from a door opening. A familiar odor pierced my nostrils before something slammed into the back of my head. The chemicals exploded into a fireball igniting my tunic. I yanked a blanket from the bed and rolled in it to crush out the flames. I must have passed out.

The next thing I recall is Father Frederick Emanuel carrying me down the long smoke-filled hallway toward the marble staircase. He was dousing both of us with holy water from the fountain located at the landing of the stairway. We had a brief discussion of the events during the ambulance ride before I must have succumbed to the sedative given to me.

So it is your belief that someone tried to harm you? It wasn’t you who accidentally started the fire but an unknown person who caused the explosion with a lit cigarette? Did I interpret your statements correctly?

Yes, you did.

Are there any smokers among the friars who reside in the monastery?

All my brothers smoke except Anthony and myself. I detest smoking. Anthony joined the Friars only recently. He shares my passion for photography.

The Fire Marshall turned to Father Frederick Emanuel. You have anything to add, Father? It appears this fire wasn’t an accident. It must be considered a case of arson. Since you’re in charge, I’ll let my colleagues from the police department take over when we’re done here. He turned to face Jochanaan.

You take care of yourself, Brother Jochanaan, and get well real soon. I know you’re in good hands. I suggest we all take our leave for now. We may need to speak with you again after you’re fully recovered. He laid his right hand gently on top of Brother Jochanaan’s folded hands and then backed out of the room quietly along with the other men. Fire Marshall Heine merely nodded in Father Frederick Emanuel’s direction as he pulled the door shut behind him.

images/img-7-1.jpg

Brother Jochanaan closed his eyes as he relived recent scenes. God, I was lucky the transport from the monastery to Koblenz was a mere thirty kilometers. Had it been further, I might not be lying here. He sat straight up in his bed and reached to touch Father Frederick Emanuel. "It was you, bastard, who came to my cell on Sunday morning. You’re still wearing that unmistakable Paco Rabanne, your favorite French cologne. You were jealous of my association with Friar Anthony. The only thing he and I have in common is our passion for photography. He couldn’t care less about my dick. He isn’t gay.

You’ve opened my eyes, you miserable prick. You’ve opened them wide, you jealous and hateful bitch. I’m done with you, and I’m done with being a monk and your lover. As soon as I have sufficiently healed from the hurt you’ve caused me, I’ll retrieve what remains of my things at Maria Laach and hopefully will never again have to lay eyes on you. Jochanaan struck out at his nemesis with unexpected force causing Father Frederick Emanuel to sprawl on the floor. Jochanaan sardonically laughed watching the priest trying to get on his knees all tangled in his monastic frockery. Frederick’s pained face reflected the utter rejection he was forced to accept.

Jochanaan turned on his right side, not wanting to make eye contact with his mentor. He had tears in his eyes. He knew he had been betrayed by the man whom he had trusted and loved completely. It was a bitter lesson but one he needed to experience. It was an event that ultimately would open doors to a new and productive life in the outside world. Sedation worked its miracle, allowing him to drift off into a pleasant dream and a first glimpse at Eden.

Chapter 3

JOCHANAAN had only one visitor during the month of March. Violating Father Frederick Emanuel’s orders, Friar Anthony came to check on his new-found friend. He missed their exciting mutual discoveries and discussions relative to the world of photography. Even more so, he missed access to Jochanaan’s lab facilities and the darkroom.

After the fire, all the friars lost their privacy. The cells that survived had to be shared by two or three of the friars on campus. Anthony had been assigned to share quarters with Father Frederick Emanuel. The young friar wasn’t aware of his cell mate’s proclivities. Neither Jochanaan nor the other friars had elected to enlighten him. Father Frederick Emanuel chose not to make any advances on his roommate after his discussion with Jochanaan at the hospital. Thus, young Anthony was totally clueless of the reasons for any restrictions imposed by the leader of the monastery.

Jochanaan was certain Father Frederick Emanuel would never confess to police investigators that he was the source of the devastating fire. Lack of cooperation with the police and the Fire Marshall would bring the inquiry to a stalemate. There was no other evidence of the priest’s crime unless Jochanaan would testify. He decided to keep his secret. Friar Jochanaan wanted to distance himself from the church and Father Frederick Emanuel.

The weeks of isolation imposed by his confinement to the hospital and treatments for the serious burns he sustained gave him an opportunity to reevaluate his life and to see his future from a different perspective. He was beginning to believe he committed a major error by abandoning all who loved him in the outside world.

In the quiet of his room, Jochanaan heard the voices of his mother and Fritz, the man who had become his father in absentia, and Miriam, his beloved sister. He recalled the things they had written and said to him. After subjecting himself for the last twelve years to living in total isolation, he concluded that his reasons for seeking monastic life were utterly flawed. Yes, the man who had fathered him was a Nazi and was forced by the ruling powers to serve at Terezin [Theresienstadt]. It was in the concentration camp at Theresienstadt that Johann von Rondstett encountered Rachel Adina Salm von Graben, Jochanaan’s mother, and fell in love with her at first sight.

At this juncture in his thirty-year existence, Jochanaan accepted the fact that he was not the fruit of a hateful relationship. He was created in an act of passion and supreme love. Coming to that realization, Jochanaan wept bitter tears for the father he never knew. Forgive me, Lord; I didn’t know what I was doing when I condemned my earthly father. Forgive me, Mother, for being so hurtful to you after all you endured. Forgive me, Fritz, for not listening to you. Forgive me, Miriam, for shutting you out of my life. He clutched the cross hanging from the heavy silver chain around his neck and grasped it tightly in front of his scorched chest.

Forgive me, Father, for hating the man who did this to me in an act of jealousy. Forgive me for remaining silent. He looked up to the crucifix hanging on the wall facing his bed and wiped away the tears with the back of his hand. I’ve got to get out of here and away from all that separates me from those who truly love me!

images/img-7-1.jpg

He reached for the phone and dialed a number he had not accessed in three years. The party he called picked up on the third ring.

Doctors Korn and Korn, dental surgeons, Elsa Brand speaking. How may I help you?

Hello, Elsa. It’s Jochanaan.

Jochanaan! You take my breath away. How are you, dear boy. Forgive your old aunt. You are not a boy any longer. You are a grown man. I said a prayer for you on your thirtieth birthday only a few weeks ago. Why are you calling me? Are you ill or in trouble?

I’m not really ill and certainly not in trouble. I need to talk with you at length. You were always there for me in the past. Now that Mom and Fritz are resting in eternal sleep and Miriam lives so far away, you are closest to me.

Thank you for what you said. It’s a very busy day at the office. I want you to call me at my number upstairs after six tonight. You do have my private number, don’t you?

Yes, Elsa. For sure. It’s in my head.

I always knew you were smart. Be sure to call me tonight. We can take all the time we need to chat. I’m absolutely thrilled that you chose to get in touch with me. There’s so much I need and want to share with you. Until later. I love you Jochanaan. Tears were streaming down Elsa’s face as she replaced the receiver on its cradle.

Jochanaan smiled as he hung up the phone. He could picture busy little Elsa at his mom’s former dental office. Korn and Korn? Father and son? Jewish? He would get his answers in a little over three hours. He wasn’t the least bit offended by Elsa putting him off. He had always admired Elsa’s professional conduct and her veneration of his mother. Elsa and Rachel had become more like sisters than they were colleagues, friends, and close associates. Goodness gracious, Mom would have been shot to death by that crazy twin sister of hers had it not been for Elsa. What turbulent lives they lived!

He became pensive when he recalled some of the events at Theresienstadt his mother and Elsa shared with him when he approached manhood. How could I forget what Commander Rost made Mom and Elsa do in that distant place during the waning months of WW II? How could I forget what that swine did to my mother? How could I forget the scenes describing the escape from Theresienstadt and the murder of my father? How could I ever forget Fritz Unrat, the man who assumed the role of my father? How could I ever forget the sacrifice Mom and Otto made to save Miriam’s life by cloistering her for eight years in the loving care of Sister Maria-Angelika? No longer were these interesting and engrossing stories.These were events that shaped the lives of Jochanaan’s immediate family and his own life.

After a quick glance at the utilitarian wall clock in his room, he decided to shut out the world and find inner peace in much-needed sleep. Dwelling on the past for three endlessly long hours would have been nothing but torture. He summoned one of the nuns by pushing the magic button and requested to be awakened no later than fifteen minutes after six o’clock. When Sister Monika-Elizabeta closed the door ever so gently behind her, Jochanaan drifted off into the world of Morpheus.

Chapter 4

SISTER Monika-Elizabeta touched him gently on his left shoulder. Brother Jochanaan, it’s time for you to wake up. I almost woke you earlier. I could hear your desperate cries in the hall as I passed by your room. You must have had a nightmare.

I wish you had awakened me. I was reliving the trauma my mom experienced during WW II. My mother was confined to Theresienstadt for ten months.

Why would your mother be sent to such a place? You are of our faith.

My mother was Jewish, as was I, until I converted to Catholicism twelve years ago. I never knew my father. I believe he was an atheist.

"You said your mother was Jewish. Isn’t she living any longer?"

She died three years ago. It still hurts that we had to lose her so soon.

I’m so sorry to learn of your loss and will keep you in my prayers. Sister Monika-Elizabeta was touched by the sadness in Jochanaan’s eyes. The dampness in hers matched his grief.

"I’d better face reality. Thanks for waking me on time. Don’t bother bringing dinner. Lunch was more than I needed. I’m not really hungry. Perhaps I’ll have some fruit a little later. I would appreciate the Do Not Disturb Sign. I need to be alone for the next hour or so."

I understand. Be assured, no one shall invade your privacy. The sister closed the heavy wooden door with ease. Jochanaan detected the sound of the sign being hung from the door handle. He couldn’t help smiling as he dialed Elsa’s number.

She picked up the phone on the third ring and didn’t even respond in typical fashion. I just knew it was you, Jochanaan. How are you feeling? Tell me what happened?

I’ve been lying flat on my back since February 29 when I was taken to this hospital by ambulance. I sustained some pretty bad burns on my chest and legs from an explosion in my photo lab that resulted in a major disaster at the monastery. About two thirds of the building was destroyed by the flames. We are talking damage in the millions. I’m sure I lost everything I owned except my valuable cameras. They, all my negatives, whatever money I had on hand, and a couple of pieces of jewelry were in a locked, fireproof vault in my cell.

How did this happen? I know how careful you always were around your chemicals. Last I knew, you never smoked.

A young friar, Brother Anthony, joined the order in late January. We discovered our mutual passion for photography within days of his arrival and started working together in our allotted time. My lover, Father Frederick Emanuel, apparently became insanely suspicious of my relationship to Brother Anthony. Of course, he had no idea that Friar Anthony was anything but gay. I’m absolutely positive that Frederick Emanuel tried to kill me in a fit of jealousy. When he didn’t succeed in knocking me out, he caused the explosion and resulting inferno by carelessly—more likely intentionally—dropping one of his ever-present cigarettes into the chemical bath in front of me. I never saw my attacker, but his cologne was what gave him away.

Is he aware of what you know?

Oh, yes. He knows and realizes that I’m the only one who could prove that it was he who caused the explosion and why. I made damn sure I let him know. Jochanaan needed to shift his body to a more comfortable position before he continued speaking.

Aunt Elsa, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since Mom’s death, and even more so during these weeks of hospitalization. I will not return to the monastery. I’m not sure at this moment what I will do or where I want to go. All I know is that I’m done being a monk. Some of my photographs have sold well in galleries in Bonn, Aachen, and Köln [Cologne], so I have some money. With a bit of good fortune, I’ll land me a job somewhere. I’m not afraid of doing a good day’s work.

I’m so proud of you. Your loving mother would be too! Let Aunt Elsa be the bearer of good news. Jochanaan, you are a young man who has great expectations. After your mother’s practice was sold and her estate settled, you and Miriam were left with millions. Even I was well taken care of for the rest of my days.

There was dead silence for a moment. All Elsa could hear was Jochanaan’s heavy breathing and the sound of sniffling.

At last, he responded to her. Tell me more, Aunt Elsa. As you must realize, I’m in shock.

Your mother was very successful but also always very frugal. Besides that, she received a substantial settlement from the German government for the pains and financial losses she and her family endured under the Nazi regime. Miriam’s father-in-law, Dr. Samuel Bernstein, invested the money wisely and has turned your mother’s fortune into an even greater one. Trusts were established for both Miriam and you. Neither she nor you should ever have want for anything. Elsa heard a clanky noise. It sounded like Jochanaan’s phone had struck a hard surface.

Are you still there, Jochanaan?

Yes, Aunt Elsa. Sorry, the phone slipped from my hand. You left me without words. I don’t know what to say.

For one thing, stop calling me Aunt Elsa. Elsa will be fine. You are not a little boy any longer, and I don’t see myself as the old maiden aunt. I’m your friend, although your mother treated me more like a sister than an employee.

OK, Elsa. He laughed softly.

When the apartments in the building became available for ownership, Rachel insisted on buying my place for me. Furthermore, she provided for an endowment shielding me from poverty for the rest of my days. She also stipulated in her will that whoever would purchase her practice after her death would have to guarantee me employment until I reached retirement age. Your mother made certain that all who she loved would be well provided for after her untimely death.

I’m sorry I was such a disappointment to her.

I don’t know what it was, but your mother always told me she was confident one day you would discover you weren’t meant to live in a monastery. Jochanaan, I’m thrilled she was right in her prediction! How much longer do you expect to be confined to the hospital?

The doctors have told me I will be leaving the facility no later than the end of April. My burns are healing well, but there will always be noticeable scarring, particularly on my chest. I was lucky the acid did not strike me in the face.

When you’re discharged, I want you to come and stay with me for a while until you decide what you want to do. You have many options. Start thinking positive thoughts while you’re convalescing. One thing I would very much encourage you to do is to call your sister and Josh. I know Miriam will be overjoyed to learn of your break with Father Frederick Emanuel. She disliked the man from the day she first heard of his existence. It’s not because he’s gay. Miriam abhorred the way he conducted himself with you the moment you met. I want you to know you are very much loved. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms. I’ve known you since the day you were conceived.

Don’t hang up yet. Fill me in on Korn & Korn.

It’s a father and son duo. Julius Korn, the father, is close to my age and survived Sachsenhausen. His wife, Adele, is a charming and kind lady and reminds me in many ways of Esther Bernstein. I love her laugh. Their son, Israel, is your age. He was born in May 1946. He got his degree at Ludwig Maximilian University (LMU) in München where your mom studied in the 1930s. That’s how he learned of her death and the availability of the practice. Samuel and Esther made sure there was a tribute to your mom in the LMU weekly newspaper.

I was always drawn to Sam Bernstein. It was he and Fritz in whom I confided that I believed to be different. I’m pleased to know that Sam and Esther honored Mom in that way.

The Korns, father and son, are a good fit and have done a wonderful job of carrying on your mom’s legacy. They are a pleasure to work for and with. I couldn’t be in a better place. I know you will like them when you meet. Be prepared. Adele couldn’t stand to look at that empty steel hook in the dining room. One of the first things she did was to replace the stolen Bohemian crystal chandelier that graced the room before the war. I never knew what the original fixture looked like but am certain Rachel Adina Salm von Graben von Rondstett Unrat would approve of its replacement.

Jochanaan burst out laughing. Mom did succeed in acquiring quite the name by the time her life ended. I will always be thankful for her insistence on legally bestowing legitimacy on my sister and me. I can still hear her saying: ‘I didn’t bring any bastards into this world! Both your fathers couldn’t help being disenfranchised or killed before given the chance to marry me.’ That was Mom.

I’m absolutely convinced your mother would have married your father had he not been so brutally murdered in front of our very eyes. But let’s not dwell on the past. I want you to start thinking about new and bright horizons in your future. I’ll do anything and everything to make those vistas a reality for you. Rest well for now. Call your sister and give me a ring as soon as you know when you’ll be discharged. I’ll arrange for a chauffeur to fetch you and your belongings. Always remember I love you.

Thanks, Elsa. I love you too. Holding the silenced receiver still in his hands, he couldn’t believe the reversal of fortune that had been placed in his lap.

Chapter 5

ARRANGED by Elsa, the chauffeur walked into Jochanaan’s hospital room on the morning of April 30. He was accompanied by Sister Monika-Elizabeta who made the introductions. Here we are. I’d like you to meet Herr von Rondstett. He’s anxious to be on his way to Essen. The chauffeur extended his right hand. Horst Frankenmuth at your service. I often drive Fräulein Brand in Essen.

Pleasure to meet you, Herr Frankenmuth.

Make it Horst. No one other than tax collectors call me Herr Frankenmuth.

Okay by me, Horst. Before we head for Essen, I need to stop at the monastery in Maria Laach and retrieve some of my personal belongings that survived the recent fire. That includes a safe. I’ll be able to help you carry some of the lighter stuff. One of the friars will have to give you a hand with the safe. I’m still not quite up to full strength in the muscle department. Lying flat on my back for two months didn’t help the cause.

No problem. Herr von Rondstett. I can handle it.

It’s a two-way street. I’m Johann. Sister Monika-Elizabeta had a puzzled expression on her face. Why’s he calling himself Johann? She didn’t know Brother Jochanaan had chosen to take his father’s name. He desired a complete break with the past. He wanted to be a new and different man.

images/img-7-1.jpg

Arriving at the monastery, Johann went straight to Father Frederick Emanuel’s quarters. He hoped to speak to Brother Anthony and avoid facing his nemesis. His inner wish was granted when Brother Anthony greeted him with a firm handshake. Man, you’re looking all put together. You feeling okay, Brother Jochanaan?

From now on, I prefer to be known as Johann von Rondstett. It’s my father’s name. It’s the least I can do to honor the man who was murdered within hours after he created me.

Great, Johann. How can I be of help to you?

You could help Horst with carrying the safe from my former cell. I know it was still there and survived the fire. I’m sure no one had access to it. I don’t know what possessed me to do so, but I changed the combination the night before the incident. With that, Father Frederick Emanuel stepped into the doorway.

What makes you think you are entitled to remove anything from the monastery, especially that safe from your cell? Why wasn’t I able to open it?

Johann elected to ignore Frederick’s question and spoke to Horst and Friar Anthony. Gentlemen, please proceed with loading the safe into the limo. Father Frederick Emanuel and I need to have a private conversation. He grabbed his former mentor by his arm and pushed him into his quarters kicking the door shut with the heel of his right shoe.

"Okay, you miserable prick. First of all, that safe is my personal property purchased with my own funds. Second of all, if I were