Page 113 of All We Thought We Knew

When we parted, he held my face between his hands, his eyes drinking me in as rain bathed us. “Did you get my letter? And the Bible?”

I cupped his face, laughing and crying at the same time. “Yes, my darling. I did. I will. I will marry you, Gunther. Today if you want.”

He picked me up and swung me around. “I love you, Ava.”

When my feet were once again on the ground, I gazed into his beloved face. A face I’d wondered if I would ever see again.

“I love you, Gunther Schneider. Welcome home.”

THIRTY-SEVEN:MATTIE

DELANEY HORSE FARM

DECEMBER 1969

Mama never woke up again.

She slipped from this world early Christmas morning while Dad and I held her hands. I didn’t get a chance to tell her how much I loved her or how grateful I was that she loved me. Dr.Monahan and Pastor Arnold arrived, bringing calmness and comfort with them. A kindly man from the funeral home took Mama’s body away, leaving us bereft of her physical presence forever.

By noon, we’d sent everyone away to celebrate the holiday with their families. The funeral was planned for Sunday afternoon.

Dad, Nash, and I sat in the living room amid the Christmas decorations Mama had insisted I put up. They stood as a stark reminder that the life and breath of our family was gone.

“I know you have questions,” Dad said after long minutes passed.

I stared at him. “Questions?” Anger overtook my grief. “Yes, I have questions. Before Mama went to the hospital, she told me someone named Gunther Schneider is my father.” My gaze bored into him. “AreyouGunther Schneider?”

The name echoed in the silent house.

“Yes.” He rubbed his face with both hands before looking at me. “I never wanted you or your brother to know my real name.”

“Why not?” I shook my head, baffled. “I read the letters you wrote to Mama during the war. You were a prisoner. Is that why you didn’t want us to know?”

His shoulders fell. “I asked her not to give you the letters.”

“She said I should know who I was, where I came from, but they only confused me.” My voice wavered. “All this time I thought—” I gulped air. “I thought some other man, some stranger, was my father.”

I burst into sobs.

Dad rose and came to me. He knelt on the floor and took my hands in his. “No, Mattie,” he said, tears running down his face. “I am your father. Me. Gunther Schneider. After the war, I was ashamed of being German. Ashamed of what my countrymen, my own brother, had done. When I was finally released from the internment camp in North Dakota, I was afraid they would change their minds and lock me up again. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let them take me away from Ava. From you and Mark.”

He was sobbing now too.

When he was able to speak, he continued. “I changed my name after your mother and I married. Kurt is my middle name. Schneider can meantailorin German, so I became Kurt Taylor. Ava said I should not be ashamed of my German heritage, but I am. I refused to pass that shame on to my children. It is a burden I would carry alone.”

All I could do was stare at him, trying to process everything he’d shared.

He was German, and he’d been consumed by fear after the war. Whether those fears were rational or not, his choices from that point on were not made from selfishness but for love. Love for Mama. Love for Mark.

Love for me.

The anger and betrayal I’d felt after Mama’s revelation evaporated with his astonishing confession. “You wanted to protect us.”

Nash stood so Dad could sit on the sofa next to me. While he gripped my hand, he told us about his arrest in New York City, his time at Camp Forrest, and how he and Mama met.

“You were going to be a doctor?” I said, dumbfounded.

“My grandfather in Germany was a doctor, and myMutterwanted me to become one too. She sent me to America when I was eighteen years old.”