The Cuckoo Clock by Mary Stolz

Author:Mary Stolz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: David R. Godine, Publisher
Published: 1987-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

“I wish we could be in there with him,” said Erich, and the doors of the clock opened. Out flew the bird to land on Brangi’s head. Brangi lifted heavy eyes, sighed, and settled again as the bird began its repertory of songs.

“It is a thank-you note, I believe,” said Ula. “He is singing us his thanks.”

“Yes,” breathed Erich. “Yes, that must be it.”

Being very old and very young, Ula and Erich had no difficulty in accepting a miracle when it was right there singing in the room with them. Only Brangi found it odd to have a bird on his head.

Erich said, when the bird had grown silent again, “He can come out of his house, but he will not be able to go back in unless the doors are opened for him.”

“I shall open them, in the morning. Let him stay out here with Brangi and me for this night. It is late, Erich, and no doubt Frau Goddhart will have noticed your absence.”

Erich said nothing. Frau Goddhart would most certainly have noticed his absence, and punishment was sure to follow. But no punishment could dim the marvel of this day with Ula and their clock and the wooden bird that sang.

“Still,” Old Ula continued, “I would like you to do something for me. I would like you to bring Herr Goddhart here.”

“Now? Tonight? Herr Goddhart?”

“Yes, Erich,” Ula said firmly. “Herr Goddhart, as soon as you can bring him. And you are to come back with him. Tell him that I asked. He will understand.”

Erich hung the fiddle and bow on the wall, looked at his old friend for a long time, then at the bird nestled on Brangi’s head. Then he started for the Manor House.

He ran all the way.

“Ah, so there you are!” cried Frau Goddhart when he sped breathless into the great hall. “And what excuse do you have this time?”

As he had never been late before, and never had had an excuse before, Erich did not know how to answer. He turned to Herr Goddhart. “Papa,” he said. “Herr Ula wishes you to come to him.”

Erich was not only encouraged, he was required, to call the Goddharts Mama and Papa, showing the village that no difference was made between Frau Goddhart’s own children and the waif of God she had taken under her protection. He was happy to call Herr Goddhart Papa, and usually managed not to call Frau Goddhart anything.

Now Frau Goddhart said, “Old Ula’s dying at last, that must be it. And of course he wants me, not you,” she told her husband.

Erich caught his breath. Somehow he was not surprised. Old Ula had waited to finish the clock, and now it was finished and he wanted to rest. Old Ula, he knew, was tired. Very tired. Still, the tears fell down his cheeks as he repeated, “Papa, he asked for you to come to him, and he wants me to go with you.”

“Out of the question,” Frau Goddhart said.

“My dear,” said Herr Goddhart.

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