The Last Request of Heinrich Abelard

Heinrich Abelard was a man who had lived a full life and long. As a boy, he had worked to rebuild a nation. As a young man, he had fought a war for his people. As a man, he had come to America with his family and built a home. Heinrich was a man who had labored all of his life. Now he was dead, and his niece, Annaliese, stood in the midst of mourners in the old man's living room, listening with passing interest to the reading of the will.

Some of the others cared more than she did. Perhaps they all did. Annaliese knew that many of them were waiting with baited breath to learn of their inheritance, and there certainly was varied treasures to divvy up amongst them, but she was not so concerned with material matters. She had little care for who would receive her late uncle's mansion or his fortune or his things; she was much more concerned with the fact that he was dead. He had always been her favorite uncle, and he was always quick to assure her that he felt the same. Heinrich loved Annaliese, and everyone knew it. That was precisely why they all thought it strange when the silver tongued lawyer in the finely cut suit came to the end of the will without so much as a mention of the dead man's favored niece.

"Is that all?" asked Aunt Margaret.

"Tough luck for the girl," chattered Uncle Charlie.

"I suppose that Old Man Abelard surprised us after all," remarked her cousin, Emmet.

The crowd dispersed, and Annaliese began to go along with the rest of them over towards the parlor for the discussion of memories, but a voice renewed and summoned her.

"Annaliese," the lawyer called.

She turned her heavy heart and her attentions over to the kind faced man with the thinning hair and rounded glasses. He had long been a friend of her uncle.

"Yes, Mr. Bethge?" she replied, gently twisting the skirt of her dress, modest and black. The dress was old and dated, but she found that it fit the occasion nicely.

"Your uncle left you something," the aging man replied with a twinkle in his friendly eyes. "But it's a secret," he added, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling when he said it.

"What is it?" she asked, her heart suddenly jumping with anticipation and renewed interest.

"You'll have to come here," Mr. Bethge replied; "I'll give it to you."

Ethan Fischer overheard it and came quickly to Anna from behind her. Suddenly, he grabbed her slender shoulders in abrupt and gentle play.

"A secret present, huh?" he excitedly proclaimed, and not the least bit softly, much to Anna's surprise and the lawyer's dismay.

She turned to face him, laughing at his crazy antics. He was staring at her with a wild grin and the unique glimmer of anticipation in his deep brown eyes. It was hardly the kind of thing she would expect from a youthful attendant not yet out of college who had just inherited his employer's estate. Ethan had worked for her uncle Abelard as an assistant throughout the final years of his life and the two had become good friends, as had Anna.

She shook her head at him.

"Ethan, it's secret," she reminded him, knowing full well that he was already aware.

The fare faced boy smiled at her, clearly caught up in the mystery of it. "Is it so secret that I can't know about it?" he asked her quietly.

Anna watched him, returning the grin. "Of course not," she replied, nodding her head to indicate his coming with her to the broad cherry desk where Mr. Bethge sat reclining in a comfortable chair. If anyone would be happy for her, it would certainly be Ethan.

"Here you are," the lawyer said, handing her the little black notebook from which he had read the dead man's parting orders.

"The notebook?" Anna asked, mildly puzzled by the strange and unexpected gesture.

She took it in her hand and stared at it. The cover was smooth but for a few lines for ware, and it was pleasant to the touch of her delicate fingers. It was by no means large, but it was certainly very well used. Many of the pages were finely decorated in black ink by her uncle's handwriting, which was almost legible at best.

"That's it?!" Ethan protested. He seemed to have been terribly disappointed by the results of her inheritance.

"No, it's alright," Anna said, holding up a hand to stop him; "This is... very special. It's... more than enough." She paused, turning her face up to the lawyer with a smile. "Mr. Bethge, thank you," she added softly, with a voice of humble gratitude.

He shook his head at her. "No, it's not enough," he said, "but I can't tell you the rest until you've taken care of this." He tapped the butt of his pen against the cover of Abelard's well-loved notebook. "Turn to page 37, if you would, please. There's a message for you."

She flipped her fingers to the page, pure and white with clearer writing more firmly intended for another's eyes than many of the notes on the other pages. Here was a letter from her uncle addressed to her, his beloved voice, deep and old, echoing in her mind as she read the words of his heart for her to have at his passing.

It read, "My Dearest Annaliese,

I have seen many things in my time... not all of them good, but all of them useful for something. I have known both joy and suffering, provision and lack, freedom and oppression. From the other side of an ocean, I have known the other side of life, and, in my life, I have done a great many things... not all of which bring me pride. In fact, even now, great sorrow plagues me. The chains of my past have bound me in this world for too long. So, I must ask of you a mercy: there is a man whose property I burned some many years ago, whose life I plagued with grief, and I would like to make atonement for it. His name is Simon Fischer. Ethan will know him. Please present him with $20,000 and the locket which I left. I would have done it myself, but I was ashamed, so ashamed of what I had done and the person I had been, too ashamed to believe I could be forgiven for it... certainly by Mr. Fischer. Please know how deeply I appreciate you doing this for me. It is truly all my hope that rests in you. Well, enough! Let a weary soul tormented find its peace in Heaven's arms!

With all my heart and many affectionate feelings, Your Uncle Heinrich"

"This Simon Fischer, do you know him?" Anna asked the messy haired boy who stood reading over her shoulder.

His eyes grew wide, "Yeah! I do, actually. That's my grandfather. He owns a small shop on the upper east side."

Anna's eyes slid over to him. It was an interesting revelation, and Mr. Bethge soon presented her with both a locket and a bank note.

"Get to it," he encouraged her, smiling.

"Is this really that important?" Annaliese asked him, hoping that he might know something of the faded locket or the story behind her uncle's words.

Anna watched his eyes glaze over. It was as if he had been taken back into another time, and from his face she saw that it was much more unpleasant than it was distant to him.

"We were property appraisers then, but not very moral ones, I'm afraid," the lawyer admitted, taking out a handkerchief to dry his watering eyes. "We worked for the government," he mused. His words were laborious and slow. "So many people then... worked for the government." He looked straight at Ethan and smiled, adding, "It doesn't surprise me at all that he left you the house!"

Annaliese nodded. She understood. There wasn't anything more that he needed to say. She knew it was hard for them. It had always been hard for them.

"Thank you, Mr. Bethge," she said determinedly, showing respect for the broken old man just as ridden with guilt as her uncle was. "I will take care of this for you."

"Tell him we're sorry," the lawyer replied with a thick accent through tears; "As if sorry was ever enough!"

Later that day, Ethan took Anna to his grandfather's shop, which she considered with wondering eyes and thankfulness.

Inside the upscale store of the man who had left his home across the troubled sea, Anna found Mr. Fischer sitting at his desk in the corner of his cluttered office, tallying the day's receipts.

"Hello, young lady," addressed the old man, smiling. He stood when he saw her, and his deep brown eyes flashed gold in the changing light; "What can I do for you?"

"Grandpa, this is Annaliese Abelard," Ethan said, coming in behind her; "I've mentioned her before."

"Ah, yes!" the old man said, his face turned bright and jolly as he joked, "And are you married yet?"

Ethan's face turned red, taken by surprise. "Not yet," he muttered, causing Anna to laugh softly with a suppressed grin. Perhaps some day.

Ethan's grandfather stretched out his callused hand with a kind look on his wrinkled face, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up around his elbows, allowing her to catch a glimpse of the old tattoo on his tan skinned arm.

"Ah, that..." he said, pulling down his shirt sleeve when he saw her staring at it, "an old wound, but raw."

"Forgive me, sir," Anna said, unable to remain in silence, "for the guilt I carry... for on my uncle, on my people, guilt is laden."

The old man watched her with questioning eyes, searching for answers, waiting for words.

"Grandpa, hear her out," Ethan pleaded, but the old man moved his hand to stay him.

"I will hear."

"My uncle, sir, is Heinrich Abelard," Anna explained, and she watched his eyes turn sad. "He left a request for me at his death that I should bring you some things. He was too ashamed to face you in life, but he asked that I express his sorrow over what went on and the sins he had committed then." She stopped to place a bank note in his hands along with the golden locket and added, "He wanted to make restitution."

Simon stood trembling with watering eyes. "This locket belonged to my wife and I will keep it," he replied, voice quavering, "but as for this money... I will receive it as a recompense that your conscience may be cleansed of guilt and shame so stubbornly cleaving, and I will receive with it your apology on your people's behalf. After all these years, all these tears, all these memories enduring..." he stopped himself and looked on her. "Was this your inheritance?" he asked the young girl, sighing.

Anna looked at him and blinked. "It's all I was given," she replied quietly.

"Here," he said, "put out your hands."

She did so, and he placed the bank note back in her possession as she waited. "Receive this money back from me," he lovingly requested; "As I received it from your hand, now I give it freely back to you, and let it be your inheritance as a sign of my forgiveness... not just the money, but forgiveness."