While We’re Far Apart

  He looked over the document for a very long time, glancing up at the two children and me. At last he handed it back to me. “You may go.”

  We were free. Fredeleh and I and baby Yankel were all free.

  I set Fredeleh down and we hurried toward the black car with the Swedish flags on it. A group of people from the trains had gathered around it, and they beckoned to the others and me, calling us to come, to follow them. When everyone who had Swedish papers had gotten off the trains, the soldiers turned back to the boxcars, walking down the line, closing the doors again and sealing them shut. The sound of those doors slamming and locking shivered through me. I couldn’t watch.

  I turned and followed the black car as it drove slowly away from the freight yard, clutching Fredeleh’s hand in mine, holding the baby tightly against my chest. Some of the Swedish men walked with us, leading the way back into Budapest. No one spoke a word. I felt as though I were sleepwalking.

  When we had walked about a quarter of a mile, the shriek of a train whistle sounded in the distance behind us. Then iron wheels began rumbling along the tracks as the long line of freight cars moved away from us, leaving Budapest. The whistle shrieked again. I will hear the sound of that train for as long as I live.

  CHAPTER 37

  A WEEK HAD PASSED since Mrs. Fischer came to Jacob’s apartment to meet her grandchildren, and he had not heard a single word from her. He paced the floor in his living room, glancing at the telephone from time to time, debating whether or not to call Mr. and Mrs. Fischer and tell them that he did not understand such hardheartedness. But that wasn’t entirely true. He did understand it. He used to be every bit as inflexible as they were.

  He stopped pacing and turned away from the telephone. He needed to stop thinking about the Fischers and find something to do. He headed toward the kitchen to fix something to eat when he heard footsteps thumping across the porch, then a key in the lock. Penny and the children must be home. They hadn’t come home at all yesterday – on a weeknight, no less – and he had been concerned about them. He met them at his front door and saw three very sad faces.

  “Something terrible has happened!” Esther said. “Grandma Shaffer’s dog ran away yesterday. We looked and looked for her, but we can’t find her!”

  “I am so sorry to hear that.” These children already had suffered so much loss – why another one? Esther had told Jacob how much Peter loved that dog, how he wished that the dog was his.

  “Is it okay to pray for a dog, Mr. Mendel? Grandma misses Woofer so much, and she was already sad because Uncle Joe died.”

  Jacob paused, searching for the right words to say. “I think you know by now that prayer is not a magic spell that we say so Hashem will give us what we wish for. But you can pray that Hashem will comfort your grandmother when she grieves. And we can – ” Jacob stopped. He felt like a hypocrite. How had Hashem comforted him when he had grieved all these months for Miriam and Avraham? Then he saw Peter and Esther standing in front of him, looking to him for help, and he knew that Hashem had sent these children into his life. Their love had indeed comforted him. He could do the same for them.

  Jacob opened his arms to them and drew them close. “We must trust Hashem,” he murmured, “even when we cannot see Him working.” He spoke the words to himself as much as to the children. He remembered the words he recited every year on Tisha B’Av when his people mourned the destruction of their temple, and now he offered them as comfort: “ ‘Though He brings grief, He will show compassion, so great is His unfailing love. For He does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men.’ ” And as he held the children in his arms, Jacob felt Hashem’s comfort, as well.

  Shortly after the children went upstairs to eat their dinner, the telephone rang. He recognized Mrs. Fischer’s voice and his pulse sped up.

  “I have a proposal for you, Mr. Mendel. Well, it’s really a proposal for the children. I would like to arrange for Esther to study at the Brooklyn Conservatory of Music this summer. Could you help me do that? Do you think she would like to study there?”

  He couldn’t speak for a moment. “Yes! Yes, I’m sure it would be possible. I would first need to speak with the young woman who takes care of the children, and I would need to ask Esther, of course.”

  “This must all be done anonymously, Mr. Mendel. She cannot know that the scholarship is coming from me, or that I am her grandmother.”

  He opened his mouth to chide Mrs. Fischer for not stepping forward and becoming part of the children’s lives, but then changed his mind. “Tell me more about this school.”

  “The conservatory has been around since the 1890s, and it’s in a lovely old mansion in Park Slope. They teach students of all ages. I have friends on the board of directors there. Esther can take private piano lessons, music history, theory classes – anything she would like. And she may continue her lessons in the fall, if she wishes. Just bring her over to the conservatory’s admissions office, and she can sign up for whatever she wants to. I’ll make arrangements to pay all of her expenses.”

  “That is very generous of you, Mrs. Fischer. I am sure she will be delighted.” What a relief to know that Esther would have something to keep her occupied this summer besides the unsavory neighbor boy and her obsession with the news reports.

  “I would like to do something for Peter, as well,” Mrs. Fischer continued. “It could be music lessons if you think he would enjoy them, or whatever else you suggest.”

  “Peter has been taking piano lessons, but he does not have the same interest or ability that his sister has. What he does love is baseball. I have been wondering myself if there might be a team for him to join, but under the circumstances . . . the fact that he does not talk . . . I have not been able to come up with a solution. He never plays outside with the other boys because they make fun of him.”

  Mrs. Fischer’s silence lasted so long that Jacob wondered if the telephone had gone dead. At last she spoke. “I have an idea, but I’m not sure if . . . well, let me tell you what it is and you can decide. Our synagogue sponsors a baseball team for our youth during the summer months to help keep the kids occupied. They practice a couple of times a week and sometimes play against teams from other yeshivas. I know the man who coaches the boys. I could speak with him and explain about Peter . . . that is, if you think his family would allow it. They might not want him to be part of a Jewish team since they are Christians.”

  “I think Peter might enjoy it, but again, I will have to talk to the family.”

  “Good. Good. Our shul isn’t far from the music conservatory and it would give him something to do while Esther takes lessons. If she decides to study there, that is.”

  Jacob could hear the excitement in Mrs. Fischer’s voice. He longed to encourage her to announce the news to the children herself and accept their thanks firsthand, but he remained quiet for now. At least their grandmother had stepped into their lives for the first time – and it was a momentous first step.

  Jacob waited until he thought the children might be in bed that evening, then went upstairs to talk to Penny about Mrs. Fischer’s offer. She looked very surprised to find him at her door. “Mr. Mendel, come in. I hope nothing’s wrong . . .”

  “No, everything is fine. In fact, I have good news. Could you come downstairs, please, so we can talk? I do not want the children to hear what I have to say.”

  Penny closed her door and followed Jacob down to his apartment. “I have found the children’s grandparents,” he said as soon as they were inside.

  Her eyes went wide. “Really? That’s wonderful!”

  “Well, yes and no. I have also learned the reason for the estrangement – and the separation is likely to continue, I’m afraid.”

  “But why? What could be so terrible that it could keep a family apart this way?”

  “Please sit down, Penny.” She sat down on the sofa and he pulled out his desk chair to sit across from her. “This may come as a shock to you . . . but the children’s
mother was Jewish. Their grandparents are Jewish. The estrangement between them began when Rachel left the Jewish faith to become a Christian. When she married Ed Shaffer, a gentile, it was the final straw.”

  “Oh my! I had no idea. . . .”

  “The fact that Rachel was Jewish was one of the reasons why I think she and my wife became so close. Miriam Shoshanna was like a mother to her in many ways. But you must understand that the Jewish people have been able to endure in exile for thousands of years precisely because we have always discouraged mixed marriages – to the point of expulsion from our family when a child marries outside of the faith. I know that seems harsh, but . . .” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know how to finish. He saw the confusion and astonishment on Penny’s face as she tried to digest his words.

  “However,” Jacob continued, “even though Mrs. Fischer is not ready or able to publicly accept Esther and Peter as her grandchildren – ”

  “You met their grandmother? You talked to her?”

  “Yes. I went to her apartment, then invited her to come here to meet the children. They did not know who she was when they visited with her, only that she and her sister were my guests. Mrs. Fischer also had the opportunity to hear Esther play the piano. Now she has offered to pay for music lessons for Esther this summer – but she wants to do so anonymously. She says there is an excellent school here in Brooklyn where Esther can take classes. A music conservatory.”

  “That would be a dream come true for her. I know she’s frustrated because her piano teacher will be away for most of the summer.”

  “All you need to do is take Esther to the school and sign up for the lessons. Mrs. Fischer will pay for the classes.”

  “I can take her this Saturday on my day off. Can you come with us, Mr. Mendel?”

  “I would love to, but I cannot. Saturday is Shabbat – our Sabbath day.” Jacob surprised himself even as he spoke the words. Slowly, without even realizing that he’d done so, Jacob had returned to Hashem’s Torah and the routine of prayers and holy days and rules of kashrut. Most of the time it seemed completely natural to him.

  He still had many, many unanswered questions, but he knew that Hashem revealed His will through His Word. The way to find answers was through obedience to that Word.

  “I am sure you will be able to handle everything just fine by yourself,” he told Penny. “Their grandmother has made all of the arrangements.”

  “I can’t wait to tell Esther. She’ll be so excited.”

  “Mrs. Fischer also asked if Peter would enjoy piano lessons, but we decided that he would much rather play on a baseball team this summer.”

  “I think he would like that, but the neighborhood kids make fun of him.”

  “Yes, so he has said. The team that Mrs. Fisher has in mind is the one from her synagogue. I do not know how Peter’s father would feel about that.”

  “I don’t know, either. And by the time we write and ask him and he writes back, the summer will be half over. Do you think Peter would fit in with the boys on that team? And that they’d be nice to him?”

  “Mrs. Fischer’s shul is different from mine across the street. The boys will all look and dress the same as Peter does. He will be accepted as Jewish because his mother is Jewish. And Mrs. Fischer will explain to the coach that Peter cannot talk. Better he should play with nice yeshiva boys than with the ruffians in this neighborhood.”

  “Yes, I agree. Let’s ask Peter and see what he thinks. Wow, this really is good news. The kids were so disappointed that they had to spend the summer at their grandmother’s house, and then the dog ran away and everything . . . I can’t wait to tell them about this!”

  “I believe it also will be good for Esther if she does not spend so much time with the young man who has been pursuing her.”

  “I have no idea how to talk to Esther about boys, Mr. Mendel. My parents never allowed me to go anywhere by myself or have any boyfriends.”

  “I cannot be much help to you, either,” he said, smiling. “One final thing: I have promised to take Peter to see one of his baseball games. I planned to invite you, as well, but on second thought, perhaps you could use that day to visit your sister – or your mother, I should say.”

  Penny stared at her lap for a moment before looking up at him. “I’m too scared to go see her, Mr. Mendel.”

  “Would you like the children and me to come with you?”

  “I would like that . . . and I’m grateful that you would offer. But I would hate for Esther and Peter to find out about my real father.”

  “I am certain that they would not think any less of you.”

  Penny stared at her shoes, shaking her head. “I have no idea how my sister will react when she sees me. I would hate for the children to see her slam the door in my face. . . . No, if I ever do go to see her, I think I need to go by myself. But thanks for offering.”

  “I do not want to interfere in your life, Penny – but do you recall your own words a few minutes ago when we were talking about the children’s grandparents? You said, ‘What could be so terrible that could keep a family apart this way?’ I believe the answer is ‘nothing.’ Nothing should keep families apart. I urge you to go see your mother. I think her reaction might surprise you. If you do not go, you may spend the rest of your life wondering what might have been.”

  Penny nodded and rose to leave, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt. “I promise to think about it. And I’ll tell Esther and Peter the good news about the music lessons and the baseball team tomorrow.”

  Jacob didn’t know what to do with himself after Penny left. He felt too excited and restless to sit and read a book, but it was too early to go to bed. He would never be able to sleep. He turned on the radio and found a station that broadcast the news.

  “On the eastern front, the Germans have suffered enormous losses at the hands of the Soviets along an eight-hundred-mile battlefront in White Russia. The Nazis have been driven back nearly four hundred miles . . .”

  Jacob closed his eyes, astonished by the news – yet afraid to hope. If the Soviets continued to defeat the Nazis this way, pushing them westward, Hungary might soon be liberated, too. He quickly switched off the radio again. He did not want to hear any news that might dim his hope.

  Could Hashem truly be working behind the scenes to free his family?

  CHAPTER 38

  JULY 1944

  ON THE DAY that Mr. Mendel took the children to the baseball game, Penny boarded a bus to Trenton, New Jersey. She had made up her mind to go at the very last minute, and she would arrive at Hazel’s home unannounced. Penny knew that she was taking a risk – Hazel might not even be home. But as badly as Penny wanted to see her real mother and find out how she felt about her, it would also be a relief if Hazel wasn’t home. Penny could simply turn around and take the bus back to Brooklyn.

  As she traveled southwest across the state of New Jersey, through the cities of Elizabeth and Rahweh, stopping in New Brunswick, Monmouth, and Princeton, Penny tried to calculate how old Hazel would be now. If she had been seventeen when Penny was born, and Penny was now twenty-five, Hazel would be forty-two. It didn’t seem possible. Penny knew from reading Hazel’s Christmas cards every year that she and her husband Barry had two sons. How old were they? Younger than Penny, of course, but they would no longer be the little boys that Penny always pictured in her mind.

  She watched people getting on and off the bus at each station, watched the tearful reunions and partings. More than half of the passengers were servicemen. She thought of Eddie and Roy and the welcome they would receive when they finally came home again.

  At last she arrived in Trenton, every nerve in her body jittering. Penny hired a taxicab to go from the train station to Hazel’s house. Long before Penny was ready to face her mother, the cab halted in front of a neat brick bungalow, one in a long row of identical homes. Her fingers felt clumsy as she paid the fare. She climbed out of the car and slowly walked up the sidewalk to her mother’s house. Her real mo
ther’s house.

  The July day was hot and Penny’s dress drenched with sweat from the cramped bus ride. Her hair was curling out of control, her dress sticking to her. She should have used the ladies’ room at the bus station to comb her hair and refresh her lipstick. She was not going to make a very good first impression after all these years.

  As Penny walked up the steps to the front door, she spotted a mother’s flag with two stars on it hanging in the bay window. Could Hazel’s sons – Penny’s half-brothers – be old enough to be serving in the military? It didn’t seem possible.

  She knew someone must be home because the outer door was open and she could hear a radio playing inside the house through the screen door. Penny felt limp with fear. She wanted to turn back, but the taxi had driven away. It was too late to change her mind.

  She drew a deep breath and rang the doorbell. A moment later, Hazel stood in the doorway. She didn’t look much different from the photograph their parents kept on their bookshelf, taken when Hazel was twenty years old. She wore an apron over her housedress, and her curly brown hair stuck out from beneath a kerchief. But even in work clothes, Hazel looked pretty.

  “Hi, Hazel. It’s me . . . your sister, Penny.”

  Her eyes went wide with surprise. “Penny! My goodness! . . . Oh my! . . . Is-is it really you?” She flung open the screen door and enveloped Penny in her arms. They stood that way for a long moment, locked in an embrace.

  Hazel finally released Penny and held her at arms’ length, studying her from head to toe. “I’m so happy to see you. My goodness! How did you . . . what are you doing here?”

  “I had the day off from work, so I decided to visit you.”

  “Come in, come in. I was just washing the dishes and listening to the radio.” She led Penny by the hand through the tiny living room and dining area and into the kitchen, where a Frank Sinatra tune played on the radio. “You should have warned me you were coming . . . my house is a mess and so am I. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”