Remember the Stars

by Carraine Oldham

  Back at the hotel, I walk out of the bathroom. “How do I look?” I ask.

  “Amazing as always,” Sam answers. “That’s a beautiful dress, but not as beautiful as the woman wearing it.”

  “Thank you. You look very handsome,” I say, running my hand over his face.

  He pulls me into a kiss, and I allow him to consume me. We spend a few minutes in each other’s arms before we leave for Lennon and Eleanor’s house.

  Sitting at their dining room table, a sense of warmth comes over me as I look across the table at Lennon. I see so much of Estherly and Henry in him that I can’t help staring at him.

  “Did you enjoy the city, today?” Eleanor asks, as she passes around a plate of food.

  “Very much.” I recount all the activities of the day, and both Lennon and Eleanor give us pointers as to where we should visit next.

  “How long are you planning to stay?” Lennon asks.

  “A little over a week,” Sam says, between bites.

  “You should rent a vehicle and drive the countryside. It’s a breathtaking adventure,” Eleanor says.

  I look at Sam and nod, with a huge smile. “That’s definitely something we’ve talked about doing.”

  “Ferrin,” Lennon says. “After dinner, would you mind if we call Oma and let her know that you found me?”

  “I would love that. She’ll be so thrilled. You’re going to adore her.”

  After we finish eating, we retreat to the living room and call Oma with our great news.

  Later, after the phone call, Lennon reaches into a drawer and pulls out a small, black jewelry box. “I wanted to show you this.” Opening the box, he angles it to where I can see inside, and I gasp at the contents.

  “May I hold it?” I ask.

  With two fingers, Lennon pulls the chain, lifting the locket from the box. I don’t need his confirmation to know it’s Estherly’s locket. When he places it in my palm it’s as if he’s handing me a piece of magic. Taking care, I open the locket and gaze down on Estherly and Henry’s photographs. “It’s beautiful, Lennon. Even more so in person. I’m not sure if you were able to read about the night your father gave this to your mother yet or not.”

  “I stayed up all night reading the pages you typed.”

  “Sam and I haven’t finished yet due to work and our travels.”

  “We were thinking,” Sam says. “Would you like to go to Virginia to meet your family with me and Ferrin?”

  Lennon looks at Eleanor; doubt crosses his features.

  “Unfortunately, that wouldn’t fit into our budget,” he says, with a smile laced with sadness.

  “It would be our treat,” I say, before he can protest.

  “We couldn’t let you do that,” he says.

  “Honestly, we wouldn’t be doing it for you alone. It would be for Oma, the rest of your family, and for us, too. It would bring me so much joy if we could unite you with your lost relatives.”

  “I think you should go,” Eleanor says, taking Lennon’s hand. “This is the chance of a lifetime.”

  “We would love to do this for your family,” Sam says.

  Lennon nods, and my heart bursts with happiness.

  “Then that’s settled. When can you free up your schedule?” I ask.

  “I’m retired. I can leave any time,” Lennon says.

  With a smile, I ask, “Would you like to leave with us at the end of the week?”

  “That would be nice,” Lennon says.

  I get the sense he has a bit too much pride to take our offer and worry that he’ll change his mind. “Sam, do you want to go book the flights?” I take my chance before it’s too late.

  “Yeah, I’ll go do that now.” Sam grabs his phone from the pocket of his jeans and calls the airline.

  We sit and wait for Sam to change our reservations to Virginia.

  Once Sam finishes making the arrangements for Lennon and Eleanor to join us on the same flight, Lennon grabs Estherly’s diaries and hands them over to me. “I’d love for you to finish reading my mother’s story.”

  “Thank you,” I say, gladly receiving them back. I know I won’t have them for long because they’ll need to be returned to Oma. Reaching out, I hand him back Estherly’s locket.

  We take our time getting to know Lennon and Eleanor, and they invite us to dinner again later in the week.

  Later that evening, cuddled close against Sam, I run my hand over his chest while lost in my thoughts. I can’t believe everything that’s transpired over the past several weeks. Thinking of the day I first held Estherly’s diary in my hands and the first time I saw her beautiful face, to today and having dinner with her long-lost son blows me away.

  “We’ve got a bit of reading to do,” Sam says, breaking my train of thought.

  “The whole white diary. Oma did say that there are a lot fewer entries in it than there were in the first two diaries, but we’ve got to finish it before we get to Virginia. Or, at least I’d like to. I know Oma would send us home with the diary, but I think it’s best if we finish it.”

  “Then, we better get started.”

  I sit up and grab the diary from the nightstand and open it. “There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to finish Estherly’s story, because it’s almost like having to say goodbye to her.”

  “I know… but think of all the wonderful people you’ve met and now we get to add Lennon and Eleanor to the list of our new friends.”

  “We’re very blessed.” I smile. “It was so great hearing the joy in Oma’s voice when we called her tonight.”

  “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “I’m so excited for the moment when Oma sees Lennon and when he gets to meet his sisters.”

  Sam smiles and gets comfortable by resting his head on my shoulder and draping his arm over my stomach. This is my cue to start reading.

  3 July 1945

  After time in Germany and preparing what was left of my family’s possessions for shipping, Oren, Luna, and I headed to our new life in America. Being back home had me struggling for a couple days, but my new husband cared and comforted me through the chaos of my emotions. His daily actions and tenderness only reaffirm that I made the right decision in choosing to spend my life with him. When we’re old and grey, I think we’ll find humor in the memory of dragging poor Luna on an Army plane.

  Chapter 26 – Estherly

  3 July 1945

  After our time in Germany, my new little family and I head to our new home. Mixed emotions fill my heart as our car pulls up to a large, white two-story house.

  “We’re here,” he says. Turning, he smiles and gets out of the car. Rounding the front of the car, he makes his way to my door and opens it. Reaching a hand out to me, I graciously take it and step out of the car. With Luna tucked under my other arm, we make our way up the steps to the house.

  At the top of the steps, Oren lets go of my hand and fumbles with the keys to unlock the front door. When he gets the door open, the musty scent fills my nose. Taking a step forwards, he wraps an arm around my waist. “Wait, my darling, we are going to do this the right way,” he says, lifting me and Luna into his arms.

  I giggle and hold tight onto the cat. Walking through the door, he carries us over the threshold. Looking around, I take in my surroundings. Oren sets me down on my feet and turns to shut the door. Setting Luna down, I fall into his arms. Breaking from our embrace, I follow Luna to the living room. She seems as curious about our new home as I am. The room is inviting with large windows that show off the beautiful tree and front yard. I walk to the window and stare at the lovely view of vibrant, green leaves decorating the big tree. It is as if each little leaf was perfectly placed by God’s hands.

  “I’m going to get our luggage and then give you a tour of the house,” he says, rubbing the small of my back. He turns and heads out of the living room, towards the front door.

  “I’ll wait right here for you.”

  Looking around the room, I search for Luna and find
she’s made her way under an end table by the side of the couch.

  “It’s going to take some getting used to, little one.”

  The décor is not at all what I imagined, yet I’m pleased at how tasteful it is. The room has a very cozy feel, and I love the way the sunlight dances on the soft, blue walls. On one hand, I feel out-of-place, and on the other, right at home. Oren and I have grown closer over the past couple weeks, so whenever I’m with him, I’m at ease, but everything here is so unfamiliar.

  Soon, the items we were able to salvage from my old farmhouse will be here, and I’m sure when they arrive and they’re put in their places, I’ll feel better. Oren comes back in, carrying our luggage, and the smile he wears comforts my soul. After lowering the bags to the floor near a staircase, he takes my hand and guides me on a tour of our home.

  22 December 1945

  The clanking of dishes rouses me from my sleep. Turning to Oren’s side of the bed, I find him gone. A single red rose adorns his pillow. Picking up the beautiful flower, I bring it to my nose and take in its fragrant scent.

  More clatter comes from down the hall, and I wonder what he could possibly be doing. Rising from the bed, I put my feet into my slippers. I slip my robe on and head out our bedroom door. When I reach the hallway, the radio plays and more noises come from the kitchen. Making my way towards the racket, I catch a glimpse of the snow-covered ground from the living room window. Now in the living room, I stop and stare at the beautiful wintry scene. The snow falls, sticking to everything it touches like a soft, white blanket. Flakes twirl and spin like feathers, falling from the sky, finding the perfect place to land. The fireplace heats my skin as I breathe on the windowpane and draw small hearts in the fog.

  “Ouch!” he yells.

  I hurry to the kitchen and find him holding a rag to his hand. “What on Earth happened?”

  “It’s okay. I only nicked my finger with the knife.”

  “Let me look at it,” I say, rushing over to him.

  “It’s nothing, darling. It caught me off-guard is all,” he says, showing me the small cut on his index finger. “Look, it’s not even bleeding.”

  Satisfied after seeing the wound, I look around the kitchen and see the condition it’s in. On one of the chairs, I find Luna, looking quite amused. Flour covers the countertops and the floor. Taking a closer look at my husband, I see he is covered in flour as well. On the counter near him, a bottle of cinnamon has spilled over. Bowls and measuring cups seem as though he tossed them around carelessly. In the wastebasket, apple peels are stuck to the side, and there are some on the floor.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, amused.

  “I’m making something for you. It’s a surprise,” he says with a smile.

  “Well, I’m surprised already,” I say, laughing.

  “Wait until you taste it.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see. I think you’re going to love it,” he says, walking back to the counter. He picks up a knife and slices the peeled apples.

  “Have you ever made this before?” I ask, watching as he places the fruit into a bowl.

  “No, but I’m following a recipe, so it’s bound to turn out delicious,” he says with a look of confidence. “Why don’t you go read a book and relax? I will finish up in here.”

  Raising an eyebrow, I turn and head out of the kitchen with a giggle.

  After a while, Oren calls from the dining room, “Estherly! Are you hungry? Ready to taste what I’ve made for you?”

  A little leery, I put down the book I was reading and make my way to the dining room. On the table are two slices of pie on our fine china. The sweet smell of apples lures me to the table. He smiles and pulls a chair out for me. Steam rises from the pastry, and I bend down, inhaling the scent of cinnamon. He sits and places a cloth napkin on his lap. I follow his actions.

  “It smells delectable,” I say, proud of the complicated English word I use.

  “Dig in,” he says, with wide, eager eyes.

  The top flakes off when I press my fork into it. The gooey centre makes my mouth water. Bringing the fork to my lips, I take a bite. I can’t speak. I savor the taste of the warm apples and anticipate taking another bite.

  “Well?”

  “Mmm… I had no idea you could bake so well. This is fabulous.”

  “I know how much you love apples. I knew you’d enjoy this. It’s an American classic. Apple pie. I figured there was no better way to introduce you to our cuisine. I already showed you cheeseburgers and shakes, so it was high time I made this for you.”

  While I relish more of the pie, I appreciate Oren’s thoughtfulness. I remember telling him of my love for apples on one of our walks while he was caring for me in the hospital. It warms my soul to think that he took my words to heart.

  6 February 1946

  Sitting in a chair near my living room window, I look out at the frost-covered lawn. I’ve waited years for today, and I’m inundated with raw emotions. Looking down at a beautiful gold watch that Oren recently gave me, I check the time. A few more minutes, I think, and go back to gazing out the window at the cold, wintry day. From my pocket, I pull out a folded piece of paper and open it. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth when I read the words. Only days ago, I received word that Oskar and Klara were safely relocated to Palestine with many other Jewish refugees from Europe. Overjoyed with happiness, I place the letter on my chest, and think of my dear friends and how they kept me alive those years we were in hiding. I thank God for safely delivering them from harm. The only part of their letter that saddened me was learning that they, too, still search for their children.

  I fidget as Oren pulls our car into the driveway. The figure of a woman sits in the passenger seat next to him.

  Leaping from the chair, I run through the living room, to the entryway, and out the front door. Tears streak my cheeks, and I can’t seem to move my feet fast enough. I make it to the car as Oren opens the door and Oma steps out. My sister and I crash into each other’s arms, and each of us lets out heavy sobs. I’m so thankful that my husband was able to arrange to have Oma come live with us.

  Oma takes my face into her hands, and wetness engulfs her cheeks. “My sweet, Estherly. My dear girl,” she cries.

  “Oma!”

  Her lips meet mine, and I taste the saltiness of our tears. Holding my sister again overjoys my soul. We look into each other’s eyes, and I’m reminded how much she resembles my mother, which causes me to burst into heavier sobs.

  “Ladies, let’s get you indoors. It’s freezing out here,” he says, with a gentle hand on my back.

  I do not want to let Oma go. I hold her tighter, not worrying about the weather.

  “I thought you were dead,” Oma says, with her bottom lip trembling. “I thought I’d lost all of you. My precious Estherly, it’s so good to see you again.”

  I nod, knowing what emotions she feels. Petting her hair, I thank God for keeping her alive and safe. Seeing her shake from what I assume is the cold, I link her arm with mine and walk her into the house.

  “Are you hungry or thirsty?” I ask as soon as we reach the warmth of the house.

  Oma shakes her head. “My only desire is to sit with you,” she says, lowering herself to a chair.

  Oren grabs another chair for me and scoots it close to where Oma sits.

  Taking each other’s hands, we stare while tears flow down our cheeks.

  “I’ll leave you two to catch up. I need to get to the office. Is there anything either of you needs before I head out?”

  I shake my head, and Oma does the same.

  “First, I’ll get your luggage upstairs to your room,” he says.

  “Thank you,” Oma replies.

  He leaves the room, and Oma and I can’t stop staring at one another.

  “It’s a miracle,” she says.

  I nod, unable to speak through my cries.

  “I never imagined that we would be sitting here together, al
though I prayed for it each and every night,” she says.

  “I dreamed of this moment so many times.”

  Oren comes down the stairs, and I turn my gaze to him. I watch him gather his medical bag and put his hat on in silence. Letting go of Oma’s hands, I rush over to him and throw my arms around him. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing my sister and I back together.”

  “There’s no need to thank me, darling. I made a promise, and I kept it.”

  “Don’t forget your lunch,” I say, hurrying to the kitchen and grabbing it for him.

  When I’m near him again, he takes the sack from my hand and bends down, kissing my tear-soaked cheek. “If either of you needs anything, call the office.”

  “Thank you,” I say, throwing my arms around him again and kissing his neck.

  We part, and he steps partially into the living room. “Oma, please make yourself at home.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so very much, Dr. Rose,” she says.

  “It’s Oren, for you, too. After all, we’re family now.” He winks.

  After my husband leaves, I make my way back to my sister, where we hold hands again.

  “He’s very kind,” Oma says.

  “He is remarkable and takes such good care of me. He has been my savior,” I say.

  “I’m very happy for you.”

  “Would you like to see your room? I think you’ll like it. It’s cozy in there. One of the warmest rooms in the house.”

  “That would be nice. This is a beautiful house, Estherly.”

  I take Oma’s hand and lead her upstairs.

  After showing Oma to her room, we come back downstairs and settle in the kitchen. I put the kettle on the stove. Taking two cups from the cupboard, I place a tea bag into each one. With our tears finally subsiding, we reminisce about old times and talk of the future. We share our stories about our time apart and surviving all we endured.