by Belva Plain
“Then Mrs. Sandler was right, and you’re not my father?”
“Well, in a way not, but in the only way that counts, I am. Because I love you, Eve. That’s what it is to be a father, to love and care.”
Mom had turned around with her face hidden in her arms. I don’t feel sorry for her. She did this to me. It’s her fault, Eve thought, and whispered, “Who was he? What was his name? Why did he go away?”
“You might as well tell her,” Mom whispered without looking up. “Since she knows this much, she might as well know it all.”
Daddy began to cough. It was a make-believe cough. He was forcing it. Then he drank some cold coffee, made a bitter face, and said, “His name was Walter. That’s all I know or want to know. Perhaps sometime Mom will give you more information if she wants to.”
“You said he wasn’t a good man. What did he do?”
“He was a Nazi.”
“A Nazi who killed people in the camps?”
“How can I say whether he personally killed anyone, Eve? It’s best not to think about it. He was one of them, and that’s enough.”
It seemed to Eve that she had never been as angry. The walls were going slowly around and around. She stood up, stood over her mother, and shouted, “You gave me a bad man for a father. How could you do that to me?”
Mom’s face was still terrible, and she didn’t answer.
“Don’t say that, Eve,” Daddy said. “That’s not fair. It’s cruel.”
“She wasn’t even married, and she did that. She always says it’s wrong, everybody says so, and she did it herself.”
“People make mistakes. You’ll make plenty in your life, too, although I hope not that one. So don’t blame your mother. There’s no better mother in the world.”
“But a Nazi … Maybe he even killed her own father and mother, or yours, Daddy.”
“Not likely.”
“You said she loved him.” The anger, the terror in Eve were making her want to smash the dishes and tear down the curtains. “Did she love you, too, when you got married?”
“Yes, of course she did. People are supposed to love each other when they get married.”
“So why didn’t she marry him?”
“I told you, he went away. It was all a mistake from the start. Mom can tell you more when she’s ready, but she isn’t ready now. Wait, Eve. Please give her a chance.”
“I don’t care. I need to know everything right now, this minute.”
“Listen, Eve. This is terrible for her, too. She’s exhausted.”
Daddy was frightened. Perhaps this was very hard for him, too.
“I’ll tell you what, Eve. Let’s let your mother rest. Look at her. I’ll go up to your room with you, we’ll sit and we’ll talk some more. Let Mom alone now.”
He took her elbow, propelling her to the door. At the top of the stairs he bent to kiss her cheek, but she didn’t want him to. He wasn’t her father. He had lied to her, pretending to be her father. And suddenly she hated him. She hated the man named Walter, who went around killing people and was supposed to be her father. Most of all, she hated Mom, who had done those things with a strange man, a horrible, evil, Nazi monster. And now because of Mom, this monster was her father. Somewhere, he was alive. What if he should ever come looking for her? She would kill him. Yes, she thought, I would. She would spend her life wanting to kill him. Mom had spoiled her life. Yes, it was spoiled. She wasn’t herself. She had turned into somebody else, not Joel’s daughter. She didn’t even belong in this house anymore. If only there were some other place she could go. But there was nobody to go to, except maybe Vicky, and that mean old Gertrude wouldn’t want her, anyway.
Hating the world, Eve went to her room and slammed the door shut in Daddy’s face.
IT was after midnight when Lore arrived home to find Joel and Caroline still awake downstairs.
“You look as if you’ve been struck by lightning,” she cried when she had heard the tale of events.
“We were struck,” Joel said. “I don’t think either of us could pick up a kitten right now.”
Caroline lay back on the sofa. From the open door to the dining room, she was seeing what was left of the day, the flowers and the cherished crystal still on the table, waiting to be replaced in the cupboard. A few hours ago the crystal, her first extravagance since they had been in this place, had been important to her. Foolish, foolish!
Now her child lay upstairs with God only knows what terrible lonely thoughts in her poor, frenzied little head. The steady progress of time and friendly habit, working and doing together with Joel, had built a strong affection; the past had almost faded; they never spoke of it; there was no need. Now here it was, alive and back again, sorrowful and ugly.
Lore observed, “Poor Annie never had any tact. Big heart, big mouth, and not too bright. Remember?”
“To tell the truth, I don’t,” Caroline replied, “but I’m not thinking very clearly.”
“No wonder they scurried away when they brought Eve back,” Joel said. “They didn’t even wait to see her in at the front door. They realized what they had done.”
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Lore said. “I’m sure I can help some. She’s had a terrible shock, and it will take a lot of explaining, that’s all.”
Through the years, Lore had always been an encouragement to fortitude and optimism. When your spirits fell, it was Lore who lifted them. Had she not done so again and again for Mama all during those darkest hours before the war? But this was different.
Disconsolate, Joel stood at the window. People in trouble always seemed unconsciously to go to a window, as if a solution somehow lay out there in the world beyond. This window, though, being open, admitted only the aroma and the sibilant rustle of warm leafage. He stood unmoving, with his hands behind his back.
People are supposed to love each other when they get married.
Suddenly, he turned around. “I’m going to write and let those people know what they’ve done, what Annie did, with her meddling in other folks’ business. She’s not going to get away with a clear conscience. Dammit, she’s not.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” advised Lore. “You’ll upset yourself for nothing. She’ll probably answer that she assumed Eve knew. Best let it rest and take care of Eve.”
“Yes, Joel, she’s right. And you were right, too,” Caroline murmured. “We should have told Eve from the start. I can’t explain why we didn’t.”
“Certainly you can. You’ve forgotten the reason. You didn’t want the neighbors to know. We were ashamed.”
He had spoken the bitter truth. But it hadn’t been only on account of the neighbors. Why should a child be given an unnecessary burden? Life was hard enough without one. That, too, was the bitter truth.
“After all the good years, now, at twelve, she has turned her rage against me. Didn’t you see that, Joel? Against me, instead of—of him.”
“She doesn’t know him to rage at,” Joel said.
“The longer she thinks about this, the more she will hate me.”
“I will not let her,” Joel said firmly. “Lore, when you talk to Eve tomorrow, don’t let her blame her mother. You’ll know what to say. Now let’s go upstairs. It’s one o’clock. Come, darling. This thing can’t be allowed to destroy us.”
Lore agreed. “Absolutely not. Get some sleep. We’ve had some big trouble here, that’s sure. But the sky hasn’t fallen.”
THE next day, however, it seemed that the sky had not only fallen, but crashed. By eight o’clock Eve was still in her room with the door locked. Gentle knocks and calls and persuasions had no result but defiance.
“I’m not coming out. I’m not going to school anymore. You can’t make me.”
“Eve, don’t do this to yourself,” Joel said. “Please listen to us.”
“Why should I listen to you? You’re not my father.”
“Oh, God,” Caroline groaned, meeting Joel’s sad eyes. He, the innocent, should not have to suffe
r these wounds.
“He is your father if anyone is. You know better than that. Don’t hurt him like this, Eve. Come out. Let me talk to you.”
“No. You’re not my mother, either. I don’t want you, not after what you did.”
These last words ended in a sob. And, helplessly, the pair stood in the hall at the locked door.
“What’s going on?” asked Lore.
“She won’t come out or let us in. Will you try? Maybe she’ll speak to you.”
“All right. You two go down first. Eve, don’t be a baby. We need to talk sense. We always do, you and I, don’t we? Let me in.”
In the kitchen, in the same places where they had sat the night before when peace had exploded, they took their seats. All was quiet upstairs, so Lore had evidently been admitted and was at work with Eve.
By its appearance, it was an ordinary morning in early fall. Amber light fell over the linoleum, a few early dropping leaves swirled past the window, and the cat, having jumped down from the ledge where she often passed the night, lapped at her bowl of milk in the corner. All was as usual except for the sore lump in Caroline’s throat, strained by the effort to control herself.
“You didn’t expect anything like this when you wanted to marry me,” she said abruptly.
“You didn’t expect, either, when you met that—that man—what resulted.” Joel got up and stroked her bowed head. “I wish I could stay home with you today. But I have to go to work. Wholesale orders for the three places go out this morning.”
She nodded. She was still sitting there when Lore reported that Eve was getting dressed.
“She refuses to go to school. She says she’s ashamed. It seems, poor little soul, that she phoned her best friend, Jill, early this morning to give her the news. And Jill laughed. She thought it was funny.”
“It’s a truism, isn’t it? Children are cruel.”
“Adults are, too. You’ll find that out, I’m afraid, when the news spreads, which it will. I wish to heaven she hadn’t told her friend.”
“I’ll find it out, you say? I never knew it before, Lore?”
“Yes, you knew it. But when it touches your child, or so I’m told by people who have a child, the cruelty is far worse.”
That was true. She would never forget the look on Eve’s face last night. Never.
“It’s bad enough to have a skeleton pop out of the closet, but in a way it’s worse having to worry all your life about when it’s going to pop out.” And Lore gave her sad smile.
You saw it seldom, that sad little smile, which made it the more impressive when you did see it. Father used to insist that Lore was fundamentally a very sad person.
“Well, it’s out. We’ll simply have to contend with it, and we all will. Joel’s very patient, and he’ll be a support. I wish I could stay home all day with you, Caroline. I’d be a buffer between you, but I can’t. But maybe it’s just as well for you both to face it by yourselves.”
At noon, Eve emerged briefly to eat the lunch that Caroline prepared. She cast off Caroline’s arm, stuck her fingers in her ears, wiped away Caroline’s kiss, and went back upstairs. When she had gone, the stillness became unbearable. The house was forsaken and shiveringly cold. Alarming thoughts ran wild through Caroline’s head.
There was so much to be undone, to be explained away. Think of the thousand questions that a girl will ask her mother and recall the thousand fabrications with which you replied. Girls are fascinated by weddings: What did you wear when you and Daddy were married? So you stumbled over the response: Oh, the usual. It was a very simple wedding. You always tried not to contradict yourself and tried, for your own sake, too, not to dwell on the truth of that day.…
Late that afternoon when school was out, Caroline opened the door on a small delegation of girls from Eve’s class.
“We’ve come to talk to Eve,” announced Jill, the best friend. “We want her to go to school tomorrow. We want her to know that nobody’s going to say anything or do any teasing. After all, it isn’t her fault.”
The teacher had had a hand in this. The words were fairly spoken: It was certainly not any fault of Eve’s, but purely the fault of Eve’s mother, at whom these girls were casting their curious glances.
“Go up, girls,” she said calmly. “Eve’s in her room.”
So now Walter was back in her life. He was up now in that room where a bunch of little girls, echoing their mothers, no doubt, were reviving him, giggling and speculating as they understandably did over a cheap romance at the movies. Ah, but never mind them! Never mind, if you can help it, the furtive glances and the excessive politeness that will be given you as you go about your customary life. Never mind, although you do indeed mind, the sly male jokes about Joel that will be told behind his back, and that he will know men are telling behind his back. Oh, the only thing that counts is Eve. How great is the damage to Eve?
That evening it was very great. Apparently the visit of her friends had done nothing for her but increase her resolve to stay out of school. When she failed to come down to dinner, Lore went to her room and found her crying in a fit of despair.
“I couldn’t get anywhere with her,” she reported. “I don’t know. I’m wondering whether Vicky can do anything.”
“Why? Does Vicky know what’s happened?”
“She does,” Joel said grimly. “The mother of one of those little girls is a friend of Gertrude’s. You’ll be interested in hearing Gertrude’s opinion. Vicky told me that her lovely pseudo-mother always suspected that things weren’t all ‘on the up and up’ with us. Vicky, to her credit, was disgusted.”
“Nevertheless,” said Caroline, “we don’t want Vicky talking to Eve.”
Lore defended Vicky. “Why not? She’s good at heart and knows how to get along in the world. I like her.”
“I don’t dislike her, Lore. But I just don’t think she’s the right person to understand this situation.”
“You underestimate her. She’s never had the right chances in life.”
“Lore, dear, you make excuses for everyone.”
“I think we should call Al Schulman,” Joel suggested. “The child can’t be allowed to cry all night. Perhaps he’ll have something to calm her. I don’t know. Anyway, I’m going to call him.”
Dr. Schulman came at once. The summons had not surprised him, for Emmy had already heard the story from someone who had stopped at the Main Street Orangerie and overheard a conversation about it. Therefore, needing little explanation, he went directly to Eve and stayed almost two hours, while the others waited below in a high state of tension.
“She’s calmer now,” he said when he returned. “We had a serious talk. I think, though, she has become a few years older overnight. But that’s no cause for despair. It’s astonishing what a child who is loved can manage to overcome. The Holocaust, for instance.” For a second, his voice faded. “Eve is loved,” he resumed. “And now that I’ve spoken to her, I must think about you two parents also. In your different ways, you have suffered a great blow. I’d like to talk to you about it if you will.”
When he had finished, it crossed Caroline’s mind that once she had declined to confide in this doctor because he had seemed too shallow. How wrong one can be in one’s judgment of another human being!
“Talk to Eve candidly,” he concluded. “Don’t be deceived by her age or by some childish remark she may make. She is capable of understanding more than you think. Tell her frankly how everything happened and how you feel about it.”
Everything? thought Caroline later, lying restlessly awake against Joel’s comforting shoulder. He slept, but all night long her eyes watched the shadows on the ceiling, heard every creak as the old house rustled and even the tiny jingle of the tags on Peter’s collar when he thumped and stirred in his sleep.
Everything. Tell her everything.
“I need to know about him,” Eve said. “What did he do? What did he look like?”
They were walking along the lakeshore down
at the solitary end of the drive beyond the row of houses.
“Get off by yourselves,” Dr. Schulman had advised. “Just mother and daughter. I think the first emotional blowup is past, although there will surely be many others from time to time. But they’ll be smaller once the first shock and rage have been absorbed. And give her a few days, maybe till the end of the week, to stay away from school. The kids will have some other excitement to talk about by then.”
“Do I look like him?” Eve asked for the tenth time or more.
“You know very well that you look like me. Everyone tells you.”
“Exactly like you?”
“As exactly as any two people can resemble each other.”
And yet, now that the issue had become moot, Caroline was seeing things in Eve that she had not observed, or had not wanted to observe, before. Those horizontal lines across the forehead, so noticeable in a very young man, were already forming on Eve’s forehead. Eve was left-handed; she had not allowed herself to recall that he had been left-handed, too. Eve was compulsively neat in ways that I never was, thought Caroline, and she saw now that she was being directed to see long fingers and long, narrow feet, and the way a head tips back in a roar of laughter.…
She stiffened her shoulders. He hadn’t had much to laugh about, had he, when they all went down to defeat? Hold that thought, she said silently, for whatever small comfort is in it.
They were going before the wind, into its rush. Eve’s long hair streamed as she walked, head down, kicking pebbles. It was already late in the afternoon, and the sun was pale. They had been talking intermittently all day—it was Saturday, and Eve was home—and Caroline was tired. For a person who was known to have energy, she was incredibly exhausted, waiting for Eve’s next words.
“You said you hardly knew—knew each other when you got married.”
“Do you mean when I married your daddy?” Caroline asked gently. “You still sometimes hesitate, I notice, to use the name. Daddy. Say it. He’s your father, the only one you’ll ever know.”