The Time Between

by Karen White

  We were seated at a table near the front of the restaurant where we could see the toy-sized lighthouse through one of the large windows. We looked conspicuous in our dresses and suit compared to the groups of tourists and locals in shorts and T-shirts, but Helena’s only request was that wherever we went to eat wasn’t far and that they served fried food and had dessert. After a quick glance at the menu, I realized we’d come to the right place.

  Our waitress was a college-aged girl name Jenn who took our drink orders with a promise to return soon to take our dinner orders. While we waited, Helena looked pointedly at the gift bag I’d brought and had placed on the extra chair.

  “Are you going to wait until dessert to allow me to open my presents?” she asked.

  “Of course not,” I said. “Unless you don’t plan to eat your vegetables, and then I’ll have to reconsider.”

  Finn picked up the bag and placed it in front of Helena. “I must confess that my gift to you was Eleanor’s idea and that she wrapped it.”

  “This should be interesting,” she said with one raised eyebrow. “I wonder if it is one of those romance novels she always insists on reading to me.”

  I glared at her as she reached into the tissue. I’d wrapped everything lightly so she wouldn’t have any problem opening her gifts. “That one’s very fragile,” I said, sitting on the edge of my seat, ready to assist as I watched her lift out the present.

  She sat it on the table in front of her and began to peel back the tissue to reveal the blue-and-white Herend rooster. It was the same design pattern as the broken one she had at home except this one was blue and stood in a different pose so that they could be placed together as a set. It had its glazed head down, as if pecking for corn.

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and I thought that I’d made a terrible mistake.

  “I broke the other one,” she said quietly, her eyes focused on the china bird in her hand. “I knocked it over by accident.”

  “Yes, you told me. I’m not suggesting that this should replace the broken one, but it would be a nice companion for it.”

  Her eyes met mine, but I was aware that she was no longer seeing me, or Finn, or anything else that we could see, too. “It was so dark that night. Inside the house. I had been forbidden to turn on lights. The Americans were bombing us—bombs and leaflets. But it should not have happened that night. Of all nights it should not have been that night.”

  Before I could ask her why, Jenn returned to our table with our sweet tea and a scotch and soda for Finn. Helena seemed to recall where she was again and sat back in her chair. “And because I could not see, that is how I broke it. Anyukám’s favorite possession and I broke it.” She smiled at Finn. “She would be very pleased to see this new friend for it. Thank you, darling. And thank you, Eleanor.”

  I wanted to hear more, and I knew that Finn did, too, but it was clear that Helena had moved on from the dark house and the bombs and a broken piece of china.

  We ordered our food, and then Helena reached into the bag again and withdrew the tissue-wrapped framed photograph of Bernadett with Benjamin at the café. I remembered how her hand had shaken when I’d shown it to her but how she’d seemed grateful when I suggested framing it for her bedside table. Remembering the look on her face when she’d unwrapped the rooster, I was no longer sure I’d done the right thing.

  The tissue fell away to the floor, but nobody reached to retrieve it. Helena’s face paled slightly, her lips opening as if she wanted to speak to the subjects in the photo, words she’d been wanting to say for a very long time.

  She began to look around as if searching for the tissue, and then simply placed the frame against her chest, the photo side pressed against the silk of her dress.

  “What is it, Aunt Helena?” Finn asked gently.

  She seemed reluctant to show him, as if she’d suddenly realized why we were here, as if showing Finn the photograph would be like opening a book to chapter one.

  After a brief hesitation, she placed the frame on the table so Finn could see. “Eleanor found this photo in one of Bernadett’s music books. It is Bernadett and her Benjamin.”

  He studied it for a moment, then raised his gaze back to Helena. “Who was Benjamin?”

  Slowly meeting his eyes, she said, “It does not matter now, does it? It is too late to do anything to change everything that has happened.”

  Finn took her weathered hand in his own strong one, and something passed between them that sent a cool shiver across my skin, something dark and unspoken and not completely understood.

  “For Gigi,” Finn said quietly. “And for me. We should know.” From the look they shared, it became apparent to me that he was no longer speaking only of the distant past.

  Very carefully, Helena lifted her iced tea glass and took a sip from her straw. “You are planning for me to die soon?”

  Despite the lightness of her tone, Finn winced. “No, Aunt Helena. Gigi is already planning what shade of pink you’ll wear to her wedding, which is a long way off.” He smiled softly. “But you and I both know that life has its own current, and we can’t hold it back.”

  She placed her hand on top of Finn’s and squeezed, and I knew they were both thinking of a childhood cancer that lurked like a monster in a child’s closet.

  “Who was Benjamin?” he asked again.

  After settling back in her chair, Helena took a deep breath. “Bernadett never wanted to speak of him after . . .” She gave a small shrug. “But I suppose it does not matter now. The dead cannot hurt us, can they?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “Can they?”

  Her chest rose and fell, and I glanced at Finn, wondering at the edge in his voice, wanting to remind him that she was an old woman.

  “He was a Jewish resistance fighter.”

  Finn sat back in his chair, his face contemplative. “And he and Aunt Bernadett . . . ?”

  “They were in love. It sounds so simple now, but back then it was not. He was a Jew, working with the underground resistance, smuggling medicine and food to his people, who were hidden throughout the city. And she was a Catholic, teaching music to orphaned and handicapped children at a local convent. They were doomed before it began.”

  I looked at her. “Is that why you told me that you wished they’d never met?”

  Her lips moved; too many words stored in her heart seemed to be rushing forward at the same time. But she stopped them at the last moment, as if realizing those words were her last safety net, and to cut one loose would allow them all to spill out. “No, Eleanor. There were many, many more reasons.”

  “And Gunter,” Finn said. “Did he know Benjamin?”

  Her eyes widened. “How do you know about Gunter?”

  Finn and I exchanged a glance. “Eleanor and Gigi found a photo of him while searching for Bernadett’s music. Eleanor said that you told her that Gunter was the love of your life.”

  She looked down at her clasped hands. “Yes. He was. There could never be another love for me. It is why I never married. Why I never wanted to.”

  Finn waited for her to say more, but I knew she would give him only what he asked.

  “Did Benjamin and Gunter know each other?”

  Her eyes were hard as she stared back at him. “They met. Once. Maybe twice.”

  “And did Gunter know who Benjamin was?” Finn pressed on.

  I placed a hand on his arm, wondering how he could not see the weariness in Helena’s eyes or the way her ruined fingers had begun to pluck at the skin of her hands.

  “We did not speak of it,” she said. “Gunter and I spoke only of his family in Lindau, in the Bavarian Alps on Lake Constance, where from his bedroom window he could see snow on the tips of the distant mountains even in the summer. Of how his father was a butcher with a shop on the main street in town.” Her face softened. “We spoke of how G
unter would open his own shop in America when the war was over, or we could live in Lindau and watch the moon rise over the lake.” The last word cracked in half, as if spilling all of her lost hopes. “We spoke of the children we would have and what we would name them. We did not speak of the horror around us.”

  Jenn appeared at the table with a basket of hush puppies and our salads, but nobody picked up a fork or lifted a napkin.

  Eager to change the direction of the conversation, I said, “It must have been very difficult for you to be so close to your sister, but for you to be in love with two men who in another time might have been friends but could not be then.”

  Her lips lifted in a soft smile. “Bernadett said the same thing. I think about that sometimes now, what it would have been like if we had all come to America after the war. If we all could have been a family. And I think, yes, it could have been.” Helena stared down into her salad, and I watched as she breathed in and out, and then I imagined I could hear the sound of a book being shut.

  “I am feeling ill. I am so sorry, but you must take me home now. Perhaps we can bring our food home for later.”

  Finn placed his hand gently on her arm. “I’m sorry, Aunt Helena. I didn’t mean to upset you. We won’t talk about the past anymore tonight. I promise. We’ll talk about Gigi and make plans to change her favorite color.”

  Helena looked at Finn, and a weak smile of determination lit her face. “All right. But let us go ahead and order dessert now so they can wrap it up and we can bring it home.”

  The rest of the meal was subdued, each of us buried in our own thoughts, my own occupied with the unspoken question that hovered between Finn and Helena. Our short drive home was mostly silent, except for the crinkling of paper take-out bags and the sound old memories make as they slip back and forth behind your eyes.

  Nurse Weber and Gigi were surprised to see us home so early, and Gigi might have even been a little disappointed since she was only in the middle of Beauty and the Beast and the brownies were still in the oven. I was happy to see rhinestones drying in glue on two tiaras on the kitchen table.

  I gathered my things, preparing to leave, and then went in search of Finn. After looking around the house and porches, I found him on the dock with his telescope, looking up at the night sky.

  He looked at me in surprise as I approached. “I’m sorry about dinner. I didn’t mean to upset Helena.”

  “It’s not my place to voice my opinion regarding your behavior toward your family members. I’m only an employee.”

  His face was in shadow, but I felt him watching me. “Is that how you really feel, Eleanor?”

  My heart thudded loudly. “Yes,” I said, afraid to answer any other way.

  He went back to his telescope, looking into the eyepiece. “Did you know that the earth isn’t perfectly round? It makes the earth wobble like a spinning top as it rotates around its axis. That means that in about fourteen thousand years Vega will be the North Star, and fourteen thousand years after that, Polaris will be the North Star again.”

  He straightened. “I find it reassuring that no matter what, there will always be a North Star to guide us.”

  I stepped closer and moved up to the telescope to look into the eyepiece. The bright light of the stars filled the space, the sound of the rushing creek beneath our feet at odds with my proximity to the stars. I was suspended in time, it seemed, floating somewhere between the earth and the sky, where all possibilities seemed endless.

  I looked up from the telescope and found Finn standing very close to me. I didn’t move back. “Why wouldn’t you back off with your questions? Couldn’t you tell that Helena was getting upset?”

  His eyes glittered. “Because I was the one who found them. Bernadett was dead, and Helena was eager to join her. And I don’t know why, and nobody will tell me, and I can’t just let it go.” He paused. “We’re both like that, aren’t we?”

  I thought of all the unanswered questions I’d asked my father since his death, unable to take silence for an answer. “A bit,” I said. I tilted my head back so I could look into his face. “Bernadett stopped playing the piano a few months before she died.”

  He didn’t say anything, as if he knew what I was going to say next.

  “Why did you stop taking flying lessons?”

  “Because Gigi got sick.”

  “Exactly. I’m thinking something happened with Bernadett, too. Maybe it’s the romantic in me, but what if she heard from Benjamin after all these years?”

  He was silent for a long moment. “I never took you for a romantic.”

  “I used to be. A long, long time ago.” I paused. “Now that Gigi’s better, why aren’t you taking flying lessons again?”

  I felt his eyes on my face, blending with the light from the moon and the stars. “Because I’ve forgotten why I wanted to fly.”

  He kissed me then, our bodies touching only with our lips. His were soft and warm and tasted of a summer night, and I didn’t want him to stop.

  I smelled his scent, as if just realizing whom I was kissing, and I pulled back, my hand flying to my mouth. “Oh,” I said stupidly, staring at him. “Oh,” I said again, backing away and trying to put as much distance between us as I could, the odd feeling of having been unfaithful to something or someone pinching at my heart.

  “Good night, Finn,” I said, turning around and walking quickly down the dock. The current pushed at the boards, making me sway, and I looked up at the stars to steady me, imagining the earth wobbling on its axis as two stars switched places in the heavens.

  CHAPTER 28

  Eve

  I pushed back from the kitchen table and held up the jacket to Eleanor’s suit. It had taken me longer than I’d expected, but I’d needed it to be perfect. I’d hand sewn the lining and the hems and inserted darts in the exact places to accentuate her tiny waist. I was glad that Mama had suggested I measure myself for it before I’d even started, because my pregnant body had already disguised my previous proportions completely.

  A car door shut outside, announcing Eleanor’s arrival, but I didn’t bother to hide her new suit. It was Tuesday, and I’d made sure that I would be alone with my sister. I took my time folding the skirt and the jacket and placed them on the table as I listened to the sound of her slowly climbing the front steps and then the jangle of her keys in the front door.

  She stopped when she spotted me. She looked at the quiet TV and the empty kitchen before turning her gaze back to me. “Where’re Glen and Mama? You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “I knew you were on your way, and I’ve got the phone right here.” I patted the phone on the table next to the suit, which she hadn’t noticed yet. “Mrs. Reed picked Mama up about an hour ago to shop for fabric. Looks like Mama and I are designing recital costumes for Mrs. Reed’s granddaughters. And,” I added with a big smile, “thanks to your suggestion and Mr. Beaufain’s introduction, Mama has an appointment with Madame LaFleur next week to talk about recital costumes for Gigi’s dance academy.”

  She slid into the chair opposite me and dropped her purse on the floor. “That’s really great—but what does Mr. Beaufain have to do with it?”

  “When I sent him that thank-you note to thank him for allowing you the flexibility to take care of me, he called me.”

  “He called you?”

  “Yes. He wanted to let me know that he appreciated everything you’d done for his family, and also gave me his cell number so that if I ever needed anything I could call him directly.”

  Eleanor stared at me as if I’d suddenly started speaking another language.

  I continued. “You must have mentioned something about Mama and me making costumes at some point, because he asked me if I’d ever designed anything in pink with lots of sequins and tulle. And that’s all it took.”

  “I had no idea. . . .” She stopped, and I watched as she raised her hand t
o her lips.

  Ah. Studying her closely, I said, “He’s a very nice man. And not too hard on the eyes, either.”

  She quickly lowered her hand, as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have. “He’s my boss,” she said, her tone not very convincing. “Which makes your comment very inappropriate.”

  I smirked. “And you’ve always been such a stickler for what’s appropriate in relationships.”

  “Stop,” she said, her eyes serious.

  I touched her hand and she looked at me with surprise, reminding us both of how little physical contact we’d had over the years, except for the necessary care of a woman in a wheelchair. “I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it. “You make yourself such an easy target sometimes.”

  She pulled her arm away. “No, I don’t. I’m just trying to make it through each day.”

  I slipped into the unfamiliar role of older sister and found that if I spent a little time altering it, it would fit. “How’s that working for you? When you were younger and people would ask you what you wanted to do when you grew up, you used to say go to Juilliard and play in Carnegie Hall. I don’t think that’s the same as ‘making it through the day.’”

  She stood. “I didn’t come home from a long day at work to listen to this.” Snatching up her purse, she headed toward the stairs. “I was going to wait and have dinner here, but I’m going to head straight out to Edisto. I’ll be there all week.”

  I watched her retreat. “I liked the Ellie you used to be, and I wish she’d come back. It’s my fault you changed, and I don’t know what I can do to bring her back.”

  She stopped with her hand on the banister but didn’t turn around. “What are you talking about? Nothing is your fault.”

  I continued, speaking quickly before she changed her mind about listening. “After my accident, when everything was so crazy, it made sense that you would take care of me. Mama was half-crazed with grief and there was nobody else, so you stepped in. And we let you. You wanted to wait on me and serve me from some false sense of guilt, and I let you. I let you not because I thought you deserved it, but because I was so angry with myself for doing something so stupid that I’d break my back, and I wanted to blame somebody, so I blamed you. And you let me.”