by Diana Finley
‘No, you’re right. Actually, Sam is much more socially sympathetic than me. I’m the reactionary, hard-bitten one.’
‘You’re not hard-bitten – just a realist, like me.’
‘Sam always believes in the basic good of human beings. It’s a wonderful quality: what makes him so special. It colours his whole view of the world. I’m not sure I share his faith in humankind or human kindness.’
‘Perhaps you’ve had more evidence to the contrary. That’s bound to change you, though I know Sam hadn’t lived a life protected by cotton wool either. You were still young and innocent those first days in Palestine. You had suffered, but you had no idea how that pain would fester in you over the years to come. But, Anna, maybe you should try to take a lesson from him, and believe in the positive, at least until proven wrong.’
They sit quietly holding hands and contemplating the river. Barges slide past, water churning in their wake. On the near side of the river, the barges sit deep in the water, laden with coal, heading north and east towards Rotterdam.
Yael draws Anna’s hand up to her chest.
‘So, Anna, when are you going to America? When are you going to see your Shimon?’
The peace of the moment is broken. Anna’s breath comes in short gasps. She withdraws her hand and picks absently at the skin around her nails.
‘I’m so afraid, Yael. What if he hates me – and who could blame him after what I did to him? Will he ever understand? And what of the children – how can I leave Ben and Eve to go so far away? And … what will I tell them?’
‘What if, what if! Yes, there are some aspects you will have to think about. What to tell the children, sure, you need to consider that carefully. But leaving them for a few weeks is no problem. You have Della, and they are not babies any more. They will have school, all the usual routines – they’ll be fine. Shimon – your son – your child? You’re so hard on yourself, Anna. Of course he won’t hate you; Esther has told you he’s longing to meet you. Be honest with yourself – you are just making excuses.’
Anna is silent. She stares at the dark water of the river striving constantly for the sea.
‘You’re right. I must go. Will you come too, Yael? Will you come with me?’
Chapter 13
Boston 1958
Anna’s entire body trembles out of control, as though attempting to drill her into the floor. The immigration officer frowns at her passport and visa. Without moving his head, he switches his gaze to her, pale eyes peering over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses.
‘Is this a vacation visit, Ma’am?’ His voice drifts faintly through thickened air.
She concentrates all her energy on not passing out, on staying upright, on continuing to breathe. Perspiration glazes her forehead and prickles her neck, yet she feels cold as a North Sea mist.
‘Ma’am? Are you OK? I said, are you visiting the US for vacation purposes?’
Anna tries to focus on the question. She raises her head and blinks up at the man. He is large, heavy, with a pitted red face. Thick flesh bulges over the collar of his uniform. He regards her with a mixture of puzzlement and suspicion.
‘I am visiting my son. My son and my sister.’
‘OK!’ His tone is ironic, as if to say ‘now we’re getting somewhere!’ ‘So he is working over here, right? Your son?’
‘He lives here. He is an American citizen. And my sister is too. I haven’t seen him for twenty-three years.’
‘Twenty-three years?’ The man whistles through his teeth and regards her with disbelief, as though no one but the most hardened criminal could fail to visit a son for such a lengthy period.
‘How long do you plan to visit?’
‘Four weeks.’
Another long hard stare, and he waves her through.
‘I will meet you on my own,’ Esther had written. ‘Reuben thought he and the girls should stay home so that you and I can get over all our tears and “histrionics”, as he calls them, beforehand. Shimon too will wait at home to see you. We’ll make sure you have some special private time together. He is so excited he hardly knows what to do with himself.’
Anna moves forward slowly along a long corridor, staggering under the weight of her suitcase, other more rapid passengers passing her.
‘Do you really need to take so much?’ Sam had queried.
‘Yes, I do!’ Anna had retorted. ‘Esther said it could be very warm or very cool in Boston at this time of year. Anyway, half of it is presents: for the whole family, and for Yael and Rachel too. I could hardly go empty-handed.’
At the end of the passage, wide double doors swing open automatically, as if to embrace her, as she approaches. She squints into the sudden light of a spacious waiting hall beyond. Small groups of people are hugging or talking animatedly; others stand or stroll, waiting to be reunited with travellers who have yet to emerge. Anna puts her suitcase on the floor and rubs her palm, red and indented from the weight. Her head is throbbing; she stands swaying. The whole scene is moving in and out of focus. She cannot make out individuals, cannot see faces. A shape looms, dark against the fluorescent brightness.
‘Anna.’
She turns. ‘Esther.’
So here she is, her sister. They embrace, shutting out their surroundings, shutting out more than twenty years, oblivious to all around them. Two middle-aged women of similar height and build, one auburn-haired, the other dark, clutching each other like statues in an intricate pose of intertwined limbs. They stand back and look at one another’s tear-streaked faces. They laugh, they cry, they hug again. For a long time, they cannot speak. At last, the sobs, the laughter, the gulps for air subside.
‘Oh my God, Anna. What have you done to my face?’
‘What do you care? You can’t even see it.’
‘I see yours. Mine must be worse: red nose, rivers of mascara, smudged lipstick. What a sight, huh?’ Esther strokes Anna’s cheek tenderly. ‘So many years, so long we haven’t seen you, my little sister.’
‘Here I am.’
‘Here you are. Let’s go get some coffee before we go home.’
* * *
She stands momentarily on the terrace. The sun has warmed the pinkish flagstones. They radiate a gentle heat upwards; she feels it enveloping her trembling legs. A gravel pathway snakes from the terrace, weaving among neatly pruned shrubs and trees, around a small pond, and disappears into the hidden rear of the garden. Someone cares for this garden, Anna thinks. Is it Reuben? How sad that she doesn’t really know him. Sam would be so interested in the garden. She must try to remember what she sees, memorise the names of the plants and trees to tell him all about it.
She breathes deeply, steps onto the path and walks, slowly. She pauses at the pond and gazes at it for a moment, wondering if there are frogs, or fish. How Eve would love to see frogs. Concentrating simply on walking steadily, Anna pursues the winding track of the path. The trees are just beginning to take on the yellows, reds and browns of autumn. Boston is famous for its autumn colours, Sam had told her, especially the maples. He had shown her a picture of a maple tree, with a drawing of its leaf, so that she would recognise it. A light haze of dew still clings to the grass in the shaded patches between the bushes.
She emerges into an open area, lit by a dazzle of slanting sunlight, and for a moment she is blinded. Using her hand to shield her eyes, Anna walks forward. The path runs out and she steps onto the damp lawn and looks around. A figure is seated on a wooden bench almost hidden in a semi-circle of small overhanging maple trees, as if in a fairy arbour. As she approaches he watches her and stands, very still and straight, his arms by his sides, only his fingers moving. He takes a step towards her. Anna pauses. Her legs turn to liquid and begin to give way. He surges forward and wraps his arms around her, supporting her slight weight.
‘Shimon,’ she whispers, ‘my boy.’
‘Mamma.’
He leads her to the bench, one arm around her, almost lifting her. They embrace, and cry, embrace again,
laugh and cry. She pushes him back and holds him at arm’s length.
‘Let me look at you.’
He is tall, not as tall as Sam, but nearly six feet perhaps. Broad-shouldered, slim-waisted, slender-limbed. His skin has the smooth colour and texture of melted caramel, flawless. Otto’s skin, she realises with shock. She has rarely thought of Otto over all these years. He is an irrelevance, except in leaving his seed behind, and so dictating the path of her life. Now something of his physicality returns to her, his beauty.
But this is not Otto; she feels nothing for that man. This is Shimon – her son – and he is beautiful. His hair falls in soft, black curls around his ears; small ears, like Eve’s. His eyes are soft hazel brown, with flecks of green and gold. They have a slight downward slant, giving him an air of sadness, counteracted by laughter lines in each corner. For a moment she thinks she sees something of Sam in the shape of his eyes. But no, how foolish. She has to remind herself that there is no blood connection between them; Sam is not his father, of course. Both Sam and Ben have blue eyes: clear, pale, piercing blue. Shimon’s eyes have a dark ring around the irises, as do her own, emphasising the colour. A strong jawline, speckled with black stubble. She strokes his chin.
‘Sorry, I’m rough. I did shave, honest.’ He laughs.
She laughs too. ‘You are perfect.’
They continue their exploration of one another, eager as children, exclaiming over the similarity of their noses, the difference in the shape of their hands.
‘See how your fingers taper,’ he says. ‘Mine are blunt, like Gramps’s. He always said he had the solid hands of a peasant.’
She realises with sadness that he is talking about Artur, her own father. Artur, whose life ended here in America, and who never knew that his eldest grandson was not Esther’s child but hers, Anna’s.
‘Shimon, beloved Shimon,’ she whispers as she strokes him. ‘It is as though I have been given my baby back … no, not just that, it is as though I have been given my soul back. I feel complete at last.’
‘Me too, kind of.’ He looks at her a little shyly.
‘You too?’ she says. ‘But you have had Esther for your mother, Esther and Reuben – your lovely family always here for you. I never imagined you would even think of me.’
‘I do have Mom and Dad, and a wonderful family. ’Course I’ll always love them. But … sometimes I felt there was a … nothingness inside, a … a vacuum or a hollow that could never be filled. From the time I was old enough to understand, I was told … I knew I had another mother. I guess this sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Meeting you, it’s as if a big weight has been lifted off me. I needed to know … I needed to know you, for my own identity, what makes me me.’
* * *
The weeks pass with frightening speed. Over twenty years of family interactions are compressed into a month. Anna reacquaints herself with Reuben, a mild, quiet, intellectual man – Esther was always the noisy one. She begins to get to know her nieces, Marta and Leila. So many echoes of former times. As Anna watches the girls, it is sometimes almost as though she is observing a film of herself and Esther when younger. Above all, she spends time with Shimon, answering questions she had never allowed herself to consider before, exploring with him half a lifetime of painful emotions.
For Esther and Anna, it is not so difficult. The foundation of their relationship is so strong, and established so early, that it endures the strains and traumas of the past. Somehow they pick up where they left off, the intervening years quickly fading. Theirs is the relationship of close siblings, with all the ups and downs of such a bond. Just like when they were teenagers, Esther sometimes sees it as her role, as older sister, to advise, protect, and even control Anna. Like when they were teenagers too, Anna sometimes resents what she regards as her sister’s bossiness. On one occasion they go walking together in the Arnold Arboretum. When Shimon arrives in his car later on to pick them up from an agreed spot just outside the park, he finds them standing on opposite street corners, pointedly ignoring each other. As soon as they get into the back, one each side of the car, they start bickering furiously about the misdeeds of the other.
‘She thinks just because she’s the eldest, she can tell me what to do! Does she think I’m still a child …?’ rages Anna.
‘She always did think she knew best – she won’t listen to my suggestions. Haven’t I lived in this city twenty years? Don’t you think I know where a good eating joint is?’ retorts Esther.
‘Hey, girls, girls!’ says Shimon, laughing at them. ‘What is this? Are you two returning to your childhood, or what?’
They look at one another and collapse giggling into each other’s arms.
* * *
Yael and Rachel have already visited Esther and her family on several occasions before Anna’s arrival. Yael and Esther, both strong women and neither reticent about speaking their mind, instinctively like each other; they are drawn into an instant friendship. They also have a shared common interest that holds them together: Anna.
A further complication adds to the complex melting pot of family relationships; no one can fail to notice an immediate magnetism between Rachel and Shimon. Shimon, studying for his doctorate at Harvard, is ideally placed to act as Rachel’s guide to Boston and its universities. He does not resist this opportunity. They enjoy one another’s company intellectually and in time romantically too, the two of them soon becoming inseparable.
Towards the end of Anna’s stay, Esther and Reuben arrange a special dinner for her. Marta and Leila are having a sleepover with friends, but Yael and Rachel are invited for the evening. Anna is aware that Shimon’s attraction to Rachel deflects some of the intensity of their own burgeoning mother–son relationship. She feels no jealousy; it seems natural, strengthening her maternal feelings towards Shimon, towards both of them. She notices Esther and Yael watching Shimon and Rachel too. Anna, Esther and Yael: a convoluted triumvirate of mothers.
Tension starts to build during the meal. Anna senses that Esther is leading up to some sort of climax.
‘So, Anna,’ says Esther, as they relax over coffee, ‘only three more days in Boston and you’re back to Germany.’
‘You don’t need to remind me. I don’t know what to feel about it – torn between joy at seeing Sam and the children again, and despair at leaving all of you.’
‘All the more reason to plan another visit, maybe with all the family next time?’ suggests Reuben.
Esther’s fingers drum the table. ‘But I guess the next step is for Shimon to travel out to see you all, right? Maybe in the Christmas vacation?’
‘Come on, Esther, no need to put the pressure on,’ says Reuben. ‘Anna may need time to talk it over with Sam first.’
‘What’s to talk over? Sam’s such a warm and friendly guy, he’ll be happy with anything that makes Anna happy.’
‘Sam would be very welcoming to Shimon, I’m quite sure, from all I know of him,’ adds Yael, looking carefully at Anna.
‘It’s not as simple as that. I don’t see Sam as the problem,’ Anna says slowly.
‘Problem? Is there a problem? Am I a problem, Anna?’ Shimon asks.
‘Of course you are not a problem, darling Shimon …’
‘But …?’
‘I would like nothing more than to introduce you to all of my family, for you to become a part of us, as well as of Esther and Reuben’s family …’
‘I feel another “but” coming on.’ Shimon looks at her with sombre eyes, a muscle in his temple and another in his jaw twitching alternately.
Yael stands up. She steps behind Anna’s chair and hugs her shoulders, nestling her cheek against her friend’s.
‘I think we should leave you to talk this through in peace, Anna. Come on, Rachel, we’d better go home.’
‘No, you stay, Yael, and Rachel too. I need you all to understand.’
Anna looks at the five faces around the table, all sympathetic and tender, but despite that she feels besieged.
&nb
sp; ‘I’ve been thinking about this for some time. Of course Sam would welcome Shimon with open arms. As you say, Esther, he wants nothing more or less than for me to be happy – and stable. He knows all about you, Shimon, and how important you are to me. But Ben and Eve are a different matter. They are still very young; they know nothing about Shimon. How could they understand that their mother had a baby, a baby they know nothing about, and that she gave him away? How could I explain it to them, when I have not admitted it, even to myself, for all these years?’ Anna covers her face with her hands.
‘Anna, you should not have to struggle with this in front of all of us. It is too painful,’ says Reuben quietly.
‘What, should she keep the pain hidden again? Have another breakdown?’ Esther retorts. ‘Of course she should speak about it. What are you saying, Liebling? You don’t want Shimon to come over and meet the children?’
Anna looks at Shimon, his young face drawn and agonised. She longs to run to him, hug him, rock him, take away the sadness.
‘No of course I’m not saying that. I’m saying I don’t think Ben and Eve are ready for all the information – not yet. In some years, maybe. But just now they are too young to understand. It could unsettle them, frighten them even.’
‘I wonder if you underestimate the understanding of your intelligent and sensitive Ben and Eve,’ says Yael gently. ‘Children are so much more resilient than we give them credit for.’
‘Maybe, but I don’t think I can take the risk. Anyway, you haven’t let me finish. Of course I want you to come and stay with us, Shimon, for you to get to know Sam, and Ben and Eve, but … I would have to introduce you as Esther and Reuben’s son, rather than my son. That’s not a lie, is it? You are their son; you will always be their son, as well as my son.’
‘You would deny me?’ asks Shimon, so quietly he is barely audible. Rachel reaches for him, tears running down her cheeks.
‘Never, never, never. I will never deny you, Shimon. But these are young children. Try to understand how it might distress them.’