by Anita Abriel
The big news is that I met the most wonderful man and I’m getting married! I can see you raising your eyebrows and demanding to know how I can get married without you. But Herman’s mother is very ill and he wants to have the wedding while she is able to attend.
The wedding will be next Saturday at Betty’s house. There will be an orchestra, and after the reception we’ll stay in the bridal suite of the Beverly Hills Hotel. I’ll send you photos of the dress. It’s exactly like the dress Elizabeth Taylor wore in May, when she married Nicky Hilton.
I can’t wait for you to meet Herman. He has a successful business and he’s the most handsome man I have ever met. His grandparents escaped the pogroms in Russia, and he grew up in the Bronx. He’s good and kind, and most important, he loves me. I forgot how wonderful it is to be in love! Yes! I am in love again and I’m so happy. We never run out of things to talk about and he always makes me laugh.
Next month we leave on our honeymoon and we’re going to stay in Montreux with Dr. Abrahamson and his wife. I think Stefan would have liked Herman; they have so much in common.
I keep expecting to get a letter from you with similar news. There must be some Australian man who will sweep you off your feet! Give Andrew kisses, and I promise Herman and I will visit soon. I’ve enclosed his photo and business card; I’m the luckiest girl in the world!
Vera picked up the business card and read: Herman Levin, certified accountant. She studied the photo of a short man with a barrel chest and burst out laughing. Edith, who had adored Stefan’s good looks and swooned over dark-haired boys in Naples, was in love with a Jewish accountant from the Bronx.
“Miss Frankel”—her secretary interrupted her thoughts—“your eleven a.m. client is waiting in the conference room.”
“Thank you, Gwen.” Vera checked her makeup in her compact. She wanted to make a good first impression on her new client, Trent Gotham, who represented an international company that was building a shopping arcade and hotel in Sydney.
When she arrived at the conference room, his back was turned to her and he appeared engrossed in a book. She coughed and he turned.
Her heart pounded and she reached for the table to steady herself.
“Anton,” she whispered.
His hair was a little longer, but he looked exactly the same.
“Vera.” Anton stood up. She had forgotten how tall he was and how handsome he looked in a sports coat and slacks.
“What are you doing in Sydney?” Her thoughts jumbled together and she could hardly breathe. She glanced up at the clock. “I have a meeting with a client; he’ll be here any minute.”
“I am the client,” Anton said, and his eyes never left her face. “Anton Wight of Wight Hotels.”
Her cheeks flushed and her hands rose to her throat. There was a small scar from the bullet, and she instinctively covered it. “That’s impossible. My meeting is with Trent Gotham of the Gotham Group.”
“I made up a different name. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” he said, and smiled. “You promise not to hate me for deceiving you?”
“I don’t promise anything until I know why you’re here,” Vera remarked, trying to compose herself. Maybe Anton wasn’t here to see her at all. Maybe he had simply heard J. Walter Thompson provided the best copywriting services.
“I’ll tell you why I’m here,” he said softly. He crossed the room and stood so close she could smell his aftershave. “I’m here because I couldn’t forget you. It was the longest four years of my life and I couldn’t live another day without you.”
He touched her cheek and it took all her willpower not to kiss him. But she didn’t know anything about his current circumstances, and they were in the middle of a conference room.
“Can we go somewhere and talk?” she asked.
“There are cabs downstairs. I’ll buy you lunch and tell you everything.”
Vera straightened her skirt and there was laughter in her eyes. “You’re the client. I’ll pay for lunch.”
* * *
They sat in a restaurant in the Strand Arcade and ordered lunch.
“I wandered around Europe for months and became even more depressed,” Anton began. “I thought that Naples had been destroyed, but Warsaw and Berlin were nothing but piles of rubble. In the Netherlands there had been a famine, and people ate tulip bulbs to survive. There were over three hundred thousand orphans. People who had lost their homes carried their belongings on their backs.” His eyes were pools of misery. “I felt powerless and useless, so I decided to go home. My parents were thrilled to have me back and my father begged me to join Wight Hotels. I didn’t put up much of a fight. My mother even tried to get me to attend dances, but that’s where I put my foot down. How could I make cocktail conversation with debutantes who would never understand what I had witnessed? Several months ago there was a dinner party at the Astor residence that my father insisted I attend. When I arrived, I poured a large scotch and wandered around the house by myself.” He smiled. “The interior was designed by Sister Parish and you know how I appreciate great design. I found myself in the study and noticed a framed photograph of two girls in a piazza in Naples. I immediately recognized you and Edith.” He paused. “I must have stood there for an hour; the maid had to drag me into dinner. I asked our host where he got the photograph and he gave me Marcus’s card with his contact information. I called Marcus and he gave me Edith’s phone number.” He looked at Vera. “Then I flew to see Edith in California—”
“You went to California?” Vera interjected.
“I called Edith but she wouldn’t tell me anything about you.” He grinned. “She didn’t want me contacting you until she knew my intentions. So I took the first flight I could get on to see her. Then we sat for two hours and she told me everything about your life.”
“Everything?” Vera gulped, thinking about her parents and Ricardo and Andrew.
“When Edith said your parents survived the war I wanted to cheer, and when she told me about Ricardo I wanted to board the next ship and hold you forever. But I couldn’t show up in Sydney and ask you to move to New York. You had your parents and your son and a career. So I started researching Australia. The postwar economy is booming. Australia has let in almost two hundred thousand immigrants since 1945.” He sipped his Coca-Cola. “The answer was simple: we could build a Wight Hotel in Sydney. It didn’t take much to convince my father; he was looking for ways to expand.” Anton drummed his fingers on the conference table and Vera was reminded of how impassioned he became when he was composing letters at the embassy in Naples. “Over the last six months we found investors and purchased the land and hired architects to design plans. Then I flew back to California and took the SS Lurline from San Francisco to Sydney and arrived three days ago.”
Vera looked into Anton’s blue eyes and the reserves she had built up over the last four years threatened to collapse.
“I’ve dreamed about this moment for months, but I understand if you don’t want to see me.” His voice was urgent. “I was a coward in Naples, and I let you down. But I knew if I told you in person, I wouldn’t have the courage to let you go. I got it all wrong,” he gulped. “Instead of running away, I should have done everything in my power to convince you that we had to be together and that I’d spend the rest of my life showing you how much I loved you.”
Vera remembered when Anton proposed in Capri and she had never been so happy. She thought of arriving in Caracas and trying so hard to forget him. How many nights had she dreamed of Anton returning? But she wasn’t a young girl who could be swept up by love anymore. Andrew was now the most important person in her life. She had responsibilities and commitments.
“Please, tell me what you’re thinking,” he beseeched.
“I don’t know.” She lifted her eyes to his. “So much is different. I’ve changed. I’m a mother and I have a career. What if it doesn’t work?”
Anton leaned forward and traced the scar on Vera’s neck. His fingers were soft, a
nd a warmth ran down her spine.
“Please give me a chance,” he begged. “Let me take you out and we’ll get to know each other again. I never stopped loving you.”
“All right,” she agreed. “There’s an Italian restaurant near the office. We could meet there after work.”
“I was actually thinking of something different.”
“Something different?” she repeated.
He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothed it on the table.
“Tomorrow is Saturday. I could pick you up in the morning. First we’d ride the ferry to Taronga Zoo and see the kangaroos. Then we’d take the tram to Balmoral Beach. There’s a cricket field and a restaurant that serves pink lamington cakes. After that we’d go to Hyde Park and see a puppet show.”
“You want to visit the zoo and see a puppet show?” she asked incredulously.
Anton’s face broke into a smile and he looked young and carefree.
“I was hoping Andrew could join us,” he explained. “I don’t know much about children, but I thought those are the things a two-year-old might enjoy.”
“Then we’ll do all those things,” Vera laughed. “But Andrew is afraid of lions at the zoo and I don’t let him eat cake at lunch.”
Anton scribbled notes on the paper and slipped it in his pocket. His hand found hers across the table, and she didn’t take it away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
September 1950
Anton was picking Vera up in half an hour and she had already changed her dress three times.
She had stayed awake most of the night thinking about everything he said. How had Edith not mentioned Anton in her letters? Edith was her best friend; she only wanted Vera to be happy. And had Anton decided to build a hotel in Sydney just so they could be in the same country? Then she remembered sailing on the Queen Elizabeth to New York to find Anton, and knew she could have easily done the same thing.
Halfway through the night she had gotten out of bed and stood in front of Andrew’s cot. He was beautiful when he was asleep, with his long dark lashes and round fists clutching a teddy bear. Could she really introduce a man into Andrew’s life?
There was a knock, and her mother appeared behind her.
“You look lovely.” Alice nodded approvingly.
“Do you think so?” Vera turned around. “I was wondering if I should wear the yellow dress.”
“It doesn’t matter what you wear. Anton is coming to see you, not a piece of fabric,” Alice said. “I got Andrew dressed and put on his shoes. He asked if he could bring his toy car.”
Vera gave her hair a final brush and looked at her mother doubtfully.
“Do you think it’s all right?” she wondered.
“What do you mean?” Alice asked.
“Taking Andrew to the zoo with Anton,” she began. “I think about Ricardo never knowing his son and can’t help feeling guilty.”
“When Lawrence and I were on the ship to Caracas, I met an Austrian woman named Ida Rothstein. Every night she appeared at dinner in a mink stole and diamond earrings. She ate all the steak on her plate and asked for more. And she wasn’t afraid to invite single men to dance.
“One day I ran into her on deck and noticed the tattoo on her wrist. She had been at Auschwitz, too. Her two sisters were sent to the gas chamber and her son died of tuberculosis. When she returned to Vienna after the war, she learned her husband had been killed at the Battle of Britain. Her husband, Wolf, despised Hitler so much he left for England in 1939 and volunteered in the British Army. All their family was in Austria and Ida begged him to stay, but he said the Allied forces would defeat Hitler in no time and he would return.” Alice paused. “Ida never saw Wolf again.”
“After Ida told me her story, she said: ‘I know what you’re thinking. How can I wear diamonds and eat steak when everyone I love is dead?’ I nodded and she took off her eyeglasses and continued: ‘Would they be any less dead if I stayed in my cabin and cried?’
“Ida put on her mink stole and diamond earrings every night because she recognized that life has to go on. Nothing will change what Ricardo did, and you’ve worked so hard to give Andrew a good life.” She kissed the scar on Vera’s neck. “It’s only the zoo. Go have fun.”
There was a knock at the front door and Vera jumped. She checked her hair in the mirror and ran to open it.
Anton stood outside. His arms were laden with wrapped gifts.
“I picked up a few things,” he said sheepishly when they entered the living room. Vera scanned the plain sofa and drab paint and wondered what Anton would think of the cottage.
“These are for you.” He handed Alice a bunch of lilies.
“Thank you, they’re lovely.” Alice nodded. “Please sit down.”
Anton sat and twisted his hands. There was an awkward silence and Vera wondered if she made a mistake. Perhaps they should have met somewhere else and she could have introduced Anton to her parents later.
“When I met Vera at the embassy in Naples and read Captain Bingham’s letter, I thought she was the bravest girl in the world,” Anton said to Alice. “But then Vera told me what you suffered during the war and I understood where she gets her courage. She has a remarkable mother.”
Alice beamed, and the air in the room seemed to expand. Andrew bounded into the room and Anton gave him the stuffed dog that was tucked under his arm.
“This is my father, Lawrence,” Vera said when her father emerged from the bedroom. He had gained weight in the last year, and the lines in his forehead were smoother.
“Mr. Frankel, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Anton jumped up and shook hands. “I brought you a bottle of brandy; I hope you like it.”
“Please, call me Lawrence,” he said, accepting the gift.
“Vera told me you are a chess champion.” Anton slipped his hands in his pockets. “I was on the Yale chess team. Perhaps you would give me the honor of playing you.”
“Anytime.” Lawrence nodded. “But I have to warn you, I haven’t lost a match in a year.”
“I didn’t know that,” Vera said in surprise. “Rabbi Gorem said you let him win all the time.”
“I had to let him win,” Lawrence answered, and Vera noticed the old sparkle in his eyes. “In Caracas, God and I were still working things out. I needed Rabbi Gorem on my side.”
* * *
Vera said good-bye to her parents and she and Anton and Andrew rode the ferry to Taronga Zoo. The zoo was built facing the harbor, and from the giraffe house you could see the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the boats crisscrossing the water. Anton carried Andrew on his shoulders, and they toured the elephant temple and the monkey pits. When Vera said it was time to leave, Andrew asked if they could come back to see the tigers.
* * *
“That was a wonderful morning,” Vera said, sitting opposite Anton in the Balmoral Rotunda.
Vera had never been to Balmoral Beach. There was a swimming cove and an area for cricket and a restaurant with outdoor tables. Andrew played with a bucket and spade on the lawn, and she and Anton drank tea and ate scones and jam.
“I haven’t been to a zoo in years,” Anton said. “There’s nothing more thrilling than lions and giraffes. When I was a kid, I dreamed of going on safari.”
“Andrew is going to be talking about the elephants for weeks.” She smiled. “Thank you for taking us.”
“You don’t know what it’s like sitting across from you. I have to keep pinching myself,” Anton said as he spread jam on a scone. “I thought about you the whole time I was in Europe. I bought a scarf in Barcelona because it brought out the green in your eyes, and I spent hours in the drama section of Shakespeare and Company in Paris. In Budapest, I rode a bicycle on Margaret Island because it was one of your favorite things to do.”
“You went to Budapest?” Vera asked in surprise.
“Three years ago in 1947, before it became communist,” Anton said. “The streets were empty and the people were grim; I didn’t stay long.�
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Vera pictured her beloved Budapest with its opera house and green parks, and there was a lump in her throat. “We’re very happy in Sydney; I don’t think we’ll ever go back.”
“I took home a suitcase of souvenirs even though I knew I’d never have the chance to give them to you,” Anton continued. “I saved one thing I hoped you might like.”
He reached into his pocket and took out a velvet box. Inside was the diamond-and-sapphire engagement ring he gave Vera in Capri.
Vera gasped and her hand flew to her mouth.
“Gina sent it to me in New York,” Anton explained. “Do you remember, I told you to sell it and get yourself a nest egg? You left it with Gina instead.”
“It wasn’t mine to sell,” Vera responded.
Anton took her hand. “You are the only thing that matters. I loved you from the minute we met, and every day it’s grown stronger. I was a fool to let you go and I would never make the mistake again. Vera, my darling. Would you marry me?”
Vera gazed at Anton’s face that she loved so much. She was only twenty-three and there was no hurry. Why shouldn’t they first have a proper courtship with Saturday movie dates and dancing? She didn’t have to worry about a war taking Anton away, or not having enough money to support herself.
“I love you more than anything,” Vera answered. “But ever since Edith and I were sixteen we’ve been waiting for something terrible to happen: first it was moving to the ghetto, and then it was Stefan being sent to the camps, and after that it was being put on the train to Auschwitz. Even in Naples and Caracas we couldn’t enjoy being young girls because we were waiting to hear terrible news of Stefan and our parents. For the first time, there are only good things to look forward to: Andrew turning three and a promotion at work and my father earning his law degree. Getting engaged and marrying you would be the best thing of all, but I don’t want to rush. Is it all right if I wait a little while to accept the ring?”