by Bina Bernard
“I’m glad you could make it, Dad,” Hannah said, her tone of voice more appropriate to welcoming a casual acquaintance. Instead of hugging his daughter, Harry took her hand briefly. Molly, teary-eyed, embraced Hannah.
The ceremony went off without any further snags. Twenty-five guests and the bride and groom enjoyed a delicious lunch. But Hannah often relived that agonizing week she’d spent wondering whether her parents would make an appearance. Even now recalling that her father never hugged or kissed her on her wedding day brought tears to her eyes.
Hannah shook her head to dislodge the painful memory. That was then, she told herself. At least now I understand why it happened.
Lying in bed after a relaxing hot shower, Hannah flipped through an issue of People magazine with a smiling Goldie Hawn staring out from the cover. Candy for the brain, she laughed. “Life doesn’t have to be serious all the time,” Robert’s voice echoed in her mind. For a change, Hannah found herself in agreement with that sentiment.
Nice! Goldie’s going to have a baby, and then she’s going to get married. Maybe if I’d tried it in that order I’d have gotten pregnant, too, Hannah thought, but quickly pushed that disturbing subject out of her mind. The past weekend had re-jiggered a lot of her feelings. Even with the daunting task Harry had set out for her, Hannah felt her life was on a better trajectory. Admittedly, Harry’s health was a problem, but she expected the right cardiologist would resolve that issue. Hannah took several cleansing breaths and congratulated herself on how well she’d been tolerating all the turmoil. Her road map was clear. First find the perfect doctor for Harry, then start looking for Lena. For the moment she convinced herself that tracking down her sister, even after thirty years, was not impossible for an experienced reporter.
Hannah slept through the alarm that Monday. Still groggy, she got to the office mid-morning, without any edibles for her co-workers, or even coffee for herself. She usually appeared at the magazine early, and energized, with a container of black coffee in one hand and in the other, a bag filled with croissants, doughnuts or brownies (her personal favorite) to share. Always on the hunt for the best edible delights, she’d proudly advertise her success.
“Believe me, you’re in for a special treat,” she’d announce as she distributed her goodies on the way to her cubicle.
While Hannah felt guilty for not bearing gifts as usual, her co-workers were too occupied to complain. When she reached her desk, she called Robert in Amagansett. The phone rang five times before the answering machine came on. She started to leave a message, but instead hung up without saying a word. She hadn’t changed that much. Two hours later Robert called.
“You rang?” he asked cheerfully.
Hearing his voice, Hannah fussed with her hair, as if Robert were watching. It cheered her that he knew she had phoned even though she had not left a message. We may be physically apart, but we are still bound together, Hannah reassured herself.
“I confess. I called and left no message.”
“That’s not news! What’s up?”
Her initial instinct was to blurt out everything that had happened, but she stopped herself. Hannah wanted to be face to face with Robert when she told him about Lena and her new relationship with Harry.
“You first. How was the trip?” she asked instead.
“God, I’m glad it’s over! No more junkets for me. I’m going to enjoy thinking small for a while. Feels great to be back,” Robert said. “What’s going on with you? You sound different.”
“A lot has happened,” Hannah said, not wanting to reveal too much. “Are you coming into the city this week?”
“Turns out I have to go in today to pick out some hardware and fixtures,” Robert said. “You free for dinner tonight? I’ll cook. I should be finished by six or seven.”
“Perfect! Meet you at the apartment.” Hannah grinned.
As she cleared her desk from the previous week’s work, Hannah found herself first humming, then singing: “It’s a great day for singing a song, it’s a great day for moving along . . . .”
Before she got to the next line Josh yelled from his cubicle: “Everything okay, Hannah?”
“Yes. Why?”
“No doughnut, no croissants! Only your dulcet tones in our future?”
“Sorry. I overslept! Forgive the singing,” Hannah yelled back, embarrassed. She hadn’t realized she’d been singing. A few minutes later, a more serious Hannah appeared at Josh’s desk.
“Since you are our resident medical expert, I need help finding a heart specialist for my dad. A mensch who knows his stuff. My father’s been treating his own heart condition until now. I have to find someone who will treat him like a peer, not just a patient.”
“No problem. I’ll make some calls,” Josh offered.
Hannah was grateful, but she wasn’t about to leave such an important search to only one source. She intended to make many calls on her own.
A little after three o’clock Christy arrived, carrying a single red rose.
“It’s a peace offering for helping me in your office.”
Hannah sniffed the flower. “Thanks for the thought. But you don’t need a peace offering. We’re not at war, are we?”
Christy flashed her Chiclets smile, just like Robert’s.
“How’ve you been, kiddo?”
“Good, I guess.”
“Not sure?”
“Teenagers are supposed to be full of angst. If I’m good, then I’m not cool.”
“Being cool isn’t so cool, believe me. Better to be good,” Hannah said and mussed Christy’s bangs. “Let’s get down to business. Your paper, please.”
Christy anxiously perched on the edge of the guest chair as she handed over her folder. Reading the opening sentence, Hannah tensed up. In the form of a diary, Christy had written an alternative ending for Anne Frank. In this version Anne had survived the war and was now living in New York. Christy portrayed a grown-up Anne Frank as Hannah.
“I’m really not the right person to advise you on this. I’m one of the few people on the planet who has neither read The Diary of Anne Frank nor seen the movie,” Hannah confessed.
Christy was surprised. It never occurred to her that Hannah would not have read a book that was so close to her own experience. She grimaced and pleaded. “Take a look anyway, please!”
Hannah nodded and as a precaution swiveled around in her chair, turning her back to Christy. She didn’t want to be seen crying. When Hannah finished, she dabbed her cheeks before facing Christy again.
“God, Hannah, I didn’t want to upset you. I just need this to be a good paper.”
“It’s very good,” Hannah said. “I’m sure your teacher will agree.”
Christy reached for her folder. “Thank you for reading it. Anything I should change?”
“No, nothing. Except the typos I circled. Congratulations,” Hannah said. Under her breath she added, “It would have been really something if Anne Frank had survived to write her own sequel.” As she said those words Hannah thought about her lost sister and the muscles in her face sagged.
Noticing the change in her demeanor, Christy apologized. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize reading this would upset you.”
“Maybe now I’ll read the book,” Hannah said to reassure Christy.
A relieved Christy checked her watch. Beaming she said, “I told you I’d be out of here before four.”
“Your word is good. I’m proud of you on both counts,” Hannah said and got up to give Christy a big squeeze. “I’ve missed you,” she admitted and kissed the top of her head.
That evening Hannah left her office early—for her. On the way home she stopped to pick up flowers and a bottle of Robert’s favorite Chardonnay. When she got off the elevator at 7:30 p.m., she heard music coming from the direction of her apartment. As Hannah opened the door, Robert shouted in his most melodramatic voice, “Honey, you’re home!”
In the best B-movie tradition, Hannah rushed into his outstretched
arms. Holding the wine in one hand and flowers in the other, she let herself be twirled around the room to Frank Sinatra singing “Come Dance With Me!”
Hannah closed her eyes. The dizziness she felt was slightly intoxicating. She didn’t want the music to stop, nor to let go of Robert. But when the timer went off, their dance was over.
“M’lady, you have exactly twenty minutes before making an appearance at the dinner table. Now the chef has to go to work.” He brushed her nose as he reached down to kiss her, then headed for the kitchen.
Hannah looked around and saw the dining table was set, with candles ready to be lit for a romantic dinner. Robert had thought of everything. She felt like Cinderella on her first real date with the Prince after he’d returned her glass slipper. With Robert in the kitchen preparing dinner, she was able to sideline her usual fear of his abandoning her. At that moment she accepted their separate living arrangement as temporary.
In the bedroom, giggling at her reflection in her full-length mirror, Hannah reprised their dance. She whirled herself around the room, and collapsed on the bed. He still loves me!
Hannah took a bite of Robert’s spectacular sole almandine. “Mmm, delicious!” she said, then sighed and dropped her fork. “I’ve got to tell you what’s been going on!”
Robert kept shaking his head as Hannah replayed her weekend with Harry and how she found out about Lena.
“That’s a hell of a story! Would make a great book,” he said. “You could have a best seller. Maybe even a movie.”
“Not much to write about yet,” she said, dismissing the book idea as premature. “I’d have to find Lena to give the story a happy ending.” But Hannah knew that even with a happy ending she would not want to write about her family’s troubled history.
After they had polished off the bottle of wine, Hannah finally felt brave enough to bring up their situation.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” she started timidly. What about you?”
“Sure. I always think about us. I want us to have a good life together.”
“But I’m living in New York and you’re in Amagansett!”
Robert laughed. “Right now, after all this wine, it does seem weird.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Hannah, I was miserable. Everything was wrong. I had to do something.”
“Why such a major change? Why did you have to move out?”
“Oh, God! I was blaming us for what I was feeling about myself and my career. I’m a lot happier now. I like my work. I like being in Amagansett. I think it would be a great place for you to write your book.” Robert grinned. He raised his eyebrows several times à la Groucho Marx and moved his fingers along the edge of the table, as if he were typing. Hannah just shook her head.
“I do miss you, Hannah. I miss us. I wish we could be together, have a kid and live like normal people.”
“What normal people?”
“Okay. Happy people!”
“I’d be happy if we were living together right here,” Hannah said, as she got up from the table and plopped herself down on their living room sofa.
Robert followed and sat down beside her. “I can’t come back yet. I have to be in Amagansett for work. Let’s just finish our three month experiment.”
Hannah bit her lip. “I don’t like waking up without you. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Who said anything about losing me?” Robert said and pulled her to him.
“Losing you would ruin my life the way losing Lena ruined my father’s,” Hannah said, resting her head on Robert’s shoulder. That brought their conversation back to Harry.
“You know, he didn’t have to torture himself or you all these years. There were other ways to deal with losing Lena,” Robert said, being uncharacteristically critical. “Don’t you think he could have started looking for her himself?”
Hannah found herself in a strange new position: defending her father instead of enumerating his slights.
“No. Actually he couldn’t. Harry had lied to the American authorities in Germany about having another daughter. Once we were in the U.S., he kept his secret because he was afraid he’d be deported for his lie,” Hannah explained.
“Why isn’t he afraid of being deported now?”
“I’m sure on some level he is. But what’s important to Harry now, is that Lena knows he came back for her. That he kept his promise. He needs Lena to forgive him for leaving Poland without her. Just as he wants me to forgive him.”
“For what? Not loving you?”
“He loved me in secret, the only way he could.”
“Wow! You’ve forgiven him then, for all the pain he caused?”
“Not totally. But I know he couldn’t help it. Harry did not survive the war unscathed. None of us did,” Hannah said, her eyes clouded with tears.
“We have another chance, my father and I,” she said.
Robert kissed her trembling lips. She hoped the kiss was a prelude to his spending the night. But then Robert looked at his watch.
“I wish I didn’t have to go,” he moaned.
“Then stay, please. You can take a train in the morning,” Hannah coaxed.
“I can’t. I’ve arranged to meet a contractor tomorrow by 7 a.m. at the house. If I’m not there, I’ll lose him. I’ve got to take the last train back tonight.” He looked at his watch again. “Which means I have to leave now!”
Their blissful evening came to an abrupt end. Hannah was crushed.
“When are you coming to visit me?” Robert demanded in mock anger, as he headed for the door.
“Friday! I’ll take the day off!” Hannah was surprised to hear herself offer to ditch work on a closing day.
“Great. Take an early train. I’ll treat you to a special country breakfast. Then we’ll make some new plans.”
Loath to see him go, Hannah walked Robert to the elevator. As they waited they held each other close. She was glad management had not yet repaired the slow elevator she had so often railed against.
The next three days had an edge of unreality for Hannah. She got up early every morning as always and went to work. But she was on autopilot as she did her interviews and wrote her stories. In between, she made endless calls looking for a doctor for Harry.
By Wednesday she’d arranged for him to see Dr. Harold Martin, a cardiologist who came highly recommended. He actually knew Harry and was delighted to take him on as a patient. Harry had treated Dr. Martin’s father years ago.
Before she booked the appointment, Dr. Martin told Hannah, “Your father made me want to study medicine.”
Wonderful, Hannah told herself as she hung up. He’s the right doctor.
Now Lena could come front and center. Hannah began her search for her sister the same way she prepped for her writing assignments: Research. In between chasing down a doctor for Harry, she sneaked off to the library on Fifth Avenue to photocopy newspaper and magazine articles about hidden children and family members who’d been searching for lost relatives. Hannah was ready for lots of reading. But before attacking all the material on her office floor, she phoned Malcolm Taub, a college friend who knew about her refugee past. He had worked for five years as the Warsaw Bureau Chief for The New York Times. Hannah was sure he would be able to help.
“Up for lunch? I’m buying,” Hannah said.
They met at Bryant Park and shared hot dogs from a street vendor.
“Where should I begin?” Hannah asked after she’d laid out her dilemma.
“That’s a tough one,” Malcolm said between bites of his hot dog. “It would be easier for Lena to find you, if she were looking. There are Jewish organizations that would help her.”
“But she doesn’t have much to go on either,” Hannah said. “If she was adopted by a Gentile family, she may not even know she’s Jewish. Harry said he left pictures but no names.”
“Big problem,” Malcolm said. Sorry not to be more encouraging, he also did not want to give Hannah false hope. “I knew several Jewish families who
tried to find children they had hidden with Christians during the war. In one case the family refused to return a little girl, and, like your father, the family had no proof that they were her rightful parents. Since Lena was put in an orphanage, no doubt by the time the war was over, she was being raised Catholic.”
Malcolm did promise to contact people he knew in Poland on her behalf. She was grateful for whatever he could do. Hannah remained on the bench in Bryant Park feeding the pigeons what was left of her hot dog bun and plotting her next gambit. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I can’t let myself be discouraged. She took out her clipboard and studied the list of organizations that tracked refugees.
For a fleeting moment Hannah toyed with Robert’s suggestion that she keep a journal and ultimately write about her search. The journalist in her warmed to the possibilities. A great suggestion, thank you, Robert. My search could be the story, even if I can’t find Lena. She knew she could sell her editor on such an article. Or even a book publisher. But ultimately Hannah cooled on the idea. It was not in her nature to expose her own life. Still she decided to keep a journal.
Hannah had no problem arranging to take Friday off, since both her stories were scheduled to close on Thursday.
Early Friday morning before taking the train to Amagansett Hannah stopped in to see her parents. She was surprised when her father came to the door. Harry still moved slowly, but the color had returned to his cheeks. He seemed less frail.
“Glad to see you looking so well, Dad. Where’s Mom?” Hannah said as she noticed that the ever-hovering Molly was nowhere in sight.
“She went next door. Only been gone a few minutes. Come sit down,” Harry said, as he steered his daughter toward the living room.
“So how is your work going?’ Harry asked, trying to appear casual. But before she answered that question Harry asked, “Have you made any contacts that could lead to Lena?” When he saw Hannah’s startled look he added, “I don’t mean to push. I was just wondering.”
Hannah wished she had some encouraging news. “I’ve made calls, gathered research on how other people have found their missing relatives,” she said. Knowing Harry had hoped for more, she added, “I’m just starting, Dad. But I am working on it.”