by Bina Bernard
Harry cupped Hannah’s face in his hands. “Thank you,” he whispered.
I have to get over being surprised every time he touches me, she told herself.
“I do have some good news, Dad,” she said. “I got you an appointment with a heart specialist. He comes highly recommended. And it turns out, you treated his father.”
“What’s his name?”
“Dr. Harold Martin.”
“Jerrold Martin’s son? Little Harold is a doctor. Isn’t that something?” Harry said out loud, but really to himself.
“He remembers you very well.”
“I bet he won’t recognize me when he sees me. When did you make the appointment for? I’m actually feeling better now. Maybe we can wait a while?”
“Uh-uh, the appointment is for next Monday. Don’t back out now, Dad, please. The sooner we get your meds changed, the sooner you’ll get well.”
“Don’t you worry, he’s not backing out of anything!” Molly yelled into the living room from the foyer. “That’s why we came back early from Florida.”
“Okay. Mom, you’re in charge of getting Dad to the doctor’s office at 11:30 Monday morning.”
“You’re not coming with us?” Molly asked.
“I wasn’t planning to, but I can.”
“It’s not necessary,” Harry said.
“Yes. It is. Please come, Hannah,” Molly insisted.
“Sure. No problem. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go together.” Hannah looked at her watch. She had barely enough time to make her train. “I’ve gotta go,” she said, and got up to leave. Her mother raced after her.
“Where are you going?”
“To Penn Station. I’m going to the beach.”
“You can’t go out of town. Your father needs you.”
Hannah looked back into the living room and saw Harry reading the paper.
“Mom, Dad looks fine. We’re going to the doctor on Monday. There’s nothing for me to do here.”
“What if something happens?”
“Nothing will happen. But if it does, call me. You know the number.”
“Why do you have to go away?”
“To be with Robert. My husband.” Hannah squirmed. She hadn’t told her parents about their quasi-separation, only that he was away working. The truth was too complicated.
“Who works on the weekend?” Molly asked.
The cab let Hannah off at the entrance to Penn Station. She had enough time to buy her ticket, rush down the stairs and step inside the last car as the doors closed behind her. Hannah was relieved the car was empty. Packed trains brought back bad memories. Her sweaty neck was the residual Pavlovian response to her body reliving the trauma when years ago she had lost sight of Aunt Emma and her mother in the crowded Warsaw Central Train Station. The panic had lessened, but discomfort hung on. She wondered, Will my life be dominated by what happened in my first seven years? Until the day I die? Ultimately, Hannah decided those early years played havoc with everybody’s life.
After changing trains at Jamaica, Hannah stretched out over three seats and watched the landscape blur by through the unwashed window. As the train picked up speed, she began to imagine the ride Lena and Harry took to the orphanage outside of Radom. Before long, Hannah fell asleep, lulled by the jostling motion of the train.
She began to dream in Polish. The mood of her dream was light hearted. Once again two little girls were playing in a courtyard. The blonde, she recognized as Lena, was dressed in a flowing white dress, had a crown of garlands in her hair and was holding a shimmering silver wand. She circled Hannah and pointed the wand in her direction.
“Come, we can play again,” Lena said. “Follow me!” Without waiting for Hannah to respond, she took her hand and gently pulled her toward a carousel some distance away. As they got closer, the girls watched the brightly painted horses bobbing rhythmically up and down. Hannah stood frozen, afraid to move.
“Come,” Lena repeated as she jumped on to the carousel. With trepidation, Hannah followed. Once onboard, each selected a horse and held on laughing, as the carousel picked up speed.
“Tickets please! Tickets please!” shocked Hannah out of her dream. She sat up, slightly embarrassed by her disheveled state.
“How long before we get to Amagansett?” she asked as she handed her ticket to the conductor.
“We’re on schedule,” he said under his breath, and walked on.
That momentary discomfort aside, Hannah was relieved her dream was not a nightmare. It feels good to have a pleasant dream about Lena for once. Hannah took it as a positive sign. For the rest of the trip her thoughts were a mixture of fanciful daydreams coupled with concrete plotting. She mused, Does Lena remember me? Does she know she has a family looking for her?
CHAPTER
8
Poland, May 1976
AS SHE ENTERED, grown-up Lena still felt small inside the imposing Gothic cathedral, just as she had when she was a child. The dampness made her shudder, but the familiar whiff of incense brought back fond memories of the many Sundays she spent there with her father. She missed those days. Lena remembered how proud he was of her at her first communion, and then her confirmation.
She crossed herself with holy water at the door, then went to light a candle for Stefan. Momentarily blinded by the light shimmering through the stained-glass windows, Lena tried to shed her guilt for not attending church regularly. Why do I have to go to church with strangers to talk to Him? God is everywhere, she reasoned. But Lena had to admit, being inside a church felt special.
Seeing her kneeling at the side altar, Father Tadeusz walked toward her. Startled, Lena jumped up when his pudgy hand tapped her on the shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you, my child,” Father Tadeusz said. He made the sign of the cross and touched her forehead as he blessed her.
“Thank you, Father,” Lena said, keeping her head down to shield her tear-filled eyes.
“Your father loved you very much, Lena. He will continue to look after you.”
Lena nodded and wiped her wet cheek with the back of her hand. “It’s hard for me to believe he’s gone.”
Father Tadeusz gently put his arm around Lena’s shoulder. “Come,” he said, and led her toward the Rectory. They walked in silence. The sound of her high heels on the stone floor echoed throughout the empty church.
“I have known you a long time and your father even longer. I hope you think of me as someone you can depend on. Not just as a priest but as your good friend,” Father Tadeusz said once they were in his office.
Lena was surprised. She had always viewed him as the pious sermon giver who granted communion. Not someone with whom she had a personal relationship.
“You’re very kind, Father. You needn’t worry about us. Stef and I will be fine. But I had planned to talk to you about Rudi before I left. I’m worried about him. Helga can’t expect him to take care of things for her. Maybe you can make her understand,” Lena said.
“I’ll keep my eye on them. Don’t you worry,” Father Tadeusz assured her.
Lena was relieved. She didn’t want to abandon her brother, but she had no way of taking care of him either. Rudi’s limitations were a source of disappointment for his mother. For him they were a cause for sadness. With Stefan gone, Helga and Rudi had no buffer to protect them from each other. Lena hoped Father Tadeusz would help. Rudi had a steady job on a construction crew, but he could not step in for his father and take care of Helga.
“Rudi wasn’t the reason I asked you here,” Father Tadeusz began. “When I gave him the Last Rites, your father asked me to give you this.” He handed Lena a brown envelope tied with a ribbon.
“Your father made me promise that if you needed help, I would provide it,” he said as he walked off into a corner of his office to give her privacy. It was obvious Father Tadeusz knew what the envelope contained. That made Lena uncomfortable.
She carefully untied the ribbon. Inside Lena found two photographs, and a handwri
tten letter in Stefan’s uneven scrawl. She heard her father’s voice as she read the opening salutations and smiled.
My Darling Lena,
Please believe me that everything I did, I did because I loved you. I know that is not much of an excuse. I have already asked God to forgive me. Now I’m asking you to forgive me, too. I hope after you read this letter, you can find it in your heart to understand and forgive me.
When we found you at the orphanage, I knew you were our miracle. When Sister Janina introduced me to you and at first you did not want to come with Helga and me, I was heartsick. I wanted to take you in my arms and beg you to be our little girl. I didn’t do that because I was afraid I would scare you even more. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you. I could not have loved you any more if you had been our own flesh and blood. But when Helga became pregnant, she thought that it would be better if a childless couple adopted you. She thought we should take you back to the orphanage. It was not something I wanted to do, but I went to the convent to see the Mother Superior because Helga believed it would be best for all of us.
The Mother Superior told me then that she suspected you were the child of a Jewish family, who had sent you to the convent to keep you safe from the Germans. You know what happened to the Jews in World War II. Many Jewish children were saved by the nuns. Mother Superior told me she thought God had sent you to us to be saved. As soon as she said it, I knew she was right. God had entrusted you to my care, and I was not going to disappoint him. I never mentioned to Helga that the Mother Superior thought your people were Jews. Only that it was possible that someone from your family might try to get you back sometime later. But I never thought about that. From then on you were my daughter. I decided having two children was better than only one. I was sure Helga would ultimately agree with me.
After the war was over, I got a letter from a Sister Marianna asking about you. She wanted to know how you were getting on and then she told me the person who brought you to the convent had returned. He told her your real family wanted you back.
That’s where I need your forgiveness. By then I couldn’t give you up. I lied to Sister Marianna. I told her you had been sick and had died. My darling Lena, I kept you from your real family, and I lied to Sister Marianna because I couldn’t let you go. I did the best that I could for you. But I know it was selfish of me to keep you. Your real family must have suffered a great deal and they deserved to get you back. But I was too weak and selfish to let you go.
I don’t know who they were or where they were from. Sister Marianna said a Dr. Bronisław Bieliński who came looking for you was the same man who brought you to the convent. You never talked about your people. You were so young I always assumed you did not remember them. I hoped that you thought of me as your father. I certainly felt like your real father. Sometimes I completely forgot how you came into our life.
The only clue we have to your people are the two photographs and the jewelry that Helga keeps in the beautiful inlaid box, which was also left for you. I hope you don’t mind that I let her have the jewelry. You couldn’t wear it and it did give her pleasure and made her happier to have you with us.
Please remember that I always loved you, and wanted the best for you. I know I may have deprived you of your family, but no one, not even your real family, could have loved you any more than I did. Forgive me.
Always,
Your loving father
After she finished, Lena sat motionless on the edge of the straight-backed wooden chair, staring into space. She clutched the letter and the photographs to her chest, and her thoughts went back to a day years before when she was playing with Rudi.
Eight-year-old Lena had been chasing her four-year-old brother around the room. Rudi was so intent on avoiding capture, he kept looking back to see where she was, and he crashed into a wall. The sound of his head hitting the wall frightened him and he started to cry. Lena rushed over and tried to tickle him to stop his crying just as Helga came into the room. Seeing her son in tears and thinking Lena had somehow harmed the child, she pulled Lena away with such force her hand left an impression on her arm.
“What have you done to my child?” she yelled.
Before Lena could explain, Helga whacked her hard across her face. Lena’s shocked cry made Rudi cry harder. When Stefan walked in, the two children were screaming.
“What happened here?” he asked Helga. She glared at Lena and whisked Rudi, still crying, out of the room without answering Stefan’s question.
Stefan bent down to wipe Lena’s tears, and held her in his arms until she calmed down.
“Rudi is very lucky,” she said, after a while.
“Why is he lucky?” Stefan asked.
“He has parents who love him. Who wouldn’t send him away.”
“Lena, your parents loved you very much. That’s why they sent you away. There was a war. I know they sent you to the nuns to keep you safe. They wanted God to watch over you. If they could have kept you safe themselves, they would have.”
“But the war is over now. They never came back to get me.”
“There were reasons . . .” Stefan’s voice trailed off. “Just remember, Lena, I couldn’t love you any more if you were my own flesh and blood.”
“You won’t send me away?”
“Never!”
Remembering that day Lena finally understood what Stefan had been trying to tell her. Long ago she had given up hope of ever being reunited with her parents, still the pain of having been sent away remained a festering wound. Now she knew her father had come back for her, as he’d promised. Her family had not abandoned her. Even if she wasn’t with them, she now knew they wanted her.
Lena had always felt out of place, but when she looked in the mirror she always saw the face of a Polish Christian. Indeed her blue eyes and blonde hair were proof of her Gentile heritage. How could my parents have been Jews? Lena wondered. Even Helga told her the two of them looked so much alike she could have been her real daughter.
Growing up Lena had heard people say that Jews were the killers of Christ, and general troublemakers. As a child she decided Jews possessed special powers to be able to cause so much trouble. While Helga had no fondness for Jews, Stefan and Aaron Rothman, the tailor’s son, were good friends. Lena recalled how upset Stefan was the day he told Helga the Rothman family had been sent to Treblinka. She thought they were moving to another town, and Stefan was upset because he would miss his friend. She did not understand until much later that being “sent to” Treblinka meant going to a concentration camp and certain death.
Stefan’s letter brought Lena both solace and shock. Her only visible response was the steady stream of tears cascading down her cheeks. Her body stayed rigid, her face emotionless, but her thoughts swirled around at lightning speed.
In Poland you were either a Catholic or a Communist. Am I still a Catholic? Does having Jewish parents negate my communion and confirmation? How would people treat me if they suspected my parents were Jews? Lena remembered that at the university a rumor that a student had any Jewish blood met with an avalanche of derision. She thought about the recent firing of some Communist officials rumored to have Jewish ancestry. She knew not many Jews remained in Poland after the war. What happened to my family? she wondered.
Lena felt lightheaded. She leaned forward to get blood flowing to her brain. As she began to fall, Lena heard Father Tadeusz coming toward her. Slowed by his portly frame he reached her just as she touched the floor. Through her tears she could see the concern on his craggy face.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, and helped her back onto the chair.
Lena shook her head. She couldn’t find her voice. Lena knew he expected her to say something, but there was nothing she wanted to say to him. Lena didn’t love Stefan any less now that she knew his secret. In any true meaning of the word, he was her father. It was because he loved her so much that he couldn’t give her up. Lena loved him and understood. He didn’t need to be forgiven.
“You must be very confused,” Father Tadeusz said, breaking the awkward silence. “Talk to me, child, please. You need someone to sort this out with.”
I do need to sort all this out, Lena thought, but not here. She wanted to bolt out of the Rectory, but didn’t want to be rude. “Forgive me, Father. I’m not ready to talk now. I need time to think.” Lena stood up to leave.
“Stefan asked me to help you, child, and I will, if you let me,” he said, trying to engage her.
“I appreciate that you want to help. But right now I don’t know what kind of help I need,” Lena said. The air felt close, she could hardly breathe. She started for the door.
Resigned to letting her go, he said, “Remember, I’ll be here whenever you need me.” And blessed her again.
Inside the church Lena took several deep breaths of incense-laden air and walked toward the front door. As always before leaving, she dipped her hand in holy water next to the entrance, knelt facing the altar and crossed herself.
Outside in the cool air she began to breathe normally. Lena forced her mind back to her first day with the nuns. Running a film in reverse through the sprockets in her brain, she saw herself meeting the other children in the courtyard, Sister Janina’s welcoming face, and finally her small fingers clutching a man’s hand, not really his hand, but his thumb. No matter how hard she tried, Lena couldn’t see his face, but she knew that the man who brought her to the orphanage was her father. My father came back to get me, just as he said he would, Lena told herself. She said his name: Dr. Bronisław Bieliński. Am I really Lena Bielińska?
With his letter, Stefan had reached out from the grave and had given Lena back her real family. She was grateful, still the tears flowed. It’s a miracle! I don’t feel as alone as I did at the cemetery, she thought.
Lena studied the two pictures she held in her hand. She recognized herself as the blonde child, wearing the same dress she wore the day she first met Stefan and Helga. The picture of the two girls with the young woman brought more tears. The woman has to be my mother, Lena reasoned. Was the other child a playmate or my sister? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t retrieve any memories of her life before the orphanage.