Always and Forever

by Cynthia Freeman

  Every six months or so Bella said they had a letter from him. He hadn’t said anything about being married. As always, she thought tenderly, he was all wrapped up in his work.

  The September sun was dropping low in the sky as David waited restlessly for the weekday rush-hour traffic to begin to crawl again. He was tense behind the wheel of the vintage Mercedes that the Institute put at his disposal from time to time in recognition of his work. He’d hoped that a few hours in the Grunewald—walking along the bank of the Havel, breathing in the fresh greenery-scented air—would ease the taut muscles between his shoulder blades, drive away the dull pain at the back of his skull.

  He’d been like this ever since he had accepted the invitation to the San Francisco medical conference. Not because of anxiety at reading his paper before the conference. Because he knew he’d be seeing Kathy. In every life there was a crucial turn in the road, and he had taken the wrong turn.

  “This was a beautiful day for a picnic.” Gretchen’s low, musical voice tugged him back to the present. “Aren’t you glad I said we should take the afternoon off after working ourselves ragged over the weekend?”

  “It was great.” His eyes swung to meet hers. Gretchen had been invaluable in these four months that she had been his lab assistant. She was pretty, intelligent, and dedicated to her job. He brushed aside the suspicion that she was eager to expand their relationship to a personal one. “We both needed a few hours away.”

  “You must be looking forward to the trip. Berlin is such a grim city. Everybody working endless hours. At least, those who have jobs,” she added with ironic humor because unemployment was distressingly high.

  “I know I overwork you, Gretchen,” he said apologetically.

  “I didn’t mean us,” she broke in. “I’m fascinated by what we’re doing. But most people in the city—even in the Western Sector—seem to live such frenetic lives.”

  “It isn’t easy for any of us to put the past behind us.” The traffic was beginning to move again. “And we never quite forget that we’re encircled by the Communists. Are you sorry you didn’t stay in England?” Like himself, just before war broke out Gretchen had been sent out of the country to study. She had gone through the war years at school in London.

  “I had to come back,” she told him. “I’ve told you how I tracked my mother and sister down after V-E Day. They were the only ones in the family to survive Buchenwald. I brought them back to Berlin and tried to make a home for them. Except for them I would never have set foot on German soil again.”

  “I’ll drop you off at your flat and go back to the laboratory for a little while,” he decided. “I’d like to review some notes tonight.” He had not meant to return to Berlin after those months in Hamburg. But seeing the survivors, he’d known he must go back to help those who returned from the camps. And he was haunted by the possibility that he might be lucky enough to locate his father’s papers—as he had.

  “David, you drive yourself too hard,” Gretchen scolded.

  “I won’t stay long,” he promised. “I like to be by my home phone in case I’m needed.” His improvised clinic in the flat usually served at least two or three patients after his laboratory hours.

  He left Gretchen at her flat, and returned briefly to the Institute. His head still ached. A walk would help, he decided. Tonight he was drawn to Potsdamer Platz—the symbol of divided Berlin. It was at the Platz that East and West met and vied for the other’s loyalty, and was on occasion the site of violence between residents of the two sectors of the city.

  By the time he arrived at Potsdamer Platz, the area was in its usual evening chaos, with pedestrians darting to avoid the onrush of trolleys, bicycles, and trucks taking workers to their homes. The Western Sector’s 90-foot electric sign—it reminded him of Times Square in New York—was flashing out in five-foot letters the latest news, living up to its heading of “the Free Berlin Press Reports.” The gray-uniformed police of the West and the blue-uniformed “Vopos” of the East exchanged glances across the square.

  David paused to buy a newspaper at the booth on the Western side. The varied offering of West German newspapers, books, and magazines brought East Berliners across the invisible line between the Eastern and Western sectors. From where he stood David could see the queue before the Soviet food store just beyond, and he was conscious—again—of the difference in the quality of life between the two sectors.

  In the Western Sector life was almost normal again. In the Eastern Sector there were painful food and housing shortages because, unlike in West Berlin, construction focused on public buildings rather than housing. Every day people streamed from the East to shop in the Western Sector—those who had money to spend.

  Restless, David began to walk away from the Platz. Tonight his mind focused on the day almost six years ago that he’d spent with Kathy in Berlin. She would be amazed at the way the Kurfürstendamm had been rebuilt, its shops stocked with luxury goods that many West Berliners relished inspecting even though few could buy. The Kurfürstendamm was like a blend of Fifth Avenue and Broadway in Manhattan, he mused.

  Unter den Linden—where he and Kathy had walked in the sharp November cold—was in the Eastern Sector now, one of its “show window” streets. Here the Russians were constructing buildings to house government agencies for the most part. The enormous new white-marble Russian embassy was mocked by West Berliners as being wedding-cake ornate.

  He remembered lunching with Kathy at the Hotel Adlon. After lunch they had walked endlessly, and then they’d stopped at the pawnshop window and he saw the family brooch. His throat tightened as he recalled the moment when he asked Kathy to wear it. “Seeing you wear it will be like seeing a bit of home.”

  How stupid he had been. He should have said “Wear it because I love you, and once this madness has faded into memory I want to be your husband.” That was the moment, and he had thrown it away. No one else would ever wear the brooch—because he would never love another woman.

  Chapter 16

  WEARING A DELICATELY PRINTED silk with the new princess line decreed by Dior, Kathy sat with her two sisters-in-law in the living room in the senior Kohns’ Greenwich house. She had come up yesterday afternoon with Jesse and Alice so that the three Kohn men—Phil, Julius, and David—could drive up in masculine solitude this evening. Bella was in the kitchen conferring with the cook about dinner.

  “I can’t understand why David keeps staying in Berlin,” Brenda was saying, “when we keep hearing such awful things about the Communist zone.”

  “Professionally he’s doing so well,” Gail pointed out. “He has to be good if they’re bringing him all the way from Berlin to San Francisco. Don’t you think so, Kathy?”

  “I’m sure David’s doing wonderfully with his work,” Kathy agreed.

  She was ambivalent about tonight’s family dinner party. Part of her tingled with anticipation of seeing David. Part of her flinched at the imminent encounter. One little mistake—turning to Phil because David had been slow in declaring himself—and her whole life had been wrecked.

  No, she reproached herself. How could she say that? Her marriage to Phil had given her Jesse. Her son would fill her life.

  “Oh, they’ll talk business all evening,” Gail predicted, puncturing Kathy’s introspection. “Dad and Phil will be all keyed up over tomorrow night’s fashion show.”

  “I don’t know why Dad couldn’t have insisted that we model in the show,” Brenda sulked. “Why does it always have to be all debutantes?”

  “We’re a teensy bit heavier than ten years ago,” Gail reminded her sister, wistful for a moment. “What about running out to Maine Chance for a week? I hear it’s marvelous. All the movie stars go there.”

  “Milty will scream I’m driving him into the poorhouse,” Gail predicted.

  “In a late model Mercedes,” Brenda said drily. “You can persuade him to let you go. I’ll call tomorrow and make reservations.”

  Then they heard the limousine turnin
g into the driveway, and Bella was hurrying down the hall and into the entrance foyer. Kathy willed herself to remain seated with Gail and Brenda in the living room, but at the sound of David’s voice she abandoned casualness to rush out to join Bella in welcoming him.

  “Kathy, you look wonderful,” he said softly when they had exchanged a chaste, familial kiss. “And how’s Jesse?”

  “He seems to be coming down with a cold—he’s sleeping already. But you’ll see him in the morning.”

  A few minutes later Eli and Milton arrived. For a while they all settled themselves in the living room with pre-dinner martinis for everyone except Kathy and Bella, who were served their customary white wine. David inquired with sincere interest about Gail and Brenda’s daughters, whose names and ages he remembered, though at his last visit they had not been part of the family gatherings. In the same situation, Kathy thought, Phil would not have asked about them, he’d probably not remember they existed.

  Kathy made a point of not focusing on David, though she was gloriously yet painfully aware of his presence every moment. She was relieved that the table conversation required little of her. The men seemed avid for word from an insider about conditions in Berlin.

  “You say the East Berliners cross over into the Western Sector to do their shopping,” Eli pinpointed. “What about vice versa?”

  “Oh yes, that happens, too.” David nodded, chuckling. “Of course, loyal West Berliners consider this Schimpf und Schande.”

  “A burning shame,” Kathy interpreted.

  “Why would West Berliners cross over to shop?” Eli persisted.

  “Because groceries—particularly bread and potatoes—are cheaper there,” David explained. “Because of that, reports say, thirty percent of West Berlin bakers are out of work. The same goes for barbers because haircuts are much cheaper on the Soviet side.”

  “David, what’s happened to the Tiergarten?” Kathy asked on impulse. “I remember they were cutting down those lovely old trees for firewood.”

  “We saw only the beginning of that,” David said grimly. “That first winter after the war was bitterly cold. The Tiergarten had to be stripped of most of its big trees. The Germans didn’t want to take down the trees that had been growing for a century, but it was that or freeze. Then during the winter of the blockade and airlift the stumps and roots were dug out of the ground to feed the stoves and fireplaces again. But now over two million little trees have been brought in from West Germany and planted.”

  “Marshall Plan money paid for that,” Julius guessed with distaste. “We had to pay for two million trees for the Nazis.”

  “Dad, what time do we have to be in New York for the fashion show?” Gail asked. His sisters had a habit of ignoring Phil’s position in the business, Kathy remembered.

  “They’ll be in early,” Eli said before Julius could reply. “If they go to New York, they have to go to the shops. It’ll cost me plenty.”

  The evening was brought to an early conclusion since Julius and Phil would be in the car in the morning no later than 6 A.M. Family affairs were always guided by the requirements of the business.

  “You don’t have to come in for the show,” Julius told David. “Relax here at the house. We’ll be home for a late supper. Bella, drive him over for lunch at that new restaurant you found.”

  In the morning Kathy knew that this year she would again miss the fashion show. Jesse was definitely coming down with a cold. She guessed that Phil would not be upset by her absence. He’d feel less constricted; he’d be able to flirt with the socialite models without first glancing over his shoulder to check on her whereabouts.

  At the insistence of both Bella and Alice she agreed to go out to lunch with her mother-in-law and David.

  “Jesse’ll be fine with Alice,” Bella comforted, sensing Kathy’s ambivalence as they walked to the white Early American house that had been converted into a chic restaurant. “He was already drifting off to sleep when we left.”

  The restaurant was set up in a series of rooms on the lower floor. It was almost like dining in a private house, Kathy thought, while David and Bella exchanged reminiscences about his years of residence at his cousins’ home. Brief periods, she realized, because most of the time David and Phil were at boarding school or college. Still, she felt a warmth between Bella and David that had escaped her on his last visit to Greenwich.

  Early in the afternoon Wally arrived back at the house to drive Bella into town for the fashion show.

  “I’ll dress at the company apartment,” Bella told Kathy while Wally carried her valise out to the car, David was upstairs in his room, allowing himself the luxury of a post-luncheon nap. “Dinner will be served for you and David at seven. Julius and Phil and I will have dinner in the city and then drive home. We should be here around eleven.”

  “I doubt that Phil will come back with you tonight,” Kathy said. “He’d just be able to grab five hours’ sleep and have to climb into the car again.”

  “But he’ll want to see David,” Bella protested. David was scheduled to leave on an afternoon flight tomorrow. “Phil will come home,” she said confidently.

  Phil wouldn’t go out of his way for anybody but Phil, Kathy thought. She rechanneled the conversation: “Bella, wear your diamond necklace, you’ll look beautiful.” Subconsciously she remembered what Bella had told her about the diamond necklace. It had been made up of the diamonds David’s father had given him to smuggle out of Germany, and bought by Julius for a fraction of their worth. Had David never guessed that?

  “I don’t dare show up without my necklace. The Kohn crown jewels,” Bella chuckled, but Kathy saw the cynical glint in her eyes. “Julius has to let his society customers know his wife wears expensive jewelry, too.”

  “Enjoy the fashion show,” Kathy urged and kissed Bella good-bye.

  “Phil, you didn’t rent enough chairs!” Julius complained, wiping his forehead with an expensive Brooks Brothers handkerchief, though the air-conditioning was more than adequate.

  “Dad, relax. We’ve got a chair for every ticket the women sold.”

  Handsome in white dinner jacket that highlighted his Southampton tan, he glanced about the spacious, gray-carpeted showroom with satisfaction. The small gilt chairs were neatly lined on either side of the runway. The flowers were exquisite. In ten minutes—before the first guests arrived at 5 P.M.—the string ensemble would begin to play.

  “I don’t know why it’s not enough to donate the money from the tickets,” Julius’ grumbled. “We’ve got to give them a percentage of the evening’s sales as well.”

  “We raised the prices of every fur in inventory,” Phil reminded.

  “You’re sure we’ll get film footage decent enough to show in the out-of-town stores?” Julius watched with obvious skepticism as the light men made their final check.

  “We’ll have great footage,” Phil promised. Hell, it was a sensational idea to film the whole deal, he congratulated himself. “I’m going to check on the models.”

  Bella, then Gail and Brenda—whom their brother called the Siamese twins—arrived and surrounded Julius. The musicians began to play. Right on schedule the guests—who in the name of charity had paid high for their tickets—began to pour into the showroom. For a moment of drama the music stopped. With a scintillating smile Phil emerged from behind the array of screens that doubled as theater curtain.

  “Welcome to Julius Kohn Furs ….”

  Striving to conceal her anxiety, because Phil kept saying she was paranoid about the polio epidemic this summer, Kathy leaned over Jesse and felt his forehead.

  “Alice, find the thermometer, please. I think he may be running a fever.”

  “It’s right here.” Alice reached inside a dresser drawer. “But he was normal an hour ago.”

  “His face looks flushed now,” Kathy worried.

  She waited while Alice took his temperature, awakening him in the process.

  “Go ’way.” He protested the invasion of the t
hermometer. “Don’t want it.”

  “Just lie still, darling,” Kathy pleaded. “It’ll be over in a minute.”

  “It’s a little over 100 degrees,” Alice said. “That’s nothing.”

  “I’m going to ask David to have a look at him,” Kathy decided.

  She found David sitting in the library listening to a TV report on the fighting in Korea. She told him about Jesse’s slightly elevated temperature.

  “I know it’s probably nothing,” she apologized, “but would you run up and have a look at him, David?”

  “Of course, Kathy.”

  “Your mommie tells me you have a cold, Jesse,” David said while he placed a gentle hand on Jesse’s forehead. How tender he was, Kathy thought. “Do you feel sleepy?”

  “Wanna drink of water,” Jesse told him with a frown. “Want it now.”

  “I’ll get it, Jesse.” Alice hurried from the bedroom.

  “Do you know if any of his friends have come down with colds, too?” David asked.

  “I don’t know about the children at his nursery school.” Her eyes searched David’s. “But he plays every day with one little boy and a little girl. The nursemaids have formed a kind of clique. Alice would know—”

  “Could you call their homes and ask if they have colds?”

  “David, can polio start with a cold?” She was dizzy with alarm.

  “Kathy, don’t jump to a diagnosis,” he chided. “I’d just like to reassure myself that they’re both all right. It’s just a precautionary inquiry.”

  “I don’t know the families personally, but I’m sure I can phone and ask.”

  Within five minutes she had learned from servants in the children’s homes that neither was suffering from a cold. Kathy felt relieved. This was probably nothing more than an early fall cold. She hurried back to Jesse’s bedroom. He was sipping water through a straw while Alice held the glass for him.