The Devil's Madonna

by Sharon Potts

  “Al, Kali isn’t interested in our ancient problems.”

  “Not our problems, per se. I’m just making the point that arguments between husbands and wives are universal. Like I was telling one of my patients the other day—”

  “She doesn’t care about your patients, Al.” Mitzi sat down opposite her husband. There was an expression of intense concentration on her face as she studied Kali.

  Kali pressed her back against the kitchen sink. The shrubs blocking the window made it too dark. Maybe she should turn on the overhead light. The room had never felt so small when Kali, her grandfather, and Lillian used to have their meals in here.

  Mitzi pursed her lips and tapped them with a manicured fingernail. “We know this is a difficult time for you and Seth.”

  “He’s certainly not the easiest person in the world,” Al said, taking a bite of Danish.

  “There’s nothing wrong with Seth.” Mitzi gave her husband an irritated look. “He’s under a lot of pressure from work.”

  “Did he ask you to come?” Kali asked.

  “Seth’s very upset about the argument you had last night,” Mitzi said.

  “No,” Al said. “He doesn’t know we’re here. We thought we’d give you a little relief. Maybe watch your grandmother while you and Seth go out for dinner.”

  The air conditioner cranked lower. Kali heard a car pass by in the street. “Look,” Kali said, “I appreciate what you’re both doing, but Seth and I have to work things out in our own way.”

  “Kali,” Mitzi said, her voice so sharp that Kali jumped, banging her hip against the protruding handle on the door beneath the sink.

  “I’m going to talk to you like a mother, since you don’t have your own to help you see some sense. You and my son have to stop acting like a couple of stubborn idiots.”

  “Mitzi,” Al said, “calm down.”

  “Oh, be quiet, Al. She needs to hear this.” Mitzi’s charm bracelet clanked against the tabletop. “You and Seth are having a baby. Grow up and behave like parents.”

  Kali opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You’re not my mother, she wanted to say. My mother would never talk to me like this.

  Al slid the chair back and stood up. “Come on, Mitzalah. It’s not for us to mix in. They have to figure it out themselves.”

  Mitzi ran her fingers through her curls, her hair snagging on her engagement ring. She jerked it free. “This affects us, too, you know. That’s our grandchild you’re carrying.”

  “Wait, I’m sorry,” Kali said, “but this isn’t my fault. I have to take care of my grandmother. Seth needs to try to be more supportive. Why are you attacking me?”

  Al shook his head. “Ahhh, Kali. We’re not attacking you, honey. Far from it. But you’re the one who can fix this. You’re stronger than Seth. Remember, you were his first real girlfriend. He doesn’t always know the right things to do or say.”

  “So why aren’t you having this conversation with him? Tell him the right things to say and do.”

  Al shook his head. “Because—”

  Mitzi stood up, the chair screeching against the linoleum. She crossed the small space in front of the sink, arms outstretched. She rested her hands on Kali’s shoulders. Kali could smell coffee and mint on her breath and turned her face away.

  “Oh, Kali, Kali. You’re angry with me. Don’t be. I feel I can talk to you honestly, like a daughter. We love you, angel, and we want you and Seth to be happy.”

  Kali’s throat swelled up. “I know you mean well.”

  Mitzi squeezed Kali’s shoulders and backed away. “Come on, Al. We’re not helping.”

  Al took in a deep breath and slowly released it as he followed his wife out of the kitchen. “By the way, Kali,” he said, “Seth told us the aide didn’t work out, but I can recommend other agencies or facilities where I’m sure your grandmother would be comfortable.”

  “That’s good to know.” Kali walked them through the hallway to the front foyer.

  “I just want to say one last thing.” Al stopped and looked directly at Kali with his intense grayish-blue eyes. “Mitzi and I think you’re a wonderful girl helping out your grandmother like this. But please, take it easy. And this is the physician speaking. You’re pregnant, honey. Stress isn’t good for the baby.”

  “I’ll try to remember that.” Kali opened the front door. “Thanks again for the food.”

  Mitzi leaned over to give Kali an air kiss. Al winked at her.

  She watched the two of them get into their white Lexus. Mitzi’s face was framed in the window. She nodded at Kali as the car backed out of the driveway.

  Kali felt let down, like the time she’d come home from a party she’d been looking forward to, after discovering her new school friends had little interest in her. For the last year, she had really believed Seth’s parents had accepted her as one of their own. So why did it now seem as though it was them against her?

  Because she wasn’t “one of their own.”

  The car got to the end of the street and turned. Kali started to close the door. There was a white, shirt-sized gift box at the foot of one of the columns. Had her in-laws dropped it by accident? But why wouldn’t they have noticed it was missing when they unpacked their packages?

  Perhaps Neil had left it.

  Kali picked up the box, brought it inside, and set it down on the entranceway table next to the Leli Lenz films and the business card from the man who’d come by earlier.

  She opened the lid. There were several layers of tissue paper, which she pushed aside. She lifted out two pieces of yellowed lace.

  She had no idea what to make of them. They looked like the doilies that people used many years ago to protect the fabric arms of chairs.

  38

  “Are they gone?”

  The voice at the top of the stairs startled Kali. She looked up. Her grandmother was leaning over the banister watching her.

  “Yes. They’ve left.” Kali put the lace back in the box and replaced the lid.

  “What do you have there?”

  “I’ll bring it up.” She held the box under her arm and climbed the stairs.

  Lillian was still in her buttercup nightgown, barefoot, the walker just beside her.

  “Have you been standing here long?” Kali asked.

  “Since they got here.” Her grandmother took in a long breath. Her hair was uncombed and, with the bruise on her forehead, she looked a bit like someone from a mental hospital. “What’s wrong with a formal living room?”

  “Nothing. Mitzi’s never been here before. It was just an observation. Do you want to go back to bed?”

  “I suppose.” Lillian took a step toward her bedroom.

  “Your walker. You don’t want to fall again.”

  Her grandmother stopped. She looked around her, confused. “I keep forgetting.”

  “It’s natural.” Kali pushed the walker toward her. “You’re not used to it.”

  Kali followed Lillian into the bedroom. Her grandmother lay down on top of the blanket, resting her head against the stacked-up pillows, then closing her eyes.

  Her legs were as narrow as saplings. How different from the beautifully formed legs she’d had when she was Leli Lenz. Kali debated saying something about the films, but decided it best for her to wait. Her grandmother still seemed off balance.

  “Your in-laws act like nice people,” Lillian said, keeping her eyes closed.

  Act? Strange choice of words, Kali thought as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She rested the gift box on her lap. “Well, I think they mean well.”

  Now that her in-laws had left and Kali had a few minutes of distance, she really believed that. Sure, Mitzi and Al were being protective of Seth, but he was their son. The bottom line was they sincerely wanted what was best for Seth and Kali and for their grandchild.

  “They’re not your friends, you know,” Lillian said.

  “Really? Why do you say that?”

  “I could tell she was snoopin
g around, examining everything. What did she think she’d find?”

  “She was just curious. She probably hasn’t seen many old houses like this one.”

  Lillian grunted. The muscles in her face relaxed, as though she was dozing off.

  Kali looked around the room, at the faded blue drapes that matched the bedspread and dressing table ruffle, remembering how, as a child, she would occasionally sneak in here. The fireplace, just above the one in the living room, had probably never been used. Kali used to play in it, imagining that the shiny brass andirons were actually gates that would keep her safe. She noticed now that they had turned a dull brown.

  “So you and that husband of yours are quarreling?” Lillian asked.

  So Lillian wasn’t asleep. “You heard the whole conversation?” Kali asked.

  “Most of it.” Her grandmother kept her eyes closed. “What was the argument about?”

  She had to know it had been about her. “He doesn’t like when I’m away from home,” Kali said.

  “This is your home.”

  Kali glanced up at the photo of her grandfather on the rosewood chiffonier. How she missed him, but even when he was here, it had never felt like home.

  “So what are you planning to do about it?” Lillian asked, opening her eyes.

  “Nothing for now.”

  “What does that mean? You’ll do something later?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Her grandmother leaned forward. The loose skin hanging from her bony arm trembled ever so slightly. “I never liked him, you know.”

  “I know. You haven’t made much of an effort to hide it.”

  “Why should I? It wouldn’t change anything. He’s too insecure. He hovers around you like he’s afraid if he looks away, you’ll fly off.”

  “I didn’t realize you were watching him so closely.”

  “Of course I watch him. I watch everything.” Lillian waggled her forefinger at Kali. “He worries too much about what other people think, especially his parents.”

  Kali raised and lowered the lid on the box on her lap. “Maybe.”

  “In a crisis, he’d drop you like a hot potato.”

  Kali’s fingers tightened around the box. “I don’t agree with you. Seth is still my husband. No matter what happens, this baby will always be a bond between us.”

  “Ha.” Her grandmother’s laugh was chilling. “You think so?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Kali got up from the bed. “Seth may not always do what I want him to, but I can’t imagine him not loving his own child.”

  Lillian stared at Kali with such intensity that Kali turned her eyes away.

  “Well,” Lillian said, resting back against the pillows, “I hope it never comes to that. But if it does, just remember you don’t need him. You don’t need any of them.”

  Kali couldn’t believe the swing in her grandmother’s moods. A few hours ago Lillian had been reminiscing about her own mother and daughter, singing a melody from her childhood. Now she seemed intent on being mean and hurtful. Well, Kali had had enough of her for one session. She started toward the door.

  “Is that from Seth’s parents?” Lillian asked just as Kali reached the door.

  Kali was momentarily baffled, then realized Lillian was talking about the gift box she was holding.

  “I think Neil dropped it off. He may have come across it while he was packing up his house.”

  “Why would he bring it here?”

  “Maybe it’s something you gave his mother and he’s returning it.”

  “Gave his mother? I never gave her anything.” Lillian propped herself up. “What is it? Show me.”

  Kali sighed and returned to the bed. She put the box down, took off the lid, then lifted out the two yellowed pieces of lace.

  Lillian’s hand went to her throat. “Impossible,” she mumbled. “Impossible.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Lillian blinked several times, then held out her hands to take the doilies. The gesture reminded Kali of the sketch she’d made earlier of the fairy reaching for the cherub.

  But as soon as her grandmother’s fingers touched the lace, she recoiled and pushed herself deeper into the pillows. She spoke, but Kali had to strain to hear her.

  “Where, where did you get these?”

  “The box was under the portico.”

  “Neil put it there?”

  “I assumed so. Why? Do you recognize the doilies?”

  “Get them away from me. Quickly, take them away.”

  Kali picked up the box and doilies and started to leave the room again.

  “No, wait. Give them to me.”

  Kali shook her head in frustration, but she put the box back on the bed, within Lillian’s reach.

  Her grandmother lifted the doilies in the air, one in each hand, like tattered lace gloves. Then she brought them up to her face and began to sob.

  Kali felt exasperated. Lillian needed help. But it was becoming clear to Kali that she didn’t have the skill or temperament to handle her grandmother’s volatile moods by herself.

  She left the room and went down the stairs. When she got to the foyer, she picked up the business card on the entranceway table.

  Javier Guzman. Maybe he could help, after all.

  39

  Lillian’s hands were still trembling. Was it simply a coincidence? She’d been thinking so much about the old days—had even seen these doilies in her mind’s eye—that she had to consider the possibility her fears were getting the better of her.

  After her granddaughter left her bedroom, Lillian inspected each of the doilies. The lace was yellowed, but the pattern was the same. Could they have belonged to the people next door? But they were so much like the ones Lillian’s mother had given her.

  She remembered the day. How excited she’d been to be leaving for Berlin. Her hair was freshly bobbed and styled in curls around her face and she had a new, very cosmopolitan traveling suit with padded shoulders and a narrow skirt. Her suitcase was open on her bed when her mother came into the room, some things tucked under her arm.

  “Here, Ilse,” her mother said, holding out a small embroidered pillow and lace doilies. “Take these with you.”

  “The apartment is furnished,” Ilse said. “I won’t need them.”

  “Take them.” Her mother pushed the pillow and lace into Ilse’s hands. Her mother’s nose was red, as though she’d been crying. “There will be days when you’ll be happy to have something from home.”

  Ilse didn’t want to upset her mother even more. She placed the pillow in the corner of her suitcase, glancing at the pink, blue, and yellow embroidered flowers. She recalled her mother embroidering them just the other evening, sitting near the fireplace with her hoop and needle.

  Ilse felt the sting of tears. She was going away, leaving her parents behind. She didn’t know when she’d see them again. Ilse bit down on her lip and folded the doilies before putting them into her suitcase. The lace was fine and white, just like the ones that covered the arms of the sofa in her parents’ drawing room to keep the fabric from fraying.

  Her mother turned away, head down, shoulders trembling.

  “Oh, Mama, please don’t cry.” Ilse put her arms around her mother. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be grand.”

  Her mother looked at her, blue eyes rimmed in red, her blonde hair, streaked with gray, pulled back in a tight bun. “What if they find out who you really are?”

  “All my papers are in order. Joseph has made certain of that.”

  Her mother made a throw-away gesture with her hand. “Your brother thinks he’s smarter than everyone.”

  Ilse gave a small smile. “He is, Mama. Joseph knows what he’s doing and he has important friends. He’s already arranged for me to meet some people in the theater. I’m sure I’ll get a job soon, even if it’s just in the chorus.”

  “I don’t understand.” Her mother began crying again. “Why can’t you just be happy here? Why do you want to go awa
y and leave your family and everyone you know?”

  Ilse rubbed her mother’s back. “Dear Mama. I’ll be with Joseph. He’ll watch over me. And if things don’t work out, I promise I’ll come home.”

  Her mother wiped her nose with her handkerchief. “And take these, too.” She pressed several lace-trimmed handkerchiefs into Ilse’s hand. “So you’ll never forget me.” Her mother’s embroidered initials were just barely visible in the corners—H.S. for Hannah Strauss. Then she kissed her daughter’s forehead with such intensity that Ilse believed her mother was trying to brand her with her love.

  Lillian ran her fingers over the doily. That afternoon, she had boarded a train for Berlin with Joseph and became Leli Lenz. It was 1935. That was the last time she’d seen her mother, although they communicated often through the postal box Joseph had arranged in Berlin.

  And then in October of 1938, Leli had received a letter from her mother. Her mother’s letters were always filled with general details of their daily lives. But this one was different.

  Conditions worse. Many restrictions. Your father afraid to go to the university or associate with his friends and colleagues. No word from Joseph in months.

  Remain in Berlin. Tell no one your secret.

  Love, Mama

  It was overcast that afternoon, and she felt the first chill of winter in the heavy air as she walked down Leipzigerstrasse to meet Wulfie. He’d suggested a café on Potsdamer Platz. Leli held her umbrella with one hand; in her other was her purse with her mother’s letter. Joseph had warned her to destroy any letters from home in case her apartment was searched for some reason. Leli had always done as her brother had instructed, but first she would read each letter over and over, until it was forever in her memory. Then she burned the paper.

  The street was crowded. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry as they pressed around her. How she wished she could tell Wulfie her concerns about her parents, but her mother’s warning was too strong.

  She reached the end of Leipzigerstrasse and the street opened up to the full grandeur of Potsdamer Platz—the elaborate hotel façades on each corner, cars, trolleys and double-decker buses all passing around the traffic light tower on the elliptical island in the middle of the intersection. She saw people rushing toward Wertheim Department Store.