Some Other Child

by Buchbinder, Sharon

  Officer Mike shook his head. "Going to be hard to write this one up."

  “Did you ever get my message from the non-emergency dispatcher?” Sarah asked.

  “No, I haven’t been back to the precinct this evening. What was it about?”

  “I spoke with the administrator at WorkForce, the agency that placed Betty at my aunt’s home. Seems no one knew anything about the placement, nor did my description of Betty match anyone they knew. However, the administrator recalled a Betty Freed worked there as a temp about a year ago. He said ‘she had a voice just like Lauren Bacall.’ Guess who?”

  He shook his head.

  Sarah pointed at the blonde who was passed out on the floor. “Officer Mike, meet Betty Freed—Reed, aka, Lauren Bacall, aka, Betty, the ‘disabled’ housekeeper. The drunk with the gunshot in the butt is her husband, Patrick Reed.”

  “The clowns who tried to drown you!” Dan exclaimed.

  Then Sarah told Officer Mike about how Betty stole someone’s identity and took the job. She pointed out the hearing aids, eyeglasses, and wig on the floor.

  “Betty decided stealing jewelry from Aunt Ida was small potatoes compared to the millions of dollars she could have if she kidnapped Aunt Ida and forced her to handwrite a new will, leaving everything to her ‘beloved housekeeper, Betty.’ They were already halfway to getting me convicted of Aunt Ida’s murder.”

  “Did they attack your mother?” Officer Mike asked.

  “Yes. They lured her outside by beating Winston. That’s why he was tied to the tree with the clothesline. After they got rid of me by staging my suicide, they planned to finish my mother off at the nursing home.” Sarah shuddered at the thought, wondering what they had in mind. An air bubble in her IV? A pillow over her face? And what about Elizabeth? Would they have left her alone? She doubted they'd leave any loose ends.

  Additional police officers arrived. Winston, battered, bloody, and limping, attempted to greet each one. EMTs appeared with stretchers to transport Betty and Patrick.

  Officer Pollack shouted from the door. "They found Ida Katz.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The room telescoped to black tunnel vision despite the lights now blazing in the room. Sarah's legs buckled, and she whispered, "Is she alive?"

  Dan grabbed her before she hit the floor. “Let’s get you to a chair.”

  Now at Sarah's side, and helping Dan lift her to a kitchen chair, Officer Pollack's granite brow furrowed and his lips thinned.

  As if intuiting bad news, Winston placed his head on her knees and whined. Sarah feared the worst. What good would it be to be vindicated, deemed not a murderer, but still lost Aunt Ida? "Is she d—?" She couldn't bring herself to say the word.

  Pollack shook his head. "She's alive, but weak."

  The breath whooshed out of her lungs. Sarah rested her forehead on Winston's to keep the blackness away. Where there was breath, there was life. She lifted her eyes up and connected with the officer's gaze. Was that regret she saw in his eyes? Regret that she wasn't the murderer he had made her out to be? Or regret that he hadn't listened to her from the start? She wanted to believe it was the latter. "Where are they taking her?"

  "Hopkins ED." Officer Mike seemed to be in charge.

  She directed her plea to him. "Can I go to her? Please?"

  He nodded and motioned to Pollack. "There's a ton of uniforms outside. Get one of them to take her to the ER."

  She grabbed Dan's arm. "We can't just leave Winston here; he needs an emergency room, too."

  Officer Mike lifted the Weimaraner up in his arms and the dog whimpered. "It's okay, boy. We'll get you fixed up." He nodded at Pollack. "Get her to Hopkins. I'll catch up later."

  * * * *

  Half an hour later, Sarah limped into the ER with a uniformed officer at her side. A nurse rushed forward to usher her to a room. All but one cubicle was empty. She stepped through the gray curtains and froze, and an impression of déjà vu enveloped her. Not again. Dear God, not again.

  Electric warming blankets covered Aunt Ida up to her chin. Her pale face dappled with bruises in various stages of purple, yellow and green, she looked as if she had been used as a punching bag. Sarah's stomach rolled at the thought of her tiny aunt enduring such abuse. A plastic intravenous bag hung overhead and the tubes from them wormed beneath the blankets. Multiple monitors beeped at irregular intervals. A shiver of apprehension ran up her spine.

  “Hang in there, Aunt Ida, you can make it.” She closed her eyes, unwilling to think of losing another person who meant so much to her. First, her mother was lost in a coma because of those bastards, now her aunt. Where was the justice? How could those crooks ever pay for their crimes?

  Betty and Patrick had taken away Sarah's loved ones, yet those monsters were alive and well. They'd probably go to prison, but was that a reasonable trade? Sarah sat down in a chair beside the hospital bed and held Aunt Ida's hand beneath the covers. She closed her eyes, bowed her head and whispered, “Shema Yisrael, Adenoi Elohenu---”

  A feeble voice joined in, "Adenoi Echod."

  Sarah's eyes flew open. "You're awake, oh, thank God, you're awake."

  Aunt Ida favored her with a weak smile. "Who could sleep through all that racket?"

  * * * *

  Despite looking as if she'd gone ten rounds with a professional boxer, Aunt Ida insisted on going home on the third day of her hospitalization. Her left eye was swollen, and her neck had finger-shaped black and blue marks. The plastic surgeon had put in over fifty stitches in her face and scalp

  The doctors were reluctant to sign the discharge papers, until Sarah pointed out that she'd probably get just as good care in the comfort of her own home.

  Aunt Ida took no chances. “Get me out of here before they change their minds, Sarahlei,” she whispered,

  “You have to rest, Aunt Ida. No senior citizen self-defense classes for you for a while.” Sarah squeezed her good hand. “How did you survive this ordeal?”

  The older woman smiled. “When we were young, your mother never took crap from anyone. She was nobody’s doormat. I just kept thinking: What would Ethel do? Then I’d do it.”

  Sol Weinstein stopped by as Sarah was packing up Ida’s flowers and balloons from well-wishers. “Nu, you bullied your way out of the hospital?”

  “And you wouldn’t?” Aunt Ida said. “I hear you came to Sarah’s rescue with the bail. I knew I could trust you to use my money the right way.”

  “Your money? Are you kidding? That would be unethical,” he yelled and flashed his big white smile. “Sarah’s my client, too. She gave me one whole dollar to keep me on retainer. I used my own money. I knew she was innocent.”

  Sarah gave Sol a big hug. “And the rest is history.”

  “Will Rutler got all the charges against you dismissed. Your record is squeaky clean." Sol shook his finger at her. “Now, let’s see if you can keep it that way.”

  Aunt Ida patted the arm of the wheelchair. “Get me out of here, before the nurses think it’s time to poke me again. Sol, give me a push. Sarah’s got her hands full.”

  “I have my hands full with you, Aunt Ida. You're the one we need to keep out of trouble.”

  * * * *

  Aunt Ida insisted that her memorial service not be cancelled. “When else will I get to have a party like this?”

  The rabbi was delighted to hear that the dearly departed was still among the living and was pleased to officiate at what would now be a celebration of life. He said, “I have a blessing for everything!”

  “Look at this crowd. It must be the food that’s bringing them in,” Aunt Ida quipped. All of Aunt Ida’s friends had sent trays from Essen Deli. There were bagels, lox, matzo ball soup, whitefish salad, tuna salad, rugelach, kugel, and latkes. Even in Aunt Ida’s spacious kitchen, refrigerator space was running low.

  “They’re here to see you,” Sarah defended. “Everyone’s so happy that you’re alive and well.”

  “It’s a double chai,” Gert added. �
��Ida’s been saved and you and Dan are back together.”

  A group of Aunt Ida’s friends from her senior citizen self-defense class, Mah Jong, and every other social group clustered around Aunt Ida, demanding that she tell her story over and over again.

  Jazmin, Arlene, and Darnell arrived with a flower arrangement from the Pediatric Fellows and a card from Marian.

  Arlene took Sarah aside and told her the police had executed a search warrant and found a large collection of graphic videotapes hidden in a false wall in Pastor Black’s study. Pastor and Mrs. Black were in jail on multiple counts of child molestation, abuse, and rape. Loyal congregants were holding fund-raisers for legal fees.

  Molly and Josh Weinstein arrived and Winston, covered in stitches and bandages, greeted them with glee. Peter and his wife, Joanna, arrived with another bouquet of flowers.

  Sarah thanked them and went to the kitchen to search for a vase. She found a plastic milk bottle, which would have to do.

  The front doorbell rang again. Sol Weinstein strolled in accompanied by Will Rutler. The noise level in the house went up by a couple hundred decibels.

  She brought a tray of food out of the kitchen and wandered around, hoping people would help her get rid of the excess food. Even Winston had his limits with leftovers.

  Officers Corrigan and Pollack arrived and offered their apologies.

  “Listen, I’m really sorry I had to be so harsh,” Officer Pollack said. “We have rules and regulations we have to follow. I didn’t want to arrest you, but Detective Engelman said there was probable cause. He was worried you’d take off.”

  “I know you were only doing your job. So was Detective Engelman.”

  “Speaking of the devil,” Officer Corrigan interjected.

  “Please accept my congratulations on your Aunt’s rescue. And the charges being cleared,” Detective Engelman said. He shook Sarah’s hand with his big one.

  “Thank you, Detective Engelman.”

  “Call me Rob, please.”

  Officers Corrigan and Pollack waggled their eyebrows at each other.

  Heat rose from Sarah’s neck and cheeks.

  “Hey, Sarah,” Dan said and slid his arms around her waist from behind. “Hello. Glad you guys could make it.”

  The uniformed officers said they had to get back to work. On cue, Detective Engelman grabbed the pager at his waist, looked down, and said, “Me, too. Gotta run. Nice to meet you.”

  “You know, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Sarah said. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  Sarah loved Dan, but she couldn’t take it if he turned back into that overbearing know-it-all again.

  “Hey, I was just being friendly,” Dan said and nibbled her ear.

  Everyone agreed that a miracle had happened and that life had given Ida, Sarah, and Dan a second chance.

  As the last of the diehard senior citizens filed out the front door, the backdoor bell rang. Bernice Woods stood on the back porch, holding the hand of a woman who wore thick glasses. “I waited until the crowd died down. I didn’t want to do this in front of hundreds of people,” Bernice said.

  “Please come in,” Sarah said as she glanced at the heart-shaped birthmark on the woman’s cheek. “There’s only a few of us here now. Ida, Sol, Dan, and me.” She led Bernice and the woman into the living room.

  Ida looked up with a puzzled expression.

  Bernice cleared her throat. “Once upon a time, a desperate young woman made a terrible choice, thinking she was doing the right thing. She compounded that error so many times over that she continued to hide the mistake beneath more lies and secrets. Shame clouded her judgment.”

  Sarah watched Ida clench and unclench her hands as tears trickled down her bruised cheeks. What was going on?

  Bernice continued, “Shame and fear of going to jail kept her a prisoner of her own secrets. I don’t know if you will ever be able to forgive my poor, misguided sister-in-law. She’s near death and wants you to know that she’s sorry.”

  Bernice took a deep shuddering breath.

  “Ida Mae Katz, I’d like you to meet your daughter, Mitzi.”

  * * * *

  The parking lot at Shady Rest was half-full of cars. A breeze stirred the overhead tree branches, showering Sarah, Dan, and Aunt Ida with red, orange, and brown leaves.

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?” Sarah asked.

  “I have to do it,” Aunt Ida answered.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Sarah said.

  “Welcome to Shady Rest,” Charles greeted her.

  Bernice stood by the front desk. “She’s waiting for you.”

  Sarah led Aunt Ida down the cheerfully decorated hallway, into Ethel and Elizabeth’s room.

  Bernice trailed behind them.

  “Hello,” Sarah said.

  Elizabeth looked terrified.

  Bernice whispered hello to Elizabeth and held one of her bony hands.

  Elizabeth clutched the photo of Mitzi with her other hand and stared at Sarah with blind eyes. “Is Ida Mae Katz with you?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m here. Sarah, please get me a chair. I want to sit down.”

  Sarah pulled a chair next to Elizabeth’s bed.

  Tears streamed down the sides of the bed-ridden woman’s face. “I can never make it up to you, Ida. I sinned. I never told you, even when you came to my house that day and welcomed us to the neighborhood. I should have told you then, but---”

  Aunt Ida took Elizabeth’s skinny hands into her own bruised ones, her pinky now a stump. “Elizabeth, I need you to listen to me. I’ve made mistakes, too. We were young. Victims of circumstances beyond our control. Foolish. It’s time to clear the slate, to give ourselves a second chance.”

  “I’m sorry,” Elizabeth whispered while her hands shook. “So sorry.”

  “I have to tell you something. Sarah, sit down. You need to hear this.” Ida pulled an envelope from her pocket. “Sol was to give this to you upon my death. It will be easier if I tell the both of you at the same time. Sarah, you’ve heard some of this before.”

  Sarah pulled up a chair at Ethel’s bedside. “Hey, Mom,” she said and leaned down to give her a kiss. “We’re all here.” She held Ethel’s hand and waited for Aunt Ida to speak.

  Dan stood behind Sarah’s chair, his hands on her shoulder.

  Aunt Ida cleared her throat, and began to read from her letter. “Now that Ethel’s in a coma, unable to talk, I feel I should speak for her. I want you to know how very much your mother loves you. She was afraid if she said how much she loved you, she would lose you, too.”

  Sarah squeezed her mother’s hand and sniffled.

  “Sarah, your mother and I met when we were girls, children really,” Ida continued. “My mother was born into a wealthy family. My real father died when I was a baby, and my mother remarried a controlling and abusive alcoholic. She had tuberculosis. My step-father addicted my mother to morphine to control her money and to ensure she would be too ashamed to go to anyone in our religious community for help.”

  “Oh my God,” Elizabeth said. “What a monster.”

  “He raped me on my twelfth birthday and forced himself on me almost nightly thereafter. I became pregnant. He sent me away from Baltimore to Washington, D.C. to the Florence Crittenton Home for Unwed Mothers. That’s where I met Ethel. What a strong, smart young woman she was. She kept my spirits up and held my hand when I cried. The doctors at G.W.U. discovered not only did my step-father give me a child, but also syphilis. They treated me, but by the time it was discovered, I was four months pregnant. Even though he was a monster, and I knew the child was damaged, I wanted the baby.”

  Elizabeth sobbed and clutched Mitzi’s photo to her breast.

  “One day Ethel and I convinced the matron we needed to go outside for a walk. My drunken stepfather appeared and told me my mother was dead. He killed her with an overdose of morphine, expecting to inherit all her money. Instead, he discovered she left it all in a trust for me. He
accused me of knowing I would inherit her estate and threatened to kill me. When he rushed to attack me, your mother stepped between us and told him to stop. He pushed her. She hit him in on the chin with both fists. He fell over, smashed his head on the sidewalk and died.”

  Aunt Ida took a deep breath and wiped her nose with a handkerchief. “Sarah, your mother was braver than I thought I could ever be.”

  Sarah squeezed her mother’s hand tighter.

  “After that, I helped Ethel escape from the home so she could run away and get married,” Aunt Ida said. “To this day, I regret helping her. Her husband was an alcoholic, too. He beat Ethel so badly she lost the twin boys she carried. The sight of their little bodies devastated her. That’s why Ethel always said she was ‘drinking with the boys.’ When she lost the twins, he sobered up and promised to reform. He kept his word, even going to St. Elizabeth’s Hospital to fight his demons. A year after his release, he began drinking again.”

  Elizabeth’s sobs had subsided to snuffling.

  “When I delivered Mitzi at GWU hospital, I nearly bled to death. I had to have a hysterectomy. Just before they put me under anesthesia, I saw her. She had dark hair and a little heart-shaped birthmark in front of her left ear, just like me. That was November 27, 1942. The worst part was when they told me my baby died shortly after delivery. They told me they buried her in the hospital rose garden.”

  Elizabeth had begun to sob again, her shoulders shaking with each breath.

  Aunt Ida pushed on, despite tears rolling down her cheeks, and words catching in her throat. “Things are not always what they seem. Sometimes, we cannot bear to share our secrets, because of the shame.”