Three Words for Goodbye

by Hazel Gaynor

  She had lived life to the fullest, and I intended to do the same.

  I caught the attention of a passing waiter.

  “Yes, miss. What can I get for you?”

  “Champagne, please. A glass of your very best.”

  He smiled. “Certainly, miss. Are we celebrating a special occasion?”

  I returned his smile and thought for a moment. “Yes. I am celebrating a fresh start. I think that’s a special occasion, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely, miss. Then you will need a Dom Pérignon. I’ll be right back.”

  “Actually, could you bring two glasses?”

  “Two, miss?” He looked at the empty seat opposite me.

  “Yes. The other one is for my grandmother.”

  Maddie

  The first two days on the Hindenburg flew by without a hitch; the service on board was second to none, our sleeping quarters were comfortable, and we dined like royalty. To add to my winning streak, I indulged in after-dinner poker and beat Daniel in every game but one. Clara and I worked together happily, finishing the remaining pages of Violet’s gift—the book of our journey—and in my remaining time, I took in the view from the windows, marveling at the way we soared through the sky over a glimmering swathe of dark blue ocean. It was all so easy, so enjoyable.

  On the third and final day of our journey, concerns about the weather started to circulate among the passengers. We’d finally arrived in the United States but were several hours late, delayed by intense headwinds over the Atlantic, and now the weather was too unfavorable in New Jersey to land. I told Clara not to worry, that these things happened.

  Daniel and I headed to the lounge to pass the time while we waited.

  “We’ll have to circle until we can land safely,” a stewardess calmly informed us. “There’s no need to worry.”

  A murmur arose among the small gathering in the lounge as the stewardess repeated her instruction among the rest of the passengers.

  “See,” Daniel said with a smile and a gentle squeeze of my arm. “Nothing to worry about. I’m going to pack the last of my things. See you when we land?”

  I nodded. “See you when we land.”

  I heaved a sigh and moved to the window. We turned, circling northward over New York City. I looked down at the sprawl of Manhattan below, so close and yet so small from a distance. The sprawling city was flanked by miles of countryside on one side and by water lapping at its shores on the other. I hoped the storms would let up soon.

  “It doesn’t look real from up here, does it?”

  A cloud of Clara’s favorite perfume enveloped me as she joined me at the window, grabbing my arm for reassurance.

  “I can’t wait to be home,” I replied. “After we visit with Violet, I’m going to buy a knish from the stand on Eighth Avenue, grab a stack of newspapers, and find a bench in Bryant Park. And then I’ll write myself into a stupor. What will you do?”

  “After seeing Violet? I’m going to take stock of all my paintings and sketches, organize them in a way that makes sense, and then I’m going to start a new collection with a theme: Women on the Move. I’m hoping I might show it in a gallery somewhere in the city when I’m finished.”

  I was happy for her and proud of her. Proud of us both.

  “I think we’re turning again,” Clara said, pointing to the shifting landscape far below us.

  “I hope that’s good news.”

  “I’m sure it is,” she replied. “I’m going to freshen up before we land.”

  I watched her go and turned back to the window.

  Dark clouds crowded the sky and the sea tossed in a murky haze below. When at last we veered away from the shoreline toward the landing strip in Lakehurst, New Jersey, I breathed a sigh of relief. But as we grew close enough to make out the tiny figures of people on the ground preparing for our landing, the airship tilted sharply sideways. Passengers cried out as glasses slid from the tables and crashed to the floor. Several crew members raced around the room, helping to clean up the mess and calming everyone as they went. It was just the storm, they assured us. We’d be on the ground shortly, they insisted.

  And yet I sensed danger. My instincts told me to find Clara.

  Heart pounding, I walked quickly through the lounge toward our cabin, trying to quell the erratic thoughts in my head. Everything was fine. It was only the wind.

  When I didn’t find Clara in the cabin, I hurried back down the corridor, toward the dining room.

  The airship jerked sharply again. I braced myself against a table, and made my way to the other side of the room. And there she was, with Daniel. A wave of relief washed over me. They turned and saw me at the same moment and rushed toward me.

  A lump gathered in my throat as Clara reached for my hand. “Maddie, I’m scared.”

  I closed my fingers around hers and squeezed them tightly, just as I had when we were little girls. “It’s fine. I think we’re just about to land. They’ll be dropping the mooring ropes.”

  We exchanged a nervous smile. My heart lurched as I looked at Daniel, but my attention was caught by something flickering outside the window. It looked like a blue flame.

  “Is that—”

  “Fire!” Daniel shouted, reaching for my hand.

  But at that moment, a muffled blast rocked the airship violently and knocked me off my feet.

  The last thing I heard was Clara’s scream.

  Clara

  The airship reared up from its tail, sending us all tumbling like rag dolls. For a second, I managed to hold on to Madeleine’s hand, but another sudden lurch ripped us apart and I let out a scream as I skittered and rolled across the floor, my arms and legs banging against tables and fallen chairs that tumbled alongside me.

  The noise was terrifying. Shattered glass and dinnerware rained down on me, leaving cuts and lacerations on my skin as I fell roughly against a wooden bench. Several other passengers landed on top of me, pinning me against the wall.

  I pushed and kicked at them as I felt myself being suffocated. “Maddie!” I screamed her name as the ship rolled to one side and everyone fell again, releasing me. I grabbed a curtain and pulled myself up against the incline, peering through a wall of flames and choking black smoke that had filled the airship in seconds. I hardly knew which way was up.

  “Maddie! Where are you?” I shouted, my voice wild with terror.

  There was no sign of her, or Daniel, although they’d been beside me just a second earlier.

  All around me, people screamed in terror and pain. Names of loved ones were called in desperation. I covered my mouth with my hand as the smoke began to choke me. My eyes smarted and stung. The heat from the fire was overwhelming. I couldn’t think straight. For a moment I froze, unable to comprehend what was happening. The ship was on fire. We were crashing to the ground—and I didn’t know where my sister was.

  “Madeleine!” I screamed again.

  “Jump, miss!” A young man grabbed roughly at my coat sleeve as he ran past me. “You’ll have to jump for it.” I recognized him as the steward who’d shown us to our cabin just a few days ago. He dragged me after him, his fingers gripping my arm. “Hurry, miss. It’s our only chance.”

  Ahead of me, I watched in horror as men and women leaped through the shattered gallery windows.

  “I can’t!” I screamed. “My sister is in here.”

  “You have to jump, miss.” He turned to look at me, a wild, terrified look in his eyes. “Or you’ll be burned alive.”

  I ran to the shattered edge of the airship, the metal frame and the fabric covering a tangled, terrifying mess. I looked down. We were dropping rapidly, only a few meters now from the ground, but it was still too high to jump. My mind spun wildly as I peered through the smoke and flames at what was left of the dining room. Had Maddie already jumped?

  “You have to go now!” the steward shouted over the roar of fire that now consumed the vessel we’d trusted to bring us safely home.

  “We’ll be killed!”
I screamed. “I can’t.”

  “You can, miss. You must.”

  And with that, he jumped, and as the heat from the fire engulfing the airship became unbearable, I closed my eyes, stepped out into the air, and fell.

  Violet

  Veneto Estate, East Hampton, New York

  May 1937

  I thought I’d cried my final tears, folded away the last of my grief and regret.

  I was mistaken.

  I watch, helplessly, as Celestine paces across the floor, stirring the diaphanous curtains at the windows as she sweeps past. Henrietta has transferred me to the sofa in the sunroom so that I might find distraction in the distant ocean and my beautiful gardens, but their loveliness wanes beneath the dreadful news we’ve received. The vivid life I’ve known for seventy-three years has suddenly lost all its color.

  We heard the news through the evening newspaper. The Hindenburg, carrying my precious granddaughters home to me at last, had suffered a catastrophic fire and crashed, just moments from landing.

  Celestine’s frantic calls to the hospitals have yet to yield any news. Clara and Madeleine are still missing, not yet confirmed among those who have tragically lost their lives, and not yet counted among those recovering. It is as if they are suspended somewhere between life and death, and my heart feels as if it will tear in two.

  Hours creep slowly by. Food comes and goes, brought by Henrietta on a tray that I ignore. Anxious glances and questions without answers hang in the air whenever anyone comes to comfort me. Angry clouds march across the sky and blossoms fly from the trees, snatched away by the wind as if it knows beauty isn’t welcome on such a dark day.

  Finally, as the last of the daylight sinks into the ocean, Celestine returns from another round of frantic telephone calls and takes my hand, her eyes searching mine.

  “You have news?” I ask. “Did they make it?”

  She wraps her fingers around mine.

  I take a deep breath as my life, with all its moments of exquisite beauty and unimaginable pain, comes down to this one moment, one word. Yes, or no?

  Clara

  Manchester, New Jersey

  May 1937

  I woke to sunlight streaming through a sheer curtain, people coming and going all around me. I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t.

  “Hello?” My voice was raspy and dry. I coughed to clear my throat, but it was too painful. And then I remembered. The fire. The crash.

  “Madeleine?” I called out. “Maddie, are you here? Where are you?”

  Where was I?

  A voice approached at my side. “You’re in the hospital, miss. In New Jersey.”

  I stared up at a kind face. A nurse.

  She smiled. “It’s good to have you back.”

  “Am I hurt?” I asked.

  “Cuts and bruises. Shock, mostly. You were one of the lucky ones. It’s a miracle anyone got out alive. You need to rest now. Drink plenty of fluids. Get your strength back.”

  “Is my sister here?” I asked. “Madeleine Sommers. There was a friend of ours on the airship, too. Daniel Miller.”

  The nurse reassured me she would check. “You rest up now. I’ll do my best to find them. Oh, and we found this in your coat pocket.”

  She handed me my sketchbook, my illustrations now interspersed with Madeleine’s beautiful descriptions. Our gift for Violet. It didn’t have a single mark on it.

  “Oh! My mother and grandmother? Have they been informed? They’ll be so worried. We were on our way home.”

  “Let me check. There are many families to contact. Many who’ve lost loved ones.”

  Panic and fear washed over me. The horror of what I’d seen and heard. “How many?” I asked, trying to steady the tremble in my hand. “How many died?”

  “We can’t be sure yet. Around thirty-five, we think. It’s a miracle anyone survived at all, but over sixty of you did.”

  It was too many deaths. I couldn’t bear to think of Madeleine among them.

  I lay back on my pillow and stared at the ceiling. Numb. Broken. My mind turned over images and memories of Madeleine, and then of Violet. Fragments of conversations, moments of laughter, all of it jumbled together until I felt I would drown in despair.

  Beyond the hospital window, life carried on. I closed my eyes and listened to the familiar sounds of motorcars and sirens, construction sites and laughter. I was back home, our journey complete, and I was terrified I’d lost everything that was dear to me, that I’d lost my sister after finding her again.

  In a moment, all our differences and disagreements became nothing, and all I saw was our similarities, the connections within our story, not the divisions and gaps. I wanted to turn back time. I wanted to pause every silly squabble and hold Madeleine’s hand and laugh with her. All those thousands of miles traveled. All those opportunities grasped and chances taken, memories made and regrets formed, and in the end it came down to a small room in a New Jersey hospital. I had never felt more alone, or more desperate.

  I whispered her name to the clouds beyond the open window and prayed that she might hear me. Tears slipped down my cheeks.

  “Madeleine.”

  My sister. My traveling companion. My friend. The words to my pictures. How could I possibly face life without her?

  * * *

  HOURS PASSED AS I drifted in and out of sleep. Nurses came and went, engaging me in snatches of conversation. I wasn’t sure if they were real or part of a dream.

  Eventually, I was helped from my bed and taken in a wheelchair down a long corridor to another room in the hospital, to the side of another hospital bed.

  “She’s resting,” the nurse whispered to me as she tended the patient’s tubes and checked a chart at the foot of the bed. “The medication for the pain makes her very sleepy. She was lucky, pulled away from the flames by a gentleman, apparently. He stayed with her all the way to the hospital, even though he was injured himself.” She lay her hand on my shoulder for a moment. “Stay with her as long as you wish.”

  I don’t remember what I said, only that I gasped and wept and shook with relief when I saw her.

  My sister.

  Alive.

  I focused on Madeleine’s breathing: slow steady breaths, in and out, as the bedcovers rose and fell with her. Life. Breath. My sister had survived the dreadful inferno. I took her hand in mine, remembering how I’d done the same just moments before the crash, seeking her reassurance. Except now all I asked of her was to get better.

  “I’m here, Maddie,” I whispered. “It’s Clara. We’re in the hospital. We made it home.”

  Tears fell down my cheeks as relief and horror washed over me again. She’d suffered burns and had a concussion from the fall when she’d jumped. Like me, she’d leaped into nothing.

  I sat with Madeleine until I fell asleep and my dreams took me back to my childhood, my sister always beside me, laughing, wondering, finding our way together, and when a hand gently shook my arm to wake me, it was Madeleine’s eyes that met mine, her voice that whispered my name, her hopeful smile that told me everything would be alright, because whatever life had in store for us from that moment on, we would take every step together.

  Maddie

  The muffled sound of voices edged their way into my consciousness as I tumbled through darkness, scrambling to make sense of where I was, what had happened. And then I heard Clara’s voice.

  “Maddie. You’re going to be alright. I’m here. We’re together.”

  My eyes slowly opened to a strange room: light blue walls, a vase of red roses, everything else stark white. The odor of medicine and bleach stung my nose, and the memory of what we’d endured flooded my mind. The Hindenburg. The fire. I turned my head slowly to the left, wincing at the pain, and there she was, perched at my side in a wheelchair.

  “Clara?” I croaked, my voice hoarse from the smoke I’d inhaled. “You’re hurt. Are you alright?”

  “I’m alive and so are you, and that’s all that matters.”

 
; Tears ran a twisting course down her cheeks. One eye was swollen and there was a nasty cut on her chin. I reached for her hand, careful not to move too much, not yet certain where all of the aches and injuries were on my body.

  “Yes,” I whispered as I squeezed her hand and my own tears fell to match hers. “That’s all that matters.”

  I looked down at my body to assess the damage. My left arm was covered in a burn salve, but my writing hand had been saved. I breathed a sigh of relief. But my head. It felt as if someone was hitting me with a sledgehammer.

  “I know I said we should go out with a bang, but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” I attempted a feeble joke, falling back on old habits. I didn’t know how else to process what had happened.

  Clara wiped her eyes. “Even now, when I thought I’d lost you, you try to make me smile.” She winced and cradled her sore cheek. “It hurts too much.”

  It did hurt too much—the injuries, the horror of everything we’d seen, the terrifying prospect of losing everything I held dear: my sister. Daniel.

  My mind flashed back to the moment of the crash, and the last question I had for Clara sat, unasked, on the tip of my tongue. Had I seen Daniel’s face in the midst of the chaos of ambulances and doctors? Who was it who had pulled me away from the fire? It was all such a muddle, I couldn’t be sure.

  Emotion rose in waves until I felt dizzy. I squinted beneath the glare of the bright hospital lights, my head in searing pain as I tried to remember exactly what had happened after I’d jumped. I’d landed on the grass and rolled, just as Daniel had told me to. “When we hit the ground, try to tuck and roll. It will help break the fall,” he’d shouted over the unfolding chaos. I thought I’d done as he’d instructed but I couldn’t be sure. The memory was blurred. It had all happened so fast.