Searching for Lottie

by Susan Ross

  He went into the next room and returned with a slender, elegant bow. “You play the violin, just like your relative; am I correct?”

  “How did you guess that?” Charlie asked.

  Dr. Szemere didn’t answer; he held up the bow. “This one seems as if it might suit you. But we will have to see. You know that violinists never choose their bows, not really—the bow chooses them.”

  “It’s wonderful!” Charlie sighed as she admired the handsome wooden bow. “But I—I don’t think I can take this. My parents wouldn’t want me to accept anything so valuable.”

  “This is not a gift,” Dr. Szemere replied. “Only a loan. The bow must be tested with an instrument; you will return it to me whenever you like.”

  Charlie took the bow in her hands. The wood was light and perfectly balanced, the horsehair smooth to the touch. It was absolutely gorgeous.

  “Siberian horsehair is of course the finest.” Dr. Szemere straightened his shoulders with pride as he nodded toward the poster of the white stallion on the wall.

  “Thank you,” Charlie said softly.

  Dr. Szemere placed the bow in a slim case, which Charlie carefully slid into her backpack. She couldn’t wait to show the bow to Mr. Fernandez and everyone in orchestra.

  “One last thing,” Dr. Szemere said. “Kinga is not such a bad dog as some may think. When you return, I shall properly introduce you.”

  Charlie nodded and stepped outside. She quickly walked by Kinga, who lifted her head slightly before dropping it down again.

  As she leapt onto her bike, Charlie broke into a wide grin. Lottie might still be alive! She had married and even had a child. But where was Lottie now?

  Charlie was determined to find out.

  “Mom!” Charlie hollered as she flew into the house. She stopped short, realizing the house was quiet. “Mom? Dad?…Jake, are you here?” She ran upstairs and pounded on Jake’s door.

  “What is it?” Jake peeked his head out.

  “Where are Mom and Dad?” Charlie panted.

  “Dad’s still at work, and Mom had to run out to a meeting. She said she’d be back as soon as she can. What’s up?”

  “I have something incredible to tell you all! And right now, I need your help.” Charlie grabbed Jake by his shirt and pulled him across the hall into her room.

  “Okay, but could you make it quick? I’m supposed to meet Alison at the library soon.” Jake grinned.

  “Listen to me, Jake. I might have found Lottie!”

  “What?” Jake exclaimed. “Where? Where is she?”

  “Well, I guess I haven’t exactly found her, but I’m super close. Nathan Kulka sent me an old letter that Lottie wrote after the war, so it turns out she didn’t die in the Holocaust like everyone thought! But the terrible thing is, Lottie believed her whole family had been killed—she never knew that her mom and Nana Rose escaped.”

  “Slow down and tell me what happened. From the beginning.” Jake’s face was serious now.

  “Okay.” Charlie took a deep breath. “I got something in the mail from Nathan Kulka today. It was a letter Lottie had written to him in 1945! The letter was in Hungarian, but I had it translated—”

  “How’d you manage that?” Jake interrupted her.

  “You know Hannah’s neighbor, the one with the scary dog?” Charlie paused. “Well, I met him! His name is Dr. Szemere, and I found out that he’s Hungarian. So I asked him to translate for me.”

  “Seriously?” Jake flashed his sister a look of respect she’d never seen from him before.

  “Yeah, seriously!” Charlie smiled. “Anyway, it turns out that Lottie was stuck the whole time in Hungary. After the war, she got married to a boy named Istvan Bartos, and they had a baby! She wanted to come to America, but she couldn’t, because the Soviets took over….At least, that’s what I think happened.”

  Jake lifted one eyebrow and whistled. “Are you sure?”

  “Well, not exactly…but it makes sense, doesn’t it? Lottie’s letter says that Istvan had relatives in Cleveland. So, I’m guessing they might have come over here, you know, later on when the Soviets left Hungary and people were able to go.”

  “Hold on a second.” Jake scratched his head. “You’re telling me you’re sort of hoping that once the Soviet Union crumbled, Lottie and her family moved to Cleveland?”

  “Yes—unless you have a better idea!” Charlie nodded. “I know it’s a long shot, but we have to find them! And I’m asking for your help. Where should we start?”

  “Well…we start with me telling Alison I’m gonna be late.” Jake sent a quick text. “Okay, so what have you tried? Did you check Facebook?”

  “I haven’t tried anything yet, Jake, I just got home!”

  “Right. Let me do this.” Jake grabbed Charlie’s laptop and did a quick search, but nothing came up. “I dunno.” He set the laptop down and rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess we’ve struck out.”

  “Wait, I’ll ask Sarah.” Charlie took out on her phone. “She might have an idea.”

  Sarah instantly texted back: Try online directory for Cleveland?

  “Good thinking!” Charlie answered aloud. She picked up the laptop, pulled up a directory site, and typed in Bartos and Cleveland. A long list of names appeared.

  “There’s nobody named Istvan or Lottie there.” Jake peered over her shoulder at the results.

  “But look, there’s an R. Bartos.” Charlie pointed at the very last name. “Let’s try that number first.”

  “How come?” Jake asked.

  “It’s only a hunch, but I was named after Nana’s sister, Lottie, and Nana’s name is…”

  “Rose.” Jake finished her thought. “So maybe, just maybe…Lottie named the baby after her?” Jake lifted one fist and bumped knuckles with Charlie. “Another long shot…but who knows? Let’s see!”

  “Will you make the call? I’m too nervous.” Charlie handed Jake her phone.

  “Sure.” Jake hit the numbers while Charlie covered her eyes with both hands and waited.

  “Hello there.” Jake spoke in a low voice. “I was just wondering—who is this?”

  Peering between her fingers in dismay, Charlie watched as Jake shook his head.

  “Too bad,” Jake said. “She hung up.”

  “Of course she did!” Charlie exclaimed. “You can’t just call people out of the blue and then ask who’s there! It’s creepy.”

  “Fine, you do it.” Jake held the phone in front of her.

  “I don’t think I can…I’m too scared.” Charlie backed away.

  “Come on, sis. You’ve been working on this for weeks. Go ahead and try.” Jake redialed the number and pressed the phone to Charlie’s ear.

  “Hello?” The young woman on the line sounded wary. “Did you call here before?”

  “I—I’m sorry, that was my brother,” Charlie began. “I’m calling you again because there’s a special person we’re looking for—”

  “I think you have the wrong number.” The woman cut her off.

  “Wait—please don’t hang up! There’s something I need to ask.” Charlie drew a sharp breath. “Are you related to a Lottie Kulka?”

  “I don’t believe so….” the woman answered.

  “What about Lottie Bartos?” Charlie continued. “Or maybe Istvan Bartos?”

  There was silence on the other end of the line. Charlie could hear the woman breathing.

  “Do you mean Izzy Bartos?”

  “Izzy? I guess he might have called himself that in America.” Charlie held one thumb halfway up. Jake’s eyes opened wide.

  “Izzy Bartos is my grandfather,” the woman said.

  “Your grandfather!” Charlie raised her thumb higher. “I was wondering if your name is Rose? I mean, the phone listing said R.”

  “No, it’s not Rose. Look, I don’
t know who you are, but if this is a prank call—”

  “I swear this isn’t a prank call!” Charlie exclaimed. “We’re looking for a lost relative. Rose is a family name, so I thought the R might be for that.”

  “The R stands for Rita—my mother. This is my parents’ house.”

  “Oh, I see.” Charlie sighed.

  “Now please excuse me; I have to go.” The phone clicked, and the line went dead.

  “She hung up on me, too!” Charlie frowned at Jake, her head throbbing.

  “We should check the other listings.” He shrugged.

  “But Jake, I felt something!” Charlie insisted. “I know it doesn’t make any sense, but that woman’s voice—even though I’ve never heard it before—she sounded familiar.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. Then Charlie’s phone began to ring. The number Jake had just dialed came up on the screen.

  “Hello, hi?” Charlie answered, her throat tight.

  “I just asked my mother, and you’re right, Grandpa Izzy was actually named Istvan—it’s a Hungarian name. He was from Budapest—although he never talked very much about that.”

  Charlie’s heart skipped two beats. “Could you tell me quickly, please—are they still alive?”

  “They?” the young woman repeated. “Who are you looking for?”

  “Istvan—and his wife, Lottie.”

  “Well, Grandpa Izzy died last year.”

  “Oh no!” The phone suddenly felt so heavy that Charlie could barely hold it to her ear. “That’s terrible.”

  “He was very old and lived a full life. I didn’t know my grandmother because she passed away a long time ago.”

  “What?” Charlie froze.

  “My grandmother died giving birth to my father, so I never met her.”

  Charlie looked up at Lottie’s photo on the bulletin board. It suddenly seemed faded and far away. “Are—are you positive? You’re absolutely certain your grandma died?”

  “Yes. She passed away in Europe, soon after the end of World War Two. So it was a long time ago. But I still think you have the wrong family because my grandmother’s name wasn’t Lottie. I mean, I don’t believe she was ever called that….”

  Charlie inhaled. “Are you sure?”

  “Well—her name was Charlotte. In fact, I was named after her…I am Charlotte Bartos.”

  Gasping for air, Charlie watched as the phone, Jake, the room, all went wavy and blurry and then wavy again.

  “Are you crying?” Jake whispered. “What’s going on? What did she say?”

  “I—I have to tell you something important,” Charlie said hoarsely into the phone as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “My grandmother Rose had a beautiful sister who played the violin and loved music more than anything. Her name was Charlotte Kulka, but her family called her Lottie. And when she disappeared in Hungary during the war, everyone thought she died in the Holocaust.” Charlie choked; now she could barely speak. “But the thing is, it turns out that Lottie wasn’t killed after all. She managed to survive. She married Istvan Bartos, and they had a baby.”

  “Who are you?” The young woman sounded breathless now, too.

  “I’m your cousin, Charlie Roth—and I’ve been looking for you.”

  Charlie woke up late Sunday morning with her laptop and red binder still on the pillow where she’d fallen asleep working on her family history report. Yesterday evening, the whole family had Skyped with Charlotte Bartos and her parents. Through smiles and many tears they’d learned more from Lottie’s son, Arpad, about his family’s life in Hungary and their eventual move to Cleveland.

  The report was due at school tomorrow morning, and Charlie couldn’t wait to finish.

  She had stayed up half the night writing about Nana Rose and her sister, Lottie, growing up in Vienna before the Second World War, and how Lottie had been such an accomplished violinist that she’d performed with the Vienna Philharmonic before going to Budapest to study music. And then, the terrible part—that during the Holocaust, Nana Rose’s father had been deported and killed, while Nana Rose and her mother managed to escape to the United States. Since Lottie was still in Hungary, she was tragically left behind. While Nana Rose and her mother always hoped that Lottie had survived, they realized she was probably gone forever. But even though Lottie had been lost, she was never, ever forgotten.

  Next, Charlie wrote how Nana Rose had sent her Lottie’s music journal and given her the precious gift of Lottie’s necklace, and about the mystery surrounding Johann Schmidt. Charlie smiled to herself as she explained how she’d managed to find Cousin Nathan at the seniors’ home in Greenfield and how he had sent her the astonishing letter from Lottie that had finally led her to discover Lottie’s family in Cleveland.

  At last, Charlie stretched her arms, smiled one more time at the photo of Lottie and Nathan on her bulletin board, and began typing her conclusion.

  SOCIAL STUDIES, Mr. Erikson—Period 6

  Searching for Lottie by Charlie Roth

  CONCLUSION

  Even though I never got to meet my great-aunt Lottie, I did discover many things about her. The very best part was that she didn’t die in the Holocaust like our family always thought. After the war, Lottie stayed in Budapest and married an engineer named Istvan Bartos. Sadly, Lottie believed that everyone in her family had been killed and never found out that her mother and younger sister, Rose, had escaped to America. Poor Lottie died giving birth to a baby boy named Arpad, but many years later, Istvan and Arpad came to the United States and settled down in Cleveland. Istvan raised his son to be Jewish in loving memory of Lottie, and Arpad became an architect. Arpad married a woman named Rita, whose family had survived the Holocaust hidden in the Hungarian countryside near Lake Balaton. When Arpad and Rita had a baby girl, they named her Charlotte—just like me!

  Our “new” cousin Charlotte and her parents are planning to visit us at Hanukkah. Nana Rose will fly up from Florida, and we will have a big family reunion. Mom has made arrangements with the people who run the Connecticut Helping Home for Seniors in Greenfield so we can go together to see our other cousin, Nathan Kulka. I will play a Mozart piece on my violin, and we will bring him apple strudel and potato latkes.

  There is only one part of the mystery that I was not able to solve, and it might have gotten even bigger: Who was Johann Schmidt and why did Cousin Nathan have a pendant with the inscription JS on the back that matched the inscription on Lottie’s Star of David necklace? Cousin Charlotte didn’t recognize Johann’s name, but even stranger, it turns out that her grandfather, Lottie’s beloved husband, Istvan, left her a pendant when he died with the same inscription on the back—JS! She will bring this along at Hanukkah to show me.

  I still wonder: Was Johann Schmidt Lottie’s first boyfriend—or could he be another long-lost relative? I will not give up until someday I can figure out this last mystery in our family.

  Charlie hit Print on her laptop and set it aside with a contented sigh. Then, with a happy grin, she texted Sarah: PROJECT DONE!! Thanks for all your help!

  Sarah messaged back with a long line of xo’s: Let’s have a sleepover soon to celebrate!! I want to hear about your new cousins!

  * * *

  —

  The following Saturday, Charlie carefully took the photograph of Lottie with her violin down from her bulletin board. A few days ago, after she’d turned in her report, Dad had given her a silver picture frame.

  “Early bat mitzvah gift,” Dad said with a hug.

  Now Charlie unwrapped the frame and set Lottie’s photo inside. The silver made Lottie’s dark hair shine. Charlie placed the photograph on her shelf next to a new picture of Arpad and Cousin Charlotte that Rita Bartos had sent. Arpad was tall, with a strong, square jaw and jet-black hair. Cousin Charlotte had short, curly brown hair and the same mischievous smile as Lottie, Charlie thought.

 
She pulled out her phone to text Sarah: When should we have our sleepover?

  A minute later, the phone rang, and Charlie put it to her ear without looking. “Hi, Sarah, can you come here next weekend?”

  “Um—this is Devin, actually.”

  “Oh!” Charlie’s cheeks flared red; she was super glad he couldn’t see her.

  “I was just wondering…I wanted to know if you were still planning to do pit orchestra for the musical. The auditions are Tuesday.”

  “Oh, gosh, I completely forgot!” Charlie exclaimed.

  “That’s okay.” Devin coughed into the phone. “It sounds like maybe you’re not exactly interested?”

  “Oh—no,” Charlie quickly replied. “I mean, I am, yeah—I am totally interested. Definitely!”

  “The auditions are right after school. Do you maybe want to hang out afterward?”

  “Cool. Sure.” She grinned and twirled on her toes.

  “Sweet. See you then.” Devin hung up.

  Charlie was just about to text Sarah, Hannah, and Amy when the doorbell rang. “Hey, Jake!” she yelled into the hallway. “Can you go downstairs and see who’s at the door?”

  The bell rang again and then a third time. Charlie stuck her phone in her pocket and ran downstairs. Through the window she could see the mailman lugging an oversized box back to his truck.

  “I’m here!” Charlie opened the door wide.

  “Oh, hello—it’s the musician.” The mailman smiled and returned with the large box and a clipboard for her to sign.

  “What’s this?” Charlie asked. The box stood nearly halfway to her chin.

  “I don’t know,” the mailman replied, “but it’s stamped ‘fragile,’ and it’s heavy, so there must be something important inside for you.”

  “This is for me?” It wasn’t a holiday or Charlie’s birthday; she couldn’t imagine who would be sending her a gift.

  She turned the box over and dragged it into the front hall. Her name and address were printed on the label, and in the lower corner, she noticed a short note: We all agreed this should be yours.