Gingersnap (12 page)

I
t was going to be a hot day. The sun glinted off the kitchen window, turning the panes orange. I fed Theresa, then took her outside to rest in her cage under the tree that was filled with buds.

A plum tree?

Back in the kitchen, I half listened to Elise talking to Mr. Ohland at the table outside, words and half sentences: “Tokyo, Japan … War over this year?”

Early this morning there’d been no time for Elise and me to talk, no more than “Are you all right, Jayna?”

No more than a nod from me.

We’d both smiled and reached out to hug each other.

Now I heard the grinding sound of the wagon coming along the back alley. The door banged open and Millie and Andrew burst into the kitchen.

“Smells like something sweet in here,” Millie said, twirling around the floury table.

“Like strawberries from the bushes outside,” Andrew said in a Lone Ranger voice.

I nodded. “I made a cold soup with them. It has to chill. That’s the hard part. You have to wait and wait, wait forever.”

“Crazy,” Andrew said.

Millie opened the top door of the icebox, leaning in.

“Looks good. I hate to wait. Could I just stick my finger in for a quick taste?”

Her hands didn’t look all that clean.

“Just kidding.” She grinned and waved her fingers at me.

I hated to wait, too.

I pictured Rob walking up Carey Street, his duffel bag over his shoulder. He’d pass the dress shop, the bookstore, and I’d stand outside, waiting until he saw me, really saw me, before I’d run down the block, circling kids playing stickball, crossing the street, calling out, “I’m here, Rob! I’m here.”

Andrew opened the back door again. “Let’s get started.”

I took a last look toward the front of the bakery,
through the open curtain. Elise and Mr. Ohland were outside, heads together at the table. I followed Millie and Andrew out the back door.

Andrew grinned at me as he leaned over Theresa’s cage. “That Jayna is evil as Ma Barker,” he told the turtle in an unfamiliar voice. “But we’ll set you free soon.”

He laughed, and I knew it was a voice I’d heard on the radio. Was it the Shadow?

Theresa stared up at him, unblinking, and I felt my mouth curve up, almost smiling.

Andrew looked up at the sky. “Summer’s here.” He looked at Millie. “And
General Hershey
, the troop ship Dad is coming in on, will dock in New York. It’ll be soon, really soon. We just heard last night.”

Millie grabbed my hands. “We’re all going to meet him. My mother’s been saving the last bit of gas in the car and we’ll be there, waving when he comes in.”

She leaned forward, still holding my hands hard. “I hardly remember what he looks like.”

I squeezed her hands back.

Someday it will be Rob, hurrying up the subway steps
.

Andrew grabbed a hammer and a box of nails from the wagon. He picked up one end of a board. “How about a little help here?”

I rushed over and helped him rest the board against an open space in the fence.

“It looks terrible,” Millie said.

It really did. The board didn’t fit; there were still spaces so you could see the alley beyond it.

“And we haven’t even begun,” Andrew said. “We have to add dozens of boards.”

Elise and Mr. Ohland appeared at the back door. Mr. Ohland walked along the fence, running his hand over the splintery wood. He shook his head. “Not this way. It will never work.”

“But it’s the only way I can figure out,” Andrew said.

“There’s always another way,” Mr. Ohland said in his schoolteacher voice.

I knew Andrew wanted to say,
Which way?
I could see he was bursting with it.

Millie said, “We have only today. We can’t be playing hooky every two minutes.”

Mr. Ohland frowned and looked at his watch. “I suggest the two of you get yourselves to school.”

“We’re a little late for that,” Millie said.

“Never too late,” Mr. Ohland said. “Hurry now.”

They backed away, Andrew shrugging at me, Millie grinning, and left for school.

We went back into the kitchen, Elise, Mr. Ohland, and I, to sit at the table while Elise warmed yesterday’s biscuits and made coffee.

Mr. Ohland reached for a pile of books on the counter. “I brought these for you this morning. History books, stories of our country.”

They were already covered with a fine dusting of flour.

He grinned at me. “You can read while I think about that fence.”

He took a sip from his cup. “Not quite the coffee it was before the war, but still, hot and good.”

I poured coffee for myself and filled it to the top with milk, then began to turn the pages of the book.

Mr. Ohland swallowed his coffee. “The whole fence has to come down,” he said. “We’ll have to begin again. We can always do that.”

Elise nodded. “Yes. We can do that.”

I
t was early the next morning. I was still in bed, finishing one of Mr. Ohland’s books about people exploring the country, traveling down rivers, climbing mountains, fighting over the land.

I went to the open window, where a warm breeze was blowing in. I could see down Carey Street, the tall brownstone houses on each side, all the way to the subway. People hurried down the stairs, taking two at a time; a few were coming up after working a late shift somewhere. I pictured seeing Rob, his duffel bag over his shoulder, alive and safe.

A car horn blared. I opened the window to see a dark Ford coming up the street. Andrew and Millie
leaned out the back window. “We’re bringing our dad home!” they yelled.

“Elise,” I called. “Hurry.”

A moment later Elise stood next to me, our heads out, both of us waving.

As the car passed, I called out to them, “I’m so glad.”

Before there was time for more, we heard a crash from the backyard as Mr. Ohland tore down the fence.

Downstairs I told Theresa, “Take a quick walk, but then it’s back in the cage for now.” I touched her lovely thick shell, ran my finger over her leathery tail. “Hang on, girl. Your garden will be ready before you know it.”

I was happy for Theresa, happy for Millie and Andrew, who had a mother, a father, a sister, a brother.

If only …

Still munching the last of his honey bun, Mr. Ohland cut into my thoughts with the noise of the hammer. I watched him drive nails into the boards as he called over his shoulder, “All right, Jayna, where is Japan? What’s our new president’s name?”

We went back and forth between the sharp bang of the hammer. Where was the Japanese mainland? What was the capital?

I knew everything he asked, and he turned to grin at me. “Not bad, miss.”

All day, we went from the bakery to the kitchen to the garden. Elise baked; I cooked soup. We brought iced tea and gingersnaps out to Mr. Ohland.

That night, Elise and I left the kitchen window wide open as we washed the dishes and slid them into the rack. The buzz and click of the insects was loud, and the smell of the new plants was sweet.

Dinner over, Elise took a walk while I went upstairs to read another of Mr. Ohland’s books. I touched my mother’s initials before I reached my room.

I stopped at my bedroom window, looking down Carey Street. An older man came up from the subway station and a few minutes later, a woman. She struggled with a small suitcase, stopping to rest. No wonder, she was wearing impossibly high heels. She looked one way and then another uncertainly before she came closer.

How familiar she looked.

I rushed out of my room and flew down the stairs to the kitchen. Already I could hear tapping on the glass door in front, first softly, then insistently.

“I’m coming,” I called. “Coming right away.”

She was always impatient. What was she doing here?

It had to be bad news. Terrible news.

I went through the curtain into the bakery remembering.
Hiding in the bedroom closet, the feel of a silk dress between my fingers, the telegram waiting downstairs, Celine as she put her arms around me
.

I opened the door and, in spite of myself, held out my arms. “Celine!”

“Yes,” she said, hugging me.

Whatever the terrible news might be, I was glad to see her, hairpiece askew, a dot of rouge high up on one cheek.

“News of Rob?”

She shook her head. “No.”

I pulled her inside, took her suitcase, and sat her down in a chair at the table. Tomorrow’s soup was in the refrigerator, a soup with bits of broccoli. I warmed it and cut her a thick chunk of bread. “Eat.”

“It was a terrible trip,” she said between spoonfuls. “The bus ride was endless, and the subway rattled along, so crowded I had no place to hang on.”

“Yes, I remember.”

I heard Elise coming back from her walk and called to her. “It’s Celine, our landlady.”

Elise came into the kitchen, smiling. “How lovely to see you.”

“And you’re the grandmother,” Celine said.

Elise smiled. Amazing. She wasn’t one bit bothered about Celine appearing without warning or being called the grandmother. She went to the stove, running her hand over my shoulder as she passed, and poured three cups of coffee. Then she sank into a chair between us, waiting, as I was, for Celine to finish her soup and tell us why she’d come.

At last, the soup and the bread were gone. “The reason I’m here …,” Celine began, and broke off to take a sip of her coffee. “It was my duty.”

Under the table, I felt Elise’s hand reach for mine.

“I know what it’s like to be alone,” Celine said. “And now that Jayna’s brother is gone, I had to be sure …”

Gone
.

I couldn’t breathe.

Elise’s hand was clutching mine so tightly I felt as if my bones were crunching together.

“Gone?” Elise said.

“Well, we haven’t heard anything,” Celine said, “so I had to be sure Jayna is happy here. If not, she can come back with me. Stay forever.” She sounded breathless as she leaned forward to Elise. “She’s a very nice girl, you know.”

Oh, Celine
.

She’d surprised me again.

At last we went upstairs. “We have a cozy room for you,” Elise told her.

I fell into bed thinking of Celine’s words:
I know what it’s like to be alone
.

W
here was the ghost? Would she ever come back? Would she ever tell me what had happened to Rob?

In the morning, the fence was finished, the wood smooth and perfect.

That afternoon, Andrew’s family arrived. We pulled up weeds and Mrs. Smith planted marigolds, daisies, and tomatoes, then herbs for my soups: basil, lemon parsley, dill, and oregano.

Mr. Smith came along carrying a huge bag of cement. He was bent over, so I could see a small bald patch in his brown hair.

“He’s building a wall,” Andrew said, just like the announcer on
Gang Busters
.

“No, it’ll be steps that go from the kitchen to the fence,” Millie guessed.

I knew, but Mr. Smith said it for me. “It’ll be a small pool for the turtle. So let’s dig.” He raised his arms high. “Good to be home. Just smell those pies baking in the kitchen.”

“Hey.” Andrew pointed. Ella, the little pug, was standing in front of Theresa’s cage, staring in, and Theresa had moved to the front, so their noses were almost touching.

“A staring contest,” Andrew said.

“Ah, Ella’s found a family.” Millie wiped dirt off her face.

The bakery bell kept jangling. More people were coming to the bakery now. “Do you think they’re getting used to oleo instead of butter and less sugar in the recipes?” I asked Elise.

“It isn’t that.” Elise shook her head. “It’s the
We have the best soup
sign in the window. People are buying your soup every day.”