The Sweetness of Forgetting (29 page)

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“I should have guessed that she was with child,” Alain says. “It explains why she left us. That never made sense to me. It would not have been in her nature to run and leave us behind. She would have stayed to try to persuade us, to try to protect us, even if it meant risking her own life.”

“But she believed it was more important to protect the baby,” I murmur.

Alain nods. “And it was. She was right. That is what it means to be a parent, is it not? I think it was the same with my parents. They truly thought that following the rules would protect us all. Who could have known that their best intention would lead where it did?”

I shake my head, too sad to speak. I can’t imagine the feeling of horror my great-grandmother must have felt when Danielle and David were torn from her. Had she been able to stay with the oldest, Helene, after they separated the men and the women? Had she lived long enough to suffer the anguish of realizing that all her children had been lost? Had my great-grandfather regretted not listening to his daughter’s words of warning? What would it feel like as a parent to realize too late that you’d made a terrible, irreversible mistake and that your children were going to die for it?

I stare out the window for a long moment and turn back to Alain. “Maybe my grandmother couldn’t care for the baby. Maybe the baby was born and she put it up for adoption.” I don’t really believe the words, but it feels better to say them.

“Impossible, I think,” Alain says. He frowns. “If the baby was a piece of her and Jacob, I cannot imagine there is any way she would have parted with the child.” He looks at me sideways and adds, “You are absolutely certain there is no chance the baby was your mother?” he asks.

I shake my head. “When my mother died a couple of years ago, I had to get her estate in order,” I say. “I remember looking
at her birth certificate. It clearly said 1944. Plus, she looked a lot like my grandfather.”

Alain sighs. “The baby must have died, then.”

I look away. I can’t imagine anything sadder. “But to think she would get pregnant again so soon after . . .” I add, my voice trailing off. I can’t understand that piece of the puzzle.

“That is not as unusual as it sounds,” Alain says softly. He sighs again and turns to look out the window. “After the war, many Shoah survivors married and tried to have babies right away, even the ones who were malnourished and had no money.”

I look at Alain, surprised. “But why would they do that?”

“To create life when everything around them was death,” he says simply. “To be a part of a family again, after they’d lost everyone they’d ever loved. By the time Rose met your grandfather, she must have thought that all of us, including Jacob, were dead, and if she had lost the baby too, she must have felt very, very alone. Maybe she just wanted to create a family so that she’d have a place in the world again.”

It takes an eternity to get our bags, get through customs, and retrieve my car from the parking garage, but eventually, we’re on our way to the Cape. We’re out of Boston just before rush hour hits, and as we hurtle south on Route 3, I take my chances, weaving in and out of traffic at twenty miles over the speed limit.

I call Annie on the way, and this time, she answers. Her voice sounds hollow, but she tells me she’s at the hospital, and that there hasn’t been any change in Mamie’s condition.

“Is your dad with you?” I ask.

“No,” she says without elaborating.

I can feel my blood pressure rising. “Where is he?”

“Don’t know,” she says. “Maybe at his office.”

“Did you ask him to go with you to the hospital?”

Annie hesitates. “He was here earlier. But he had to leave to get some work done.”

It physically hurts my heart to hear her say that. I want nothing more than to protect my daughter, and it seems that the last place in the world I should be looking for potential harm is from her other parent.

“I’m sorry, honey,” I say. “I’m sure your dad must be very busy. But he should have stayed with you.”

“It’s fine,” Annie mumbles. “Gavin’s here.”

My heart lurches. “Again?”

“Yeah. He called to see if I was okay. And I told him Dad had left. I didn’t ask him to come, but he just came.”

“Oh,” I say.

“You wanna talk to him?”

I’m about to say yes, but I realize we’ll be there in an hour. “Just tell him I said hi. And thank you. We’ll be there soon.”

Annie is silent for a minute. “Who’s
we
? You got a boyfriend now too or something?”

I laugh despite myself. “No,” I say. I glance at Alain, who’s watching Pembroke roll by outside his window. “But I do have a surprise for you.”

An hour later, we’re in Hyannis, hurrying through the sliding front doors of Cape Cod Hospital. The nurse at the front desk directs us to the third floor, and I see Annie sitting in the waiting room, her head hung low. Beside her, Gavin is flipping through a magazine. They both look up at the same time.

“Mom!” Annie exclaims, apparently forgetting for a moment that she’s recently become too cool to greet me with enthusiasm. She jumps up from her chair and hugs me. Gavin gives me a little wave and a crooked half smile. I mouth
thank you
over Annie’s head.

Annie finally pulls back and notices Alain for the first time. He’s standing beside me, frozen to the spot, staring at her.

“Hi,” Annie says. She reaches out her hand. “I’m Annie. Who are you?”

Alain shakes her hand slowly, then opens and closes his mouth
without saying anything. I put a hand on his back, smile at my daughter, and say gently, “Annie, this is Mamie’s brother. He’s your great-great uncle.”

Annie looks up at me with wide eyes. “Mamie’s brother?” She looks back at Alain. “You’re really Mamie’s brother?”

Alain nods, and this time, he finds words. “You look so familiar, my dear,” he says.

Annie looks at me, and then back at Alain. “Do I, like, look like Mamie looked when she was my age?”

Alain shakes his head slowly. “Perhaps a little. But that is not who you resemble.”

“Is it someone named Leona?” Annie asks eagerly. “’Cause Mamie keeps calling me that.”

Alain furrows his brow and shakes his head. “I do not think I know a Leona.”

Annie frowns, and I look up to realize Gavin has crossed the room and is standing a few steps behind my daughter. For a split second, I have a powerful urge to throw my arms around him, but I blink and take a step back instead. “Gavin,” I say, “this is Alain. My grandmother’s brother. Alain, this is Gavin.” I pause, and as an afterthought, I add, “My friend.”

Gavin’s eyes are wide. He reaches out and shakes Alain’s hand. “I can’t believe you and Hope found each other,” Gavin says.

Alain glances at me and then back at Gavin. “I understand that she had some help and encouragement from you, young man.”

Gavin shrugs and looks away. “No, sir. She did it on her own. I just told her a few things I knew about Holocaust research.”

“Do not take away the importance of what you did,” Alain says. “You helped reunite our family.” He blinks a few times and asks Gavin, “Can we see her now? My sister?”

Gavin hesitates. “Technically, visiting hours are over. But I know a few of the nurses here. Let me see what I can do.”

I watch as Gavin approaches a pretty blonde nurse who looks like she’s in her early twenties. She laughs and twirls her hair while she talks to him. I’m surprised to realize that watching them together makes me feel a little jealous. I blink a few times, turn away, and put a hand on Alain’s arm.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “You must be exhausted.”

He nods. “I just need to see Rose.”

Annie launches into a rapid-fire series of questions—“When did you last see Mamie?” “How come you thought she died?” “How did you escape those Nazis?” “What happened to your parents?”—which Alain answers patiently. As Annie bends her head toward his and continues to babble excitedly, I smile.

After a moment, Gavin returns and puts a hand on my arm, and as he does, a strange jolt of something shoots through me. I pull away quickly, like I’ve been burned.

Gavin frowns and clears his throat. “I talked to Krista. The nurse. She says she can sneak us back. But only for a few minutes. They’re pretty strict about visiting hours here.”

I nod. “Thank you,” I say. Oddly, I can’t bring myself to thank Krista as she leads the four of us down a narrow hallway, her blonde ponytail bobbing perkily behind her as her narrow hips swish back and forth exaggeratedly. I could swear she’s walking that way for Gavin’s benefit, but he doesn’t seem to notice; he has a hand on Alain’s shoulder and is guiding the older man gently toward a doorway at the end of the hall.

“Five minutes,” Krista whispers as we stop in front of the last door on the right. “Or I’ll get in trouble.”

“Thank you so much,” Gavin says. “I owe you.”

“You can take me out to dinner sometime?” Krista says. The end of the statement rises like a question, and as she bats her eyes at him, she reminds me of a cartoon character. I don’t wait to hear his reply; I tell myself it’s not important. I follow Annie and Alain into the room, and I gasp at the sight of the still figure lying in the hospital bed, seemingly swallowed by a mound of sheets.

Mamie looks tiny, pale, and shrunken, and beside me, I can feel Alain flinch. I want to tell him that the last time I saw her, she didn’t look like this. In fact, I hardly recognize her without her signature burgundy lipstick and kohl eyeliner. But I’m as dumbstruck as he is. We both approach, Annie trailing behind us.

“She looks real bad, doesn’t she?” Annie murmurs. I turn and put my arm around her, and she doesn’t pull away. I put my right hand on top of Mamie’s left hand, which feels cold. She doesn’t move.

“They apparently found her slumped over her desk when she didn’t come down for dinner,” Gavin says softly. I turn and see him standing in the doorway. “They called 911 right away,” he adds.

I nod, too choked up to speak. Beside me, I can feel Annie trembling a little, and I look down to see her blinking back tears. I pull her closer and she wraps both arms around me for a hug. We watch as Alain approaches the bed and kneels down so that his face is even with Mamie’s. He murmurs something to her, and then he reaches out and strokes her face gently. Tears are glistening in his eyes.

“I thought I would never see her again,” he whispers. “It has been nearly seventy years.”

“Is she gonna be okay?” Annie asks Alain. She’s staring at him as if his answer determines everything.

Alain hesitates and nods. “Annie, I do not know. But I can’t believe that God would reunite us, only to take her away without a good-bye. I have to believe there’s a reason in all this.”

Annie nods vigorously. “Me too.”

Before we can say anything more, the perky nurse reappears at the doorway. “Time’s up,” she says. “My supervisor is on her way.”

Gavin and I exchange looks. “Okay,” Gavin says. “Thanks, Krista. We’ll get out of here.” He nods at me, and I slowly lead
Annie away from Mamie. I glance back over my shoulder as I near the door, and I see Alain with his head bent over Mamie’s again. He kisses her on the forehead, and when he turns, there are tears rolling down his face.

“I am sorry,” he says. “This is difficult.”

“I know,” I say. I reach for his hand, and together, Annie, Alain, and I walk out of the room, leaving Mamie behind in the darkness.

Gavin and I part at the doorway to the hospital. He has to work at seven the next morning, and I have to open the bakery. Life has to go on. Annie takes my keys from me, and she and Alain go wait in the car.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” I tell Gavin, looking down at my feet.

“I didn’t do anything,” he says. I look up in time to see him shrug. He smiles at me. “I’m really glad you found Alain.”

“I found him because of you,” I say softly. “And Annie was okay while I was gone because of you.”

He shrugs again. “Nah. I just did what anyone would do.” He pauses and adds, “Maybe this is out of line, but that ex-husband of yours is a real piece of work.”

I swallow hard. “Why do you say that?”

He shakes his head. “He barely seemed concerned about Annie, you know? She was so upset about your grandmother. She really needed someone.”