The Sweetness of Forgetting (30 page)

“And you were there for her,” I say. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Yeah, well, say you’ll spot me a cup of coffee on my way to the porch repair job I’m doing at Joe Sullivan’s place tomorrow,” he says. “And we’ll be even.”

I laugh at this. “Yeah, sure, a cup of coffee is definitely equal to taking care of my daughter and helping reunite my family.”

Gavin looks at me for a long time, so intently that my heart
starts thudding. “I did those things because I wanted to help,” he says.

“Why?” I ask, realizing before I can stop myself that I sound rude and ungrateful.

He stares at me again and shrugs. “Stop selling yourself short, Hope,” he says. And with that, he’s gone. I watch him get into his old Wrangler and wave to Annie as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Mom, we have to find Jacob Levy,” Annie announces the next morning when she and Alain show up at the bakery together, arms linked. Concerned that he was overexerting himself, I’d suggested that Alain sleep in, but he and Annie have been inseparable since meeting at the hospital the night before, so I should have suspected that she’d bring him to the bakery with her. “Alain told me all about him,” she adds proudly.

“Annie, honey,” I say, glancing at Alain, who is rolling up his sleeves and glancing around the kitchen, “we don’t even know if Jacob is still alive.”

“But what if he
is,
Mom?” Annie asks, her voice taking on a desperate edge. “What if he’s out there somewhere and he’s been looking for Mamie all these years? What if he could come here, and that would make her wake up?”

“Sweetheart, that’s unlikely.”

Annie glowers at me. “C’mon, Mom! Don’t you believe in love?”

I sigh. “I believe in chocolate,” I say, nodding to the
pains au chocolat
waiting to go into the oven, “and I believe that if I don’t pick up the pace here, we’re not going to be ready to open at six.”

“What
ever,
” Annie grumbles. She puts on a pair of pot holders and slides the chocolate croissants into the oven. She sets the timer and then turns around to roll her eyes at Alain. “See? I told you she’s mean in the morning.”

Alain chuckles. “I do not think your mother is being unkind,
my dear,” he says. “I think she’s trying to be realistic. And also perhaps to change the subject.”

“Why are you changing the subject, Mom?” Annie demands, putting her hands on her hips.

“Because I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” I tell her. “There’s a huge chance Jacob Levy isn’t even alive. And even if he
is,
there’s no guarantee we’ll find him.”

There’s also no guarantee that he has waited around for my grandmother all these years. I don’t want to tell Annie that even if we do somehow miraculously locate him, he’ll probably be married to wife number four or something. He most likely moved on from Mamie seventy years ago. That’s what men do. Besides, it appears my grandmother wasted no time in moving on from him.

Alain is looking closely at me, and I avert my gaze, because I have the uneasy feeling he can read exactly what I’m thinking. “Can I help you with anything, Hope?” he asks after a pause. “I used to work in my grandparents’ bakery when I was a boy.”

I smile. “Annie can show you how to prep the batter for the blueberry muffins,” I say. “But don’t feel like you have to help. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“I didn’t say that you were not,” Alain says. I raise an eyebrow at him, but he has already turned around to let Annie help him tie on an apron.

“So, like, if Mamie was so in love with Jacob, how come she married my great-grandpa?” Annie asks Alain once he turns back around. He grabs a bag of sugar and the flat of plump blueberries that Annie has pulled out of the refrigerator. “She couldn’t have loved him too, right?” Annie adds. “Not if Jacob was her one true love.”

I roll my eyes, but truth be told, I wish I still believed in the concept of one true love too. Alain seems to be considering the question as he pulls out a big bowl and a wooden spoon and begins mixing sugar and flour. I watch as he measures in salt and
baking powder. Annie hands him four eggs, and he sets to work cracking them in.

“There are all different kinds of love in this world, Annie,” he says finally. He glances at me and then back at my daughter. “I have no doubt that your great-grandmother loved your great-grandfather too.”

Annie stares at him. “What do you mean? If Mamie was in love with Jacob, how could she also, like, be in love with my great-grandpa?”

Alain shrugs and adds some milk and sour cream to the bowl. He mixes vigorously with the wooden spoon, and then Annie helps him fold in the blueberries. “Some kinds of love are more powerful than others,” Alain finally replies. “It doesn’t mean they aren’t all real. Some loves are the kind we try to make fit but are never quite right.” He glances at me, and I look away.

“Others are the loves between good people who admire each other’s souls and grow to love each other over time,” he continues.

“Is that what you think Mamie and my great-grandpa had?” Annie asks.

Alain begins carefully lining muffin tins. “Perhaps,” he says. “I do not know. There is also, Annie, the love that all of us have the chance to have, but that few of us are wise enough to see or brave enough to seize. That’s the kind of love that can change a life.”

“Is that how Jacob and Mamie loved each other?” Annie asks.

“I believe it is,” Alain says.

“But what do you mean you have to be wise enough to see it?” Annie asks.

Alain glances at me again, and I pretend to be busy filling a tray full of miniature Star Pies. My fingers shake a little as I form the lattice crusts into star shapes.

“I mean that love is all around us,” Alain says. “But the older we get, the more confusing it becomes. The more times we’ve
been hurt, the harder it is to see love right in front of us, or to accept love into our hearts and truly believe in it. And if you cannot accept love, or cannot bring yourself to believe in it, you can never really feel it.”

Annie looks confused. “So you mean Mamie and Jacob fell in love because they were young?”

“No, I believe your great-grandmother and Jacob fell in love because they were meant for each other,” Alain replies. “And because they did not run from it. They were not scared of it. They did not let their own fears get in the way. Many people in this world never fall in love that way, because their hearts are already closed, and they do not even know it.”

I slide a tray of Star Pies into the smaller oven on the left and wince as I carelessly smash my hand against the oven door. I curse under my breath and set the timer.

“Mom?” Annie asks. “Did you love Dad that way?”

“Sure I did,” I say quickly, without looking at her. I don’t want to tell her that if she hadn’t been conceived, I never would have married her father. It wasn’t a love for him that made me create a family; it was a love for the life growing inside me.

But what had Mamie been thinking when she met my grandfather? She’d believed, apparently, that she’d already lost Jacob, and somewhere along the way, she’d lost the child she was carrying. Her life must have felt tremendously empty. Had loneliness driven her into the arms of my grandfather? How had she been able to lie beside him at night, knowing that she’d already had—and lost—the love of her life?

“So how come you got a divorce then?” Annie asks. “If you loved Dad like that?”

“Sometimes, things change,” I reply.

“Not Mamie and Jacob,” Annie says confidently. “I bet they always loved each other. I bet they still love each other.”

In that moment, I feel terrible sadness for my grandfather, a kind, warm man who was endlessly devoted to his family. I wonder
whether he realized that his wife had apparently given her heart away long before she met him.

I look up to see Alain gazing at me thoughtfully. “It’s never too late to find true love,” he says, locking eyes with me. “You just have to keep your heart open.”

“Yeah, well,” I say, “some of us just don’t get that lucky.”

Alain nods slowly. “Or sometimes, we
are
that lucky, and we are too frightened to see it.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh yes, there are men coming out of the woodwork, wanting to woo me.”

Annie glances at me and then at Alain. “She’s right. No one asks her out. Except Matt Hines, but he’s, like, weird.”

I can feel myself blushing, and I clear my throat. “Okay, Annie,” I say brusquely. “Let’s get moving. I need you to prep the strudel, okay?”

“Whatever,” she mutters.

Our open goes better than I’d expected that morning; with Alain’s help, we’re ready for customers by six. Gavin comes in at about six forty, but the shop is busy, so we hardly have a chance to talk as I hand him his coffee, thank him again for his help, and wish him a good day on the job at Joe Sullivan’s place.

Alain stays with me when Annie heads off to school, and after the morning rush is over, and I’ve tersely answered questions from a dozen nosy customers about where I’d vanished to for the last three days, we’re alone in the bakery.

“Whew!” Alain explains. “You do a good business, my dear.”

I shrug. “It could be better.”

“Perhaps,” Alain says. “But I think you should be thankful for what you do have.”

What I
do
have is a situation of mounting debt and a mortgage that will soon be yanked out from under me, leaving me without a business. But I don’t tell him that; no reason to burden Alain with my problems. I’d imagine they pale in comparison to
the worries of his lifetime anyhow. It makes me feel as if there must be something terribly wrong with me if I get so easily overwhelmed by the little things.

The day flies by, and Annie arrives after school with a big stack of papers in her hand.

“When are we going to see Mamie?” she asks as she hugs Alain hello.

“Just as soon as we close up,” I tell her. “Why don’t you get started on the dishes in the back? We might be able to close a little early today.”

Annie frowns. “Can you do the dishes? I have some phone calls I gotta make.”

I stop pulling slices of baklava from the display case and frown at her. “Phone calls?”

Annie holds out the sheaf of papers she’s been clutching and rolls her eyes. “To Jacob Levy. Duh.”

My eyes widen. “You found Jacob Levy?”

“Yeah,” Annie says. She looks down. “Well, okay, so I found a whole lot of people named Jacob Levy. And, like, that doesn’t even count the ones who are listed as J. Levy. But I’m gonna call them all until we find the right one.”

I sigh. “Annie, honey . . .” I begin.

“Stop, Mom!” she snaps. “Don’t be negative. You’re always negative! I’m going to find him. And you can’t stop me.”

I open and close my mouth helplessly. I hope she’s right, but it looks like she has hundreds of numbers in front of her. It’s no wonder; I’m sure Jacob Levy is a very common name.

“So? Can I use the phone in the back?”

I pause and nod. “Yeah. As long as they’re all U.S. numbers.”

Annie grins and skips into the kitchen.

Alain smiles at me and rises to follow her. “I miss being young and hopeful,” he says. “Don’t you?”

He disappears into the kitchen behind my daughter, and I’m left standing there, feeling like Ebenezer Scrooge. When had I
stopped being young and hopeful? I hadn’t been trying to rain on Annie’s parade; I simply want to help her manage her expectations. Expecting good things leads to getting hurt, I’ve found.

I sigh and go back to packaging the bakery items in airtight cases for freezing overnight. The baklava I’d made late this morning will last another couple of days, the muffins and cookies will freeze, and I should be able to recycle at least one of the strudels tomorrow morning. Our homemade doughnuts stay fresh for only a day, which is why I usually make only one variety each morning; today’s sugar-cinnamon doughnuts are nearly gone, and the remaining three will likely wind up in my daily pickup basket for the women’s shelter if I don’t have another customer in the next few minutes.

I can hear Annie in the next room chattering away into the phone, probably asking person after person whether they know a Jacob Levy who came from France after World War II. In between calls, I can hear Alain murmuring to her, and I wonder what he’s saying. Is he telling her stories of Jacob to keep her inspired? Or is he being responsible and reminding her that this might be an impossible task and that she shouldn’t get her hopes up?