The Sweetness of Forgetting (35 page)

“I’m just being realistic.” I watch as she begins sliding crescent moons carefully out of their airtight container. She unwraps each of them from their wax paper and sets them on a display tray.

“I think we have to investigate more if we’re going to find him.”

I arch an eyebrow at her. “Investigate?” I ask carefully.

She nods, missing the note of skepticism in my voice. “Yeah. It’s not working to just call people. We have to, like, try to search some documents or something. Other than the Ellis Island site, because he could have arrived anywhere.”

“What documents?”

Annie glares at me. “
I
don’t know. You’re the adult here. I can’t do everything.” She marches into the front of the bakery with her tray full of crescent moons and comes back a moment later to begin putting defrosted slices of baklava onto slivers of wax paper.

I watch her for a moment. “I just don’t want you to wind up disappointed,” I say to Annie after she’s returned to the kitchen.

She glares at me. “That’s just your way of avoiding stuff,” she says. “You can’t just not do stuff because you might get hurt.” She glances at her watch. “It’s six. I’ll go unlock the front door.”

I nod, watching her again as she goes. I wonder whether she’s right. And if she is, how does she know so much more than I do about life?

I hear her talking to someone a moment later, and I head out
to begin another long day of smiling at customers, pretending that there’s nothing in the world I’d rather be doing than wrapping up pastries for them.

I round the corner from the kitchen and am surprised to see Gavin at the counter, looking over the pastries that are already in the case. He’s dressed more formally than usual, in khakis and a pale blue button-down shirt. Annie is already busy putting slices of baklava into a box for him.

“Hey!” I say. “You’re dressed up today.” The moment the words have left my mouth, I feel silly.

But he just smiles at me and says, “I took the day off; I’m headed up to the nursing home on the North Shore. I’m just getting some pastries to bring to the folks there. They like me better when I arrive with food.”

I laugh. “I bet they like you with or without food.”

Annie sighs heavily, as if to remind us that she’s still there. We both glance at her, and she hands Gavin the bakery box, which she has tied neatly with white ribbon while we were talking.

“So Annie,” Gavin says, turning his attention to her. “How’s it going with your search for Jacob Levy?”

“Not good,” Annie mutters. “No one’s ever heard of him.”

“You’ve been calling the names on your list?”

“Like hundreds of names,” Annie says.

“Hmm,” says Gavin. “I wonder if there’s another way to look for him.”

Annie brightens. “Like what?”

Gavin shrugs. “I don’t know. Do you know his birth date? Maybe there’s a way to search for him online if you have a date of birth.”

Annie nods excitedly. “Yeah, maybe. Good idea.” I expect her to thank him, but instead, I hear her blurt out, “So you’re, like, Jewish?”

“Annie!” I exclaim. “Don’t be impolite.”

“I’m
not,
” she says. “I’m just
asking.
”

I glance at Gavin, and he winks at me, which makes me blush a little. “Yes, Annie, I’m Jewish. How come?”

“I don’t really have any Jewish friends,” she says. “And now that I know I’m, like, Jewish, I was just curious about, you know, Jewishness.”

“It’s called Judaism, not Jewishness,” I tell her. “Besides, you’re not Jewish, Annie. You’re Catholic.”

“I know,” she says. “But I can be both. Mamie’s both.” She turns to Gavin again. “So, like, do you go to Jewish church every week?”

Gavin smiles. “It’s called temple. And I don’t go every week, even though I probably should. Some Fridays, I’m working. And some Fridays, I’m just too busy. That’s not very good, is it?”

Annie shrugs. “I don’t know. We, like, never go to church or anything either.”

“Well, I was planning to go to temple tomorrow,” he continues. “You’re welcome to come with me, Annie, if you’re curious. If it’s okay with your mom.”

Annie looks at me excitedly. “Can I go, Mom?”

I hesitate and glance at Gavin. “Are you sure?” I ask him.

“Absolutely,” he says. “I always go by myself. It’d be nice to have the company. I actually go to a synagogue in Hyannis. If you’re going to visit your grandmother tomorrow, I can swing by and pick Annie up at the hospital at the end of visiting hours.”

Annie is grinning at me, and I shrug. “It’s fine by me,” I say. “As long as you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Gavin says. “I’ll come by tomorrow evening. Okay?”

“Cool,” Annie says. “Thanks. It’ll be cool to be, like, two religions at the same time.”

I stare at her for a minute. “What did you say?”

She looks embarrassed. “I just mean it’s, like, another side of me, you know?” She pauses and rolls her eyes when I don’t say anything. “God, Mom, I know I’m Catholic. Don’t freak out.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s not what I meant. I mean you just gave me another idea for how we might find Jacob.”

“How?” Annie asks. She and Gavin are looking at me curiously.

“Interfaith organizations,” I say slowly. “If Jacob trusted a Christian friend to bring the love of his life to a Muslim mosque during the war, he’s obviously someone who respects other religions, right?”

Gavin is nodding, but Annie looks confused. “So what?” she asks.

“So what if he came to the States and carried on that tradition?” I say. “What if he’s part of an interfaith organization somewhere?”

“What do you mean?” Annie asks.

Gavin answers for me. “I think your mother is saying that maybe Jacob joined one of those organizations where people work together for understanding between the religions,” he says. “Kind of like the way people from different religions worked together in Paris to help save your great-grandma.”

Annie looks unconvinced. “I don’t know,” she says. “Sounds kinda dumb. But I guess it’s worth a try.”

“I’ll call some interfaith organizations today,” I tell Annie.

“And I’ll try calling some synagogues,” Gavin says. “You guys try to find out Jacob’s birth date, okay?”

Annie and I nod. Gavin thanks Annie politely for the pastries, smiles at me, and then turns to go.

“Give me a call if you find out anything, okay?” Gavin says as he heads for the door. “See you two tomorrow!”

“Bye!” Annie chirps, waving at him.

“Bye,” I echo. “Drive safely,” I add. He smiles once more, turns, and leaves the bakery.

“He’s so nice,” Annie says once he’s gone.

“Yeah,” I agree. I clear my throat and go back to setting up for the day. “He is.”

Annie is spending the night at Rob’s, and since it’s been a slow day, I text her and tell her that she doesn’t need to bother coming in after school; I can clean up myself this afternoon. She calls me from her dad’s house after she gets off the bus and tells me excitedly that he’s left a note for her saying it’ll just be the two of them that night and asking whether he can take her out to a special dinner.

“That’s great, honey,” I say. I’m glad; it sounds like Rob is making an effort to make her feel important. Maybe my words the other day meant something after all.

“When you go to the hospital, can you tell Mamie I said hi and that I’ll be there tomorrow?” Annie asks. “In case she can hear you?”

“Of course, sweetie,” I tell her.

I pick up Alain at home after I close, and we chat the whole way to the hospital. I’m realizing how very much I like having him around; he fits nicely into our life. Some days, he helps out around the bakery; other days he spends at Mamie’s bedside; and on days like today, he stays home and surprises me by doing things around the house. I returned a few days ago to find all the framed artwork in my attic hung up on the walls; today, I returned to find my pantry and freezer, which both had been virtually empty, cleared out and restocked with new groceries.

“It is the least I can do,” Alain said when I’d confronted him in disbelief. “It is nothing. I took a taxi to the supermarket.”

At the hospital, at Mamie’s bedside, Alain holds my hand as we both sit with Mamie. He murmurs to her for a while in French, and as promised, I deliver Annie’s message, although I don’t believe that Mamie can hear me through the fog of her coma. I know that Alain and Annie both believe that she’s still in there, but I’m not so sure. I keep this feeling to myself.

I find myself thinking about Gavin while Alain whispers to
Mamie, and I’m not entirely sure why. I think it’s just because he’s been so helpful, and I’m feeling more alone than ever.

Alain eventually settles back in his chair, apparently done with whatever story he was telling. Mamie continues to sleep, her narrow chest slowly moving up and down.

“She looks so peaceful,” Alain says. “As if she is somewhere happier than here.”

I nod, blinking back the sudden tears in my eyes. She
does
look at peace, but this just reinforces my idea that she’s already gone, which makes me want to cry. “Alain,” I say after a moment, “I don’t suppose you know Jacob’s date of birth, do you?”

Alain smiles and shakes his head, and for a moment, I think he’s indicating that he doesn’t. But then he says, “As a matter of fact, I do. Rose and I met him for the first time the evening before his sixteenth birthday.”

I lean forward eagerly. “When?”

“Christmas Eve, 1940.” Alain closes his eyes and smiles. “Rose and I were walking through the Jardin du Luxembourg. She had brought me with her to visit a friend in the Latin Quarter, and we were in a hurry to get home before curfew; the Germans insisted on everyone in Paris being home with their blackout curtains drawn.

“But Rose always loved the garden, and we were passing nearby on our way across the sixth arrondissement, so she suggested we walk across,” Alain continues. “We went, as we always did, to see her favorite statue in the park, the Statue of Liberty.”

“The Statue of Liberty?” I repeat.

He smiles. “The original model used by Auguste Bartholdi, the artist. Another stands in the middle of the Seine, not far from the Eiffel Tower. Your statue, the one in the harbor of New York, was given to the United States by France, you know.”

“I remember that from school,” I say. “I just didn’t know there were similar statues in France.”

Alain nods. “The statue in the Luxembourg Garden was
Rose’s favorite when we were young, and on that evening, when we arrived at the statue, it had just begun to snow. The flakes were so tiny and light, it was like we were in a snow globe. Everything was very still and peaceful, even though we were at war. In that moment, the world felt magical.”

His voice trails off, and he looks at Mamie. He reaches out to touch her cheek, where so many years of life without him are etched across her face.

“It was not until we drew close to the statue,” he continues after a long pause, “that we realized we were not alone. There was a boy with dark hair and a dark coat standing just across. He turned as we were just a few feet away, and Rose stopped instantly, as if she’d lost her breath.

“But the boy didn’t approach us, and we did not approach him,” Alain continues. “They just stared at each other for a very long time, until finally I tugged on Rose’s hand and said, ‘Why did we stop?’ ”

Alain pauses for a moment to gather himself. He glances at Mamie and then settles back in his seat.

“Rose bent down and said to me, ‘We stopped because it is very important for you to understand that the place where the real Statue of Liberty stands is a place where people can be free,’” Alain says, a dreamy look in his eye. “I did not understand what she was saying. She looked me in the eye and said, ‘In the United States, religion does not define anyone. They only look at it as a piece of you. And no one is judged for it. I will go there someday, Alain, and I will bring you with me.’

“That was before the days of the worst Jewish restrictions. Rose, she was very knowledgeable, and so I believe she already knew of the Jews being persecuted elsewhere. She saw the problems coming, even if our parents did not. But I, at the age of nine, did not see what religion had to do with anything.

“Before I had a chance to ask her, the boy approached us. He’d been staring at us all along, and I could see, as Rose straightened
up to talk to him, that her cheeks had gone very red. I asked her, ‘Why is your face so red, Rose? Are you getting sick?’ ”

He laughs at the memory and shakes his head. “This only made her turn redder. But the boy, his cheeks were red too. He looked at Rose for a long time, and then he bent down to my eye level and said, ‘Your friend here is right, monsieur. In the United States, people can be free. I am going there someday too.’ I made a face at him and said, ‘She’s not my friend! She’s my sister!’

“They both had a good laugh over that,” Alain continues, smiling faintly. “And then they began to talk, and it was as if I was not there anymore. I had never seen my sister like that before; the way she gazed into his eyes, it was as if she wanted to disappear into them. Finally, the boy turned to me again and said, ‘Little monsieur, my name is Jacob Levy. And what is yours?’ I told him I was Alain Picard, and my sister was Rose Picard, and he looked at her again and murmured, ‘I think that is the most beautiful name I have ever heard.’