Millions of Pebbles

by Roberta Kagan

  One night, Gretchen had a dream. In the dream, Eli came to her. He spoke clearly in his soft voice telling her that she must search for Benjamin Rabinowitz. And if she finds him it is only right that she return Moishe to his father. She felt Eli’s hand warm on her shoulder, and she knew that the time had come.

  CHAPTER 67

  Summer Berlin, Germany 1947

  Gretchen held the paper in her trembling fingers. Anatole was playing on the floor. She faced away from him so he could not see her expression as she opened the letter.

  "Benjamin Rabinowitz

  Last known phone number and address:

  Phone: 212-588-4268

  357 Delancey Street, Apartment 415

  New York, New York, United States of America"

  According to this letter, Moishe’s father was alive. The very thought of it made her feel dizzy.

  She forced herself to pick up the telephone receiver and held it tightly for a moment. It felt cold in her hand. If I dial this number, my life will change. And I’ve been through so many changes, so much loss. I could hang up this phone and hide this number, and then things would go on as before. What would happen if I never told Anatole the truth? What if he never knew anything about his past? Only Rebecca, her husband, Jan, and I know his real identity. And if I asked Rebecca to keep it all a secret she would do as I ask. She loves me that much. Even though she knows it’s wrong, she will do whatever I ask. But do I love Anatole as much as I claim to? What is love? Is love keeping someone with you and forsaking their happiness for your own? Can real love ever be built on lies? If I lie to Anatole, won’t there always be something between us, keeping us apart, keeping us from ever being really close? Gretchen’s fingers trembled but she dialed the number. The phone rang. It was an strange and empty sound. Probably because I am calling America, she thought. Three times it rang. Then an operator answered.

  “What number are you calling?” she asked in perfect English.

  Gretchen spoke English well enough to understand the question. She responded, "212-588-4268."

  “I’m sorry, that number is not in service at this time. Please be sure you’re calling the correct number.”

  “Not in service? What does this mean?”

  “The number is not working, ma'am. I’m sorry.”

  “Not working?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t have that information. I’m sorry. Please be sure you are calling the correct number,” the operator repeated, sounding more like a machine than a person.

  “Thank you,” Gretchen said, placing the receiver back in its cradle. For a few moments she breathed a sigh of relief, then she shook her head. I would like to let this all disappear. After all, I did try to call. So when Anatole grows up, I could say that I tried to find his father. And it would be true. I did try but not hard enough. I love that child, and the truth is I owe it to him to go to New York and find Benjamin Rabinowitz. Even though it is very expensive to go to America, I must find a way to get the money.

  Again, Gretchen picked up the telephone receiver. This time she dialed the number Rebecca had given her in Poland.

  Rebecca answered on the first ring, “Hello?”

  “Rebecca, it’s Gretchen,” she said. “I don’t know if you can help me or not. But . . . I need to borrow some money. It’s very important. And to make matters even worse, I don’t know how I am ever going to pay it back to you.”

  “Don’t worry. Jan and I have some money saved. It’s yours.”

  CHAPTER 68

  At first Anatole was very frightened by the ocean liner they boarded to America. He hid behind Gretchen whenever anyone tried to talk to either of them. After a couple of days at sea, he was dizzy and vomiting. Gretchen had told him nothing more except they were on their way to America for an adventure. That, she decided, was enough information at this point for a ten-year-old boy. He had not wanted to go. His first reaction was fear. It was always that way with Anatole. It seemed he was afraid of everything. But to soothe his nerves, she told him stories about the brave American soldiers who had helped to defeat the Nazis. This seemed to calm him, and he agreed to go. Gretchen knew that he was a nervous child. He had a bad habit of pulling out tufts of his hair and biting his nails to the quick. It broke her heart. But she understood him. Anatole had been through so much in his young life that he was always afraid that something bad was about to happen.

  On his first day of school, he’d broken out in hives and vomited twice on the walk there. Gretchen didn’t know what she was going to do. But he’d finally adjusted and for that she was grateful. But he still hadn’t made any friends, and sometimes she found him crying alone in his room. “The other children at school hate me,” he said. “They are mean to me. Promise me that you’ll never leave me, Auntie Gretchen.” Even though they had been together for several years, he still asked her at least once a week if she was ever going to leave him. She’d never promised that she would be with him forever because she wasn’t sure if he would be going to live with his father some day. But whenever he asked, she told him she loved him, rubbed his back, and read to him. And somehow that seemed to calm him. But since she was not sure what she was going to find at the end of her journey, she didn’t want him to agonize over the outcome.

  Even though she had an address, it was still possible that Benjamin Rabinowitz was not there anymore, or even worse that he had somehow perished. The less Anatole knew about Gretchen’s plans, the better. If it turned out they were unable to find his father, then they would return to Germany without Anatole ever knowing the reason for the trip until he grew older. If they did find Benjamin, there was always the possibility that he might not want the child. He may have started a new life, have a wife, or even another child. In that case, Gretchen would take Anatole home and raise him with all the love in her heart. But then there was always the possibility that Anatole’s father would want to be reunited with his son. In that case, Gretchen would have to allow him to take the boy. She would have to find the courage to say goodbye. And that was her greatest fear.

  They arrived in the New York harbor on a hot and dusty Monday afternoon in the middle of August. Gretchen held Anatole’s hand as they walked through the park to the train station where they would catch the train into the Jewish section of the city. Anatole followed obediently, but he was trembling.

  “It’s exciting, isn’t it? To be here in America?” She tried to sound optimistic.

  “Yes,” the boy lied. She knew him well enough to know he was lying. Then in a soft voice he whispered, “I wish we could go home to our apartment in Germany. I don’t want to be here.”

  “Anatole,” she said, crouching down so that she could be at eye level with him. “You have so much to see and do in your life. You can’t let your fear keep you from living.”

  “Auntie Gretchen . . .” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “If I had my choice, I would never go to school. I would never leave the house. You and I would stay at home together, safe, safe from all the bad people who hurt other people. We would never, ever leave.”

  “Anatole,” she said, shaking her head, trying to keep the tears from forming in her eyes. “That’s not living. That’s existing. Living is getting out and being a part of the world.”

  “I hate the world. I hate the things that can happen in the world,” he said.

  “But good things can happen too.”

  “I don’t believe you. Good things never happen. Only terrible things.”

  Have I made a mistake bringing him here? Should I have never searched for his father? Am I setting him up for another awful experience? I am so confused; what is the right thing to do? I wish I knew.

  Gretchen and Anatole took the subway into a heavily populated section of Manhattan that was filled with immigrants, noise, and tenements. They checked into a cheap hotel. Gretchen needed a good night's sleep before making her way to the address on Delancey Street that
could change everything in her life.

  After they checked into the hotel, Gretchen helped Anatole select clean clothes to change into for dinner, then she changed as well. “After dinner, we can take a walk around the city before it gets dark. Would you like that?”

  Anatole shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a big city, and I don’t understand the language. I’m a little afraid, Auntie Gretchen. We could just go back upstairs to our room.”

  “Don’t be afraid,” she said, smiling at him and taking his hand in both of hers.

  In the small café next to the hotel, Anatole huddled in his chair, moving it as close to Gretchen as possible as they waited for their bread and soup. He kept his eyes glued to her face. For the first few minutes neither of them said anything, then Anatole asked “Auntie Gretchen, please tell me the truth. Why are we here? Why did we come to this strange country?”

  “I already told you. We came for an exciting adventure.” She tried to muster a sincere smile.

  The waitress, a pencil-thin woman slightly hunched over, with shoe-polish black hair, set two bowls of soup and two glasses of water, along with two hunks of heavy bread down on the table. “Do you need anything else?” she asked Gretchen.

  “This should be fine,” Gretchen said, “Thank you.”

  After the waitress left, Gretchen handed Anatole his napkin. “Please put this on your lap,” she said, gently reminding him of the manners she’d taught him.

  Anatole did as he was told, then he turned to Gretchen. From his expression, she couldn’t tell if he was angry or just frustrated, but he blurted out, “That’s what you said every time I asked you why we left Berlin when we were on the boat. You said we were on an adventure. But I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that we have come halfway across the world to have an adventure. I know how difficult it is for you to earn enough money for us to pay the rent. I’m not blind. I see you struggle to pay the bills each month. I am young, but I am not stupid, I know that this trip must have cost a lot of money. So there’s got to be a good reason why we came all the way here. Please, Auntie Gretchen . . . tell me. I have to know the truth. Is it about my mom and dad? Are they here? Are we going to see them?”

  Gretchen sucked her breath in and swallowed hard. She looked away from Anatole. He thinks we have come here to America to meet with Hilde and Axel. He still believes they were his real parents. I know he’s only ten, but he is very mature for his age. Pain and hardship will do that I suppose. And to make things even harder for the poor child, I know that soon I am going to have to tell him the truth. I’ve been avoiding it; it’s such a horrible truth, but he must know. He must know before tomorrow because tomorrow we might actually meet with his real father. I think it’s best that I tell him the truth about everything now. Eli, if only you were here to help me. You were always so wise. You would know what words to say to this child to somehow make sense of his terrible and confusing life. But you are not here. Hitler took you away from me. He took everything that I held dear. You and my father, and now he might even take Anatole. At least I have found Rebecca again. She is like my sister, and if I find Benjamin Rabinowitz, she will be the only family I have left. “Anatole.” Gretchen swallowed hard and then said as firmly as she could, “I’ve changed my mind about taking a walk tonight. As soon as you’ve finished your dinner, we should go up to our room. I want to talk to you. I have to tell you something important.”

  Chapter 69

  “Moishe Rabinowitz? My name is Moishe Rabinowitz? I don’t remember anyone named Lila. You say my real mother’s name is Lila?” Anatole said.

  “Yes.” Gretchen nodded.

  “And Hilde and Axel weren’t my parents; they were Nazi guards?”

  Again Gretchen nodded.

  “My real mother and father were Jewish?”

  “I know all of this is hard for you to grasp. And . . . I don’t know if I did the right thing by bringing you here, but I didn’t want you to grow up and not know the truth. You deserve to meet your father if he is alive.”

  “I’m frightened, Auntie Gretchen. As you were telling me everything I remembered having dreams of a woman, a blonde woman, with hair the same color as mine. In the dream she and I were in a forest. I remember that she held me close to her. She sang to me. I am either imagining it, or maybe it wasn’t a dream. Maybe it really happened, and she was my real mother.”

  “I don’t know anything about your real mother except that she died in Ravensbrück. I never saw her.”

  He lay his head on Gretchen’s shoulder. She felt his tears wet the sleeve of her blouse. “I’m so sorry that I have to be the one to tell you all of this.”

  “I am glad you did,” he said, sounding far older than his ten years.

  “Do you want to go and meet your father?”

  “Yes. I’m a little afraid, but I want to meet him. I want to know everything,” he said. “You’ll be there with me . . .”

  “Of course I will be with you. I am assuming he probably works during the day, so we will go tomorrow evening after dinner.”

  “What if he wants me to stay with him? Will I have to?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What if I don’t want to? What if I want to go home with you?” his voice was strained with panic.

  “Then you’ll tell him as much, and I’ll try to arrange for a way that you can live with me but keep in contact with him. I honestly don’t know what is going to happen.”

  Moishe’s face was wet with tears, but he nodded. And when he did, his beautiful golden hair caught rays of light from the small lamp on the table.

  CHAPTER 70

  Every Tuesday at four in the afternoon when Ben finished work for the day, he met Atara in the city for a quick dinner. Then they went back to her apartment to play cards. Lately, they’d begun to kiss deeper and longer. They had not made love, but they cuddled. The closeness that had begun to develop between Ben and Atara gave Ben a sense of security. For the first time in a very long time, he felt a small amount of joy. It was not as if things would ever be right in his world, he had too many memories that kept him awake at night, but his deepening friendship with Atara had brightened his life if only a little.

  As he did every Tuesday night, Ben stopped at the florist and picked up a small bouquet. Then he went to the café where he met Atara. She was waiting for him at their regular booth. When she saw him she smiled.

  “How was work today?” she asked.

  “It was work.”

  They both laughed.

  After dinner they went back to her flat and played a few hands of cards. When they kissed, Ben took his glasses out of the breast pocket of his shirt and laid them on the coffee table. He didn’t need them for everyday use. He only needed them for cutting diamonds.

  They kissed, and he held her tightly. “You’ve filled my life,” he said.

  She smiled. “You’ve filled mine too, Ben. Would you like to come into the bedroom?” She’d prepared the previous week by etching a series of numbers into her forearm with a dark blue fountain pen.

  He nodded. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman in that way. He longed not only for the release but for the intimacy of sharing himself with another person.

  Atara led him into the bedroom. She took off the pearls she wore around her neck. They were the same pearls that Hilde had coveted all those years ago and the only piece of jewelry she still owned. The rest she’d had to sacrifice for her escape. Five thousand dollars. That was all she had to her name. It was a nice sum, but it would not last forever. Ben is the kind of man who would work hard to support a wife. Once he finishes his apprenticeship as a diamond cutter, he should make a nice living. And even though he is a Jew, he would be a good husband to me. I could count on him to support me. There was deep sincerity in Ben’s dark eyes as he stared at her. He was so serious that it made her want to laugh. She controlled the impulse.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this? I don’t want you to feel rushed,” Ben said
.

  She nodded.

  “I want you to know that I’ll wait as long as you need me to. I like you very much, and I am hoping our friendship will develop to something even deeper than it has. I am not saying that I don’t want to make love to you. What man wouldn’t? You are beautiful, and it’s been a very long time since I have been in the presence of a beautiful woman. But I want you to feel sure that this is what you want to do. You are very important to me, and I want you to know that there is no hurry for this.”

  “You sound reluctant,” she said, cocking her head.

  “I’m just . . . oh, I don’t know . . . I’m just trying to let you know that your feelings are very important to me.”

  She kissed him and unbuttoned her blouse.

  CHAPTER 71

  Neither Gretchen nor Moishe had much of an appetite that Tuesday evening as they sat at the same café and ordered the same soup as they did the night before. After a half hour, Gretchen looked across the table at Moishe. He was playing with his food.

  “Are you ready?”

  “I think so,” he said.

  He is so old for his age. Hitler made old men out of adolescent boys. It hurts my heart to look at him sitting there. He’s so afraid to face the truth.

  “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I want to give you the option to leave now if you want to.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Auntie Gretchen. If he is really my father and he is still alive, I think I should meet him. But then, I am really scared, and I would rather get on the next boat back to Germany without ever knowing him. I am not sure of what to do.”

  “I have thought about all of that too. But I am afraid that later, when you are older, you will wish we would have gone to see him. And then, well, who knows . . . it could be too late.”