While We’re Far Apart

by Lynn Austin

  She stood outside for a moment, breathing fresh air, trying to decide whether to go back to Eddie’s apartment or to her parents’ duplex, where Esther and Peter were. She decided on the apartment. Her mother would smell the cigarette smoke on her clothes and have a conniption fit if she knew Penny had gone to a USO dance wearing makeup and floozy shoes.

  She thought of Roy as she boarded the bus back to Eddie’s neighborhood, wondering how his New Year’s Eve with Sally was turning out. He had given Sally a ring for Christmas. They were officially engaged now, and Roy had been walking on air ever since.

  “I only have a twenty-four hour pass for New Year’s Eve,” he had told Penny, “and I’m not sure if I can get a bus ticket with all the holiday crowds, but I’m going home to see Sally if I have to walk all the way to Pennsylvania.”

  “Don’t the buses and trains give special preference to servicemen?” she had asked. “You won’t really have to walk, will you?”

  “I don’t know – but I’m not even going to sleep the entire time I’m home. I want to get the most out of my pass.” Penny had laughed and wished him well.

  Now she got off the bus at her usual stop and picked her way carefully along the icy sidewalks in her high heels. As she came up the front walk to Eddie’s apartment building, she noticed the outside door to the building was open and a set of keys dangled from the door lock. She hurried up the porch steps and found Mr. Mendel collapsed on the stairs in the foyer as if he could go no farther. His face looked very pale against his dark beard and clothing, with blue hollows beneath his eyes.

  “Mr. Mendel, are you okay?”

  “I think so . . . in a minute . . .” He wheezed whenever he exhaled, as if he had run all the way home. “I felt a little dizzy when I came in from my walk. I needed to sit down.”

  Penny removed his keys and closed the front door to keep out the cold air. “Should I call a doctor?”

  “No, thank you. I will be fine.”

  “Are you sure? You want me to help you into your apartment?”

  “Yes. That would be good.”

  She used his keys to unlock his apartment door, then offered him her arm. “Here, let me help you up. Move slowly, though, and don’t try to stand up too fast. You can lean on me.”

  He shuffled across the foyer, leaning against Penny. When he reached the doorway he paused for a moment to touch his fingers to his lips, then touched a little metal box on the doorpost. Penny helped him take off his coat and lower himself into the nearest chair. “Can I get you some water or maybe a cup of tea?”

  “You need not bother. I will be fine in a moment.”

  “It’s no bother, really.”

  “Well . . . maybe a little water.”

  She went into his kitchen, found a glass, and filled it with water. When she spotted a kettle sitting on the stove she decided to fill it with water and light the gas burner before returning to the living room. “Here,” she said, handing him the water. “I’m heating water for tea in case you change your mind. It might help you warm up.”

  He sipped the water, pausing to cough a few times. He had taken off his hat but wore a small, round skullcap beneath it. “Are you sure you’re feeling better?” she asked after a moment. “I would be glad to call a doctor.”

  “I will be fine.”

  Penny didn’t believe him. He still looked very pale, and even though his breathing had slowed, he wheezed with every breath. She decided to stay with him for a few minutes. “It sounds like you caught a cold. It’s freezing outside tonight.”

  “Yes, it is cold out. But ever since I breathed too much smoke on the night of the fire, I’ve had trouble with my chest.” He paused to cough again.

  “You should stay inside in weather like this.” Penny sounded more like her mother than she cared to admit. “If you ever need anything from the store, the kids and I would be happy to get it for you.”

  “It is not only the weather, I am sorry to say. I got upset tonight and lost my temper. My heart began to race and I am sure that my blood pressure went up, making everything worse.”

  Penny sat down on the sofa, waiting for him to explain. Maybe it would help if he had someone to talk to. And she wanted to make sure he was all right, still thinking he needed a doctor.

  “I have been doing a bit of detective work,” he said. “I have not told the children because I do not want to worry them, but the police suspect me of starting the fire in the shul.”

  “Wait a minute . . . didn’t you go inside that night and try to save something?”

  “Yes, the Torah scrolls. Nevertheless, they believe that I started the fire. I often see the two detectives who accused me hanging around outside, watching me for no reason. They do it to let me know that they still think I am guilty. I must clear my name, so tonight I went to the Italian grocery store on the next block to talk to the clerk, to see if she remembered that I bought groceries there that night. She said the store is always very busy, so many customers, and she did not recall seeing me. I became upset with her. How many Jewish men, looking as I do, have come into the shop on a Friday night, our Sabbath? Surely she must remember. When I raised my voice, the manager came.” Mr. Mendel looked down at the floor, shaking his head. “Now she will tell the two detectives that I have a bad temper.”

  Penny’s heart went out to him. She didn’t know what to say. He looked up at her again after a moment and said, “I think the water is boiling in the kitchen.”

  Penny heard it, too. She stood. “Tell me where you keep the tea, and I’ll make some for us.”

  “You should not bother. I should not keep you here, listening to a tired old man. You look so pretty, all dressed up. Are you going out somewhere special tonight? It is New Year’s Eve, yes?”

  “I’ve already been out. I was coming home for the night when I saw you in the foyer.”

  “So early? It is not yet nine o’clock.”

  “I know. It’s a long story, but the evening didn’t go very well. I was about to go upstairs and have a cup of tea and go to bed. The year will change to 1944 whether I stay up until midnight or not.”

  Mr. Mendel braced his hands on the arms of his chair and stood. He was no longer as pale as he had been. “Come, then,” he said. “We will have our tea together.”

  He led the way into the kitchen, spooned leaves into a teapot, and poured in the boiling water. Penny sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and slipped her arms from the sleeves of her coat, letting it hang from the back of her chair.

  “Tea leaves are hard to come by these days, yes?” he asked.

  “I can hardly find them anymore. But it’s such a treat to have a cup now and then.”

  “I suppose they must come from a part of the world where there is fighting – and which part of the world is not fighting? Then there is the problem of getting the tea here to America when all of the ships are needed for the war. And so a simple cup of tea becomes a luxury.”

  He sat down at the table across from her, waiting for the tea to steep. After everything Penny’s father had told her about Jewish people, she knew she shouldn’t be here in this apartment, sipping tea with this man, but she didn’t feel at all afraid of Mr. Mendel. He seemed very kind and trustworthy, certainly not a horrid “bogeyman” as her father believed all Jews to be. Perhaps it was her father who shouldn’t be trusted – the man who had lied to her all these years, never telling her that she was adopted.

  “I suppose I will not be welcome in the Italian grocery store anymore,” Mr. Mendel said with a small smile. “Not after creating such a fuss.”

  “No one can blame you for being upset, especially with the police suspecting you like that. Isn’t there any other way to prove you didn’t start the fire?”

  “There was another witness from that night who I have been trying to find. A young man saw me going in through the front door that evening to save the scrolls, after the fire was already burning. As I unlocked the door, he called to me from across the street and said no
t to go in but to wait for the fire department. If I could find that person, he could tell the police that I had the bag in my hand at the time, after the fire was already burning. The bag could not contain a can of kerosene, as they insist. Every evening I take a walk through the neighborhood and look for the man who called out to me. I remember that he was about your age, very tall and thin, with thick, wavy black hair and a square chin. He could help to clear my name.”

  Penny hesitated as she watched him pour the tea into two cups, then decided to say what she was thinking. “Most men who are my age are in the military, Mr. Mendel.”

  He looked up at her in surprise, then closed his eyes. “Yes, of course. I did not think of that. He surely must be gone by now.” Mr. Mendel looked so discouraged that Penny regretted mentioning it.

  “I can help you keep an eye out for him. I ride the bus through this neighborhood every day going to and from work. You shouldn’t go out walking in such cold weather.”

  “Thank you. But as you say, the young man is probably long gone. Where are the children, by the way? Your apartment looked dark when I came home.”

  “They’re with their grandmother until Sunday. Eddie arranged it so that I would have some weekends off once in a while. I was supposed go out and have fun tonight since New Year’s Eve fell on a Friday, but it didn’t work out.”

  “It seems we are both having a bad night, yes?” He smiled faintly. “Would you like to tell me about your sad evening? You were kind enough to listen to mine.”

  “I went with a friend to a USO dance. I don’t have any experience with dances and things like that, much less with men. My parents were very strict and never allowed me out on my own. But I went tonight because a friend talked me into it, and the dance hall was filled with servicemen from all over the country. There were so many men there, and a couple of them were trying to dance with me and flirt with me, but I just wanted to get out of there. Besides, I’m not interested in having a boyfriend, because I’m in love with – ” She stopped, wondering if she should tell him. Would he let the cat out of the bag and tell Esther and Peter?

  But Mr. Mendel didn’t wait for her to decide. “You are in love with the children’s father, yes?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because there is no other reason why a pretty young woman like yourself would sacrifice all of her free time to care for two rather ungrateful children unless love was involved somewhere in the equation. I have noticed how Esther treats you – like a servant rather than a friend – and so it cannot be because of your love for her. I also noticed how nice you looked on the night that Ed Shaffer came home, and how you fussed over the dinner you were making. I cooked your roast in my oven, remember?”

  Penny smiled in spite of herself. “You make a very good detective, Mr. Mendel.”

  “I admire you for taking on the task of caring for a home and children who are not your own. That is very unselfish of you. I hope that their father comes home safely from the war, for everyone’s sake.”

  “Me too.” She had finished her tea and Mr. Mendel appeared to be well again. There was no reason to stay. “I guess I should go,” she said, rising to her feet.

  “Thank you for helping me.” He stood, and as he walked with her to the door, she noticed the little brass box again.

  “What is that for?” she asked.

  “It is a reminder of Hashem’s commands. In His Torah it says that we must write His law on our doorposts so we will remember to obey them when we go out into the world and when we come into our homes again. There is a little scroll inside each box with words from His Law on them.”

  She thought of the soldiers she had met tonight, drinking too much and pressuring her to go with them. She remembered how her married friend had danced and flirted with other men. “We could all use a little reminder of God’s laws,” she said. “Happy New Year, Mr. Mendel.”

  “Yes. Let us hope it is a happy one – for the world’s sake.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Budapest, Hungary

  Dear Mother and Father Mendel,

  This is your daughter-in-law, Sarah Rivkah, writing this letter to you. Avraham asked me to keep writing to you the way he used to do so that after the war you will know what has become of us.

  I am sorry to tell you that something terrible has happened. Avraham has been taken away. We were celebrating Shabbat two nights ago and Aunt Hannah had just said the blessing over the candles when a troop of Hungarian policemen burst into our apartment building. They went door to door to every household and gathered up every man they could find. No one had a chance to escape or hide. They took Avraham and Uncle Baruch and all but the very weakest men from our Jewish neighborhood for their slave labor force.

  Of course we pleaded with them not to take our men. How will we survive? Some of the wives even offered the police a bribe if they would allow their husbands to stay. The police took the bribes – and the husbands, as well. They assured us that the men will be allowed to rejoin their families after Hungary is victorious in the war, but it seems more and more that the war will never end.

  Avraham and Uncle Baruch barely had time to gather their coats and a few belongings and kiss us good-bye before they were marched away. Avi gave me instructions to write this letter to you so you would know what happened. His last words were “Good-bye, Sarah. I love you. May Hashem protect you and Fredeleh.”

  We hear such terrible stories of what these forced labor camps are like and so it is hard not to worry. The men who are assigned to work outdoors, repairing roads or digging in the mines, suffer from the cold. Many of them lack warm coats and proper shoes, not to mention enough food to eat. Most of those basic supplies are being sent to the soldiers fighting on the front lines. Some men will end up working in factories in Germany, and we are told that the Allies have begun to bomb those factories. I despair of ever seeing Avraham again.

  We are left with only women now in our apartment in Budapest – Aunt Hannah and her sister, two of her cousins, my mother, Fredeleh, and me. We often go hungry because it is so hard to get enough food to eat, and we often huddle beneath blankets in front of the fireplace when that is the only heat we have. It breaks my heart to hear Fredeleh crying because she is hungry or cold, but at least we are still safe. When I think of what poor Avraham must be suffering in a forced labor camp, I know that I should not complain.

  It has been a long time since we received a letter from anyone in our family back home in the village, so we have no idea how they are doing. Before the police came, I asked Avraham if we should try to go back to the countryside and stay with them. Maybe we would be safer there, maybe we would have more food to eat. But even as they were taking Avi away, he told me that it is better for –Fredeleh and me to remain here in the city.

  Avi has shown me the Christian orphanage where we can hide Fredeleh, and also the packet of papers that I must leave with her. But now that my husband is gone, I cannot bear to be separated from my daughter, as well. She is all that I have left. Avi says Hashem will show me when it is time to hide her with the Christians. He told me to trust Hashem, but I confess that I sometimes find that very difficult to do, especially after all the suffering I have seen during this war, all the unanswered prayers. Avi’s faith is much stronger than mine, and now that we are separated, I don’t know how I will be able to stay strong. He told me that it is fine to yell and plead and cry out to Hashem whenever I need to. He said I can talk to Him about everything that I fear. Avi also said I should recite from the book of Tehillim whenever I am afraid, and so that is what I try to do. I think that the authors must have suffered as we do, because the words they wrote are so close to my own thoughts:

  “I cried out to Hashem for help; I cried out to Hashem to hear me . . . Has His unfailing love vanished forever? Has His promise failed for all time? . . .

  Then I thought . . . I will remember the deeds of Hashem; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago . . .”

  I hope that you a
re praying for us, Mother and Father Mendel. May Hashem bring us all together one day in joy.

  Love,

  your daughter-in-law, Sarah Rivkah,

  and granddaughter, Fredeleh

  CHAPTER 27

  FEBRUARY 1944

  THE OVERHEATED STUDY ROOM where Jacob sat reminded him of the beit midrash in his own shul in Brooklyn – before the fire destroyed it, that is. Black-clothed men of various ages and ethnic backgrounds, rabbis and laymen like himself, sat at wooden tables and in straight-backed chairs usually occupied by young Torah students.

  Jacob had traveled to Manhattan by bus and subway through the cold and snow of a dreary February day to attend this meeting with Rebbe Grunfeld. And as he’d listened to the mixture of good and discouraging news, Jacob thought of the candles he and the children had lit for Hanukkah and the prayers he had dared to utter for the first time in more than a year. He had been afraid to believe for a miracle as he’d commuted here from Brooklyn, but the fact that officials from the State Department finally had agreed to meet with Jewish leaders and work with them seemed like a small miracle in itself.

  Jacob listened as one of the men from Washington read a copy of the personal report that President Roosevelt’s advisors had submitted to him in early January: “ ‘One of the greatest crimes in history, the slaughter of the Jewish people in Europe, is continuing unabated,’ ” the report began. It detailed examples of procrastination, misrepresentation, and the suppression of facts on the part of U.S. government officials. And it accused some people in the State Department of deliberately interfering with rescue efforts, fueled by anti-Semitism. The report had called for immediate action on the president’s part to remedy the situation. And President Roosevelt had done so.