by Lynn Austin
“And you are well, Penny?”
She nodded, but it wasn’t true. Her eyes filled with tears. He reached across the table and laid his hand on top of hers, saying nothing.
“Sorry. I know you’re worried about your family, too, Mr. Mendel. . . . It’s just that I haven’t gotten a letter from my friend Roy Fuller in a long time now, and I’m really worried about him. He usually writes to me at least once or twice a week.”
“Where is he stationed?”
“Over in the Pacific somewhere. He’s fighting the Japanese. I’m trying not to worry, but the Japanese have these suicide bombers who crash their airplanes into American ships, making them explode and catch on fire. And I read that the Marines are fighting a terrible battle right now in a place called Iwo Jima, and . . . and it’s so hard.”
“I understand.”
They were simple words, but Penny knew that Mr. Mendel, of all people, did understand. She had waited only two and a half months to hear from Roy, while Mr. Mendel had been waiting years for news of his family. He knew the frustration of having loved ones in danger far away and what it was like to be out of touch with no way to reach them. He must have experienced the helpless anger she felt, knowing there was nothing you could do as you waited for news that never came.
“If something has happened to Roy,” she said, “I don’t know how I will ever find out about it. He has a fiancée and a family back home in Pennsylvania who would be notified, but I don’t think they would write and tell me. I mean, Roy and I are good friends, but he may not have mentioned to anyone that he was writing to me. I . . . I just don’t know what to do.”
“I think you already know what my advice will be,” he said quietly. “We should never stop searching for the people we love.”
Penny bit her lip, holding back tears. “I know. And I’m so thankful that you talked me into visiting my real mother. I just wish . . .” She paused to pull a handkerchief from her purse along with one of Hazel’s letters. “I want to show you this, Mr. Mendel. It’s a newspaper clipping that my mother sent me.” She slid it across the table and waited while he unfolded it.
“An obituary?”
“The soldier who died was my real father. He was a career army officer, killed in action in Belgium last December.”
“I am so sorry.”
“I feel sad about him dying, even though I never knew him, because now we never will meet.” Mr. Mendel studied the clipping, but Penny knew every word of it by heart. “It says he had a wife and three children, but that’s not right. He had four children. I guess I’ll never know if he ever thought about me or wanted to meet me. . . .”
Mr. Mendel folded the paper and slid it back to her. “This missing friend of yours – Roy. Where was he from?”
It took Penny a moment to react to the change of topic. “He’s from Moosic, Pennsylvania. I always remembered the name of the town because I thought he said music the first time he told me.”
“Is it far from here?”
“It’s near Scranton, I think. He used to take a bus home whenever he had a weekend off, so it can’t be too far.”
“The regret that you feel for having never met your father is understandable. And regrets are very hard things to live with over a lifetime. You should not pile on more regrets, Penny. You need to search for your friend and find out why he stopped writing to you.”
“But . . . the only way to do that would be to go ask his fiancée or his family.”
“Well, then . . . ?” he asked, spreading his hands.
“I can’t just show up on their doorstep . . . can I?”
“That is what you did when you visited your mother, yes?” Penny nodded. “I believe it would ease your heart if you went and spoke with Roy’s family. And if something has happened to your friend, you could offer your condolences and share your grief with them. One thing I have learned during these past few terrible years is that our grief and sorrow should be shared, not carried alone.”
Penny knew it was true. She had seen how other people had helped Mrs. Shaffer grieve after her son Joe died. And Penny had felt better after sharing the news about her real father with Mr. Mendel just now.
“More tea, Penny?” he asked. She shook her head as she studied her friend. Mr. Mendel had more gray hairs mixed through his hair and beard than he used to have. And he seemed different to her, not merely sad but . . . defeated.
“Won’t you share with me why you’re so sad, Mr. Mendel?”
He stared at the tabletop, not at her. “When the time is right, Penny.” He rose to clear away the tea things and put them in the sink. “Mrs. Fischer told me she is taking the children to a concert on Saturday, yes? I think you should go and visit your friend’s family that day. The truth may be difficult to hear, but believe me, if I could end the suspense of waiting I would gladly do it, no matter how painful the truth may be.”
The following day, Penny checked the bus schedule to Moosic, Pennsylvania. Mr. Mendel had been right when he’d advised her to visit her mother in New Jersey. Now she would take a bus to Moosic and find out about Roy. She had no address for either his family or Sally, and couldn’t even recall Sally’s last name. But she trusted that Moosic was still the small town Roy had described to her, where everyone knew his neighbor. Someone would certainly know Roy’s father, who was the principal of the elementary school.
Penny left very early Saturday morning and rode the bus from Grand Central Station to Scranton. The journey over the steep, snowy mountains of eastern Pennsylvania was beautiful, the forests and the views breathtaking. A year ago, she never would have had the courage to ride so far all alone, especially to visit the home of strangers. Yet here she was, on her way to find out what had become of her friend. Her best friend.
Every time she read one of Roy’s long, chatty letters, it had seemed as though he were sitting right beside her on the bus again, talking to her. She wished Eddie would write letters like that. Eddie’s letters were short and to the point, as if she was his employee instead of his friend. But Roy never failed to make Penny smile, even though he also shared news about the war and about losing friends in battle. And he always asked Penny how she was doing, making it seem as if her boring life really interested him.
She arrived in Scranton at noontime and changed to a local bus for the short trip to Moosic. The little town was nestled among the mountains in coal-mining country. She was starved by the time she got there and stopped to eat a quick lunch at the diner that also served as the village bus station. She wondered if the friendly teenaged waitress had once been one of Roy’s students at the high school. Penny was about to ask, then realized the girl would have been too young for high school when the war began three years ago. Instead, Penny asked the waitress if she knew Mr. Fuller, the elementary school principal.
“Oh, sure. Everyone in town knows Principal Fuller.”
“Do you know where he lives? I’m a friend of his son Roy. I know that Roy is stationed overseas, but I need to talk to his father.” The girl directed Penny to the house, which wasn’t far away. It would take her ten or fifteen minutes to walk there, the waitress said.
As Penny followed the directions, she wondered what it would be like to live in a nice little town like this, far away from the noisy city. It must be wonderful to know all of your neighbors by name and stand outside in your yard and talk to them instead of barricading yourself behind locked doors all your life like her parents had done. If Eddie ever did fall in love with her and asked Penny to marry him, she wondered if he would like to move to a pretty little place like Moosic. She had no idea. She didn’t know what Eddie liked and didn’t like, or what his hopes and dreams were for the future.
She found the house without a problem and walked up the neatly shoveled sidewalk to knock on the door. The man who answered it seemed as wholesome and friendly as Roy was.
“Hi, Mr. Fuller? You don’t know me, but my name is Penny Goodrich. I’m a friend of your son Roy.”
“Come in, Miss Goodrich. It’s much too cold to stand out here.”
“Thank you. I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.”
She stomped the snow off her feet and stepped inside, reminding herself not to babble. She always went on and on whenever she was nervous and never gave the other person a chance to get a word in edgewise. And she was nervous now, no doubt about it.
The house was a little shabby and old-fashioned, but wonderfully warm. Penny unbuttoned her coat but left it on as Mr. Fuller led her into a well-worn living room. “Can I get you some coffee or a cold drink?” he asked.
“No, thanks. I just had lunch at the diner.”
Mr. Fuller gestured to a chair and sat down across from her. “You say you’re a friend of Roy’s?”
Penny nodded. She drew a deep breath, steeling herself for bad news. “I met Roy when he was stationed in Brooklyn at the Navy Yard. That’s where I live. In Brooklyn, I mean, not the Navy Yard. Anyway, Roy and I got to be friends, and he helped me out so many times that I lost count of them all. He told me all about his fiancée, Sally, and I told him all about Eddie, my . . .” She paused, stumbling over the word. “M-my boyfriend.”
“Yes, I remember him talking about a good friend he met in Brooklyn. You two rode the same bus every day, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.” She smiled, surprised that Roy had mentioned her to his father. “Roy and I have been writing to each other ever since he went overseas, but I haven’t gotten a letter from him in more than two months now, and I’ve been very worried. And so . . . and so I came to . . . to find out . . .”
“All the way from Brooklyn.” He said it as a statement, not a question, smiling faintly when he said it. “You must be a very good friend, Miss Goodrich.” Mr. Fuller paused, and Penny realized she was holding her breath as she waited. “Roy was injured in the Battle of Leyte in the Philippines. The Marines sent me a telegram with the news.”
Penny swallowed. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Too soon to tell. He’s in a field hospital somewhere in the Pacific, too sick to be moved home for now. He was severely burned following an explosion. They’re not sure if he will recover his sight.”
“That’s terrible!” But she was relieved to know that he was still alive. “He’s going to live . . . isn’t he? He has to live!”
“The doctors aren’t making any promises. With burns that severe, there is always the risk of infection – and he’s in such a primitive part of the world.”
But Penny felt relieved to know that Roy was alive. The trip had been worth it just to find out that much. She longed to do something more for him so he wouldn’t lose hope. “If I keep writing letters to him, do you think he’ll get them?” she asked.
“I’m sure he will. I can give you his new address.” He got up to copy it for her.
“How is Sally doing?” Penny asked. “She must be so worried about him.”
“I imagine so.” It seemed like an odd thing to say, and Mr. Fuller had looked away when he said it. “She works in the hair salon near the bus station if you’d like to stop by and see her.”
“Thanks. Maybe I will.” Penny stood. She had found out about her friend, and now she faced another long bus ride home. “I’ll be praying for him, Mr. Fuller. And for you, too,” she added when she remembered that he was a widower. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to give you my address, too, so you can let me know if there’s any more news about Roy – or if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“I’d be happy to do that.”
“I should go,” she said after giving it to him.
“So soon? You just got here.”
“I know. But it’s a long ride home again.” She walked with him to the door. “Roy is a good man, Mr. Fuller. You must be very proud of your son.”
“Thank you. I am.”
“And Sally is a very lucky girl.”
Penny retraced her steps to the bus station and easily found the beauty parlor where Sally worked. The salon had a large glass window in front, and Penny could see the beauticians working inside, cutting and styling and shampooing hair. She had her hand on the knob, ready to go inside when she recognized Sally, laughing and smiling as she combed an older woman’s hair. Sally was even prettier in real life than in her pictures.
Suddenly, meeting Sally seemed like a dumb idea. What if Roy hadn’t told her about his good friend in Brooklyn who happened to be a girl? What if Sally didn’t know that the two of them had been writing to each other all these months? Penny would never forgive herself if she did something stupid to break them up, especially after all the trouble Roy had gone through to woo her. Penny knew how much Roy loved Sally.
Don’t be a green bean, she told herself. She turned away from the salon and hurried to the bus station for the long, cold ride home to Brooklyn.
CHAPTER 47
APRIL 1945
ESTHER LAID THE NEWSPAPER she had just purchased on the dining room table and went into the living room to turn on the radio. Spring had finally arrived, and events in the world were happening so rapidly that she had fallen into her old pattern of listening to news broadcasts every morning and night and reading every newspaper she could get her hands on.
Two weeks ago it had been Easter Sunday, and she and Peter had eaten the dinner Penny had prepared at the Goodrich house. Grandma Shaffer had come to church with them and even came next door for Easter dinner, too. The Sunday newspaper had carried huge headlines that day: American Troops on Okinawa. Mr. Goodrich explained that the tiny island was part of Japan, which meant the war was one step closer to being over.
Ten days after Easter, on April 11, Allied soldiers had liberated a Nazi death camp called Buchenwald. Eyewitness descriptions of the horrors they had found appeared in all the newspapers. Esther had gone downstairs to console Mr. Mendel.
“Thank you for thinking of me, Esther,” he had said. “But you must promise me that you will stop reading about these atrocities. If you look at these images, you will never be able to erase them from your mind.”
The very next day, news of President Roosevelt’s sudden death from a brain hemorrhage shocked and stunned the nation. He had seemed like a beloved grandfather to Esther throughout the war, coming into her living room each week to encourage everyone with his fireside chats. And now, just when victory was within sight, the president wouldn’t be here to celebrate it with them.
Esther spread out her latest newspaper on the dining room table. She was scanning the headings, searching for new articles to clip, when a photograph of a burned-out building caught her eye. She had stared at the ruins of the synagogue across the street for so many months before they rebuilt it that she recognized the photograph immediately.
“Hey, Peter, come look! There’s a story in the paper about the fire across the street. The caption says, ‘Trial Set for Man Charged in Synagogue Fire.’ ” Peter and Penny both hurried into the dining room to peer at the picture over Esther’s shoulder. “Did you see this article, Penny? I didn’t know they had arrested someone, did you?”
“No, I haven’t heard anything about it,” Penny said. “I’m surprised Mr. Mendel didn’t mention it.”
Esther read the article out loud to them: “ ‘The trial is set to begin on Monday, April 23, for the man charged with arson in the fire that left a Brooklyn synagogue severely damaged eighteen months ago. Police arrested a former member of Congregation Ohel Moshe last December after two witnesses to the crime came forward. The accused man, Jacob Mendel – ” Esther halted, staring at the name in shock.
Jacob Mendel.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t utter a sound. It couldn’t be true. Someone had made a terrible mistake. As she stared at her friend’s name in disbelief, Esther heard a strangled cry behind her, in her ear.
“Noooo!”
She whirled around. The cry had come from Peter.
“Noooo!” he said again. The harsh sound squeezed from his throat as if ripped out by force. His ent
ire body writhed as if in terrible pain as he tried to squeeze out more words. “He d-d-d-didn’t . . . !”
It took Esther a moment to realize what she’d just heard – Peter was talking! He was talking again after all this time!
“We know he didn’t do it,” Penny said, trying to soothe him. “They’ll find out that he didn’t do it.”
Esther could only stare at her brother. F inally, after all these months, he was no longer silent. But it had taken a terrible catastrophe to bring it about. Mr. Mendel had been arrested!
Peter flailed wildly as he squirmed out of Penny’s arms. He staggered to the front door and thundered down the stairs. Esther heard him pounding on Mr. Mendel’s door as she and Penny hurried after him.
“I s-s-saw . . . !” Peter stammered when Mr. Mendel opened his door. “I-I know!”
“He’s talking,” Esther said in wonder. “Peter’s talking!”
Mr. Mendel held Peter’s shoulders to steady him. “What are you trying to say, son?”
“The f-f-fire . . .”
“We just read about it in the newspaper,” Esther said. “Is it true? Did the police really arrest you?”
Mr. Mendel nodded. “The trial begins on Monday.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Esther cried out. “This is awful!”
“I have been hoping that it could be avoided. My lawyer has been working to get the charges dismissed, but – ”
Peter gripped the front of Mr. Mendel’s shirt. His face turned red with effort as he struggled to say more. “What is it, Peter?” Mr. Mendel asked. “Take your time. It’s okay.”
“You didn’t do it! . . . I know! . . . The f-fire . . . I was there! Jacky did it.”
“Jack Hoffman? He is one of the witnesses who is accusing me.”
Esther recalled Jacky saying that they should tear down the ruined synagogue and make a ball park. And she remembered how he and his brother, Gary, had laughed and splashed in the puddles as they’d watched the building burn. “Why would he accuse you?” she asked Mr. Mendel. “Why would he lie?”
