The Silver Cord: The Lily Lockwood Series: Book Two

by Alison Caiola

  ‘When the train finally arrived, the men pushed us all into a railroad car. It was so crowded, with hundreds of men, women, and children cramped together in a small space.

  They locked us in and there was no food or water or air. The smell became so bad—there was no bathroom so people ended up soiling themselves. It was extremely hot and I felt sick to my stomach. I could not stop weeping and my Papa held me close and said,

  ‘My Shana Maidela, my Chaya Ruchel, Papa is with you. I will take care of you always.’ We sat like that for what seemed to be an eternity. The train finally stopped and we all got out. There was a big sign on the entrance gate that said Arbeit Macht Frei, a lie which means Work Makes You Free. We had arrived at Aushwitz.

  They separated the men and women into two lines. I screamed ‘Papa don’t leave me. Papa stay with me.’ I was shocked to see that my big, strong Papa was weeping. I had never seen Papa cry in my whole life. That was the last time my Mama and I saw him.’

  Robbie smiled and wiped his eyes, “By this time, tears were streaming down my Bubby’s face. She took a deep breath and continued her story.

  “‘During the years I was in the camp it was a horrible place, where we worked very hard and had almost no food to eat. Everyone was hungry and thirsty; we had lice; and many became ill and died. Oy, so many of our friends were killed, you shouldn’t know from such things.

  Every day I thought of the young boy David who had called himself my bashert. Every night, after I said my prayers, I would try to remember how it felt when David kissed my hand and walked me to school every morning. Then I would put my hand on my heart as if to touch the silver cord that was still tied to it. I imagined that David—far, far, away and safe from the Nazis— had the other end of the silver cord tied securely to his heart. I never felt the bond was severed. I always felt connected. Before I closed my eyes every night, I would imagine I was able to follow the silver cord for miles and miles until I came to the other end, which was firmly tied to David’s heart. I would then whisper into the darkness, ‘My bashert, my bashert, where are you? Please find me, please save me.’

  Robbie leaned over and wiped away the tears that were dripping down Lily’s face,

  “ Bubby covered her eyes with her hands as if to block out the horrible events that were forever burned into her memory and, like the numbers that had been branded on to her arm, could never be erased. With her hands still covering her eyes she continued telling me her story.

  “‘One day they took my Mama away from me and I never saw her again. So there I was, Tatela, all alone, an orphan in hell. Not long after, the Americans came and set us free. So with nowhere to go, no family at all, hundreds of us walked.

  One day we stopped by a small river to wash our faces and dip our hands into the clean water and drink. It was then that I heard ‘Chaya Ruchel, Chaya Ruchel.’ I turned around, wondering who was calling my name. I saw a very tall teenage boy, his head was shaved just like mine and he was so skinny he looked like a lanky bag of bones.

  He said ‘Chaya Ruchel, don’t you know who I am? It’s me, David Rosen. I have been searching for you, for so long.’ He took my hand—no longer smooth and pretty—and placed it on his chest. ‘There is a silver cord tied from my heart to yours that can never be severed. Chaya Ruchel you are the love of my life.’

  Later that night, I remember thanking God, The Almighty, for allowing the silver cord to remain intact and for helping my bashert find me once again. And, Tatela, my bashert and I were together for the rest of his life.’

  Robbie got up and stoked the fire, “I looked at my Grandmother and asked if the silver cord was still tied, even though my Grandpa had died so many years ago. She wiped her eyes and smiled at me.”

  ‘Yes, it is still tied. But now that your Grandpa is in heaven, the silver cord has had to stretch many more miles then it ever had to before. When I join my bashert in heaven, and we are once again side-by side, the silver cord will become small once again.’”

  Robbie walked over to Lily, wiped away her tears, and leaned in to kiss her, “So that is the love story of Chaya Ruchel and David.”

  The timer rang and Robbie left the living room to put his Bubby’s brisket into the oven.

  Even years later, as she sat alone in her darkened kitchen, the story brought tears to Lily’s eyes and hope to her heart. She drank the last of her cocoa, closed her eyes and thought of Robbie. Lily put her hand over her heart, where she knew one side of the silver cord was tied; she imagined following it, for miles and miles, until she found the other end of the cord—firmly tied to Robbie’s heart.

  Lily whispered, “My bashert, my bashert, where are you? Please find me, please save me.”

  Chapter 8

  The next few weeks flew by as Lily made a conscious effort to leave Robbie where he belonged—in the past. She and Jamie saw much of each other and had fallen into a new routine. On days when the theater was dark and Lily had time off, they would pack their bags and head east to her farmhouse in the quaint town of Southold, on the North Fork of Long Island.

  The farmhouse is a waterfront property on the beautiful Long Island Sound, a 110-mile-long estuary of the Atlantic Ocean. Only twenty-one miles of its waters separate Long Island on the south and Connecticut to the north. The 1897 farmhouse once proudly sat on a thirty-acre parcel of land. In the late 1940’s, Lily’s Grandparents, Samuel and Rose Edwards, had purchased it and turned it into one of the many potato farms on the North Fork. But little by little, over the years, Grandpa had sold off all the acreage to land developers— except for three acres of beautiful waterfront property. Even though most of the original farmland no longer belonged to the family, everyone still referred to the home as the “farmhouse.” Daisy, who was Sam and Rose’s only child, had inherited it from them, and when Daisy passed away, the three waterfront acres, farmhouse, and a large barn were passed down to Lily.

  Sometimes Daisy Rose’s nanny, Margaret, would accompany them out to the farmhouse, but more often than not, Lily and Jamie wanted privacy and time alone with their daughter. It was during those lazy summer days, while sailing on her boat and swimming in the Sound that the little family bonded. Daisy Rose came to love the water and would whoop and holler and splash about while her parents held her.

  She would lift her arms up to her daddy and scream, “Up, up, Da!” and Jamie would do as the princess commanded and lift her high up on his shoulders. That gesture melted Lily’s heart and was confirmation that she had done the right thing by deciding to allow Jamie back into her life.

  However, it was the times after Daisy Rose fell asleep for the night and Lily and Jamie were alone that the remnants of doubt buzzed around her head, like an annoying house fly that could not be quieted.

  One night, the baby was fast asleep and Jamie and Lily lay naked, making love in the hammock in the back yard. Lily struggled to keep her mind focused on Jamie as his hands caressed her body. She willed herself not to drift off and think of another set of hands—hands that instinctively knew better than anyone where to touch her and how to awaken sensations that had lain dormant before he had entered her life. Frustration and sadness overcame Lily and she gently pushed Jamie away and got up off the hammock.

  “What the hell, Babe? What happened?”

  For a second she thought she might tell him, but she knew that would be unwise. It would open a floodgate that she might never again be able to close. She had to decide either to forget Robbie or make this work with Jamie, or to move on without Jamie. Could anyone ever make her feel the way that Robbie had? What if her time with Robbie was the apex and nothing else—no one else—could ever come close? What kind of life would that be?

  “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. Must be from all the sun today.” Lily lied. Before Jamie could respond, she got dressed, walked down toward the water, and sat down on one of the Adirondack chairs. Jamie sighed and went inside the house. Twenty minutes later he came back, having showered and dressed, holding a bottle of Cabernet an
d two wine glasses. He sat on the chair next to Lily and handed her a glass. She accepted it and he poured. They sat in silence, listening to the waves and looking up at the star-filled sky.

  Jamie finished his first glass of wine, poured himself another, and while still looking straight ahead toward the water, said, “I was just thinking about the night you held that memorial service after your mother died. The tent was over there, right?” He pointed to the field left of where they were seated.

  After the terrible car crash, her mother had passed away from the results of a traumatic brain injury. Lily, Donna, and her mother’s friend Theresa had decided that instead of having a traditional funeral, they would honor Daisy by having a black-tie memorial fundraiser with proceeds to benefit the Brain Injury Association. The guest list read like a Who’s Who of both the literary and entertainment industries. Daisy’s dear friends paid tribute to her as one after another walked onstage and told heartfelt, emotional, and often funny stories about their beloved friend.

  The guests danced the night away beneath the crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling of the draped, tufted-silk tent that had been handcrafted by sixth-generation New England sail makers. Daisy would have been proud and honored to know they had raised more than $100,000 in her name for the worthy organization.

  Lily and Jamie were already broken up by that time. However, since Harvey, the producer of the movie Jamie was currently filming, and his wife Mitzi had bought a table at the event, which cost them over $5,000, they invited Jamie. They were smart enough not to invite Natalie, Jamie’s curvaceous co-star.

  “Whatever happened to that guy you introduced everyone to, that night, as your brother. You know the one who was in the accident with Daisy. The guy she gave up for adoption when she was a teenager? What was his name again?”

  Lily shrugged nonchalantly and closed her eyes. “His name is David and I haven’t seen him since that night.” Lily thought about David and the terrible events that resulted in his and his brother, Robbie, coming to fisticuffs that night. It was the last time she had seen either one of them.

  She sighed and tears welled up in her eyes. She wiped them before Jamie could notice, “I don’t know what happened to him.” She hoped Jamie wouldn’t push for any more information. But, of course, he did.

  “So tell me again, how did you find out that he was your brother?”

  Lily understood, at that moment, where Jamie was headed with this line of questioning.

  “Jamie, we’ve gone through this before. I already told you everything, way before the baby was born. Don’t you remember” Lily held on to her chair’s wooden armrests so that she wouldn’t give in to the temptation to run far away from Jamie and this conversation.

  “Not really, tell me again.” He turned his chair, ever so slightly, just enough to be able to see Lily’s profile, gently illuminated by the moonlight. “By the way, you knew you were pregnant by that time, right?”

  She tensed up. “Yes, I had just found out. It was a few days after my mother’s accident.”

  “And you didn’t think to call me to let me know I was going to be a father, right?”

  Lily’s cheeks blazed and her heart pounded. “Jamie, is this about before, when we were on the hammock? I told you, I’m just tired. . .”

  He poured himself another glass of wine and smiled. “Not at all, Babe. Finish the story, it’s getting interesting.” He reminded Lily of that mean boy in the playground—the one who caught spiders to torture them by pulling off their legs, one by one, to see how they would react.

  So remind me again, why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”

  Lily had had enough. “You seriously want me to go there, Jamie? Huh? Okay, let’s go there.”

  Lily moved to the edge of her seat and got ready for what was to come. “I didn’t tell you because you were screwing your co-star at the time. I didn’t think you had the urge to climb off her body to talk to your pregnant girlfriend.”

  Jamie laughed. “God, Lily, how many times do I have to tell you that never happened?”

  “Jamie, why do you need to lie about this?” Lily’s face was beet red, “She told me at the party that you and she were planning to fuck around. Then, when you came to visit me, I read the text she sent saying her bed was empty and she missed you.”

  Jamie jumped out of his chair. He was no longer smiling. “And who was in your bed at that time?”

  “In my bed at that time? No one. No one was in my bed.” She sat back down, took a calming breath, and closed her eyes.

  “Bullshit,” Jamie said and stormed into the house.

  Lily was happy to be alone. She thought of her brother David and of the day she first met him. She didn’t know there had been another person in the car at the time of the accident, until she read about it in the news. She found out the ambulance had transported someone named David Rosen to University Hospital. He was badly injured; his arms were broken, his spleen shattered, and his kidneys damaged.

  She was shocked when he told her Daisy had been the mother who had given him up for adoption. For years they had looked for each other. They finally found one another and he flew in from Texas to visit with her. They had a wonderful time together and planned another visit the following month. The accident occurred while she was driving David back to the airport and would ultimately prove fatal for Daisy.

  Lily sat in the dark and thought about her own daughter, asleep in the house. Tears streamed down her face when she thought of what her mother must have gone through having to give up her son. And all those years she searched for him, to no avail.

  Jamie emerged from the house, sat next to Lily, and touched her face.

  “Babe, please don’t cry. I don’t want to fight with you. After you got up out of the hammock, I was upset. I don’t know, I had this feeling that something else—someone else—was on your mind. Then I remembered the night of the memorial gala and the guy you were dancing with all night. You know, the tall guy who walked in with your brother. What was his name? Who was he again?

  “His name is Robbie. He’s David’s brother—the natural son of David’s adoptive parents.

  “I just got jealous thinking about you dancing with that guy all night. He seemed to be holding you a little too close. You really looked as if you were into each other.” Jamie kneeled in front of Lily’s chair and took her hand. “We’ve been doing good, you and me. And having so much fun just being a family. I don’t want to ruin it by being a jerk. I’m really sorry.” He kissed her hand. “Please let’s start again and forget what happened tonight. She nodded and smiled. Jamie kissed Lily and pulled her up to her feet.

  “Come on, let’s get to sleep. We have to get up early in the morning to drive back to the city. Also, remember you told Tommy you were going to deliver the next few chapters of your manuscript to him by end of day tomorrow.” Lily groaned.

  They walked hand in hand, back into the house, where their daughter soundly slept.

  In bed, later that night, Lilly tossed and turned. She had come dangerously close to telling Jamie about her feelings for Robbie. She finally drifted off to sleep, knowing that at least for the time being, she had dodged a bullet.

  Chapter 9

  The bullet whizzed by The Prisoner’s left earlobe. He ducked and the shell barely missed him. The Prisoner didn’t need to look up to see the perpetrator because it no longer mattered to him. A burst of laughter caused him to finally lift his head. He saw that it was a mere child holding the pistol. The little boy had pulled the trigger hoping to prove to the older boys in the group that he too could hit a moving target. When the little boy failed, the older ones mocked him. One of the guards walked over to the boy, grabbed the gun from his hand and chastised him in front of the others. Humiliated, the boy sat on the ground and cried.

  The Prisoner shook his head. The ringing in his ear became a residual byproduct which remained with him the rest of the day— a physical reminder of how little regard there was for life. The
Prisoner understood, all too well, that any moment could very well be his last. After all these months The Prisoner had grown accustomed to it and felt strangely comforted to know that by some twist of fate, he had, at least momentarily, cheated death.

  The Prisoner could not have known he was being kept alive for a specific goal, which soon enough would be revealed. He was oblivious to the fact that the ambush and brutal murder of each of his colleagues were simply ways to capture his attention, heighten his fear, and elicit his gratitude. The men who were holding him captive knew The Prisoner would eventually be so profoundly indebted to them, that he would renounce all that he had known to be ethical and moral—that The Prisoner would, without a moment’s hesitation, relinquish the Hippocratic Oath which he had so proudly sworn to uphold.

  One night, when the guard who called himself Max presented The Prisoner with a wafer thin mattress and box spring, it almost brought him to tears. The following evening when Max returned, he brought with him another gift that helped The Prisoner to forget everything. He felt as if he was floating upon a cloud. The Prisoner had never felt such intense euphoria. From that night on, he lay on his bed, closed his eyes, and waited for Max to appear with another fix. For the next three weeks Max visited, bringing with him the drug that had become The Prisoner’s nightly escape.

  Abruptly Max’s visits stopped and for two days and nights The Prisoner waited for Max and his syringe filled with magic. On the third night, when the hot and cold tremors of withdrawal had rapidly elevated and the core of every muscle in The Prisoner’s body began to ache, the door finally opened and Max walked into the room. He stood for a few moments and looked at The Prisoner who was on the floor in a fetal position, rocking side to side, and moaning in pain.

  Max walked up to The Prisoner, knelt down beside him, and patted him on the leg. The Prisoner, who was bathed in sweat and shivering, weakly held out his left arm. Max took it in his hands, tied an elastic strap around The Prisoner’s bicep, and pulled tight. Then Max ran his finger up and down The Prisoner’s arm, looking for a bulging vein. Max lifted the syringe, punctured The Prisoner’s vein and released its contents into his arm. All pain immediately vanished.