The Pieces We Keep

by Kristina McMorris

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  She nodded and smiled. “I just feel foolish,” she said, though this was only a partial truth. Foolish didn’t do justice to the stupidity, the hurt, rising in her like a tide. One that in mere hours-at her secret meeting at the cinema-could come crashing down on them all.

  39

  Audra’s apprehension rose as she waited to hear the information Sean had uncovered. At an empty picnic table, he took a seat across from her and set down the manila envelope. For the three-block walk from the apartment, he had carried it close to his side. Jack had rolled along on his scooter, just as he did now around the paved loop of the park, fully in view. The air smelled of bark chips and freshly cut grass.

  “So, here’s the letter I told you about.” Sean pulled out a small envelope, yellowed from age, and handed it over. “It took a little work to remember which box it was in.”

  “I appreciate you doing that,” Audra said.

  The top edge was jagged from being ripped open. No postage. No address. Just a name inked in cursive: Vivian.

  “My grandma’s father was a diplomat,” Sean explained. “He was stationed in England before the war broke out. So I’m pretty sure this was written right before they came home.”

  Bracing herself, Audra unfolded the page from inside, yellowed, too, and wrinkled. She began to read.

  My Dearest Vivian,

  I am writing this letter only hours before departing London. Although I am anxious to see my family and confirm that all is as well as they claim, already I miss you terribly. ...

  Audra paced herself, despite eagerness for any clue that would end her family’s troubles. She felt like a kid again, decoding a secret message from the bottom of a cereal box.

  The author wrote of traveling to settle “personal affairs,” on what sounded a tenuous journey, and urged Vivian to evacuate in the event he failed to return. He vowed to reunite with her one way or another and described his necklace as proof of that promise.

  He signed the letter:

  Yours for eternity,

  Isaak

  “Audra? You all right?” From Sean’s tone, she wondered how long she had been staring at the page.

  “I’m ... yeah. I’m fine. It’s ...”

  Nearby, Jack zipped past the swing set, riding another lap on a runway of sunlight. Over on the jungle gym, girls in pink squealed gaily while their mothers chatted on a park bench.

  “What is it?” Sean said. “Was there something familiar in there?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it’s something Jack said the other night. He was half asleep and told me the reason he came back was”—she blocked out how ridiculous this could sound—“so that finally she can be with him. Jack didn’t give any names. But in the letter here, there’s so much about, well ...”

  “The two of them reuniting,” Sean finished.

  “Exactly.”

  He raised his eyebrows and blew out a breath that conveyed precisely how she felt. If subscribing to any of these theories classified Audra as looney, at least she wasn’t alone.

  Now to find out more about the couple and what had divided them.

  “Did you know your grandma very well?” she asked.

  “Never met her, unfortunately. She died before I was born.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize.” The women of the Greatest Generation always seemed made of Teflon, enduring and strong, the kind who lived to be a hundred. “Did she die during the war?”

  “Nah. It was after that. Here, I actually have some info about that too.” He emptied the manila envelope. Peeking out from a thin stack of papers was an old newspaper clipping that he slid out for Audra to read.

  An obituary. Absent a photo, it gave a basic report of the deaths of both Vivian and Gene Sullivan. During a fishing excursion, they had perished in a boating accident off the coast of Cape Cod. They were survived by their parents and young daughter, Judith. A memorial service was to be held at St. Augustine’s in Brooklyn.

  “This is terrible,” Audra said, starkly reminded that family tragedies traced back to the beginning of time. “What happened to them, do you know?”

  “They rented a motorboat for the day and got caught in a nasty storm. Thankfully my mom was back home, staying with my aunt. After that, Aunt Lu and Uncle Fred raised her. And I think my grandma’s parents helped out quite a bit too.”

  Audra recalled what Sean had said about Luanne and suddenly realized: “So, that’s the reason.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You told me Luanne doesn’t like talking about that time in her life. I figured it was about the war, but now I get why.”

  “Ah. Yeah,” he said. “Apparently, she and her brother, Grandpa Gene, were really close. He was an officer in Army Intelligence. I think all three of them had gone to high school together. Aunt Lu and Grandma Vivian were roommates in New York later, worked as phone operators—or something like that. Got most of this from my mom. Aunt Lu’s never wanted to say much about it, so we don’t push.”

  “I can understand that.”

  Sean nodded. A wistful smile indicated he recognized her personal view. “Anyway, after I moved to the farm, I was settling in and going through my old boxes, and that’s when I found the letter. Same for the obituary and some other stuff that belonged to my grandparents. I remember first finding the things, like I told you, but can’t say why I’d personally hung on to them.”

  As Audra listened, she threw a glance toward Jack. He was still speeding smoothly around. “Have you ever asked your mom about all of this?”

  “I don’t think she knows much more than I do. Said she’s always wanted to learn about where she came from and who her parents were. When she was a kid, she went through a phase of drilling my aunt for details. Aunt Lu would give her little nuggets, but always wound up getting emotional over it, or at least really quiet. So after a while, my mom dropped the subject. Also, ’cause I think she didn’t want to give the impression that my aunt wasn’t a good enough mother, because she was. She was great.”

  “Seems like she would have been.” Audra smiled at the thought of the woman serving hot cocoa and marshmallows. The only thing missing from her snack tray had been a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches cut into mini-triangles. “Did your aunt and uncle have kids of their own?”

  He shook his head. “Just my mom. Not sure if that was by choice, after all they’d gone through. Or if there were ... other reasons.”

  The small hitch in his answer gave Audra pause; a couple’s potential fertility issues were, first off, none of her business and, second, a far leap from any relevance to Jack.

  Guiding the discussion back, she asked, “Do you have any idea at all who Isaak might’ve been?”

  “Not a clue. I wish I could ask Aunt Lu about him. But I doubt she’d be up for chatting about my grandma in a relationship with another guy.”

  “Sure. Of course.” Audra couldn’t blame the woman; her loyalty belonged to her brother. Still, any obstacle at the moment was disappointing. She tucked the letter into its envelope and remembered the other pages Sean had brought. “Do you have something else in there?”

  He didn’t respond. He’d turned his head to gaze at Jack, still rolling in circles. It was an analytical gaze, the kind she, too, had used to examine Jack’s features and behavior, envisioning him in a different era. In Sean’s case, maybe he was even searching for a distant family resemblance.

  “Sean?”

  “Huh?”

  His hearing, she kept forgetting. Audra could only hope she hid her own weaknesses as well as he did. “Are those for me too?”

  He looked down at the papers, refocusing. “Sorry, yeah.” He slid them across the metal table. “I did some digging around about Jakob Hemel. Had the same luck you did online. But a research librarian helped me find this.”

  Audra started with the top page of the stapled packet, impressed he had gone to so much trouble. She quickly realized, however, the photocopied arti
cle featured a subject she’d already covered: the Nazi spies who were captured on the East Coast.

  Sean added, “There’s a name in the article I think you should see. It’s on the third page.”

  Anticipating a reference to Jakob, she rushed to the last sheet. Attached with a paper clip was a folded newspaper article, yellowed like Isaak’s letter. She tugged it free and scanned the story of a child who went missing in 1940.

  “What is it I’m looking for?”

  “This.” He moved the clipping aside and tapped his finger on the photocopied page, at the name underlined in pencil: Daniel Gerard. “He was an FBI agent involved in both of these cases.”

  Audra glanced back at the aged clipping and verified the connection. But she shook her head, unsure how this pertained.

  “The article about the missing kid,” Sean said, “was in a box with my grandma’s things. I can’t think that’s a coincidence.” He had a point, yet the link remained muddled.

  “I wish I understood how this all fit together.”

  Sean nodded, also at a loss.

  Just then, she spotted Jack cutting a corner by some boulders. His scooter started to tip. He caught himself, but his leg grazed one of the rocks. He dusted off his knee and carried on as before.

  “I should’ve made him wear jeans,” she muttered.

  “Ahh, he’s fine,” Sean said, and she supposed he was right. “Hey, I almost forgot. There was a sergeant I met at the VA hospital, a real nice guy. His wife collects old wartime keepsakes that have gotten lost over the years—like letters and photos from Korea, World War Two, Vietnam. She tracks down the families of the vets they belonged to and returns the stuff. Anyway, I got ahold of her through her Web site. Just told her you were doing a genealogy project, and that you were looking for information about a distant relative with Jakob’s name. I only gave her a few other details. Don’t know if she’ll find anything, but figured it couldn’t hurt. I could send her your contact info if you’d like.”

  “That’d be great.” Audra smiled, again touched by his efforts. Under the circumstances, few people, much less a virtual stranger, would offer this much support. “Thank you, Sean.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “No, really. Thank you—for all of this.” She gestured to everything he had brought along.

  He shrugged and reciprocated the smile. “It was good for me too. Gave me an excuse to go through my old things. Even had a few memories pop up because of it.” He began to gather the papers, letter, and articles. “You’re welcome to keep these, by the way. For however long you need.”

  “Are you sure that’s okay?”

  “My family’s not doing anything with them.” He slid the contents back into the manila casing. When he handed it over, she found herself wishing details about Sean, too, were inside.

  “The memories that came back to you,” she ventured to ask, “were they helpful at all?”

  “I don’t know,” he said after a pause. “They don’t seem like it.”

  “Your mom mentioned that you’re still feeling ... out of sorts.”

  “That’s one way to put it.” His clipped laugh made Audra wince.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like a small issue.”

  “No,” he insisted, “you didn’t.”

  She nodded, deciding to leave him to his privacy, already in awe of how much family history he’d been willing to share. But he surprised her by continuing.

  “The best way I can describe it ... is a bad night with a fifth of tequila. You blink and everything blacks out. Except the next day, you don’t wake up in your frat house to hear about how you did keg stands, or danced on a table naked. Instead, you wake up in a hospital, and when you get home everyone is suddenly three years older. You find out you not only joined the Army, but you fought in a war—where, incidentally, you were the one person in your vehicle who made it out.”

  Audra tried to imagine the shock of it all. Assembling the pieces would seem horrifically surreal. She wasn’t certain how to respond. “Do you at least remember wanting to be in the service? Earlier in your life even?”

  “I guess I’d thought about it. But it was way back in high school.” He half smiled. “Probably because I thought the uniform would help me get more dates.”

  Based on his looks now, she couldn’t imagine his needing a uniform for that. “But you went to college instead?”

  “Yeah. Made my mom a lot happier.”

  “Your dad too, I’d bet.” Audra caught herself, once more speaking as if she and Sean were old friends.

  “Actually, I wouldn’t know,” he said, then appeared to realize the ambiguity of the remark. “He and my mom got divorced when I was three. He moved to Ohio and started another family. So I always knew him, but not well.”

  Audra could relate to the nature of the relationship, with both of her parents, but on a lesser scale.

  “Anyhow,” Sean went on, “my mom says she came unglued when I enlisted. Apparently, as a news producer, I told her I was tired of watching from the sidelines. Wanted to make a difference.” He shrugged. “Whatever the reason, I quit my job. Sold my condo. It’s like in a single day my whole life turned upside down.”

  Audra could relate yet again, this time to the fullest degree.

  “What do the doctors say, about the memories you’ve lost?”

  “That it could stay this way. Or I could get little things here and there, maybe chunks once in a while. Or one day it could all come rushing back. Basically, it’s anyone’s guess. I suppose that’s why I’ve been dragging my feet in a lot of ways. Hard to move forward when you’re not sure exactly who you are.”

  Audra recognized the irony of this. To her, moving forward had appeared the best way to reestablish an identity. What’s more, there were times over the past two years when amnesia would have seemed a gift; now, given Sean’s story, she wasn’t so certain.

  “God, listen to me,” he said under his breath. “Talking nonstop. Whining about my life when I should just be grateful I survived, right?”

  “I don’t think it’s ever that simple.”

  “Yeah, well,” he sighed. “At least now you know, when a reporter wants to call me a war hero, it’s a bunch of bull.” He laughed at the farce of it all. “To be honest, that day at the Rose Festival, for the ceremony with the mayor—I almost flaked out at the last minute. I only went through with it because my mom and aunt were so damn proud.”

  Audra smiled. “I’d say they deserve to be.”

  He brushed this off by looking away.

  “For what it’s worth,” she said, “I’m really glad you went.”

  He turned back to her, and from her eyes he seemed to understand: It was the only way they would have crossed paths. “Me too,” he said.

  The answer sent a surge of warmth up her neck. It continued over her cheeks and widened her smile.

  “Mom, can we eat?” Jack had rolled up to the table.

  “Um, yeah,” she said, flustered, as he hopped off his scooter. “Grab a seat.” She had almost forgotten about the picnic she’d packed.

  Jack sat down but, to her surprise, did so on Sean’s side of the bench.

  Audra unloaded the grocery sack and gave Jack his sandwich. He dove in, still wearing his helmet, before she could hand over his juice box and bag of grapes.

  She scrunched her nose at Sean. “All I have are PB and Js. If you’d rather pass, it’s totally fine.”

  “Are you kidding? That’s my favorite.” He snagged a sandwich, adding, “And lucky for me, since Aunt Lu makes them for me all the time.”

  Audra laughed. “I have no doubt.”

  For several minutes, the three of them quietly enjoyed their lunches.

  Then Jack, with another surprise, asked Sean: “Did you see how good I’m steering with one hand?”

  The question was slightly garbled from a mouthful of food, but Audra wasn’t about to correct him. His tone, though at a gentle volume, hel
d the most enthusiasm she’d heard in as long as she could remember.

  “I saw that!” Sean said. “Pretty impressive there.”

  Jack slurped down his juice. “You know, I used to steer with no hands too.”

  “Wow. Seriously?” Sean replied between bites. “That’s awesome, buddy.”

  Audra paused at the nickname. More aptly, the way it drifted from Sean’s mouth, soft and natural as a leaf from a branch.

  Jack wiped his mouth with the long sleeve over his cast. “After eating, wanna see me do it?”

  Barely catching the reference, Audra cut in, “No. We don’t.”

  “But, Mom,” he pleaded, “it’s easy.”

  She hesitated, not wanting to dampen his mood, nor to be a “strict dictator.”

  But Sean jumped in. “Better listen to your mom. She’s a smart woman. Knows what she’s talking about.”

  The claim almost made Audra laugh. Boy, if he only knew.

  “Besides,” Sean added, “you wouldn’t want to end up with two casts, right? How would you hug all your girlfriends?”

  “Uh, Sean.” Audra looked at him. “He’s eight.”

  Sean cleared his throat. “As I was saying, your mom’s a smart woman.”

  She rolled her eyes, unable to stifle her smile—even more so when Jack giggled. The sound was so light and sweet she feared she had imagined it.

  Hoping to sustain the momentum, she hazarded to bring up some of Jack’s old favorites: SpongeBob and ninja warriors.

  “Who the heck is SpongeBob?” Sean asked.

  Jack gaped as if the guy had never heard of air.

  Audra doubted a former media producer was unacquainted with the famed cartoon. If he posed the question to keep her son talking, it worked. Jack, with the patience of a retired grandfather, launched into biographies of colorful characters from the underwater city of Bikini Bottom. The show’s humor, while not always the most appropriate, was admittedly very funny.