by Kathy Kacer
More?
It was then that Mrs. Hazelton reached for a second envelope, still on the desk. “I want to help you in any way I can,” she said. “Since I discovered some time ago that the orphanage would be closing, I’ve been saving what little money I could, putting it away until the day that I could give it to you—to each one of my special seven. This is yours.”
She handed the second envelope to Sara, who opened it carefully and extracted a handful of worn bills.
“There is $138 there. It could have been more if the fire hadn’t happened, and I’d had more time. But it will help get you started. I know you’ve also been accumulating money from your job.” Mrs. Hazelton smiled at Sara’s astonished look. “Of course I know about your savings. Where would you have possibly spent the money you’ve been earning at Loretta’s?”
“But what am I supposed to do with all of this?” It was all too much for Sara to grasp.
Mrs. Hazelton stared intently at Sara before replying. “I can tell some of the others where they must go, but not you, Sara. Not any longer. I can give you information, help you think about your options. But I can no longer make decisions for you. This may be difficult for you to hear, but you’re going to have to figure some of this out on your own. You have a couple more days to decide.”
“I still don’t quite understand, ma’am. Are you telling me I need to leave? Right away?” All of Sara’s big thinking about moving on had evaporated. She wanted nothing more than to stay where life was familiar and safe.
“Yes, that’s what I’m telling you.” Mrs. Hazelton’s gaze was penetrating.
“And you’re not going to tell me where…or how?”
Mrs. Hazelton paused and then reached over to take Sara’s hand. “You need to get on with your life, dear. There simply is no alternative. But here’s my advice to you. Sometimes I think it’s important to look back in order to move forward. Find out where you came from, and in so doing, take a step forward in your own life—independently, strongly, with conviction, and knowing who you are. That’s all I’m going to say.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Sara’s anxiety was mounting by the second. And Mrs. Hazelton was giving her riddles instead of answers.
“Think about what I’ve told you today, Sara. You can remain at the church for a couple more days until you think through what you are going to do.” With that, Mrs. Hazelton rose and moved over to open the door, indicating that their meeting was over.
Sara left the office more shaken than ever. Mrs. Hazelton had left her with more questions than answers, and she needed time to process everything—but time was slipping away. What was it the matron had said? Sometimes you need to look back in order to move forward. Sara was never one for looking back. But it appeared that she might have to start.
Six
THE NEXT DAY, as soon as her shift was over at Loretta’s, Sara headed for the town library to do some research. It had been difficult for her to get through her day. She had been so distracted by her previous evening’s conversation with Mrs. Hazelton that she was quite a mess during her shift, mixing up orders, dropping a ketchup bottle on the floor and spilling several cups of coffee, one of them on Reverend Messervey, who left the restaurant soaking wet. Sara was mopping up the mess when Mrs. Clifford, patient as ever, finally jumped in to question her.
“I know you haven’t been sleeping much, but are you sure you haven’t been drinking?” she asked, leaning forward as if she was trying to smell Sara’s breath. “Were you out partying with that boyfriend of yours?” Sara never drank, though it was common knowledge that Luke sometimes had one too many. “How many times do I have to warn you—”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Clifford,” Sara interrupted, before her boss could jump on Luke. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Just a little tired, I guess, what with the fire and sleeping at the church and all, and not really knowing what’s going to happen.”
That seemed to satisfy Mrs. Clifford, who backed off. “I know you’ve got a lot on your mind right now. But please try and focus, dear. I can’t have you spilling coffee on the customers, especially the reverend! It’s bad for business.”
“Yes, ma’am.” It had taken all of Sara’s determination to finish off the day without any more mishaps.
The town library was housed in a small clapboard building behind the church. It contained a modest collection of books and reference material, managed by the same church ladies who had organized Sara and the other orphans after the fire. It was an unwritten rule around town that if someone died, their books would be donated here. The collection of reading material that had been amassed over the years was as strangely eclectic as the citizens of Hope, ranging from mysteries to books on farm equipment. Sara parked her bicycle next to the building. Mrs. Riley was sitting behind the small desk at the entrance, and she looked up as Sara entered. Her daughter, Christine, had once worked at Loretta’s but lost her job when Mrs. Clifford caught her with her hand in the till. The town had buzzed about it for weeks, and it was months before Christine could show her face. Sara had always felt a bit sorry for her—never believed she was a bad person. And in a strange way, it was Christine who was responsible for Sara being hired at Loretta’s. Mrs. Clifford had offered her the job a couple of days after Christine’s abrupt dismissal.
Sara smiled briefly at Mrs. Riley before heading for the World Book Encyclopedia to look up information on the Holocaust. She stared at a picture of Adolf Hitler, a little man with beady eyes and cropped bristles for a mustache. She needed to understand the history, especially the number of Jewish people who had perished under his tyranny, along with how they were killed in the concentration camps. The statistics took Sara’s breath away—millions murdered by cruel methods of torture. Who could believe such things were possible? At times, Sara had to close her eyes to the hideous photographs of mass graves and skeletal corpses. She couldn’t begin to imagine the evil that had led to this outcome. And somehow, her own mother had been a victim of it all. That was even harder to imagine.
But she had work to do. So she tried to push the grisly pictures to the back of her mind. She needed to find something about Föhrenwald, the place that one of her documents said she had been born. That information was harder to find. There wasn’t much in the encyclopedia about it, except to say that it had been one of the displaced persons (DP) camps that were established after the war for Jews who had survived but were sick and had nowhere to go. This one had closed in 1957. There had been several barracks to house the Jewish refugees, and even a school. When she tried to find Föhrenwald on a map of Germany, the closest big city appeared to be Munich. Sara stared at the dot on the map. What do I do with all of this, she wondered. Is that where I’m supposed to be going? Is that where I’m going to find out about my mother and my life? All the clues to Sara’s identity were pointing her in the direction of Germany. But the idea of traveling there was overwhelming. Why was Mrs. Hazelton being so vague about what Sara was supposed to do? “Just tell me the answer,” she whispered.
The last thing Sara did before leaving the building was to take out a copy of The Diary of Anne Frank, wondering briefly who had left the book to the library. She intended to read it when everyone was asleep. Mrs. Riley glanced curiously at Sara as she stamped the book. “That’s quite an interesting choice you’ve made,” she said.
Sara nodded but didn’t respond. She wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about this, not before she had had a chance to talk to Luke. She found him at the garage, working on a pickup truck.
“Hey, I missed you last night,” he said, raising his head briefly before disappearing under the hood.
Sara felt her heart skip a beat, as it usually did when she was close to Luke. But this time her longing was mixed with something else. Was it fear? What was he going to think—and say—when she told him what she had discovered about her mother and herself? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, waiting impatiently for him to finish his work. A full half hour pass
ed before Luke finally closed the hood of the truck and reached for a dirty rag to wipe the black grease from his hands. By then, Sara could barely contain herself. She blurted her news and then stood back to watch Luke’s reaction.
At first he smiled, as if she had just told him a funny story. But the smile quickly faded from his face. “What do you mean, you were born in Germany?” he asked, throwing the dirty rag off to one side and reaching for a bottle of soda that was open and sitting on the workbench. At least this time he hadn’t grabbed a cigarette. His overalls were smeared with the same grease as his hands were. The overalls looked as if they had never been washed. Luke always said that he liked it that way, that it made it seem like he was really working hard at his job. “I never figured you were some kind of Kraut,” he added, taking a long swig of his drink.
Sara ignored the comment, though she knew the term was offensive. There was more to tell. She reached inside her blouse and extracted the necklace with the Star of David. She had put it on after leaving Mrs. Hazelton’s cottage and had worn it ever since, though it was inside her blouse and not visible for anyone to see—until now.
Luke stared at the star. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s a Jewish star.” Sara took another deep breath. A strange sense of calm had descended on her—an unfamiliar feeling. She stared evenly at her boyfriend. “Mrs. Hazelton told me I am Jewish.”
Sara had never seen Luke at a loss for words. He scratched at the back of his neck and rubbed his jaw, shaking his head from side to side. He avoided her stare. After a full minute of scratching and fumbling, he collected himself and looked Sara in the eye. “You’re a Kraut and a Jew? How’s that even possible? I thought all you people were burned up back in the war.”
It was Sara’s turn to be taken aback. A slow burn was igniting in the pit of her stomach. All those times that Dot and Malou and Mrs. Clifford and others had cautioned her about Luke suddenly flashed through her mind. All those times she had chosen to ignore their warnings about how he treated people, even when it was all there in front of her eyes. She was confused by the insensitivity of his comment. But most of all, she was angry. She wrapped her arms around her body to keep from shaking.
“Do you have any idea what you’re talking about, Luke?” Her voice was controlled but steely enough for him to know she was dead serious. “Do you realize how cruel and stupid that comment is?” Did she really just call him stupid? It appeared there was no stopping her now. “Do you even know how many Jewish people were killed then—or how?” It was the first time Sara could remember confronting her boyfriend—or anyone, for that matter. She wasn’t even sure what it was that she was standing up for. It wasn’t as if she felt Jewish or connected to that religion—or to any religion. She was still trying to figure out what all of that meant for her. But Luke’s ignorance had pushed her to the edge. For the first time that she could remember, she was standing up for something, and it felt good.
Luke’s face went from white to a deep shade of red. “Hey, come on. Don’t flip your wig. What are you getting all peeved about?”
Sara clutched her body even tighter. Her face prickled with heat. “I can’t believe you can even ask me that question. Millions, Luke. That’s how many Jewish people died. Millions!”
Luke stepped forward and tried to take Sara in his arms. “Come on, baby. I don’t want to fight. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
Sara pushed him away and tossed her dark curls over her shoulder. “So have I! I’m going to Germany.” There! She had said it. It was all so obvious—had been from the moment Mrs. Hazelton gave her the envelopes. She had just needed time to put it together. And here it was, all the pieces lining up in a row just like the chessmen on the set that Joe kept in his room. Joe would have said it was as plain as the nose on her face. Telling Luke that she was going to Germany felt right. And in putting those words out there, Sara realized that she was already taking the first step of her journey.
Luke laughed. “Sure, baby. And I’m going to Mars.”
He tried to reach for her again, but Sara turned and walked out the door of the garage. It was amazing to her that she felt so strong, so energized. “Keep walking,” she whispered to herself, knowing that every step away from Luke would be a step toward independence. Perhaps she’d cry over him later. But not now. Now she had to move forward and keep her head together. There was so much to do if she was really going to head for Germany, she realized, so much to think about and plan. But first, she had to say goodbye to the people who really counted.
Seven
SHE STARTED WITH Mrs. Clifford, thinking that would be the easiest goodbye. She was wrong. Sara’s boss was unusually weepy.
“I just can’t imagine what I’m going to do around here without you,” Mrs. Clifford said, dabbing at her eyes with her apron. “I’ve come to rely on you for everything. You’ve been one of the best waitresses I’ve ever had.”
Sara tried not to smile. “You didn’t think that all those times I was mixing up orders, ma’am.”
“None of that matters now. You’re a smart girl, Sara. I knew that the minute I met you. And you’re a fast learner. I just can’t believe you’re going to be leaving.”
“I want to thank you for giving me this job, Mrs. Clifford. You have no idea how helpful it’s been.” That was true, though Mrs. Clifford might not have guessed that it was the salary that had been most helpful, especially now that Sara was planning her trip to Germany. She hadn’t shared too much information about that with her boss except to say that, in the aftermath of the fire, it was time to do something with her life and to move on to another place. “All the girls are going to be leaving,” she added.
“It’ll be good for you to start fresh in some other city,” Mrs. Clifford said. “Find a nice young man for yourself, Sara. Not that thug you’ve been hanging out with.”
Sara bent to hug Mrs. Clifford, ignoring the last comment.
“You’re a good girl, Sara. I just don’t know what I’m going to do here without you.” Mrs. Clifford was getting tearful again and starting to repeat herself.
“You’ll have no trouble finding someone else to take my place here, ma’am. Girls will be lining up for this job.”
She hadn’t expected her boss to be so emotional. And for a moment, Sara found herself unsettled by the sudden knowledge that she would be missed. As an orphan, she had always felt like one of the undesirables in this town, except for the attention Luke paid her, and that came with all kinds of other problems. But she was taken aback to discover that Mrs. Clifford cared so much about her. It made their goodbye so much more heartbreaking. But Sara also knew that saying goodbye to Mrs. Clifford was a piece of cake compared to saying goodbye to the other Seven.
She caught up with Malou in the shed on the orphanage property. It seemed that for now, Malou was more comfortable staying there than at the church. But Sara knew it would probably not be for long. Once Malou figured things out, she told Sara, she would be heading for northern Ontario to follow the clues that Mrs. Hazelton had given her.
“I’m sorry,” Sara said, after she and Malou had hugged and caught up on their respective plans.
“For what?”
“For not standing up for you—all those times that Luke came after you, badgered you. I knew about them. I should have said something and I never did. I’m sorry.”
Malou looked away.
Every second that passed felt like an eternity to Sara. “I know that doesn’t fix everything,” she finally said, trying to fill the empty air.
“It helps. Thank you.”
Sara felt tears well up in her eyes. “I’m going to Germany. Can you imagine that?”
Malou’s eyes widened. “It’s so far away.”
“I know.” Sara reached into her blouse and pulled out the Star of David. “It has something to do with this. Mrs. Hazelton told me that my mother was Jewish. That means I am as well.”
Malou stared at the star and then up at
Sara. “It kind of makes you different from everyone too.”
Sara felt another weight lift off her shoulders. It wasn’t as if she suddenly understood how Malou had really felt being the only colored girl in the orphanage. All Sara knew was that the discovery that she was Jewish by birth had touched something in her. She had always felt different just because she was an orphan. But that was something she shared with all of the girls. How much more different had Malou felt all these years?
“I’m not sure when we’ll see each other again,” Sara continued. “But maybe I’ll write to you. Mrs. Clifford says that she’ll pass on any letters, if we send them to the diner, once she knows where we’ve ended up.”
Malou nodded. “What about your boyfriend?”
Sara sighed. “I’m happy to be leaving him behind.”
Tracking down the others proved more difficult than Sara had thought. The seven girls were scattering in seven directions, and most of the others had already left. Tess was gone, though that didn’t surprise Sara. So was Cady, who had left a note behind saying that she was heading for Toronto. She had no firm plans other than to find a place to stay and a job. Cady’s note said nothing about who she would be searching for or what Mrs. Hazelton had given her in the way of information.
It was Dot who filled Sara in on what had become of all the girls. She met up with Dot one last time back at the church. After the night of the fire, Dot had moved in with the Welshes, who were only too happy to have her there since their own daughter, Lorraine, was away for the summer. Dot was all decked out in a print dress that Mrs. Welsh had given her.
“It’s Lorraine’s,” Dot said, smoothing down the skirt. “Mrs. Welsh has been really nice to me. She’s given me a bunch of her daughter’s things. Nicest clothes I ever had,” she added.
