By now, Molly had heard that so often she paid little attention to his optimism. Besides, she was too happy at this moment to challenge him—she was going to see Sara…
When their steamer arrived in Brussels, Sara was waiting. Molly ran down the gangplank and grabbed her in her arms. Sara was now seven and she was beautiful. Louie’s prediction about Sara, at least, had been accurate. She was a poised, lady-like and mature child. In fact, it was difficult for Molly to believe Sara was so young; she spoke and acted like a grown-up.
If Molly was happy, Sara’s joy at seeing her mother and Louie was overwhelming. What excited her most of all was that she no longer had to go to that dreadful girls’ school; she was to live with mama and Louie in a grand hotel and she would attend a daily academy. She adored Louie. He was so gay, cheerful, devil-may-care, and always so elegant and impeccably groomed that Sara almost forgot he wasn’t royalty.
For the next few months Sara’s life was filled with every luxury, but best of all was that she was no longer lonely.
And then one day she returned to find Molly packing. “What are you doing?”
Molly looked at her for a moment, saw the frightened eyes and quickly pushed aside her own misgivings as she casually answered, “We’re moving.”
“We? Where are we going?” Sara asked haltingly.
“To an apartment,” Molly said, continuing to take things out of the closet.
“Why don’t we stay here?” Sara was close to tears.
“I don’t—hotels are not a place to make a home.” She wasn’t going to tell Sara that Louie was on a losing streak and that they were going to be evicted.
“But we’re going to live together? I mean, you’re not going to send me back—”
“Of course not, what a silly question.”
The adjustment was very difficult for Sara. She’d made friends at the girls’ academy, but now she would no longer be able to go to the birthday parties, and suddenly there were no more pretty party dresses. As glad as she was to be with Molly and Louie, they didn’t seem very happy. Molly couldn’t help but notice Sara’s troubled face, but she refused to dwell on whether Sara was disappointed with the shabby little bedroom she slept in or whether Louie thought the dingy apartment beneath his dignity. She had enough on her mind. Louie had become so compulsive in trying to recoup his gambling losses that they were now down to their last few dollars.
No question, Louie was definitely on his downers. The once charming devil-may-care Louie had become sullen. He complained constantly that Lady Luck was conspiring against him. He swore that never in his life had he encountered such a losing streak; it went beyond his comprehension. In the next few years they moved from one place to another, each cheaper than the last. Sara changed schools three times and became a very withdrawn, self-contained child…
At three o’clock in the morning, Louie climbed into bed, took the sleeping Molly in his arms and kissed her gently. She opened her eyes. At Louie’s amorous touch, she knew instantly his luck had turned.
After the passion had spent itself she said, still lying in his arms, “Well, one thing you didn’t lose is knowing how to make love.”
He laughed. “That I’ll never lose and another thing I won’t lose is my confidence.”
“Really? It seems to me that lately you haven’t been the Louie of old.”
He smiled in the dark. “So sue me. I’ve got a right to complain once in a while, but I’m not complaining anymore.”
“How much did you win?”
“A fortune.”
“How much?”
“Enough to buy you a beautiful new wardrobe and tickets to Monte Carlo.”
The announcement had far from the desired effect. Molly jumped out of bed and switched on the lamp. “When in hell is this moving around going to stop? I’m sick and tired of it and I can’t keep dragging Sara from one place to another, one school to—”
“Keep your voice down. Now, once and for all time, Molly, I make my living gambling. You knew it when we got married so don’t try to remake me. I am what I am…Do I make myself clear?”
There was a long silence as Molly stood there, staring at him. She was, in a way, frightened of him…he was a man she could not manipulate…he wasn’t Harry. Gradually the look on her face softened. “What about Sara, and what about Monte Carlo?”
“I’ll answer the last first. I’ve been offered the opportunity to manage one of the most exclusive casinos on the French Riviera, which is quite an honor—and you’ll be able to strut about like a queen. Now, I love you and I love Sara, but in my business a child is in the way. I feel very bad about that, as bad as you do…but facts are facts.”
She swallowed hard. “You mean we’ll have to send her to a boarding school?”
“No, not this time. At the moment all I have is enough to get us settled and buy you some new clothes.”
“And if I didn’t get the clothes would there—”
“No. I don’t have a year’s tuition—but later, absolutely.”
She sighed, knowing she had a real choice to make this time. Did she lose Louie for her child? She loved them both, but what would her life be without him? The sad truth was that children grew up and eventually one was left alone. Sara was already nine years old and before you could turn around she would be a young woman, ready to marry. Where would that leave Molly? She wasn’t getting younger and who would she ever find who compared with Louie? There were no alternatives, no more decisions, only capitulation and compromise. “All right, Louie…what do you suggest we do with Sara?”
He smiled at her, knowing how difficult the choices had been, and took her in his arms and kissed her. “You’re a sensible woman, Molly, and you won’t regret this. Now about Sara…What I think she needs is to live with a nice family.”
Molly thought for a long moment. The idea seemed reasonable. Sara would be in a wholesome atmosphere, would have the stability of familial surroundings—something she’d never really had. In fact, the idea even began to appeal to Molly…except where would they find such a place?
Reading her thoughts Louie said, “I’ve already contacted a family where I think Sara will be very happy. They’re lovely people and they have three children—boys, nice little boys.”
“How old are these boys?”
Sensing Molly’s disapproval he answered offhandedly, “I’m not sure. The oldest I think is about thirteen and the others are probably eleven and nine.”
“I don’t like it, Louie, not one damn little bit—”
“Come now, Molly, what do you think’s going to happen? This is a fine, lovely, Jewish family.”
“In lovely Jewish families the boys are saints? Boys are boys, Jewish, or goyim. At that age they know all about little girls.”
“I take it back, Molly, you’re not such a sensible woman. In fact, I think you have a very suspicious mind.”
“You bet…when it comes to my child, I certainly do.”
“And I don’t? She’s as important to me as she is to you. Would I even suggest this lovely home if I thought for one moment she wouldn’t be safe? I’m really very upset and insulted.”
“Why should you be insulted?”
“Because I’m the one that found the place and you don’t seem to think I take my fatherly responsibilities very seriously.”
Molly looked at Louie. He always knew the right thing to say at the right time, always pushed the right buttons—leave it to Louie. “So tell me about this lovely home and these nice boys and this wonderful family, and where do they live?”
“You have a funny little habit, Molly. You ask so many questions in one sentence, I don’t know which one to answer.”
“You’ll find a way. Soo?”
Louie laughed. “Their name is Bromberg. They live in a modest two-story house in the Jewish section. Victor Bromberg has a wonderful bakery—small, but makes good money. Mrs. Bromberg—her name is Clara—is a real Jewish mother-type. The house and the children are immacula
te, and the Brombergs are very religious. I think the situation is ideal for Sara, and when you see it so will—”
“All right, enough talk. I’ll get my coat and hat and we’ll go to see this marvelous home.” …
Molly’s worries were laid to rest when she sat in Mrs. Bromberg’s parlor. The smells that emerged from her kitchen were intoxicating and the smell of roasting brisket reminded her of home.
After drinking a glass of tea and eating homemade strudel and sponge cake, Molly left with a slightly lighter heart—but she would only be totally content when she’d seen Sara’s reaction.
That night Molly sat with her child and explained the situation—or as much as Molly felt Sara needed to understand. She asked Sara to be brave, but above all to remember that she and Louie loved and adored her. There were things in life that required great sacrifices, and since they were a family they had to make the best of the situation. It would only be a short time until Louie got settled in his new position and they would be together again…that was a sacred promise.
But for all Molly’s reassurances, Sara cried long and hard. “Why can’t I go with you, mama? I won’t be in the way.”
Molly wiped the perspiration from her forehead and tried once again. “It’s not a question of your being in the way. I just explained why. As soon as we can manage it you’re going to be with us…Now please, Sara, you’re a big girl. This is as hard for me as it is for you, so don’t make it harder.” She took her child in her arms and kissed her. “Trust your mother, please…”
Sara wiped away her tears. “All right, mama…but you will come for me soon?”
“Of course. Louie and I want you as much as you want to be with us…more. You’re my child.”
“And you’re my mother,” the girl said simply.
Putting the little girl’s head on her shoulder she whispered, “I know, darling…how well I know.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
HAD THE LOVELY JEWISH family lived up to Louie’s expectations, Sara might have adjusted easily. At first she was eager to please the Brombergs, but she soon discovered that the family that had appeared so proper and hardworking had a meanness of spirit she had never suspected or even encountered elsewhere.
What Mrs. Bromberg had acquired was not a boarder but a kind of Cinderella servant; before school and late into the night Sara did all the scrubbing, washing and polishing that gave the house the cleanliness Molly had so admired. Her only reward was a small portion of food that she ate alone in the kitchen.
It still might have been bearable if she’d been left to herself, but with her arrival those three nice Bromberg boys swore a truce among themselves and now directed their abusiveness toward her. Their games ranged from practical jokes to slapping and pinching and using foul language—but like the good little boys they were, they were careful to hide these small pleasures from their adoring mother.
The event that brought things to a head was one that Sara would long remember…One night when she was asleep, the oldest boy, Carl, crept into her room. She woke up with a start when he crawled into her bed, but before she could cry out he was on top of her, with one hand over her mouth and the other struggling to pull up her nightgown. As his hand closed over her breast she gave a wrench, freed herself and screamed out. Before he could put his hand over her mouth again to quiet the outburst, Clara came rushing down the hall. Now she flung open the door and stood trembling with anger. “What is this!”
Carl jumped out of bed and pointed in righteous indignation to a very frightened Sara. “It’s her fault, mama. She asked me to do it to her. I didn’t want to but she got me all excited…It’s hard to stop when a girl throws herself at you—”
Clara looked menacingly at Sara. Of course Carl would never do such a thing if he hadn’t been tempted. He was a fine Jewish boy with morals. But he was a young man already, with a young man’s desires, and when he was tempted…Well, she would not allow this little tramp to remain in her home and corrupt her boys. She had probably made advances to all of them, even her little Morris…
“I didn’t do anything, Mrs. Bromberg…honest. Carl—”
“I don’t want to hear your lies. You’re going to get out of my house, you hear? Out!”
“I have no place to go.” Sara was crying now.
“You should have thought of that before you corrupted my son.”
“I didn’t…He came—”
“I’ve heard enough. You’ll write to your mother today, you hear? And I’ll have plenty to tell her when I see her…You’ll come to a bad end, but you’re not my concern, thank God. In the meantime I don’t want to see you. Stay in your room and stay away from my sons.” And with that she turned and left, with Carl following her.
When Sara finally stopped sobbing, she sat down to write to her mother. She swallowed hard, praying her mother would believe her. She felt terribly confused—and without knowing why, very guilty…
It was late of an evening when Louie returned from the casino to find a very distraught Molly smoking one cigarette after another. She thrust a letter into his hand, then stood glaring at him as he read.
His outrage matched hers. “That miserable little son of a bitch, I should beat the hell out of him. Sara’s not going to live in a place where there are boys and that’s definite. This time will be—”
“Listen, Louie, and listen carefully. This time I’m going to bring Sara back—and that’s final.”
He tried to take her in his arms to soothe her, but she backed away. “Not this time…I know all your little tricks, but no matter what you say it’s not going to work. Sara’s coming here, you understand me, Louie?”
“Now, Molly, you’re very upset—”
“Damn it, shouldn’t I be?”
“Of course, and I’m just as upset as you are—”
“I doubt it.”
“That’s like a slap in the face.”
“Maybe that’s what you need to wake you up…I want my child and I’m going to get her.”
Louie poured two brandies, handed one to her. “Sit down, Molly, there’s no need to fight me. I want Sara as much as you do.”
She looked at him. Had she really won this round? The acute anger began to subside and she sat down and sipped at her drink. The look on Louie’s face as he took her glass to replenish it told her, yes, she had won—and victory tasted very good. Although still resolute, she began to relax.
Louie took her hand and kissed it, then her lips. “Molly, darling, don’t you know how much I want Sara, how much she means to me? Of course you do. I know you want to bring Sara now, but let me ask you something…Sensibly and logically, where is she going to live? In a hotel…in one room, if that’s—”
She jumped up. “Damn it, Louie, this time you’re not going to outtalk me. If you didn’t gamble so much, if you got rid of that horse—who’s more expensive to support than a child—if you were content only managing the casino, you could make a good living. We could have an apartment and live like human beings. But you make it sound like someone’s putting a gun to your head and forcing you to—”
“What kind of a living?”
“Better than you’re making now, when everything you earn you use to gamble or support that—”
“I do it because that horse is a winner.”
“You’re an idiot, an absolute idiot. When did that horse win? Not once…Now, I’m going to give you exactly one minute for an answer. Get rid of that horse, stop gambling, operate the casino or I’m leaving you—once and for all. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life this way, Louie.”
“You mean to say you’d walk out on me?”
“You can make a safe bet on that.”
“Damn it, Molly, give me a chance to get myself settled—”
“You just ran out of time. Keep your horse and to hell with you…I’m leaving. That’s it, I’ve had enough of this.”
“Fine, but you’ll regret this, Molly, leaving a husband who loves you, supported your child
and clothed her. It’s not my fault if things don’t always go…”
Molly wasn’t listening.
Louie kept up the tirade as he watched her pack. She put on her coat and hat, picked up the house phone and asked to have the bellboy come for her bags.
“What are you going to use for money?” he asked. “You don’t have any money. How are you going to live?”
“Don’t worry about me…I have a few dollars I saved for just such an emergency.”
“How much?”
“Enough to take me to Brussels, and a little extra. It’ll do until I get a job. I’m not afraid…I was a milliner once and I can do it again.”
“Molly, you’re the most stubborn woman I ever met.”
“So the next one you get won’t be so—”
“Okay, Molly, okay…I’m not going to beg. You go ahead and do what you want. At this point I just don’t give a damn any more.” Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a small roll of bills and threw them on the bed.
His gesture was very grand. A real sport to the end.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THIS TIME THE SMELLS coming from Clara Bromberg’s kitchen were not so intoxicating. Molly stood in the parlor with Sara at her side and listened to Clara’s tirade about Sara’s conduct—the hardship Clara had endured, the responsibilities of raising a girl…especially this one. Why, Sara had eaten them out of house and home and the money Molly and Louie sent had barely covered the board.
As she listened to Clara’s baseless charges, Molly’s anger grew until she could stand it no longer. Her anger erupted in a torrent of abuse that left Clara white with shock. Molly ended breathlessly, “You know what I should really do? Put that louse in jail for trying to rape my child—and you for being a white slaver.” With that said, she took Sara by the hand and walked out, slamming the front door so hard the oval glass broke and shattered into little pieces…
That night Molly and Sara slept together in the best room in the best hotel in Brussels. Sara’s joy in cuddling next to her mother was immense. She was almost afraid to fall asleep for fear that when she woke up her mother would not be there…that all this had been a dream.
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