A Papa Like Everyone Else
Page 11
Then something strange started to happen. Was it her imagination, or was the ship rolling more than usual? A queer heavy lump settled itself in her throat. It wouldn’t go down, and it refused to come up. It was a peculiar sensation, sort of queasy. Maybe it was from all that food. Ugh! She wished now she hadn’t made such a pig of herself.
All of a sudden, the lump rose violently and spilled over the rails into the ocean. For some minutes, she stood there while her insides seemed to be emptying out. Then, shaken and nauseated, she staggered down the stairs to their cabin and into her berth.
For two days a savage storm raged. Buffeted mercilessly by wind and sea, the ship lurched and plunged, its wooden fittings creaking loudly in protest. But in the cabin, Mama and both girls were too sick to even know or care.
Gradually, the storm’s wrath subsided, and the sea became as smooth as glass. One by one the sick recovered. Pale and wan-looking, they crawled out of their bunks and onto the sun-swept decks. How good it was to be out in the open again!
At last the ship was nearing New York. Mama and the girls stood leaning against the ship’s railing. The moon shone brightly on the water. Suddenly it outlined a tall structure which rose from the very depths of the harbor.
“There she is! The Statue of Liberty!” the cry went up.
The ship was approaching rapidly, and Gisella could clearly see the lighted torch held aloft in the lady’s hand, its rays reflected on her spiked crown and serene features. She could not help but be caught up in the wild elation of the other passengers.
Mama’s face was radiant with the promise of things to come. “America! America, at last!” she kept murmuring, holding the girls close.
“Look! Oh, look, Gisella!” Szerena pointed with awe to the right.
The New York skyline came into view. Immense, squarish buildings piled one on the other, glistening with pin prickles of light, and from their midst, even taller buildings rising upward like slender shafts of light into the black sky.
The immigration inspectors were already aboard when Mama and the girls joined the passengers gathered in the main salon. First the tourists and American citizens were passed through. Then it was the immigrants’ turn. In a room just beyond, relatives and friends waited, ready to vouch for and claim the newcomers. An expectant hush spread through the salon.
The roll call began. One after another, happy, excited groups jumped up from their seats as their names were called. “Here!” There were tears and laughter and joyous embraces, and the lucky ones departed.
Time ticked away. The salon was gradually emptying. Where was Papa? Gisella’s eyes strained toward the door.
“If Papa doesn’t come, will they send us back?” Szerena asked anxiously.
“He’ll be here,” Mama replied, but her hands kept clasping and unclasping nervously.
Finally all the passengers were gone. Only Mama and the girls were left. At the other end of the room, the inspectors kept glancing in their direction.
“But supposing Papa doesn’t come?” Szerena kept insisting. “What will they do then?”
“Just be patient, Szerena,” Mama told her resolutely. “He’ll come.”
The minutes dropped away like water dripping from a leaky faucet. All at once, from across the room, an inspector smiled toward them and called loudly, “Mrs. Landesman and children!”
Mama rushed forward, her documents in her outstretched hand.
A stranger was coming toward them. Someone tall and thin. In the next instant, Mama was enfolded in his arms. Was this Papa? Gisella felt her heart pound. He has green eyes—just like me!
Papa was looking deep into Mama’s face. “How you must have worried when you didn’t find me here!” he murmured. His voice was rumbly and low. “Your boat was late. A whole day late.”
“It was the storm that held us up,” Mama said.
“I know. We were told. Everyone was so anxious. I sat around the waiting room all day. Then I went back to see if everything was all right at my fruit stand—I have a man helping me there now—I didn’t realize it would take so long to get back. . .”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter,” Mama interrupted between tears and laughter. “Go greet your daughters.”
Papa put a broad hand on the shoulder of each child. They stood trembling, gazing up at him.
“My, my!” he cried in astonishment. “What has happened to the two little babies I left behind?” He threw back his head and laughed, and the laughter rumbled joyously through the room.
As Papa caught them both in his strong arms, the girls buried their faces against his dark jacket, too overwhelmed to speak. Gisella thought, Szerena and I aren’t orphans with only a Mama to love, anymore. We re a real family now—a family with a mama and a papa.
Papa knelt down and tipped Gisella’s chin up.
“Papa!” she whispered in shy happiness. “Oh, Papa!”
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