by Susan Ross
“To be honest, I was petrified,” she replied. Devin gave her a curious look and then slipped past her into the hallway. Ugh, that was awkward. Petrified? Like an old tree stump?
At the end of the day, Charlie had an open study period with Hannah and Amy. After finishing their math homework, the girls started work on their family history projects. Hannah was having trouble with her research, too. She’d chosen her father’s cousin, an older woman named Lian who’d been a student in Beijing during the Cultural Revolution. Lian’s school had been shut by the army and the students had been forced to do manual labor. They lived under terrible conditions. Eventually, Lian was able to emigrate to the United States, leaving family and friends behind. When Hannah asked her to describe her experiences, however, she simply drew a blank. The only thing Lian recalled clearly was the sweet scent of cherry blossoms by the highway where they toiled.
Charlie was thinking how strong and brave Lian must have been when a series of loud thumps made her jump in her seat.
“Something wrong?” Amy asked.
“What’s that drumming noise?” Charlie could hear “ta-ta-ta-dum”—the very same “ta-ta-ta-dum”—that had been stuck in the back of her head all day—except now it sounded as if the Fifth Symphony was being tapped on a desk.
“Oh, that’s just Devin.” Hannah giggled. “He’s sitting a couple of tables behind you. He always does that!”
“Devin McCarthy?” Charlie’s eyebrows lifted.
“What other Devin is there?” Hannah asked. “He’s in my social studies class this year. Doesn’t he play an instrument?”
“Devin doesn’t just play an instrument…” Charlie whispered. “He’s the best cellist in the orchestra. The problem is, he knows it.”
“That sounds about right.” Hannah laughed. “Because he’s like a boy genius in social studies, too. I heard he’s already finished ten pages of his family history report even though the whole project is only supposed to be eight pages long—including exhibits!”
“Look at the huge book he’s reading.” Amy grinned at Charlie.
Charlie turned her head over her shoulder just as Devin glanced up from a thick volume. She could see the title, Companion to Irish Traditional Music. He quickly closed the book, grabbed his backpack, and hurried over to the water fountain.
“Hey.” Hannah looked at her watch. “My dad’s taking me to get new cleats after school. Do you guys want to come?”
“Can’t,” Amy replied. “Science club meeting. Thanks, though.”
“I probably shouldn’t, either.” Charlie sighed. “I have to practice for my audition. And I should start packing for Florida. Mom and I are going to see Nana Rose this weekend.”
“Oh, that’s great!” Amy flashed thumbs up. “You’ll finally get to talk to her about your great-aunt Lottie and your project.”
The minute she got on the bus, Charlie texted Sarah: Mr. Fernandez asked me to play solo this morning. It was pretty cool. After a pause, she added, But orchestra is still awful without you! Devin is driving me crazy.
What’d he do? Sarah texted right back.
Nothing, I guess. Charlie crinkled her nose. Except that he’s always so sure of himself!
Sarah replied with two smiley faces and an exclamation point in bold.
* * *
—
When Charlie got home from school, a letter from Nana Rose was waiting on her desk.
My dearest Charlie,
I am filled with happiness to receive your letter and know that you will keep Lottie’s journal safe. We all loved music in our family! I remember when I was small, I was envious that Lottie would get dressed up with an elegant hat and lace gloves and go to the opera. My mother’s favorite aunt gave Lottie opera glasses made of silver. Then Mutti let her wear a bit of rouge. How glamorous Lottie seemed to me, how grown-up!
Of course, times were very hard in Vienna. My father was a professor of mathematics at the university, but because we were Jewish, he lost his position. We moved to a simple apartment that had no bath of its own—only one tub in the attic for the building to share. I remember how cold it was up there; I was always shivering! Lottie and I slept together in the salon, where we also ate. It was our dining room/living room/bedroom. But this I loved because my sister would talk to me at night before sleep—usually, about concerts and music. We all hoped that someday Lottie would be a famous soloist, and my dear parents saved every extra penny for her lessons.
You have asked about Nathan. My father had a second or maybe third cousin; his name was Morris Kulka. He was a dentist, and married to a kind woman named Eva. They had a son called Nathan, who was studying to be a dentist, like the father. These cousins lived in Hungary, in a small village outside of Budapest. One time, they came to stay with us in Vienna for a few days, when times were better. Lottie and Nathan became good friends during that visit and went to a concert with the grown-ups. I was not so happy then, you see, because they left me behind. Nathan played the violin, too, or maybe the viola.
We saw these cousins only once or twice, and then of course came the war. Morris and Eva were taken away to the camps, but I do not know what happened to Nathan.
I have to tell you, dear Charlie, I have wondered sometimes whether Nathan did survive. Once, many years ago when your grandfather Sam was still living, we were passing through Bridgeport, Connecticut, and I saw a sign for a dentist. The name on the sign was Dr. N. Kulka. But we did not stop. I must be honest, it was too painful to even hope that it might be Cousin Nathan, whom I had last seen when I was a small child—and anyway, we were going someplace in a great hurry. Of course, there must be very many Dr. Kulkas in America; it was probably somebody else.
Did my sister have a special boyfriend? My darling Charlie, I do not know. We were not, as you might imagine, free to go out like teenagers today, but on the other hand, the birds and the bees were not invented by your generation! I can only tell you that Lottie was a beautiful girl, as you are, and that I am sure many young men admired her for her lovely spirit as well as her beauty.
I am tired now, but I hope that I have helped you. Of course, we can discuss this more when I see you very soon!
My love to you, Schnuckelpuss,
Nana Rose
Charlie read the letter twice and opened the red binder. At the top of a new page, she wrote COUSIN NATHAN??? Then she texted Sarah: We might have a cousin in Bridgeport! A dentist from Hungary.
Sarah texted back instantly. Awesome! So…what next??
Charlie closed her eyes and held the phone tight for a second before responding: So now—I’m going to try calling him!
There were three Kulkas listed in Bridgeport. The first name was David Kulka, the second was Nat, and the third listing was simply N. Kulka. Charlie took a deep breath and locked her door. She tried the number for Nat first. Her heart was beating so loudly that she could hardly hear the dial tone.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice answered.
“Hi, this is Charlie.” Her voice croaked, oddly froglike. “Is there a Nathan—a Nathan Kulka who lives there, by any chance?”
“Nathan?” the lady repeated.
“Yes, I’m a relative—a cousin, kind of.”
“No, there’s no Nathan here, dearie. My sister’s name is Natalie. You must have the wrong number.”
“Oh.” The phone clicked before Charlie had a chance to breathe.
Charlie tried N. Kulka next. The phone rang for several minutes, but nobody picked up. Was it worth trying David Kulka? There was no one in Lottie’s music journal named David, but it couldn’t hurt. Charlie went ahead and dialed the number. But again, no answer, not even a voice mail message.
What was she thinking? Even if the right Nathan Kulka had ever lived in Bridgeport, Grandpa Sam had passed away when Charlie was a baby—it must have been at least ten years since Nana Rose saw the dentist’s si
gn, maybe more. What were the chances he would still be there?
Charlie slumped into her chair in frustration and glanced across the room at her violin case. She thought of all the times she and Nana Rose had sat together on her bed chatting about violin music and concerts. Nana Rose knew more about classical music than anyone Charlie had ever known, even Mr. Fernandez. And Nana was always so thoughtful and encouraging! Even now, though Nana had become a bit hard of hearing and sometimes mixed things up, she remained warm, cheerful, and full of helpful advice.
Nana Rose had almost never talked about the Holocaust with Charlie. But how awful it must have been for her to lose her sister! As much as Charlie detested Jake, she could not imagine her life without him.
Charlie picked up the phone again. “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” Nana Rose was nearly as famous for her sayings as she was for her strudel, and this was one of her favorites.
Charlie dialed the number for N. Kulka once more. This time, a man responded.
“Hullo?” The man on the other end spoke in a thick voice. “Hullo? Who’s on the line?”
“Oh, h-hi,” Charlie sputtered. “I’m looking for Dr. Nathan Kulka—he’s a dentist, or he might have been a dentist…”
“Nate’s not here anymore. He retired a long time ago. I was his partner; you need somebody to look at your teeth? You’ve got a cavity, maybe?”
Charlie hesitated. “I was really hoping to find Dr. Kulka.”
“Well, he’s at the home,” the man replied.
“What do you mean?”
“The seniors’ home—you know, the one in Greenfield. Nate’s in the Alzheimer’s unit, I’m afraid. His mind has been affected—dementia.”
“Are—are you sure?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah, yeah, he’s been there two, maybe three years. Nate’s no youngster anymore. None of us are. Anything else I can do for you?”
Charlie’s mouth had gone dry. “Do you happen to know whether—oh, gosh, never mind!”
“All right, then.” The phone clicked. Silence.
Charlie turned her head toward the bulletin board and Lottie’s photo. Nathan Kulka was still alive and living in Greenfield. It was just two towns over on the highway.
“Cousin Nathan is half an hour away!” she whispered. “Maybe.”
Charlie’s knees bounced up and down as she searched online for seniors’ housing in Greenfield. She quickly found the Connecticut Helping Home for Seniors.
“How may I assist you?” The woman answering her call had a voice that sounded official.
“Hello?” Charlie croaked. “I’m trying to…I’m looking for someone named Nathan Kulka; he’s a dentist. Do you have someone by that—”
“Of course,” the woman interrupted her. “Dr. Kulka is still here with us. I believe he’s in his room—I’ll put you through.”
“Wait—you mean right away?” Charlie asked hoarsely.
“Hold on, this will only take a second.”
“Hello?” A man’s voice came on the line. “Who is this?”
“Hi.” Charlie’s voice squeaked.
“Who’s there?” the man barked.
Charlie cleared her throat. “My name is Charlie Roth, and I was just wondering—”
“What did you say? Speak louder.”
“I’m Charlie Roth, and I might be a relative of yours, maybe; a second cousin, sort of.”
“A relative? What relative? I don’t remember you!” the man exclaimed.
“I’m Charlie, my name is Charlie Roth—I’m related to Charlotte Kulka.”
There was a long pause. “What are you saying? Speak up!” the man finally shouted.
“Do you come from Hungary?” Charlie asked.
“What are you asking? Who is this?”
“I’m a relative of Lottie Kulka!” Charlie yelled into the phone.
“Lottie who? Say it again?”
“Lottie Kulka! Lottie from Vienna!” Charlie drew three shallow breaths and waited.
Another silence and some crackling on the line. This was a mix-up, all a big mistake.
“Lottie Kulka?” The man’s voice sounded broken, like gravel.
“Yes,” Charlie replied.
“From Vienna?”
“Yes.”
“Lottie Kulka is dead!”
The phone clicked, and the man was gone.
Charlie stepped back. She couldn’t breathe. The phone buzzed, but she didn’t answer. Now the buzzing wouldn’t stop.
It was Sarah, texting: Did you find your cousin? What did he say?
Charlie typed the words slowly: He said Lottie is dead.
The phone instantly rang. “What happened?” Sarah exclaimed.
“I talked to this man who sounded like he was actually Cousin Nathan. But then he got completely muddled. He might have Alzheimer’s.”
“That’s really bad.” Sarah sighed. “My great-grandpa is like that—he can’t always remember my name anymore. But listen, how do you know this guy is even your cousin? Maybe he was just confused about everything.”
“I guess…except that he said Lottie was dead, exactly like he knew her.”
“You have to go see him.” Sarah had that can-do tone in her voice that Charlie missed so much. “He’s in Greenfield, right? That’s so close. Maybe he didn’t even hear you.” Sarah paused. “Hey, what if you show him an old picture of Lottie without saying anything and see what happens? My great-grandpa doesn’t always remember who I am, but he still remembers stuff from a long time ago. He knows exactly what happened when he was young. If this man doesn’t recognize Lottie, it probably means he’s not even the right person.”
“I do have a picture I could show him.” Charlie hesitated, glancing up at the bulletin board. “Maybe I could try…but maybe it would be better just to talk to him a little first and see what he says when he sees me…?” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.
“I wish I was there. I’d go with you tomorrow,” Sarah said.
Charlie groaned and flopped on her bed. “There’s no way I can go tomorrow, anyway. We have auditions right before Mom and I leave for Florida.”
“You’re going to do great, Charlie!” Sarah exclaimed. “You’re practically the only one in the orchestra who always pays attention, and you play with heart. You ought to be concertmaster.”
“Way wrong, but thanks a lot.” Charlie rolled onto her back and stretched her legs in the air. She felt a bit better, somehow. “I really miss you in orchestra this year.”
“I miss you, too!” Sarah sighed. “So, has Mr. Fernandez made his Carnegie Hall joke yet? And is cute Devin still driving you crazy?”
“Cute Devin?” Charlie blushed.
“C’mon, don’t you think he’s cute?” Sarah said sternly, but Charlie could tell she was trying hard to cheer her up.
“Yeah, yes—okay! Devin’s kind of cute—for a cellist, that is…”
The girls dissolved into waves of giggles. Charlie’s sides ached, but it felt so good.
Audition day. Charlie’s hands were trembling. They’d started trembling last night as she finished packing for her trip to Florida, and they’d been shaking all through the morning as she silently practiced finger patterns on her desk in science and math. At 11:10 a.m., her assigned time, Charlie joined the group of kids lined up in front of the auditorium to wait for their auditions. She stood quietly clutching her hands as she stared at the concrete floor. When her turn came, she raised her head, squared her shoulders, and entered the auditorium alone, taking her place in the center of the stage.
Charlie took a deep breath as she lifted her violin, planted her feet, and blinked her eyes. She’d practiced and practiced. She had this! But as soon as she began to play the Mozart concerto, her left hand froze and would hardly budge. She fumbled on the very first measure, already
off tempo, unable to place her fingers where they needed to go.
Mr. Fernandez let her start over twice. Then Ms. Patel stopped her for a moment to say: “Is something on your mind, Charlie, dear? Relax and concentrate on the music!”
Relax? Who was she kidding? Every high note sounded flat, and her E string was squeaking like a mouse. How in the world had Lottie played with the symphony in Vienna without making a mistake? No matter how hard Charlie practiced, she could never be that good. If Nana Rose had been there watching her audition, she would have been nothing but disappointed.
The third time Charlie stumbled, Mr. Fernandez rose from his chair. “Do you want to give that one last try?”
“Perhaps a different piece of music?” Ms. Patel suggested.
Charlie shook her head and scrambled for the door.
“We’ll post the results on Wednesday morning. Have a nice weekend,” Ms. Patel called after her. She leaned toward Mr. Fernandez and whispered something that sounded a lot like “What a shame,” as Charlie darted from the room.
Oh…no, no, no! Charlie wiped her eyes with a sleeve. Directly in front of her was the blurry image of Devin, standing against the wall in the hallway, waiting for his turn. She’d have to walk straight past him as quickly as possible.
“Hey, Charlie!” Devin pointed his bow at her.
“Something wrong?” Charlie nearly tripped as she picked up speed.
“Turn around, you’ve got something on your shirt.”
Charlie stopped short and felt behind her back. A small piece of rosin was stuck between her shoulder blades. She had no idea how it could have gotten there.
“How’d your audition go?” Devin asked as she brushed the rosin off.
Charlie opened her mouth to say, “I blew it! It was horrible!” But no words came out—only a strange wheezing noise followed by a sharp squeak that sounded just like her E string.
The hallway and everything in it started to swirl in slow motion. Devin’s eyes opened wide, and the two sixth graders standing next to him bent forward, laughing.
