by Susan Ross
It was official, Charlie thought: the most embarrassing day of her life.
Ms. Patel stepped out of the auditorium. With an enthusiastic wave, she motioned for Devin to come in.
Devin hesitated for a minute. He coughed twice and tilted his head toward Charlie, but she had already fled up the hallway.
Charlie dropped off her early dismissal slip and sped away on her bike. When she finally got home, at least Mom didn’t notice how miserable she looked. Mom was too busy getting ready for their trip to see Nana Rose.
“Are you all set, Charlie? The cab will be here in ten minutes,” Mom said without glancing up from her to-do list on the kitchen table.
Jake jogged into the kitchen, dribbling a basketball. He was home early, too, after a dentist appointment.
“Don’t forget your homework while we’re away this weekend,” Mom said as she checked the last items off her list. “And have fun with Dad.” She reached up to give Jake a hug.
“No worries. I hardly have any homework—and guess what? Dad and I are going out for barbecue tonight.” Jake turned to Charlie and smacked his lips. “Chicken and ribs—dee-licious!”
Charlie was about to grab the basketball from him and kick it into the family room when Jake took her by the elbow and pulled her aside. “You okay? You seem kind of…sad.”
“I just had my orchestra audition,” Charlie said in a low voice. “It’s no big deal.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you rocked it.” Jake dribbled the ball between his legs.
Charlie shook her head and shrugged. “We’ll see. Please don’t say anything to Mom, okay? I mean, she and Dad obviously know about my audition, but I didn’t exactly tell them that it was this morning.”
“Totally get it.” Jake grinned. “You didn’t want Mom doing the worried-Mom routine and throwing off your game, right?” He held the basketball still for a minute. “Seriously, though, Charlie, cheer up—you’ll be fine. And you’re going to Florida this weekend; that’ll be cool.”
“Yeah…”
Jake gave her arm a gentle tug. “Hey, text me if you find out anything interesting from Nana. You know…about Lottie.”
“Okay,” Charlie said, feeling a little brighter. Jake had never asked her to text him before—or said anything encouraging about her music or anything else, for that matter. When she was little, Charlie used to follow Jake around the house, and he would nearly always chase her away. As they got older, sometimes they’d fight and sometimes they’d call a truce. But they’d never, ever been close like Nana Rose and Lottie.
It would be kind of nice, Charlie thought, if she and Jake could maybe hang out sometimes.
* * *
—
Nana Rose was pacing anxiously as she waited in the lobby at Clover Manor. She wore pink fuzzy slippers and a hand-knit cardigan. Charlie hadn’t seen her since she’d moved to Florida in June and suddenly realized just how much she’d missed her.
The worried look on Nana Rose’s face turned to joy as she caught sight of her daughter and granddaughter. Charlie sprinted ahead to her open arms.
“Schnuckelpuss! How happy I am to see you!”
“How are you feeling, Mama?” Mom asked loudly.
“I’m fine, always fine, nothing to complain about.” Nana Rose smiled and kissed them both twice. “Life is easier here. I like seeing the sun shine every day, and I won’t miss the snow this winter!”
Charlie glanced around the lobby. Clover Manor was nothing like Nana Rose’s old house in Connecticut, with its wide plank floors and large, cluttered kitchen that always smelled like warm apples. The towering entryway was two stories high and had pink marble floors and gray stone columns. One entire wall was made of mirrors. It was hot enough outside for Charlie to be wearing shorts, but now, standing inside, she felt an icy chill. The lobby air even smelled cold; it stung her nostrils.
“Let me show you my room, and we can chat a little before dinner,” Nana Rose said. “I wish I could have baked you some nice brownies, but there’s no kitchen; we have every meal in the big dining room.” She sighed.
“That’s okay, Nana.” Charlie took her grandmother’s arm. “I had way too many cookies on the plane, and I’m still pretty full.”
Nana Rose led them down a green tiled corridor to a tidy room with a mauve couch and a small coffee table covered with a lace cloth. The shelves behind the couch were filled with art books, floral teacups, and photographs. There was a framed picture of Grandpa Sam at the beach with Jake when he was little. Another photo showed a much taller Jake with his basketball team, carrying a trophy. Charlie smiled to see a picture of herself at five or six holding a quarter-sized violin, with an excited grin; two of her bottom teeth were missing.
“Come here beside me, Charlie, and tell me about your music.” Nana Rose patted the overstuffed sofa cushions. “Sit close so I can catch every word. Are you practicing each day?”
“I try to,” Charlie said, “most days, anyway.”
“She practices all the time!” Mom chuckled. “I can hear her from my office.”
“You must be playing more difficult pieces this year, am I right? Music that stretches the intellect as well as the fingers.” Nana lightly tapped her forehead. “Interpreting what the composer wishes to convey, the story behind the music—that’s what makes a great musician.”
“I guess so,” Charlie said cautiously. “But the thing is, I still make a few mistakes when I play. Lots of them, actually.” She stared down at the lace cloth on the table.
“Why, that means nothing!” Nana Rose shook her head and smiled. “All the finest musicians hit a sour note from time to time. When you challenge yourself, when you take risks—it’s to be expected. The important thing, my darling, is that you feel the music inside you, that it becomes part of your inner spirit.” Leaning closer, Nana Rose looked straight into Charlie’s eyes. “No musician is born confident! Confidence must be earned. If you love music, what counts—the only thing that truly matters—is that you try.”
“I miss you so much, Nana,” Charlie whispered. How was it that Nana Rose always managed to make her feel better, without even knowing it?
Nana Rose took both Charlie’s hands in her own and squeezed them tight. “Now then, I have been considering all that I must tell you…I mean, for your research about Lottie.” Nana Rose briefly closed her eyes when she said her sister’s name. “I’ve put aside a few things.” She rubbed one hand along her temple. “I took them out this morning; where could they be?”
“Can I help?” Mom asked.
“I’ll be fine. You relax and be comfortable; I won’t be a minute.” Nana Rose disappeared through an arched doorway and returned a few moments later carrying a leather book. The tattered cover was decorated with delicate flowers and inscribed at the top with an elaborate R.
“What’s that, Nana?”
“Something special. I have here my own scrapbook. I brought it with me when I was a child from Vienna.”
“For heaven’s sakes!” Mom exclaimed. “I don’t recall ever seeing that before.” Charlie was surprised by the strain in Mom’s voice. Mom, who was always so calm, so matter-of-fact and practical, sounded confused and almost a little hurt.
“To be honest with you, darling, I forgot about it, too,” Nana Rose replied without looking up. “I found this in the attic when we packed up the old house in Connecticut, before I moved to Florida.”
Charlie saw a strange expression cross Nana Rose’s face, the kind of expression that made her wonder whether she was telling the whole truth.
Nana Rose placed the scrapbook on the coffee table and opened it up to the first page.
“Oh, Nana, that picture is beautiful!” Charlie exclaimed. The page was filled with a pastel drawing of a princess with flowing blond hair. In her lap sat a plump mouse wearing a tiara.
“My cousin Trudy dre
w pictures for me when I was a little girl.” Nana Rose smoothed her trim gray curls. “I had long hair, like you do, and it was as blond as flax—oh yes, it’s true! How I loved the fairy stories. Trudy was an artist; she could draw almost anything.”
“What happened to Cousin Trudy?” Charlie started to ask, but stopped when she saw a dark look in her grandmother’s eyes. Trudy had obviously not been one of the lucky ones.
“Let me find what I wanted to show you.” Nana Rose searched through pages filled with black-and-white photographs and colorful drawings.
“Wait, is that you?” Mom pointed to the sepia photo of a blond baby sitting in a young girl’s lap. The baby’s round face was creased with dimples, and the girl had dark curls cascading below her waist.
“Yes, it’s me—I was a chubby baby, wasn’t I?” Nana Rose smiled at Charlie.
“And that must be Lottie holding you,” Charlie said.
“Of course—she was only eight or nine in that picture, but look how she is already so lovely. Such glorious curls!” Nana Rose flipped the page. “Ah, this is what I wanted you to see.”
Charlie caught her breath. A piece of faded newsprint, spotted brown at the edges, had been glued onto the center of the page. It was the photo of Lottie with her violin, the same photo that was pinned to Charlie’s bulletin board at home. “Lottie was in the newspaper?”
“Many times,” Nana Rose replied. “This is a review of her concert with the Vienna Philharmonic. Underneath her picture, it says Wunderkind. The critic speaks of her extraordinary technique, but even more, how she plays with such intense feeling, straight from the heart. This was Lottie’s true gift.”
“What music was it?” Charlie stared at the newsprint to see if she could tell.
“Let me see. Here it is: Violin Concerto No. 3 in G Major by Mozart.”
“Violin Concerto No. 3 in G Major?” Charlie gasped. “That’s what Lottie played onstage?”
“You don’t care for Mozart?” Nana Rose asked.
“I love Mozart! That’s one of my favorite pieces! I played a section of it for my audition this morning.”
“Your audition?” Mom’s head jerked up. “What? You already had your audition? But Charlie, you didn’t mention it to me.”
Charlie exhaled. “Oops.” Then she whispered, “Can we talk about it later, please?” She turned to Nana Rose. “Were there other reviews like this one?”
“Oh yes! Dear Lottie was well known in music circles. She would have become a celebrated soloist, if only…” Nana Rose stopped midsentence and rubbed her knees with the back of her hands. “Well”—she took a deep breath and continued—“I have something else for you, darling—a surprise.” She started to close the scrapbook.
“Wait a minute,” Charlie said, “this one is in English.”
Pasted onto the very last page was a small newspaper clipping from the classified section of the New York Times. The date was May 12, 1955.
“You can go ahead and read it,” Nana Rose said quietly.
Charlie took the scrapbook into her lap. Bits of dust and newsprint crumbled onto her legs. Her throat began to tighten. “Nana?”
“Go ahead.”
With a deep breath, Charlie read aloud: “Searching for Lottie: Beloved Charlotte Kulka. Born 1922 in Vienna, last seen in Budapest, Hungary, 1940. Dark curly hair and blue eyes. Greatly loved and missed.” Charlie lowered the book. Nana Rose sat silently, staring up at the ceiling. A single tear slid down the side of her wrinkled cheek.
“Oh, Nana,” Charlie said.
Nana Rose wiped the tear away. With a sad nod, she took Charlie’s hand. “After the war ended, we wrote countless letters—to Herr Hinkleman in Budapest, to the Red Cross—anyone we could think of. My poor mother was desperate. She wanted to travel to Hungary to search for my sister, but we were alone; we had no money, it was impossible.”
“You didn’t hear back?” Charlie asked.
“Some of our letters were returned, but there were no answers.”
“Oh!” Charlie’s lips were suddenly quivering.
“But still we tried.” Nana Rose looked straight into Charlie’s eyes. “We never gave up hope. What have I always said? Miracles can happen!” She dabbed her eyes and smiled at her granddaughter. Mom’s eyes were damp now, too.
“I have something to tell you, Nana, something really important,” Charlie said in a rush. “I might have found your cousin Nathan, the one in Lottie’s music journal.”
“What?” Mom exclaimed. “What do you mean?”
“You think you found Nathan?” Nana Rose’s eyes opened wide. “How could that be?”
“What exactly is going on?” Mom demanded.
“I found Nathan Kulka’s name in Lottie’s journal—remember, I showed it to you, Mom? Nana told me he was a dentist, and that she thought she saw his name on a sign in Bridgeport a long time ago. So I checked the phone listings, just in case, and I found somebody with that name.” Charlie stopped to catch her breath. “It turns out that he lives near us, at the Connecticut Helping Home for Seniors in Greenfield. I tried calling there last week.”
“You’re kidding!” Mom gasped.
Charlie covered her eyes with her hands. “I think I might have even spoken to him.”
“My darling Charlie!” Nana Rose exclaimed. “How fantastic and astonishing!”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mom shook her head. “You didn’t breathe a word!”
“I’m sorry.” Charlie shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. I’m just not exactly sure that it’s him, because—”
“What did he say to you?” Nana Rose asked eagerly.
“Nothing, really.” Charlie paused for a moment and wondered whether to tell the truth: that this man who might be Cousin Nathan was certain that Lottie was dead. Nana Rose’s eyes were gleaming. “Honestly, though,” Charlie continued, “he seemed pretty mixed up. I don’t know if he really understood what I was asking. It might not be him at all.”
“Dear Nathan,” Nana Rose said softly. “Wouldn’t it be remarkable if he was living in Connecticut this whole time! It would make sense…the Jewish Agency found jobs for refugees in many places, including cities and towns in Connecticut. There was a great need for people in the medical field. If Nathan became a dentist, he might have been placed in Bridgeport.” She sighed. “Schnuckelpuss, you must go visit him.”
“But Nana, he might not even be the right guy.”
“Listen to me, darling.” Nana Rose patted Charlie’s hand. “Maybe this fellow is Cousin Nathan, and wouldn’t that be something! Or maybe he’s just a lonely man who could use a little sunshine. Bring your violin with you.”
“My violin?”
“Yes. I have it on good authority that old people love music.” Nana Rose smiled. “You must go there as soon as possible. If it’s Nathan—you will give him a big hug for me, won’t you? Stranger things have happened. Some families were reunited years after the war.”
“Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll take Charlie there next weekend to check out this Nathan Kulka, I assure you.” Out of the corner of her eye, Charlie could see Mom shaking her head as she looked first at her mother, then at her daughter.
“Now, Charlie…” Nana Rose put one hand into the pocket of her cardigan. “I have something I’ve been saving for you ever since you were born. It belonged to my sister. I intended to wait until your bat mitzvah, but I think you’ll appreciate it more right now.” She pulled out a black velvet box. “Open it.”
Charlie held the box in the palms of her hands. It took a moment to figure out how to unlock the tiny brass latch. When she opened the lid, she blinked twice. At the bottom of the box lay a gold necklace with a small pendant in the shape of a Mogen David—a Star of David. “Did this really belong to…?”
“Yes, it was Lottie’s. It is solid gold—a ‘serious piece,
’ as dear Mutti would say. My parents didn’t allow Lottie to take it with her when she went to study music in Budapest, and so I have the necklace for you still. It’s for you, Charlie, her namesake, since you are practically a young woman now.”
Charlie closed the box and hugged her grandmother tight. “Oh, Nana, it’s so pretty! I’ll wear it for my bat mitzvah next spring.”
* * *
—
On the flight home from Florida, Charlie gazed over the clouds. The rest of the weekend with Nana Rose had been great. They’d met some of Nana’s neighbors and taken her shopping at a nearby mall. Charlie and Mom had even spent an hour on Saturday floating in Clover Manor’s pool and playing shuffleboard while Nana rested. Then they’d all gone out for dinner and a movie.
But now, all Charlie could think about was Nana Rose and her sister Lottie’s lives before the war. Nana had described her sister as “fearless.” Lottie was brave enough to perform in a concert with adults and brave enough to leave her family to go study music in Budapest. But was she strong enough to have survived the Holocaust? Charlie shuddered.
“Are you all right?” Mom put down her newspaper.
“It’s just that…” Charlie shook her head. “I just don’t understand why Nana Rose didn’t try harder to find Cousin Nathan. And why didn’t she ever show you all those photographs and Lottie’s concert reviews? You said you’d never seen her scrapbook before.”
Mom sighed and stretched her arm around Charlie’s shoulder. “I know it’s hard to understand. To be honest, when I was your age, it wasn’t easy for me, either. I was an only child, and my parents doted on me; our small family couldn’t have been closer. But there were things I knew I couldn’t—shouldn’t—ask them.” Mom stopped and exhaled slowly, realizing that she hadn’t explained much at all. “Let me put it this way: Imagine if you were Nana Rose and you had lost…well, everything, and you had to start over. You wouldn’t want to always be reminded of the old life that was gone forever, would you?”
