by Susan Ross
“Are you ready?”
Charlie jumped as Amy appeared beside her, books piled high in her arms.
“Shhhhh!” Grabbing the edge of Amy’s sweater, Charlie pulled her behind a bookshelf and pointed at Dr. Szemere.
“Isn’t that Hannah’s neighbor…the one with the nasty dog?” Amy asked.
“Yes, and he’s acting strange,” Charlie whispered. “Look at the camera! He’s talking to himself and taking photos.”
“Of what?” Amy asked.
“Books!” Charlie answered.
“Yeah, that is weird.” The tower of books in Amy’s arms suddenly tipped, crashing to the floor. Dr. Szemere’s head jerked up. He growled something they couldn’t hear, rose from his chair, and hurried away.
“Sorry!” Amy gathered the books from the floor while Charlie peered around the stacks.
She tiptoed over to the table where Dr. Szemere had been sitting. There were five or six pencils, a ruler, and a tape measure lying on top of a large book tagged with pink Post-its. Charlie opened the book to the first Post-it and frowned. The page was filled with drawings of violin bows. One of the bows had intricate mother-of-pearl detailing, just like the one Mr. Fernandez used.
Why would Dr. Szemere be taking pictures of bows? And what was he measuring?
Amy came up from behind and nudged Charlie in the ribs. “Look who’s over there.”
They could barely make out the top of Devin’s head coming up the stairs. When he reached the top step and spotted them, he immediately stopped, checked his pockets, and hastily retreated.
“He definitely likes you,” Amy whispered.
“Watch out!” Charlie pushed Amy back behind the stacks just as Dr. Szemere returned. He scowled when he noticed that his book had been opened.
“Do you think he saw us?” Charlie took a deep breath.
Amy shrugged. “We’d better find Hannah.”
Hannah was sitting in the library café with a mug of hot chocolate and three slices of banana bread.
“You won’t believe this,” Charlie said. “We just ran into scary Dr. Szemere.”
“He was taking pictures with a camera and talking to himself,” Amy added.
Hannah’s phone buzzed, and she glanced down at the text. “Mom’s here to pick us up. Do you need a ride, Charlie? Our Jeep has a bike rack.”
Charlie was about to say yes when she caught sight of Devin at the opposite end of the room. “I forgot to check something!” she blurted out. “You guys go ahead; I’ll be fine.”
Amy and Hannah grinned at each other as they gathered their things to leave.
“Good luck.” Hannah waved. “And text us.”
Charlie walked over to where she’d spotted Devin, but he’d already disappeared. She returned to the Holocaust section, chose two books from the shelves, and sat down at a carrel.
The first book had a chart filled with horrifying statistics. Six million people dead. It was such a large number that Charlie could hardly imagine it. What if the entire state of Connecticut was empty? Or nearly all of New York City, simply gone?
One of the photographs showed an enormous pile of shoes left behind by the people who had been killed. Charlie swallowed hard and looked down at her purple sneakers. Thank goodness Nana Rose was safe, but Nathan Kulka’s words rang in her head. What were the chances that Lottie, too, had managed to escape a terrible fate?
The next book showed Jewish life in Europe before the war. This book had pictures of shtetls, small Jewish villages that no longer existed, with narrow dirt streets and wooden huts, cows and donkeys, men in large fur hats and long beards, and women wearing scarves tied at their chins. Charlie lingered over the photo of a rabbi standing with a prayer book in one hand and holding the arm of a young boy with the other. The rabbi’s face was dark and serious, but the boy, who wore a long black jacket and a yarmulke on his head, had lips half curled in a shy smile.
The last chapter in the book was about Vienna. There were photographs of grand buildings on wide boulevards, including the main synagogue and the famous Musikverein, the magnificent concert hall where the Vienna Philharmonic played. Charlie paused for a minute, imagining Lottie taking bows beneath the elaborate painted ceiling and crystal chandeliers. Another photo showed a Jewish family at a café decorated with white and gold tiles, hanging brass lamps, and shiny bentwood chairs. The marble counters were stacked with cakes and strudels. Charlie carefully studied every detail and tried to picture Nana Rose and Lottie there as children, chatting in German and drinking hot cocoa with whipped cream.
Charlie wondered whether Lottie had ever gone to a café with Johann Schmidt. Would they have shared a piece of Linzer torte and coffee after a concert? Was Johann very handsome? Did he play the violin, too?
There was still no sign of Devin. Charlie put the book away and sighed. He’d probably already gone home. She stood and checked the rest of the floor.
The spot where Dr. Szemere had been sitting was empty, but Charlie noticed a pink Post-it lying beneath the table and quickly scooped it up. The word SZEPE was written in capital letters. What could that could possibly mean? Through the large arched windows behind the table, Charlie saw that the sky had turned a threatening shade of gray; charcoal clouds filled the windowpanes.
Charlie grabbed her backpack and hurried toward the stairs. On the first step, her bag thumped straight into Devin’s chest.
“Oh, sorry!” she exclaimed.
“Hey.” Devin stopped and leaned against the railing. “Hannah said you might be coming today….What are you working on?”
“Family history project,” Charlie replied.
“Me too.” Devin swept the hair from his forehead. “I’m researching my grandpa from Ireland. He played in a band with the Clancy Brothers. Accordion and tin whistle, mostly, but some fiddle as well.”
“I love Irish music!” Charlie smiled. “One time I went to an Irish music festival with my dad. I don’t know how those guys play so fast.”
“Yeah.” Devin nodded. “There’s no written music; it’s mostly based on folk tunes that are handed down. It’s even harder than it seems.”
It was nice, Charlie thought, really nice, to be talking to a boy about different kinds of music. Especially a boy with green eyes, thick lashes, and perfect pitch.
“I heard about your project.” Devin cocked his head with a serious look. “Hannah says you’re trying to find your relative. Any luck?”
Before Charlie could answer, a tremendous crack shook the air.
“Was that thunder?” Devin frowned.
“I’d better go.” Charlie left Devin on the steps and sprinted through the main reading room, but by the time she got outside, it was pouring. Charlie paused, wondering if there was a bus nearby, or whether she should call Dad at work. He’d be mad, she knew, but how long could she possibly be grounded for going to the library?
All of a sudden, Charlie felt a strong presence surround her, like someone was sneaking up from behind.
“Young lady,” a deep voice whispered.
Charlie jumped forward and tripped; her left knee whacked against the wet pavement.
“Young lady!” the voice called again, this time bellowing louder and with an insistent ring.
Charlie glanced over her shoulder as she scrambled to her feet. It was Dr. Szemere. There was no time to think. She fled to her bike as rain pelted against her face. What if Dr. Szemere had seen her spying on him? What would the strange man do?
Finding the library had been easy coming off the parkway; there were lots of signs pointing the way. But now the sky was overcast and filled with shadows, and Charlie wasn’t sure where the parkway began. The wind picked up, driving rain into her eyes. She pedaled down the street and made a turn where she thought she was supposed to veer left, but pulled up in front of a broken-down repair shop. Nothing looked famil
iar. Her knee ached, and it was getting harder and harder to see.
A streak of lightning bolted across the sky. Charlie felt sick; she knew she shouldn’t be biking in a storm—one direct hit, and she’d be finished.
Suddenly, a dark blue van came up from behind and started honking. Oh no, was it Dr. Szemere? Charlie pedaled like mad, heart thumping, unsure which way to go. Back to the library? Where was the right street? She thought she could see the parkway somewhere below her, but by now all the cars had their lights on; the entire road glowed like a carnival ride. Charlie felt dizzy and the ground was slick. Another streak of lightning shot across the sky, followed immediately by a horrendous bang.
The van kept honking; it was definitely following her.
Charlie swerved off the street, praying the van would pass. The bike bumped and skidded as it came to a stop. She quickly jumped off, but the van stopped short in front of her. Charlie dropped the bike and hoisted her backpack, ready to run, but just then, a tall boy in a yellow rain jacket climbed out from the passenger side; a slim girl with blond braids and a polka-dot umbrella followed from the driver’s seat.
“Jake?” Charlie squinted in the rain.
“Mom’s been back for nearly an hour, and she’s starting to flip! Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“You covered for me?” Charlie mumbled under her breath. Her heart was still thumping against her ribs.
“I’m Alison.” The girl with the braids flashed a crooked smile and held out the umbrella.
“Put your bike in the back of the van,” Jake ordered, “before I get soaked. Next time you have one of your stupid ideas, just forget about it, okay?”
“Thanks, Jake. I mean it,” Charlie said. She had never, ever, been so glad to see her brother. Ever.
“You owe me,” Jake replied. “Big-time.”
That Wednesday after school, Charlie sat at her desk staring at the red binder. The family history report was due the following Monday morning, and her social studies teacher, Mr. Erikson, had announced that he would give no extensions. Although Charlie had written three pages about Lottie’s childhood and made exhibits including copies of entries from Lottie’s music journal, there was lots more to cover, and she still hadn’t started the conclusion section. Mr. Erikson was a stickler for conclusions. But what could she say when so much remained unclear?
Though I did not find my great-aunt Lottie, Charlie finally typed, I did learn more about my family, and about our family members who died in the Holocaust. Charlie shifted in her chair, unsure what to write next. She took out a cough drop and decided to check her texts.
There was a new message, but Charlie didn’t recognize the number.
Hey. What’s up? Remember we talked about doing pit for West Side Story? Auditions are in two weeks. Are you in?
Charlie nearly choked. She quickly texted Sarah: Devin wants me to do pit orchestra for the musical. What should I say?
Her phone started to ring, and Sarah’s name popped up.
“Say yes!” Sarah exclaimed before Charlie had a chance to speak. “Obviously! I mean, you like him…don’t you?”
“Maybe.” Charlie coughed. “But I don’t have time to worry about Devin right now. There’s something I haven’t told you yet.” Charlie glanced down at the half-written report.
“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.
“Last weekend, Mom and I went to look for Cousin Nathan at the seniors’ home.”
“Oh my gosh, Charlie!” Sarah sounded shocked. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you find him?”
“Sort of…at least I think it was him.” Charlie exhaled slowly.
“Wow! Did he remember anything?”
“It was weird.” Charlie turned and looked at the torn photo of Nathan and Lottie on the bulletin board. “For a minute, he was acting like I was Lottie…as if he was talking to her when they were young.”
“What did he say?”
“He was all mixed up. He couldn’t keep anything straight. And the really weird thing was, he asked me about Johann Schmidt—he wanted to know if Johann had sent me there!”
“Wasn’t that Lottie’s boyfriend?” Sarah asked. “Those were the initials on her necklace, right?”
“I thought so,” Charlie replied. “And he’s the very last name in Lottie’s music journal—they went to a concert together right before the journal ends. But nobody in my family’s ever heard of him. When I asked Nana Rose, she said she didn’t know whether Lottie had a boyfriend.”
“Well, maybe Lottie kept it a secret—maybe she wasn’t supposed to date?”
“I guess. Nana told me it was harder for guys and girls to hang out back then.” Charlie bit her lip. “But I keep thinking, and I still can’t figure this out—how would Cousin Nathan even know Johann? I mean, Lottie lived in Vienna, which is the capital of Austria, and Nathan lived in Budapest, which is in Hungary. Nana Rose said they only visited each other once or twice.”
“Charlie!” Mom was yelling from downstairs. There was an urgent edge to her voice.
“Gotta go—call you later.” Charlie leapt to her feet and opened the door.
“Charlie!” Something was definitely wrong.
“What is it?” Charlie came out of her room and peered down the steps. Her mother stood at the bottom waving an envelope.
“This just came in the mail.” Mom was breathless. “Come look!”
Charlie hurried down the stairs and studied the envelope. It was manila and sealed with what seemed to be first aid tape.
“Look at the name on the front!” Mom’s face was pale, and her hand was shaking.
A shiver went down Charlie’s spine. On the top of the envelope someone had scrawled Lottie in pencil. A different hand had written their address in pen. The return address was stamped: CONNECTICUT HELPING HOME.
“Do you think…?”
Mom drew a deep breath. “Go ahead and open it, but be careful.”
As Charlie tore the envelope open, something shiny clattered to the floor. She dropped to her knees and came back up with a small metal object.
“Let me see,” Mom said.
Charlie opened her palm. It was a round silver pendant. When she flipped it over, her heart began to beat out of her chest. Inscribed on the back were two letters: JS.
“What’s that?” Mom asked.
“Wait!” Charlie ran back up the stairs and quickly returned carrying the Mogen David necklace from Nana Rose. “Look!” She held the pendants side by side in her hands.
Mom stared at the Star of David. “Is that Lottie’s necklace?”
“Yes, and look, they both say JS on the back!”
“JS? I don’t get it.” Mom frowned.
“Don’t you remember? Johann Schmidt was the boy from Lottie’s music journal. Cousin Nathan asked if we knew Johann, too—it must be the same JS!”
Mom’s mouth dropped open. “Hurry up—open the rest.”
Charlie tore along the edges of the envelope. Two small pieces of thin paper were folded inside. One of the sheets ripped slightly as she pulled it out.
“Be careful.” Mom exhaled.
Both sides of each sheet were filled with tiny black script. “These are very old—I think they must be in German.” Mom glanced over the first piece of paper.
Charlie picked up the second sheet. “Mom!”
“Sweetheart? What is it?”
Charlie pointed to the bottom of the page. The closing and signature were unmistakable:
Deinen Cousin, Lottie.
Mom stared at the name for a moment and then lifted her eyes to meet Charlie’s. “It’s from Lottie,” she whispered. “This is unbelievable! Is there a date?”
They scanned the top of the page.
“Mom—look!” There it was: Oktober 1945.
Mom gasped. “This is dated October,
but by then, the war had already ended. The letter was written after the war was over!”
Charlie couldn’t swallow. She was startled to see that her mother’s eyes were glistening, then welling with tears.
“Lottie must have…For goodness’ sakes, Charlie, you’ve found her!”
Mom eased down on the stairs, rubbing her wet cheeks. “Lottie survived the war. She was alive, but they thought…the whole family thought that…” Mom wiped the corners of her eyes and shook her head.
“I’ll be right back!” Charlie took the letter, picked up her backpack, and rushed toward the front door.
“Wait, where are you going?”
“Amy’s house—keep your fingers crossed that her grandma’s home.” Two fingers entwined above her head, Charlie ran for her bike.
Charlie hooted in triumph as she quickly pedaled toward Amy’s house. The truth was sitting right there in her backpack. If Lottie had survived, if she hadn’t been killed like the millions of other Jewish children, it would truly be a Nana Rose epic miracle. Charlie licked her lips and pushed even harder. Could Lottie still be living? That would be the best present she could ever give Nana Rose. To see her again, after all those years! Lottie would look older, of course, but Nana would still recognize her sister’s mischievous smile. Perhaps she would even be able to play her violin; Charlie had seen a program on TV about elderly people who still played music every day.
The shabby brown house on the corner came into view, and Charlie glanced around nervously. She still wasn’t sure what Dr. Szemere was doing taking pictures at the library, and there was no way she was going to risk being chased by his scary dog again. Luckily, the house seemed perfectly quiet; if anything, it had a slightly abandoned air, like a dollhouse that hadn’t been put away. She heard a noise and clutched the handlebars—was that barking? No, it was only the mail truck rounding the corner behind her.
Charlie dropped her bike in front of Amy’s door and raced up the steps, panting, as she pressed the buzzer once, twice, three times. Nana Klein had to be home, she just had to be.
