Among the Living (35 page)

I am also writing to Yitzhak Goldah. Please give him the letter.

You are gracious and I will never forget.

With heartlike greetings …

She had left no signature. Goldah read through it twice, stopping on the two words in German she had let slip through. Malke had always had trouble with “very” — such a simple thing, but she could never remember it. He knew she hadn’t been aware … or perhaps she had.

Jesler said, “Have you ever heard of such a thing? I mean, after everything … in the recovery camps or —”

“No,” said Goldah, then, “Once … perhaps. I don’t know.”

Pearl said, “That poor girl doesn’t even know who she is. She could have stayed with us. She really could.”

Goldah handed the letter to Eva. He stepped over and took the second envelope.

Jesler said, “Even you thought it was her, didn’t you, Ike? I mean —”

“Yes,” said Goldah, “I did.” He opened the flap. The letter was in Czech. He read:

Yitzi,

They wouldn’t understand so this way was easier. And, please, don’t let them get in touch with the Lubecks or anyone official. Tell them you’ll be the one to look into it. Then do nothing and be done with it — if for no other reason than I’d like to keep my name as it is.

You always said I was unpredictable, reckless. You thought you were charming saying it. You weren’t. And you were wrong. You’re wrong now if you think it. This is how it has to be, not because you feel for her or don’t feel for me, even if you do feel something for me. (I don’t think I could have endured you telling me that.) No, it’s how I feel that matters. You might not believe this but I do love you. I always have. Very much. And I’m telling you this not out of malice or to cause you pain but because it breaks my heart.

Yes, it breaks my heart to know how much she loves you and how I would never be able to convince you I could give you even half as much. Can you imagine what it is to see that?

This feeling is so terrible in ways you cannot know, yet, even then, it tells me something I had forgotten, something far more important than any of this. It tells me I am no longer in that place.

I am no longer there.

If I can feel my heart breaking in this wretched way then somehow I have come back. You would say this is what any woman tells herself so she can know she is alive. I can hear you saying it even now but it makes no difference to me. To have this pain is to have hope. What a ghastly thing to say but, I suppose, that must be the final gift from the Lager. Pain as a blessing, as a promise. This, as well, is something these innocents could never understand.

In this way, you have given me back my life, unknowingly. I now save yours, and I do it willingly. Let yourself see that, Yitzi — for once — otherwise all of this will have been for nothing.

She told him not to worry; she told him she would find her way. She signed it with a small
m
as she always had, and Goldah heard Jesler behind him.

“Are you okay, Ike?”

Goldah nodded. He folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. Eva moved to him and handed him her handkerchief. He hadn’t realized he needed it.

Jesler said, “Did she tell you about the real Miss Posner?”

Goldah was looking at Eva. She showed no relief, no joy, no concern. Hers was a look only for him, filled with such knowing and devotion that he felt himself for the first time rooted in this place.

“Yes,” said Goldah. “She did. A very brave woman.”

17

THE LAST HOUR
among Congregation Mickve Israel — with its pipe organ and choir and chanted psalms and English — had taken more of a toll on Goldah than he cared to admit. Not that the morning had gotten off to a particularly promising start. Weiss had asked Goldah what he thought of the place and, on instinct, Goldah had said it was a beautiful shul. Instantly, a man seated directly in front of them had turned and said, “This is the temple, sir, not a shul. The temple.”

Quite right, thought Goldah. A few minutes later he had been staring up at the ceiling — for what reason he couldn’t recall — and noticed the broad crucifix design in thick wooden beams, inlaid across the vaulted arches. Quite right … quite right.

Now, ducking out in need of a break, he moved down the steps to the street and felt the swelter thicken around him with the scent of hydrangeas and gardenias. It was only a slight improvement over the tang of men’s cologne that stifled the sanctuary air. Both carried an unwanted sweetness, although the flowers seemed strangely more ripe. It was something Malke would have noticed. So very American, she would have said, even the plant life here has a brashness to it.

Goldah moved across to the park at the center of the square where, mercifully, the trees were keeping the sunlight at bay.

It was as if Malke had never been here. All the questions yesterday — about who she might have been, where she had gone — all those cautious musings on the frailty of the mind, and so much consoling and encouragement, all of them settled with a simple “at least now you know.” But hadn’t he known before her arrival, or at least thought he had known? Somehow the truth about her death had ceased to be the truth, although for everyone else, the facts were now laid bare: She had died in the camp.

Goldah found himself by a bench, about to sit, when he noticed Calvin sitting at the other end: of all people, Calvin just sitting there, his eyes closed. Goldah was hesitant to disturb him but the coincidence seemed too good to pass up.

He stepped over and the eyes opened, and Calvin looked up. He said, “Hey there, Mr. Ike. You taking a break?”

It was as if he had been expecting him. Goldah said, “Have you been waiting for me?”

“Waiting on you? No, suh.”

“You just like it here?”

“I like it fine. Can’t stay too long, though. Somebody always coming along saying, ‘Boy, what you doing here,’ so I pick my moments. But ain’t the reason I’m here.”

Goldah thought to ask; instead he sat.

Calvin said, “It’s the day for atoning, ain’t it?”

“It is.”

Calvin nodded, then looked out at the square. “I get the day off. Felt maybe I’d think a bit on atonement. This seemed the right place for it.”

Goldah said lightly, “And what do you have to atone for, Calvin?”

“Ain’t talking about me, Mr. Ike.”

Goldah expected Calvin to turn to him but the eyes remained distant.

Calvin said, “I hear Miss Posner ain’t in Savannah no more.”

“That’s right.”

“Not really Miss Posner was it, though? That’s a tough one.”

“It is, yes.”

“Easier on you, I guess, with Miss Eva. Hard all the same.”

“Yes.”

Goldah leaned forward and cupped his hands under the front slat of the bench. It was as if he was preparing to stand but couldn’t quite bring himself to make the full effort.

Calvin said, “I like this square, Mr. Ike, I do. I like it real fine. I like how you can see down to the big park and the fountain, but you still here with your bench in the shade.”

“It’s very nice.”

“It’s these oaks that done it, winding all over the place.” Calvin looked up at them as if he were giving the trees their due. “And all that moss hanging down. That’s what makes it Savannah. Moss in all them trees.”

“I’ve heard that, yes.”

“Can’t take it off them neither cause it’s a living thing, the moss. That’s a law, even if the tree all withered up. Can’t even brush it away. You know that?”

“I didn’t. No.”

“Well now you do.” Calvin’s gaze had settled on a single oak across the park. He nodded over to it. “No worries on that one over there, though. You see it? Big one, thick, all them branches empty. No moss dragging it down. Must be where they lynched a man.” Calvin looked at it a moment longer, then turned to Goldah. “That’s what they say. Moss don’t grow on trees with that kind a death on it. I guess that’s another kind a law.”

Goldah had no answer.

It looked as if Calvin might say something more but, instead, he turned again to the square and the two men sat in silence. When Calvin finally spoke, his voice was low and soft. “It’s good what Mr. Jesler done. For Raymond. And I guess he picked the right time a year. Guess he’s thinking he’s atoning for all his sins. Easy to convince yourself you doing more than what you really doing — doing it for someone else and not yourself — but four percent, that ain’t taking care a it, not by a long shot. Maybe I thought Jewish folk would understand that better than most.”

Again Goldah said nothing. He realized it wasn’t the words he was struggling to find; it was a way to understand his own feelings of impotence. Maybe, then, he had been writing about the wrong things for Weiss all along. And maybe that was something he could remedy.

“They’ll understand it,” he said.

“That so? Could be you alone in thinking that.” Calvin’s eyes settled again on the large, barren oak. “But that tree’ll be here, be here with all them others long after you and me gone. And maybe most folks won’t know about it and maybe they will. Or maybe they’ll just want to forget what it is. But you and me, we’ll know, Mr. Ike, won’t we?”

“We will, yes.”

Calvin moved himself out onto the edge of the bench. “Anyway,” he said, “it’s good how things working out. I’m happy for you. And I’m happy for Raymond, too.” He saw a man making his way over and Calvin picked up his hat and stood. “I’ll see you down at the store sometime.”

Calvin set his hat on his head, tipped it to the man walking by, and headed for the street.

Goldah joined Eva at her parents’ for the breaking of the fast. What they were breaking he wasn’t quite sure of. The dining-room table was arrayed in heaping plates from one end to the other.

“I used to serve shrimp and grits,” Peggy De la Parra said, ensconced on the living-room sofa and insisting that Goldah sit with her. “But Walter, my husband, he said he thought that showed a bit of sass, getting rid of all those sins and then … well. Not that Walter knew a kosher day in his life but I could understand his concern. I always kept a plate of it in the kitchen for my father, who would sneak away. I make a very fine shrimp and grits, and I wasn’t going to deny my father that particular treat.”

The rest of the guests milled about, a few of the faces now familiar to him, a future friendship or two lurking in the cordial smiles and firm handshakes. He wondered which of these might be rounding out an evening’s foursome down the road. Eva had headed off to another part of the house with friends of her parents; she had left him in good hands.

Peggy said, “And I understand there was some confusion about the other young lady. I would have loved the chance to have met her.”

Goldah truly believed she would have. He might have told her as much if not for the sudden appearance of the Jeslers in the hallway. They stood close to each other, like two new arrivals in a foreign land, willing but overwhelmed and waiting for an official nod of approval. Pearl held her purse tightly in both hands.

Goldah said, “I’m so sorry, Mrs. De la Parra. My cousins are here and I don’t believe they know anyone.” He stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course,” said Peggy. “And bring them over when you can. I’d love to meet them, as well.”

Goldah made his way to them, surprised by Pearl’s eager smile. She brought both hands to his face and drew him in for a kiss on the cheek. She said, “So you didn’t waste away to nothing. I’m glad to see it.”

Goldah decided to spare her the truth.

Jesler said, “Don’t look so surprised, Ike. Was it wrong for us to come?”

“Not at all. Of course not. I’m just —”

“So are we,” said Jesler, “but Arthur insisted. He said we’d probably be seeing a lot of each other in the future so why not start tonight. I can’t say I don’t agree with him.” Jesler lurched, then reached back for one of the chairs that was lined up against the wall. “Oh dear. A little light-headed,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He sat.

Pearl was instantly by his side. “I told you you should have had a coffee at three. There’s no sin in that, Abe. Goodness. Are you all right? You don’t feel warm. What do you need, sweetheart? What do you need?”

“A little tea, maybe.”

Goldah said, “I’ll go get it.”

“No, no, no,” Pearl said. “You stay with Abe, in case he needs to be moved. I’ll go find it myself. You just stay right here.”

Her need to care for Abe trumped any feelings of awkwardness. Pearl bulled her way through the crowd, her radar fixed on pitchers and ice.

Goldah said, “I can get you an aspirin.”

Jesler took hold of Goldah’s arm and said, “There’s no light-headedness, Ike. I just need to talk with you for a moment. Is that all right?” Goldah saw the look of concern. He took a seat and Jesler leaned into him to speak. “All this
business with the port … all the … anyway the paper’s not going to run it, I know. And I’m certainly in your debt for that, whichever way it is you managed it. Weiss told me there were rumors about something, my name coming up or some such thing, but he said they’re completely unfounded, happens all the time.” Jesler looked frail for a moment. He wiped his fingers across his upper lip.