The Time Between (17 page)

I looked up at Helena.

“I think Finn will love this. Which one is his grandmother?”

“The redhead, Magda. She was the real beauty. And she and Bernadett had all the charm.”

If she’d been wanting me to refute her comments, she was disappointed. Instead, with only a hint of sarcasm, I said, “Then you must have had all the musical talent.”

“Most of it. But not all,” she said matter-of-factly. “We could all sing and play piano. But I was better at it than they were.”

“So you were the reason for the Szarka Sisters’ success.”

“I did not say that. It takes three voices to sing in three-part harmony, after all. But Bernadette had the best voice—like that of an angel. She wrote music, too. Not that she would ever allow us to record one of her songs. She was much too shy for that.

“Magda was the brains of the operation, as they say. She was the one who talked her way into a recording session in London. She was so persistent, I think the poor man just gave in so she would not pester him again.” A soft smile crossed her face. “She had the sort of beauty that would make the earth spin a little slower. On her sixteenth birthday our mother took us to dinner at the New York Palace Café in Budapest.”

“New York Palace? That doesn’t sound very Hungarian.”

“It was very Hungarian, I assure you. It was commissioned by the New York Insurance Company for their offices, but it was designed and built by the best Hungarian craftsman. The café was on the ground floor and open to everyone. You’ve never seen such beauty—everything was marble, bronze, silk, crystal, and velvet. A mix of Italian Renaissance and baroque styles if you can imagine such a thing. I remember being a little afraid of the sixteen devilish fauns that decorated the outside windows, and completely awed by the beautiful paintings and frescoes on the ceilings and walls inside. I have never seen anything like it here in America.”

“It sounds lovely,” I said, easily picturing the three beautiful Szarka sisters in such a setting.

“It was,” Helena said, her voice wistful. “And by the time we left, Magda had three marriage proposals and another gentleman had paid our bill.”

I raised an eyebrow, wondering how much was true.

“It is all fact, I assure you. Men were gentlemen in those days. But it took a gentleman from Charleston to turn Magda’s head. Finn looks a great deal like his grandfather, so you can imagine how handsome he was.”

I thought of Finn at the office and how I didn’t think I’d ever realized what he looked like beyond the austere suits. And when I’d seen him that night at Pete’s Bar, he’d seemed almost intimidating. But when I pictured him here, on the island, I could definitely see what Magda must have seen in his grandfather.

Eager to change the conversation, I said, “Did you live near the Danube?”

“Not too far—up Castle Hill on Uri Utca. It was an easy ride up the steep slope on the Siklo, which I believe in English is called a funicular railway. We lived on the Buda side. Did you learn that yet? That Budapest is actually two cities, Buda and Pest, that are separated by the Danube?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. Her face was animated as if she were no longer sitting in her bedroom on Edisto Island but in a place that had lived only in her memories for a very long time. “We lived in a small house on a cobblestone street, over a bakery where my mother worked. We could not see the river from our house, but on very warm days, we could smell it. And sometimes, on very still nights, we could hear the boats.”

She closed her eyes and I watched as they moved under the paper-thin lids.

“Bernadett and I shared a room, but Magda, because she was the eldest, had her own tiny room in the attic. She did not care that it was so small, because she did not have to share. But even when Magda married and moved to America, Bernadett and I chose to stay together. It is that way with sisters, is it not?”

I answered without hesitation. “Yes. Eve and I shared a room our whole lives. Even when we had a three-bedroom home, we chose to share.”

“Until her marriage.”

I looked at her sharply. “Yes. Even after her accident, we shared. It was easier to take care of her that way.”

“I am sure.” She studied the framed record cover for a moment. “You being nosy with the record albums made me think of this. Thank you.”

I was unsure what I was supposed to say with an insult and a thank-you thrown so close together. I remained quiet. Reaching up a gnarled finger, she brushed the tip against the faces of her two sisters. “It is hard to believe that I am the only one left. Sometimes at night, I awaken and feel as if I am in our old bedroom in Budapest again. And that all I have to do is reach out and touch my sister.”

I picked up the loose wrapping from the floor and settled the frame inside. “Maybe it’s the river. Maybe living on the Edisto River reminds you of home.”

She shook her head. “I think that is why my brother-in-law thought Bernadett and I would be happy here, because of the river. But they are very different.” She met my eyes. “They call it the Blue Danube because of Strauss’s waltz. Did you know that? It is really quite brown. But in my dreams I always picture it blue.” She frowned and began plucking at her bedclothes. “And I hear my sisters, their voices, and I think that they are still here. Like they have never left me.”

All good-bye ain’t gone.
I felt the breath blow into me, bringing me back to the day of the sunbaked dirt road and the white wooden church near the marsh. I looked at Helena, and she was looking back at me as if I’d spoken out loud.

I took a deep breath. “I made a
dobostorta
for Finn. Will he know what it is?”

“You made one? By yourself?”

I nodded. “I like to bake. In the back of the Hungarian history book there’s a section on Hungarian food. I’d like to try
Duna kavics
next. That means ‘Danube pebbles.’”

“Really?”

I flushed, realizing that I probably hadn’t needed to translate for her.

Without waiting for me to respond, she said, “Those would be easier than a
dobostorta
. There are so many layers, and all the fillings must be perfect—not too thin or too thick. My mother would sometimes start one, then have to throw it away and start again. Which is not a good thing when one is baking for other people to earn money for food and shoes.” She tilted her chin up. “You went to a lot of trouble for Finn’s birthday.”

She held my gaze for a long moment as I flushed again, realizing her implication. Leaning forward, she asked, “Have you ever made something so complicated for your brother-in-law? What is his name?”

“Glen,” I choked out, wondering which comment was constricting my throat. “And no. Eve makes his birthday cakes. I’ll help if she needs it, but she rarely asks.”

“When is his birthday?” she asked.

“November. November fifth.”

“It will be interesting to see if you make another
dobostorta
for him.”

“Did somebody mention a
dobostorta
?” Finn entered the room, Gigi racing past him to Helena’s bed.

I stood quickly, holding Finn’s gift behind my back while he pretended he hadn’t noticed. I backed slowly toward the door, grateful for their interruption and wondering how much of the conversation he had overheard.

“It’s a surprise,” I said, making it to the doorway. I paused, remembering my phone call with Pete the night before. Juggling the frame with one arm, I reached into the pocket of my skirt and drew out a piece of paper before handing it to him.

“Pete from Pete’s Bar called my house looking for you. He’d lost your business card but wanted to talk to you. I didn’t feel I should give him your contact information, so I wrote down his instead. He said the man looking for your aunt had been in once—right after you were there—but hadn’t been back since. He said to call him if you needed anything else.”

His jaw tightened, noticeable only because I was watching him closely as I recalled what Helena had said about me making the cake for his birthday. And asking if I would do the same for Glen.

Finn slid the note unopened into the pocket of his pants.

“Why is somebody at a bar looking for me?” Helena’s imperious tone cut through the silence.

I saw the tic in his jaw as he regarded his aunt. “Not you,” he said. “Bernadett. Before she died, she asked me to meet with someone—she didn’t give me his name—at Pete’s Bar. She didn’t explain what it was about but said that it was important to her that I meet this person. But the date of the meeting was the Thursday after she died, and . . .” He paused. “I was hoping the man would come back so I could find out why she’d wanted me to meet with him.”

“Daddy!”

We both jerked around to see Gigi leaning over Helena while the older woman seemed to gasp for air. Nurse Weber, alerted by Gigi’s shout, ran past me. I took the little girl’s hand and retreated into the kitchen.

I listened to Teri’s gentle voice. “It’s all right, Miss Szarka. You just got a little excited. I’m going to give you something to settle you and I’m going to sit right here while you rest. You’re going to be fine. I just need you to breathe in and breathe out.”

We sat down at the table, the gift hidden on my lap, and waited until Finn left Helena’s bedroom, closing the door behind him. He stood next to the table without sitting. “She’ll be fine,” he said. “Just too much stimulation.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Everything was fine up until you arrived; otherwise . . .”

“It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault. And Teri said all she needs is a bit of rest right now. We can have my surprise birthday celebration when she wakes up.” He smiled weakly, the effort completely for Gigi’s benefit.

“I’d better go wrap your present, then.” I stayed where I was, hoping he’d get the hint and leave so I could stand.

“She did want me to tell you something.”

All moisture left my mouth as I recalled the conversation I’d been having with Helena when Finn arrived. “What was it?”

“That if she’s dying, she wants you to play the Chopin Nocturne in C Minor.”

I put my hand over my mouth, not sure if she’d want me to laugh or cry. Finn reached his hand out for Gigi and led her from the room. I stayed where I was for a long time, grateful that Helena couldn’t be too close to death’s door if she was still trying to antagonize me, and wondering, too, what I had said that had made her think she was dying.

Helena

I
awoke to find Gigi sleeping on the foot of my bed, and Eleanor curled up like a cat asleep in the chair,
The History of Hungary
splayed across the arm. I studied her, noticing how she frowned in her sleep, and wondering what she was dreaming about. I doubted she would remember upon waking; people like Eleanor refused to admit they still dreamed.

I noticed the rectangular folding table that Nurse Weber had set up for my medications and a few of the tools of her trade. She had decorated it with a square lace cloth she had made and had organized my medications in a flat basket. But sometime while I’d slept, somebody had placed my small Herend porcelain rooster on the tray, its broken plumed tail turned away from me so I wouldn’t have to look at it. My breath caught as I regarded it, unwelcome memories flooding my heart like the marsh at high tide. I assumed Eleanor had put it there, as she was so fond of meddling with other people’s things.

Turning my head, I saw Finn in the doorway, watching Eleanor as I had. I continued to regard him until he noticed me. As always, his expression remained inscrutable. He’d always been good at keeping secrets. Just like Magda.

“Are you feeling better now?” he whispered as he sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the little girl, and took my hand.

I snatched my hand away, irritated at being treated like an invalid. It still amazed me sometimes when I caught sight of myself in a mirror. I would be startled to see the stranger there, as if still expecting to see my blond hair and tight skin, my hands with long, straight fingers. Age was a thief, an insidious one who instead of robbing you at night while you slept took all of your possessions one by one and forced you to watch.

“I am fine. And I am certainly well enough to join you all in the dining room for your birthday celebration. I hope Eleanor respected my wishes and set the table in there?”

“Yes, she did, and Nurse Weber added a few decorations—a hand-painted banner and balloons. I know you won’t like them, but please pretend that you do, as both women put a lot of effort into it. And personally, I like the transformation.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to pinpoint exactly what had changed in Finn in the last month. His hair was lighter from spending more time on the beach with Gigi, but there was something more, too. It was as if the shutters on a window had suddenly been thrown open. He was still his grandfather’s grandson, but I was beginning to see more Magda in him, too. For the most part, that was a very good thing.

“If you wish. I am good at pretending.”

He reached over and plucked the Herend rooster off the table and held it loosely in his hands, turning it over and running his index finger over the broken part. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something. About Bernadett. To see if maybe you had any idea about the man I was supposed to meet with.”

I shrugged, keeping the movement casual. “You remember how Bernadett was—always involved in one cause or another. It was hard to keep them all straight. I am sure it involved giving a good deal of money to a charity, and she either wanted your approval or, if the sum was very large, your assistance. You should see the mail we get still, all for Bernadett, and most for causes I have never heard of.”

Finn looked up, his eyes hopeful. “Have you saved them?”

“Of course not. I throw them away without opening them. I have my own causes to which I like to contribute.”

He thought for a moment. “If you receive any more solicitations, could you please save them for me? I’d really like to know what that meeting at that awful bar was all about. When Bernadett called me, she left a message with Kay, my secretary, who put it on the calendar. I didn’t even think to call back and ask her about it. And then . . .”

“And then she died.”

“Yes,” he said. “And then she died.” Our eyes met and held for a long moment as we each remembered events we’d rather not and secrets we’d prefer to keep.

Eleanor stirred and I turned toward her, wondering how long she’d been watching us and listening. Her gaze fell to the rooster Finn still held.

She sat up, alert. “I hope you don’t mind. I found the rooster in the sunroom while looking for more piano music. It was pushed back on a shelf and I thought it too beautiful to be hidden—even with its broken tail. I saw that it was made in Hungary and thought that you might enjoy having it in here.”

I reached for it and Finn placed it in my hand, a jolt of memory like electricity shooting up my arm.

Eleanor continued. “Your childhood home must have been lovely with so many paintings and treasures like this. I’m sure it was difficult bringing them to America, but how nice it must be to have a piece of home with you.”

I focused on drawing deep breaths as Nurse Weber had shown me. She had explained that it was the short breaths that had deprived my head of the oxygen it needed and caused my earlier episode.

“Yes,” I finally managed. “Just like home.” I examined the rooster in my hand, the fine fishnet pattern on its tail, the delicate face, remembering it on the small table in the entranceway of the tiny house in Budapest. “It was a wedding gift to my parents. My mother—my
anyukám
—was very proud of it.”

“How did it get broken?”

Breathe in, breathe out.
“It was my fault. I could sometimes be very clumsy. I bumped into the table and it fell to the floor.
Anyukám
was dead by then, but I could still sense her disappointment in me for breaking such a treasure.”

I closed my eyes, the memory so sharp it could still make me bleed. I wanted to tell this girl about that night, longed to tell her about how the rooster had come to be broken.
It was pitch-black because I was told I could not turn on any lights. The Americans had started bombing the city and the Nazis were flooding in from where they’d been encamped in the countryside. And I was rushing, moving so fast that I could barely catch my breath, trying to move our suitcases toward the back door. When I’d heard the crash I knew what it was, and I spent precious minutes searching for it on my hands and knees before I found it and shoved it into my coat pocket. It stayed there until I had disembarked from the ship in New York. I had shoved my hand into the pocket and cut my thumb on the sharp edge. It had bled and bled as if to empty all of my Hungarian blood into the harbor, to cleanse me of my sins. If it could only have been that easy.

But of course, I could not tell her. Pulling at this one secret, like pulling a single loose thread on a tapestry, would unravel it all.

My finger rubbed the top of my thumb, and I almost expected to see blood. I refocused my attention on the girl. “I want to hear Debussy later. I hope you can play something without making the poor man turn in his grave.”

I watched her back stiffen as she and Finn exchanged a look. “I will certainly try,” she said. “But only if you think my time wouldn’t be better spent sorting through all of the sheet music.”

“I’ll let you decide after dinner and birthday cake. I hope your baking is better than your piano playing.”

“Me, too,” she said, with no hint of animosity.

She stooped and picked up the basket of records, and it was then that I noticed that the gramophone case was missing.

“I put it on the screened porch,” Finn said, answering my unspoken question. “I thought we’d listen to your records after dinner.”

No,
I wanted to say.
No, because I am afraid—afraid I will hear the recrimination and accusation in their voices regardless of what words they are singing.

“I will see if I am up to it,” I said. “Please tell Nurse Weber to come help me out of bed and I will join you in the dining room.”

Finn gently shook Gigi awake and led her from the room. But Eleanor held back, looking at the broken rooster. “Do you have the other half of the tail? It’s a clean break, and I bet if I glued it you couldn’t even tell.”

I shook my head. “No. It has been gone for a very long time.”

She nodded briefly, then left the room before I could tell her that there were some things that, once broken, could never be repaired.

Eleanor

The late-afternoon sunlight slanted in through the windows in the dining room. I’d thrown open the drapes to allow in the light, illuminating the antique wallpaper and gleaming wood floors. The medieval-garbed subjects of the two large oil paintings on the wall opposite the buffet stared down their long noses at us as we filled our plates with fried chicken, black-eyed peas, and corn on the cob.

Helena sat at one end of the table and Finn at the other, while Gigi and I sat on one side facing Teri. She’d been reluctant to join us, but after I’d pointed out that I was an employee, too, she’d graciously accepted the invitation to sit down to eat.

I noticed how Finn kept an eye on Gigi’s plate, making sure she got a little of everything and twice the helping of vegetables. Despite several warnings from her father, she ate quickly, shoveling in forkfuls of food and then gulping down organic milk.

“Is there a fire I’m unaware of?” Finn finally asked.

Gigi placed her knife and fork across her empty plate. “I want you to open your birthday presents. You’re going to be
so
surprised.”

He glanced toward the buffet, where Helena’s gift and the book were neatly wrapped with paper and ribbon.

“There’s
more
,” Gigi said. “But it was hard to wrap, so Ellie just stuck a bow on it.”

I smiled, then stood. “I’ll go ahead and clear the table, and on my way back I’ll bring in Gigi’s present.”

Gigi bounced up and down in her seat. “Hurry!”

Teri and I brought the dishes to the kitchen, and then I ducked into the piano room for the telescope. With as much fanfare as I could muster, I brought it in and set it in front of Finn’s chair.

“Are you surprised?” Gigi shouted, jumping up from her chair. “It was Ellie’s idea.”

He regarded me with cool gray eyes. “Really?”

“You mentioned to me how you used to have one, but that somewhere along the way you lost track of it. I thought that you might like to have one again. And Gigi agreed.”

Embarrassed, I turned toward the buffet to collect the other two gifts, then placed them on the table in front of Finn. He was still looking at me closely, and I found myself unable to meet his eyes.

“Thank you for helping Gigi shop. It’s perfect.” He opened his arms for Gigi to step into them, then kissed her forehead. “I’ve been wanting to get another one for a while now, but life kept getting in the way.”

“It’s not brand-new,” Gigi announced, “but who in their right mind would spend all that money on a brand-new one when this is just as good?” She was quoting me verbatim, making me cringe.

Finn held her at arm’s length. “Did you figure that out all by yourself?”

“Sort of?” she said with a smile, glancing up at me.

“We figured it out together,” I said. “I don’t think NASA would have any use for it, but for recreational star viewing here on Edisto, it should be perfect.”

“Can we use it tonight?” Gigi asked, jumping up and down and making the glasses shake on the table.

“Absolutely,” Finn answered. “The sky is clear, so it should be a good night for it. We can do that while we listen to Aunt Helena’s records.”

I was aware of the old woman watching us closely, and I thought she might have flinched.

Gigi shoved the astronomy book at her father. “Open this one next. I picked it out.”

Finn took his time opening and examining Gigi’s handmade card, despite her impatient hopping up and down, then quickly unwrapped the book on basic astronomy with the appropriate appreciative comments. He’d barely finished speaking before Gigi shoved the other gift toward him. “And this is from Aunt Helena.”

He glanced up at his aunt, who shrugged with one shoulder as if the gift were just a trifling matter. Slowly, he untied the ribbon and slid his fingers beneath the tape, unveiling the back of the frame. After lifting it from the paper, he flipped it over and laid it on the table.

He stared at the framed album cover, a soft smile lifting his lips. “I like it. Very much.” He stood and kissed his aunt on her cheek. “Thank you, Aunt Helena.” He sat down again, staring at the photo of his grandmother and two great-aunts.

“You can hang it in your office,” Gigi commented.

I thought of his office filled with antiques and computer monitors, and the serious man who inhabited it, and then regarded the framed photo of three beautiful Hungarian singers and I almost laughed. It would have been like hanging a poster of dogs playing poker next to the Mona Lisa in the Louvre.

“You’re right, Peanut.” Finn sounded as surprised as I was to hear him say it. “I think on the wall between the two windows behind my desk would be perfect. What do you think?”

“Perfect,” she said. “Don’t you think so, Ellie?”

“I think so,” I said slowly. “Maybe it’s time the office sees your other side.”

He looked almost annoyed. “My ‘other side’?”

Gigi and I shared a look.

Before I could formulate an appropriate answer, she said, “Madame LaFleur would say that you’re more of a classical ballet dancer instead of a jazz dancer. But sometimes all you have to do is change costumes to become something different.” She smiled matter-of-factly before turning to me. “Can we have cake now?”

“After your medicine,” Finn said, scraping his chair away from the table and standing. Although he was wearing casual pants and a golf shirt, his face was the one he wore to the office, and it occurred to me that regardless of who he wanted to be, his daughter’s illness would always dictate his choice of dance.

Gigi groaned, dragging her feet as she followed her father to the kitchen. I waited for them to be done and then shooed everyone, including Helena, onto the screened porch so I could bring out the cake. Teri had brought the candles, and after the two of us agreed that we had no idea if Finn was turning thirty-four or thirty-five, she stuck three candles in the middle, then lit them.

We began singing “Happy Birthday” before we’d left the kitchen and were quickly joined by Gigi and Helena, who, despite her age, still had a strong contralto voice. I set the cake down on the wrought-iron table in front of him.