The first thing that struck Hanna was the difference between the cemetery in Stuttgart and the one in which she had buried her mother and father. It was so neat here in Stuttgart, even with the light coat of snow, and so proper. Under the trees, she could see wisps of grass that would return in the spring. Even the soil shoveled out of the hole that was to receive Jakob was placed out of view under a tarpaulin. It was nothing like the mound of raw, yellow earth that waited next to her parents’ graves. And the name stones here were all upright, not tilted like so many in the little graveyard in Lithuania.
Hanna knew she had to put her mind to something other than what lay in the simple, pine box, or else she would go mad. Jakob had died at three-thirty yesterday, and since today was Friday, here she was at eleven o’clock in the morning, saying farewell. The body must be buried before the Sabbath began.
Rabbi Gluck, his kind, brown eyes reflecting his sorrow, said the proper things, and the casket was lowered on straps. Before the kaddish, Jules whispered into the rabbi’s ear the words Hanna had given him. Gluck looked at her in surprise, and then he nodded. He motioned at one of the members standing nearby. The man walked up to Hanna and made the keri’ah in her dress, on the right side, the side of a sister. When all the words were said, she dropped a handful of dirt into the grave, then she was led by Natalie and Jules back to their car. Afterwards, the mourners went to Hanna’s house, where Reuben was waiting with a pitcher of water and towels for all to rinse their hands before entering.
Food and drink were set out, and many of the Jewish community who had not attended the funeral came by to offer their condolences. Hanna waited patiently for them to share her grief and to go through the motions which custom dictated, and then all had gone except for the Fergls and the Weiners.
“Come stay at our house tonight,” pleaded Natalie.
Hanna shook her head, stubbornly refusing to cry.
“Very well,” she went on. “We’ll come by tomorrow.” Hanna nodded. She was not going to weep. Jules motioned his head, and quietly they filed out.
She sat in the parlor on a box next to the chair that she had occupied for so many peaceful years, her hands folded loosely in her lap. She did not realize the hours had passed so quickly until she saw through the window that it was getting dark outside. She rose and lit the candles for the Sabbath, then took her seat again. She was glad none of the lamps were lit. The dark suited her well.
The tears finally came. “Goodbye, my dearest Jakob. How lonely we will both be tonight. I can still remember looking down from the window in Gremai and seeing you for the first time, and thinking how absurd you seemed in that black suit and black hat, with the curls hanging down the sides of your face. Little did I know then that I could love you so very much. You were my dearest friend. I do not think I will live a day of my life without hearing your words in my ears and feeling your eyes on me. I did not just love you for having saved my life, nor for that terrible wound that finally tore out your life. I loved you because you became the reason for my being. You guided me down a path of devotion and honor, and I would have proudly become your wife if I had the right. Oh, Jakob, Jakob. Are you discussing Torah with God and telling Him the thousand bits of knowledge that is in your brain. Maybe you will be explaining the Talmud to Him. Lord, let my brother, Jakob, find the grace in Your eyes that he did in mine.”
She stayed on the box for the remainder of the night. She did not sleep.
There were too many memories.
She remained in the cottage for two more weeks, then, over the pleading of her friends, she moved back to the Rosenthal house. But now having the sewing machine, she did not need to return to the small room on the fourth floor. Instead, she took a large, comfortable one on the second floor, overlooking the garden at the rear of the building. Jakob had joined the synagogue’s burial association, so the costs of the ambulance and hospital and funeral were generally covered by the insurance. With their savings over the years, she had enough to face any minor emergency.
After a week to settle in, going by streetcar every other day to visit Natalie and Paul, she started sewing again. On Saturday, she went to the small, neighborhood synagogue, sat upstairs in the mehitzah with the other women, and when the old, gray-bearded rabbi mentioned Jakob’s true name among the departed, she rose with the other mourners and said the kaddish.
In February, winter struck with a vengeance, and in the evenings, after spending hours over her sewing machine, she bundled up and took long walks in the snow, aching with the cold and winds, but finding a peace within herself. On almost every occasion, as she came back, Frau Rosenthal was waiting with an invitation to come in for a cup of tea. She grew to like the older couple enormously.
On many days when she did not visit the Weiners, Natalie and Paul would stop by, bringing a strudel or a dish of this or that, and talking while Hanna sewed. It was very comforting.
Like the suddenness of the winter, spring came almost overnight, and everyone seemed to shake off the grimness that the cold generated and opened like flowers. Spring also brought a sudden increase in business. More and more women were seeking her services, not just the ones from the Jewish community, but gentiles who were eager to keep up with the latest fashions. It became too much to handle, taking streetcars to their houses for measurements, fittings, and then the final deliveries.
She had a talk with the Rosenthals. It was time to take on an assistant, but utilizing her room would not be appropriate. Herr Rosenthal mentioned that he had a cousin, not a total gonif, but a cross between a highwayman and a plain pickpocket. He had a vacant shop on the second floor in the garment quarter. A shmatte, a rag of a place, but with a little painting of the walls and washing of the windows, and maybe a curtain or two, it could be suitable. Best of all, it could be gotten cheaply.
She rented it the next day, and let it be known that she was seeking a helper. A dozen showed up the following week, and from them she selected an eighteen-year-old woman, an untalkative German, who she learned was helping her widowed mother take care of a houseful of younger children. Her name was Elfriede, and she went to work like her life depended on it. She also had the talent that Mrs. Merkys had seen in herself. Hanna still made all the measurements and fittings, for they were the keys to proper dressmaking, but Elfriede followed her directions to the letter, and once given a piece of advice, seemed never to forget it.
Like a snowball gathering momentum, having an assistant brought on more work rather than relieve her of routine effort, and in only weeks, she needed a second seamstress. Most of her customers now sought dressmaking rather than alterations, and Hanna loved it. She subscribed to the latest fashion magazines and often attended public social functions to determine what the trendsetters were wearing.
A mild autumn rain had begun in October. As Hanna walked briskly home from the streetcar stop, her mind was still on Paul. He had started kindergarten only the previous month, and now had stories to tell when his Tante Hanna visited. He was already far ahead of the other children in his ability to read, and far, far ahead in mathematics as a result of Jules’ games with him.
Under her arm was a package. She had delivered two skirts and two shirt waists to one of her better customers, and had gotten three articles to alter. Either Elfriede or Marta, her two employees, could do the actual work, but Hanna still insisted on keeping personal contact with her clients.
Herr Rosenthal was waiting at the outer door. He was highly excited. “Frau Charnoff,” he burst out. “Please call Herr Weiner at once. He has been searching for you for an hour. He wants you to call his office.” He held open the door to his apartment.
Hanna immediately put in the call. One of his office people answered. “Oh, Frau Charnoff,” he said. She could detect a tension in his voice. “Herr Weiner wants you to go to das Marienspital at once. Frau Weiner has been taken seriously ill.”
Hanna’s heart stopped. She could barely breathe. “I will go right away.”
She dropped the receiver on the hook. “Herr Rosenthal, Frau Weiner is at the hospital. Please call for a taxi. I will try to get one on the street at the same time.”
She dropped the package on the table, and rushed out of the house. Her mind was whirling as she ran into the middle of the street, searching for a taxi. A delivery truck approached. Frantically, she waved it down, then trotted to the driver’s side.
“Please, mein Herr. My friend is ill. I must get to das Marienspital at once. I will gladly pay whatever you want.”
He was a square, muscular man of middle age, and he recognized at once the desperation in her face. “Get in, gnädige Frau. I’ll have you there in short order.”
She leaped onto the seat; her hands held tight as he put the truck in gear and sped off. At each traffic signal against them, she beat her fist upon her knee.
At the hospital, she thrust a bill into his hand and jumped from the truck.
“It’s too much,” shouted the driver, but he was talking to her back as she ran inside.
My God, she thought, it is the same one where Jakob was brought. She hurried to the nurse at the admissions desk. “Schwester. I am…”
“Hanna!” she heard from one side. She turned. It was Jules. His eyes were staring wildly, and they were red from weeping.
She walked quickly over to him. “Where is Natalie?” she demanded.
He stood at the point of trembling. “The doctors have her in the contagious disease ward. She’s…” his voice broke. “They think she may have poliomyelitis!”
Hanna stepped back as if struck. Her hand went to her throat. The mortality rate among those with the disease was over 75%. “Oh, dear God,” she whispered. “When? How?”
“The first thing this morning. She complained of a terrible headache, and then she began losing control of all her muscles.” He bit his lip in dismay at the thought of the sudden attack of a woman in her physical prime. “We got her to the hospital at once.”
Hanna was breathing so rapidly that she thought she would choke, then a thought so horrible hit home that she paled. “Paul. How is Paul?”
“I had sent him to school. Then I had Reuben pick him up the moment I received the first report from the doctors.”
“Does he know about Natalie?”
Jules shook his head. “Not yet.”
“He must be quarantined.” She looked him squarely in the face. “Even from you.”
Jules swayed back as the implication hit home. “Yes, yes. You are right.”
“I am taking him home with me, Jules. Now.”
He nodded dumbly. “Yes. Yes. Of course. You are right.”
“I will keep in touch with you by phone.” Without a goodbye, Hanna fled outside. A taxi was standing to one side, and in short order, she was in Jules’ house. Paul was playing with a wooden train set in his bedroom, surprised, and a bit upset at the sudden change of schedule.
“Paul,” she said, after her usual warm kiss and hug. “Mami is not feeling well. Your father took her to the hospital to see a doctor. How would you like to spend a few days with me until she gets back.”
She had not fooled him. He looked up at her with his serious, brown eyes. “Is Mami dying?”
Hanna was shocked at the question. “Of course not, dear. Where did you hear such a thing?”
“One of the boys in the school said his grandfather was taken to the hospital and died. He went away and will never come back. Never. Not in my whole life.”
“No, my dearest. It is not the same with Mami. She became ill, and the doctors will have to give her medicine. Now hurry, help me pack a suitcase for you.”
She would not allow Reuben to drive them to her room. She did not want Paul to remain in contact with anyone who resided in that house. Instead she took a taxi. Once arrived, she called down the steps to Frau Rosenthal. When the woman started climbing up, Hanna motioned for her to stop.
“Frau Rosenthal. Frau Weiner is suspected of having poliomyelitis. I have Paul here in my room. We will both remain here until the doktors give us a clean bill of health.”
Frau Rosenthal was visibly shaken. She had two young boys at home, and the disease was essentially one of children. Even her admiration and deep affection for Hanna was undergoing a fierce battle inside. She was placing her own family on the path to disaster.
But Hanna was fighting for her very own also. She did not give the older woman time to think it out. Instead, she took control. “We will not allow your own boys near us. Please tell them not to come up these steps. You can leave food halfway up the stairs. Also, we do not plan to use the toilet down the hallway. I will take everything out at night and dispose of it.” Two older men lived on the same floor, and they shared its usage.
Frau Rosenthal took a breath. She had been caught up in the flow of events. The only thing she could do was follow the stream. “Very well. But I will have the boarders use the toilet on the third floor. Just in case.”
“Thank you. Please call Herr Weiner. Tell him to have someone keep me informed about Frau Weiner. They have my prayers.”
Jules’ bookkeeper was designated as the contact point, and Frau Rosenthal began calling up the news on the hour. Everyone in Jules’ house, including himself, were quarantined, and by late afternoon, the police were at Hanna’s room posting up her own quarantine. They were about to isolate the entire house, but Herr Rosenthal explained that Hanna had taken immediate precautions to keep Paul and herself away from anyone, which the health service official accepted.
Directly after the police left, Elfriede was calling up the stairs, asking for instructions.
“You must take care of everything,” said Hanna. “I do not know how long I will be locked up here. Frau Rosenthal will advance you any money you need.”
“Very well, Frau Charnoff,” came her cool, controlled reply. “Do not worry. We will do what is necessary.”
Hanna was very proud of the young woman when she left. She turned her full attention to Paul, playing whatever games were on hand, and speaking of everything that came to his mind. Stories of her childhood always fascinated him, so she had no problem keeping him occupied.
The first report about Natalie came late in the evening. She was in deep fever, with a severe headache, nausea, and both vomiting and diarrhea. Those were the classic symptoms, Hanna knew. But she had her own battle to fight. She made masks for them both to wear, turning it into a game. She boiled all the utensils in her room - her dishes, tableware, and glasses. And both her waste and that of Paul was carefully collected. When the house was asleep, she carried it out to the back yard and burned everything in a hole that she dug and later refilled.
The following morning, a health service doctor came to her door and inquired about the situation. Seeing them both in masks, and learning what precautions Hanna was taking, he nodded his head approvingly, promising to return each morning to continue his check.
For the next two days, Natalie’s fever continued to rise, and her throat became sorer. She had no control over any of her limbs. Tomorrow would be the critical day. Most of those infected lost their lives on the fourth day, by suffocation.
The call to Frau Rosenthal came directly after lunch. Natalie’s fever had broken, and some feeling had come back to the upper portion of her body. But the rest of her remained useless.
Hanna went back to her chair and silently wept. After a while, she noticed Paul standing by her side.
“Is Mami dead?” asked the boy, his face contorted with fear.
Hanna pulled him up on her lap. “No, my darling. Mami is all right. She is much better. But her legs may be weak.”
“Do you mean that she cannot play with me?”
Hanna bit her lip to keep from crying out. “Of course, she will be able to play with you. But maybe only from a chair for a while.”
On the tenth day, a knock came at the door. Hanna opened it. The health service doctor was standing there.
“I would like to examine the two of you,” he said quietly. He checked carefully their throats, ears, and eyes, and then he smiled.
“All has gone well, gnädige Frau. You are permitted now to leave the house.”