Zelek! Hanna thought her heart would stop beating. She found she was holding the receiver of the telephone so tightly that her fingers were white. “I will be there at once,” she managed to say. Without a word to her office staff, she rushed out to her car and sped through the streets. Zelek! Zelek! How could this be true? How could the black pit of silence suddenly be torn open?
Rosenthal was waiting at the door, and immediately handed over a stained envelope. On it was printed in large, irregular letters, in Russian and German:
HANNA BARLAK
From Zelek Barlak
She tore it open with trembling fingers. It was in Russian.
Petrograd,
March 17, 1918
Dear Sister Hanna:
I am alive. I was given your address by Cousin Zelda many years ago. She is dead. I am a soldier in the Fourteenth Red Guards Regiment. I hope you are alive and well.
Your brother,
Zelek
She leaned back against the wall, her brain spinning, and then she threw her arms around Rosenthal’s neck and kissed him. “He is alive!” she shouted with joy. “My brother, thank God, he is alive!”
Tears were blinding her eyes, making it nearly dangerous to drive home. She managed to get to the house without incident and put in a call for Jules at the store. He rushed home at once.
He was as excited as Hanna at the news, but he kept his wits. “Don’t write,” he cautioned her. “In Russia the Bolsheviks are fighting the Mensheviks, and both those Marxist idiots are fighting the Tzarists. A letter from Germany could cause suspicion. Have your detective agency contact Zelek personally.”
It made sense, and at once a telegraph was sent off. It was the end of June before a reply was received. The agency had reached Zelek. Since the terms of the peace treaty compelled Russia to give up Poland, Lithuania, and the Baltic countries, the agency could arrange a meeting in July in any of the occupied countries, or even in Königsberg itself.
“Take Königsberg,” said Jules. “We can travel there in safety.”
“You will go with me?”
“Of course. I will obtain permission to travel in uniform. It will open doors. I will put in for leave at once.”
Each day went by like it would never end. Finally, in late July, a telephone call came for them to start up. Jules got the tickets. They had no trouble getting seats, for the trains, battered by years of wartime service, were going east with plenty of space. It was only the westbound cars that were overloaded with troops being shipped to the lines in France and Belgium.
It still took two days to get to Königsberg. A large, elegantly furnished suite had been reserved for them by the agency in the finest hotel of the city, one Hanna had passed with awe so many years ago during her sojourn here. At long last, she finally met the owner of the agency, Herr Liebknecht. He was a short, rotund man, with a walrus mustache, and a large bald spot on the back of his head.
He greeted Hanna warmly. “Frau Charnoff,” he said, bowing over her hand. “After so many years. I feel like I have found one of my own family.”
“You have been a loyal, diligent gentleman,” said Hanna. “My dearest friend, Herr Leutnant Weiner,” she went on, introducing them.
The two exchanged stiff bows.
“My brother,” said Hanna, barely able to suppress her anxiety and nervousness.
“There has been a holdup,” said Liebknecht. “Another day or two.”
“Is there anything wrong?” She asked in alarm.
“Not at all. We are going through…” he waved his hand expressively, “…legal channels. Safety suggests caution. He is already en route. Another day or two, gnädige Frau.”
They remained close to the hotel, not dreaming of sightseeing in the event they might miss the call. On the third morning, directly after breakfast, a knock came at the door. Liebknecht stood there, his face red from having hurried. “He will be here in an hour,” he said.
Hanna’s hand went to her breast, her heart beating furiously. “Is he all right?” she asked breathlessly.
“Quite all right, Frau Charnoff, from the report. He is already in Prussia, in a car. Do you wish to see him here? I have a flat available.”
“No, here.” Hanna sat down heavily. She began crying.
“It’s all right,” said Jules, gently patting her on the shoulder. “It’s all right, my dear.”
She grasped his hand, gripping it with all of her might, the tears running freely.
“Thank you, Herr Liebknecht,” said Jules. “We will be waiting.”
The door opened. There he stood. They had gotten him a wool jacket and trousers, a checkered shirt, and a leather cap. Even his square-toed shoes were new. He was short, barely Hanna’s height. His face was browned by wind and sun and freezing weather. He is small because he did not eat well these past years, thought Hanna. But God, how he does resemble Papa! His eyes were alert, worried, and his hands were gripping his cap nervously.
Hanna stepped forward. His mouth opened, but he could not speak. He could only stare at this beautiful woman in front of him, elegantly dressed in the finery of a noble. She took him in her arms, and the tears flowed, and she wept with deep sobs. Then slowly, almost mechanically, his arms went around her, and he held her loosely, as if he was afraid he would injure her.
She drew away and kissed his face and his eyes and his mouth, not caring that her tears were streaking him, and then she hugged him again, crying with joy and relief and thanks.
She could not see. She turned to Jules, who passed over a handkerchief, and holding on tightly to one of Zelek’s hands, she wiped her face and blew her nose. “Come, little brother,” she said in Russian. She drew him over to a sofa and sat down next to him, still holding on to his hand. Then, when her eyes could see clearly again, she looked once more at him. It was almost as if Papa was sitting there, and she was close to breaking down again.
“Do you want some food?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Eggs, rolls, tea?”
He nodded again.
“Jules, please. Call room service.”
He pulled the service cord, and then took a chair across from them.
“Zelek, this is Jules Weiner, my dearest friend.”
Jules put out a hand, and Zelek took it shyly. He was evidently awed by Jules’ rank. Jules growled under his breath. He should have foreseen this and put on civilian clothes.
Hanna clenched his hand to her cheek. “How did you find me?” she asked.
He was still terribly shy. “Zelda gave me an address many years ago. I was not able to write until now.”
“And Gitel, Reba? What of them?”
His face tightened. “Gitel died. I don’t remember when. She and I were together in the Ukraine with this family. We worked in the fields from dawn to dark. One day she got a fever, and a day later she died.”
Hanna dropped her face in her hands, and her shoulders shook with her grief. “Oh, God, God, God,” she sobbed. Her head fell back against the sofa; her eyes closed with pain.
A knock came at the door. It was the waiter. Jules gave quiet orders, and it was shut softly behind him.
“Reba?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know. After you left, she and I were in Kaunas for a while, with Mr. Katzman. Then the police came and took us away. They put the three of us on a train with many others, and we rode day and night. While I was asleep, Reba was taken off. I never saw her again.”
“Do you know what happened to any of the family?”
He shook his head. “I just worked in the fields. It was a Russian family. They beat me until I said I was no longer a Jew, and then all went well so long as I worked hard. About four years ago, the police came and took me to an army camp. After a few days of training, I was sent to a company. We fought at Tannenberg.”
“What did he say about Tannenberg?” asked Jules.
“He fought there,” said Hanna.
“Everyone was shot except me and a couple of the men, so we ran and hid. After a few weeks, we got back to our lines. At Tannenberg I saw whole companies of Cossacks killed by the Germans. It reminded me of you. I used to tell everyone about my sister who killed a Cossack.”
Hanna smiled warmly at her little brother. She translated loosely for Jules.
“Last year,” went on Zelek. “I was in the revolution at Petrograd. It wasn’t much. We just paraded up and down the streets.” He tapped his chest. “They made me a corporal.”
The breakfast arrived. Hanna and Jules had eaten earlier, so they took just coffee. Zelek fell to his eggs and rolls and tea like he was famished.
When he finished, he slipped out paper and tobacco from a pocket and expertly rolled a cigarette. He drew smoke in deeply and sighed with satisfaction. Hanna smiled at him. He had not changed, even though he was over twenty years of age now.
“Then you know nothing about any of the family?” she asked again.
He shook his head.
She saw that he was tired. “Would you like to rest?” He nodded. “We have an extra room in the suite. Come.” She led him into it, showed him the bathroom, pulled down the covers, and kissed him warmly.
Back in the parlor, she sat quietly by the window, looking out at the street.
Jules came up behind her and pressed her shoulder. She placed her hand over his.
“It is still not over, Jules,” she finally said. “I will never stop looking. I fervently thank God that we found Zelek, though.”
“What do you plan to do now?”
“About Zelek? I want to take him to Stuttgart.”
He smiled. “That will be an experience.”
Zelek walked into the parlor just before suppertime. He had bathed and looked refreshed. At the hotel restaurant, he was again awed by the opulence. Hanna chuckled. “You can order whatever you like, little brother. We are rich.”
He grinned back at her. “Are you really rich?”
“Yes. I was very fortunate. I made a great deal of money.”
He nodded sagely. “It is good to be rich. But someday the poor people will take it away.”
“I will share it, gladly. Do you remember Jakob?”
“Yes, of course.”
“He died in Germany a few years ago. He was like a brother to me.”
“He was very nice. They said he killed a Cossack, too.”
“Yes. He saved my life, three times. He was badly wounded doing so.”
Zelek’s eyes softened. “I will remember him forever, then.”
“So will I.” The waiter came. Hanna translated the menu, and they ordered. “Do you remember the Russian boy, Stephen?”
“Yes. He used to bring fish.” His face brightened. “He also helped with the cow.”
“That is he,” said Hanna, smiling. “He saved both Jakob and me. He got us into Germany.” She looked down at the ring on her finger. “I married him, but he has disappeared in Russia.”
Zelek folded his hands, hard and calloused from heavy work. “I will remember him forever, too.”
“And so will I.”
The meal came, and they began eating. Zelek had little knowledge of table manners, but Hanna smiled with pride.
When they finished, Zelek rolled another of his simple cigarettes. After he lit up, Hanna placed her hand on his. “Zelek, we would like you to come live with us in Germany.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Thank you, sister, but I must go back to my company.”
“You do not have to go. You are quite safe here. You will be very comfortable in Stuttgart. It is a lovely city.”
He shook his head. “Russia is my country. We are changing it. Soon, we will wipe from its face all the injustices we’ve suffered. There is so much to do. I am needed.”
Hanna stared at him in amazement. Little Zelek, unable to read or write, forced to work like an ox since childhood, undernourished, beaten–he was needed to build a new country! All the privations he would be facing–he chose them over the comforts which awaited him in Stuttgart! A wave of love and admiration swept over her. Look, Israel! Look, Motlie! Look with honor on your son!
“You will keep in touch with me, will you not?”
“Yes. Of course. But first, I must learn to write.” He grinned shyly. “A friend wrote that letter I sent you.”
“It was the most welcome letter I have ever received in my life.” She caressed the back of his hand. “How long can you stay here?”
“I must return tonight. I told the people who brought me. I do not want anyone to think I have deserted.”
“Come up to the room,” she said. Once there, she took a roll of bills from her handbag and held it out to him.
“I cannot take that,” he said. “It is too much.”
“Take it,” she insisted. “Use it to learn to read and write. So that you can write to me yourself.” She kissed his hand. “And search for Reba and Stephen. We must not rest until we find them.”
Shyly, he accepted the money. “I will do as you say, sister.”
A knock came at the door. Jules answered it. He turned back into the room. “It’s Herr Liebknecht. He’s come for Zelek.”
Hanna put her arms around him and kissed his lips. “Take good care of yourself, little brother. Always remember that I love you.”
He kissed her in return. “And I love you, sister.” He stood back, and for a moment he seemed taller. “Soon we will be going south to fight the enemy. I will kill a Cossack for you.”
“Yes. Kill one for me.”
He turned to Jules and put out his hand. “I will remember you, Jules Weiner.”
Hanna translated.
“And I will remember you, Zelek.”
The door closed behind him.