Chapter 21

Bern. August, Tuesday—Present Time

I stopped at the Inselspital, following Emelie’s suggestion, but the modern set of hospital buildings affiliated with the University of Bern triggered no memories of the past. A polite woman at the information desk informed me that the old buildings had been demolished in order to upgrade the hospital. Another dead end.

There was a long white envelope tucked underneath my room door when I finally arrived at the Wildflower. A quick squeeze of the envelope confirmed a plastic card inside. Finally, things were turning around for me! A few minutes later, I ran downstairs to the bar with my newly activated credit card.

“Oh, here you are, Maya,” Jacob, the neighbor, greeted me. “Did you have a good day exploring?”

“I did. I sure did.” I plopped happily into one of the chairs next to him and stretched my tired legs.

“And what can I get you?” Franz appeared from a small area behind the bar, startling me.

“A soda, please. And if you have some cheese or any other snack, I’d appreciate that as well. Really hungry.”

Franz gave me a curious look, but a few minutes later, a plate of sliced bread, butter, cheese, and olives appeared.

“If you are this hungry,” said Jacob, “you should come for dinner. My wife makes a much better schnitzel than Franz’s cook. We have a grandnephew visiting from New York, so she’ll probably make her best recipe tonight.”

My mouth watered at the thought of schnitzel, and I swallowed. I thought of my grandmother’s schnitzel and felt a tug at my heart. It was too late to call her tonight, though.

“I’m sorry, but I already have plans for tonight. Thank you.”

“Another day maybe,” Jacob said, taking a slice of cheese from my platter.

I pushed the platter closer to him. I thought of David then and how I’d handle sitting next to him at dinner and spending an entire evening with him. What did he really think of me? And why did I feel such a strong need to be with him?

I distracted myself by getting up and walking around the small bar area. I felt strangely comfortable in this room, just as I felt uneasy in the rest of the house. What was it about the room? I touched the dark paneling and the old shelves holding glasses, my fingers gently gliding on the worn wood.

There it was—that slipping-from-reality feeling I was beginning to get used to…

“You like what I’ve done here?” Franz’s voice brought me back to the present world.

I shook the feeling off. “I love this room. I feel…at home in it, somehow.”

He looked pleased. “The bar was my special project. Most of the rest of the home was remodeled. Everything is new and rooms have even been added on the side and on the top floor. But for this room, I saved the old wood from the furniture I found in the doctor’s office. I made the shelves here myself, and I paneled the walls.” He touched the paneling gently. “I even saved the old doctor’s desk. Come see here.” He waved insistently. “I modified the desk to make it taller, so that it could be used as a bar now. But I did save one feature. It had a—”

“Hidden drawer!” I exclaimed and covered my mouth in surprise.

“It sure did.” Franz placed his hand underneath the bar.

Click. I didn’t need to see, because I knew exactly how the secret hinge worked. I could tell him all the things that I’d seen hidden in that drawer, as well, over the years that I’d been in this house. When it was still a doctor’s office. When I was someone else.

“And here is what I found in the drawer when I finally managed to open it,” Franz’s voice broke through my thoughts. He held out to me an old photograph of a family in beginning-of-the-century clothing. My pulse speeded up and tears welled up in my eyes. I grabbed the edge of the bar and tried to hold still.

“And this is how we became friends,” Jacob chimed in. “He came to me asking if I wanted the picture or if it was all right for him to keep it. I told him this was indeed my wife’s family, but we had many pictures of them, and he can keep it for his hotel and bar. It was nice of him to ask, though.”

“So I keep it here, to tell stories. Isn’t it a great picture? Look how happy they all look! Maybe just not this one girl.” He pointed.

I took the picture, hoping my fingers wouldn’t shake. “What are their names? Do you know?” I managed to ask in a cracked voice. They didn’t seem to notice.

Jacob looked over my shoulder. “The family’s name was Miller. This girl here, the one who is not smiling much in the straw hat, is Rebecca. She was the older daughter. We don’t have too many pictures of her. The youngest daughter, next to her, is Hannah. Then, here are their mother and father; their names were Helene and Joseph. Joseph was the doctor, so this was his office we are in right now. Then this is the grandmother, and I don’t know her name. You’d have to ask my wife. She likes to be the keeper of the family history.”

I studied the photo, every detail of it. There she was. Rebecca. The ring’s owner. The woman who’s been sharing her life with me. But she’s only a girl in this photograph.

In the photograph, Rebecca sat on the grass, next to her sister. There was a remarkable difference between the two girls. While Hannah reclined in a relaxed pose, smiling and comfortable in her fine clothes, Rebecca sat awkwardly, looking down at her folded hands, large hat lopsided on her hair, legs folded underneath her. Their mother sat rigidly behind them, frowning, tense.

“I wonder why Rebecca doesn’t look so happy,” I said, studying her face.

What was it that made you so sad, Rebecca Miller?

“I think they were happy enough,” Jacob said. “Well off, and the girls made good marriages. There was a son, too, but he died from some illness.”

“Is your wife related to Rebecca or Hannah?” I asked.

“To Hannah. Rebecca moved to America sometime after the Great War. That’s how we have a relative coming to visit us from New York. That’s where she lived.”

“Wow, she left her family behind,” I whispered. I knew how Rebecca must have felt. An immigrant. Alone. I knew why I’d had to leave my country. I wondered why she had to.

“Jacob,” I said, thinking carefully of how to phrase my words, “I love history and especially old photographs and family stories. Is there any chance your wife would be willing to meet with me for a bit tomorrow? To tell me more?”

“Oh, she would love nothing more. We’re busy with family this weekend, but tomorrow should be no problem. Maybe you’ll take me up on my dinner offer then?”

“Thank you so much!” I could hardly contain myself from going over and hugging him tightly.

“Well, it’s settled, then! You can help with the cooking and hear the stories. My daughter can tell you whatever my wife forgot.”

I rushed upstairs, planning to return to the bar early in the morning before Franz got in. I wanted to discover if I could bring up some of Rebecca’s memories from her father’s office. Rebecca! I knew the name now! Rebecca Miller. I skipped all the way to my room. Everything was falling into place. I had to tell Pauline! And I couldn’t wait to tell David.

Newly armed with my shiny bank card, I walked out to the market I’d noticed a few blocks away and bought a box of sweets and a bunch of flowers to bring to dinner. Then I pulled out the folded piece of paper that Emelie had given me with her address. And nearly dropped it.

I looked at it twice, turning the paper around in disbelief. I walked quickly back to my hotel to check that my eyes weren’t deceiving me. I was staring at two nearly identical houses sharing a wall: one with a blue front door and one with a red. My hotel had the blue door. The address on my folded piece of paper identified the one with a red door. I dropped my purchases on the ground, torn between the desperate desire to run away and the desperate need to find out whether I really was looking at the house where Rebecca, the woman whose life I’d been remembering, used to live.

Jacob’s face and words suddenly flashed into my mind.

My house is next door…This house used to belong to my family too…Rebecca moved to America sometime after the Great War…We have a great nephew visiting from New York…

Not possible…but then…was it?

Meaningful coincidences. So David was Rebecca’s great-grandson. David, who made me lose my mind every time he touched me. David, who I was pretty sure I should be staying away from, was currently waiting for me.

“So are you planning on coming in?” David popped out from the bright red door, and he waved at me.

I picked up the bag and bravely walked toward him. My mind was racing. Should I tell him? Did I really have a choice? Jacob surely would be there to tell him. I felt cornered. The entire story was about to be revealed to a large group of people. What would they think of their strange dinner guest? On the other hand, what did I have to lose?

Breathe.

“I need to tell you something,” I said as I approached.

He turned around, eyes curious.

“I swear I’m not making this up,” I began.

He listened quietly, as he always did, then whistled and ran a hand through his hair. “Do fantastic things always happen to you?”

“No, my life is normally really shitty and ordinary.”

“It’s hard to believe.” He rolled his eyes. “So you have my great-grandmother’s ring? Let me see it again.” He carefully examined my outstretched hand. “I knew the design reminded me of the earrings my mother had. Great-Grandma must have gotten the earrings to match the ring. I’d like to know how the ring ended up lost from the family in the first place.”

“You’re going to have to ask your mother. If Rebecca went to America after she got the ring, how did it end up in Paris?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea. Wait! You said the man you were searching for was Mark. My great-grandfather’s name wasn’t Mark. It was Edward. Rebecca’s husband was Edward Fischer.”

“Edward Fischer? No, it has to be Mark. And there’s still the mystery of ‘C.T.’ who sold the ring.”

“Are you sure you’re searching for Mark? And not Edward? Or maybe it’s not even the right Rebecca?”

“No, of course I’m not sure, but I think that’s who I’m looking for. It’s the poem. It matches the inscription on the ring.” I was worried, however. “Should I keep looking, or do you want me to stop? Now that it’s your family. I know it’s her. I’m sure. When I was at the house next door, I knew exactly where that secret drawer was. I remembered clearly.”

“You don’t have to stop. I’m somewhat worried about what you’ll find out, though. Maybe you shouldn’t tell all the details to Ruth, Emelie’s mother.”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For taking it so well. I keep throwing all kinds of crazy-sounding information at you. And you just listen…and help.”

“You mean, someone else would be reacting with some negativity?” He smirked.

“I mean, someone else would’ve run away. Very far away by now.”

“Maybe you’re introducing some level of fun into my trip that I wasn’t expecting.” David looked straight into my eyes, and I struggled to breathe.

“I’m glad I’m making your life more interesting,” I said slowly.

“You are.” He moved closer to me and bent his head.

“Here you are!” Emelie’s bright voice emerged from behind the door. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

“I was just inviting Maya in.” David stepped aside and motioned me in.

As I walked past him, squeezing through the narrow doorway, I stopped, just for a moment, and peeked at David. He winked. As Emelie was now back inside, I stood up on my tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He smelled heavenly. It had been a long time since I had kissed a man.

I rushed inside. “Come on, you need to show me around,” I called back to David, still standing at the doorstep.