Chapter Thirty-Three

Coda

The earth stopped rotating on its axis. I gazed at the woman’s face for a long moment and finally saw Clarice Dumont. She possessed the same luminous smile as in her movies, but her fabled golden curls were gone, replaced by an auburn marcel. Folds of pink flesh enveloped her once-slim body. Still, even zaftig, Clarice remained lovely.

“You must be confused, my dear. Where do I begin? Mother was soused for days. She became a monster when she drank, but Baron protected me. He told her never to bother us again, and she swore he’d pay for his words.”

Mr. Roth guided us to a little Jewish cemetery tucked behind the larger, gentile one. Enameled portraits of the dead embellished many of the gravestones, many of older people, but the images of handsome swains and solemn beauties most affected me. The death pictures captured their youthful likenesses for eternity.

Clarice made her way down a well-worn path past rows of gravestones inscribed with Hebrew letters, almost every one with a stone perched on top.

“That horrid man, Nussbaum, was the one who decided fire would be the best revenge. Mother was vicious, but not a murderess. The monster locked the both of us in the dressing caravan and set it on fire. Baron pulled me out to safety and went back for Mother. She was so drunk she couldn’t move. He tried to save her even after all the pain she caused, but the fire was too fast.”

She stopped walking and leaned on Ben, sobbing, her grief revived. “So many young fellows these days aren’t worth a dime, but your uncle was a prince, my prince. His last words to me were, ‘Clarice, you have to live for our baby.’ ”

If David hadn’t been holding me, I would have fainted.

Mr. Roth finished the story for her. “Clarice and Baron came to my father when they found out she was pregnant. They were determined to have that kid even if it meant curtains for her career. Pops said, ‘Okay, let them get them married. We’ll work out the details later.’ After the fire, I knew Nussbaum still roamed the streets. I lied to protect her from him.”

Clarice opened her pocketbook, pulled out a photo, and handed it to me. The child was the spitting image of Uncle Baron. My tiny family was growing by the minute.

“You and your sister must come to see our little boy, handsome devil that he is. He’s the joy of my life, my son, Baron, Baron Sachs. I married the physician who treated me. I’ve gained weight since they starved me for the screen. Thank goodness, my Melvin likes his ladies on the plump side. We live in a place where no one remembers Clarice Dumont. She’s long gone, but everyone knows Mrs. Clara Sachs. You, your young man, and your sister shall come for a visit.”

I finally asked the question that had bothered me since I learned she was Clarice. “Your mother destroyed so many lives. Why do you apologize when you visit her grave?”

A streak of sunlight fell on the side of her cheek, and I glimpsed the young beauty my uncle had loved.

“My husband said it would help with my anger. I hated her so much it nearly destroyed me.” She pointed to an ornate gravestone accented with jet and onyx and surrounded by a bronze-and-wrought-iron gate. “Baron is there.”

An enameled portrait of Uncle Baron’s smiling face, his Panama hat tipped at a rakish angle, sat under a bubble of glass. He looked as debonair as any leading man in the movies. We huddled together, quietly grieving for the unnecessary deaths and pain. Ben uttered the words everyone was thinking: “What a star that kid would have made.”

Birds chirped, and the sun streamed over the green oasis. David placed an arm around me. Finally, after all our tribulations, I knew everything would be fine.