While We're Far Apart (10 page)

“But I don’t think . . . I mean . . . I can’t drive a great big bus.”

“You should do it. I’ll bet you’ll meet a lot of servicemen. The buses are full of them these days. You’re so lucky!”

“I don’t care about meeting servicemen,” Penny said with a little laugh. “I already have a boyfriend.”

By the end of the workday, Penny still hadn’t made up her mind about the promotion, teetering back and forth between taking it and not taking it like a kid on a seesaw. On a whim she decided to run home to her parents’ house on her way to the apartment and pick up her birth certificate just in case. Her mother had the ironing board set up in the kitchen and was listening to the radio as she pressed Father’s shirts. The sweet smell of steaming cotton filled the room.

“Your birth certificate!” she said when Penny told her what she wanted. “What do you need that for?” She made it sound as though Penny had asked her for the moon. Too late, Penny realized her mistake.

First of all, Mother would have a conniption fit if she found out that Penny wanted to learn to drive a bus. And after she recovered, she would nag Penny day and night until she finally talked her out of it. She didn’t think Penny was capable of riding a bicycle, much less driving a huge bus filled with people – and all of them strangers!

“Well, you see . . .” Penny started backing out of the kitchen and into the living room as she talked. “My boss at work says I might be getting a promotion soon, but he needs to see my birth certificate. So if you just tell me where to look, I’ll find it myself. You don’t have to bother. Is it here in the desk with Father’s important papers?”

Mother set down the iron with a thump and hurried after Penny, leaving the appliance plugged in – something she repeatedly warned Penny never to do. “Don’t go digging through the desk. It isn’t in there.”

“Well, where is it, then?”

“You don’t have one.”

Penny stared at her. “Everybody has a birth certificate.”

“Well, you don’t. It got lost years ago . . . when we moved into this house. I never replaced it.”

“Lost? But . . . but I need it. I won’t get the promotion unless – ”

“What kind of promotion is this? Who ever heard of such a thing? You didn’t need a birth certificate when you started working for the bus company. Why would you need one now?”

Penny didn’t dare tell her the truth – nor did she want to lie. She knew Mother was still furious with her for moving into Eddie’s apartment, and she wasn’t likely to help her now, no matter how much Penny begged.

“Never mind. I need to get back to the apartment. I don’t like to leave the kids alone for too long after school.”

“Those children should be living next door with their grandmother, not with you. When are you going to give up this ridiculous notion of playing house and come back home where you belong? And why in the world would you want a promotion when you already have more responsibility than you can handle?”

Penny slouched toward the door. “I’ll see you and Dad next Sunday. Bye.”

Mother’s reaction made Penny fume all the way across town. Long before she arrived home, she reached the conclusion that no matter what happened, she would never move back home with her parents. Never. If Eddie fired her and hired someone else to watch his kids, she would find a little apartment of her own. She could do it with a pay increase of fifteen dollars a week. If Mr. Whitney thought she could drive a bus, then maybe she could.

Penny had found a seat close to the front of the bus, and she watched the driver at work, imagining herself doing his job. He had a lot to look out for with so many cars and pedestrians and buses filling the streets. But other than that, all he did was stop and go, and take people’s tickets, and hand out transfers, and make sure passengers dropped enough change into the little metal slots to cover their fares. Penny had endured the same boring, day-to-day existence her entire life – living at home, selling tickets at the bus station, listening to her mother’s criticism – and suddenly, she couldn’t stand the thought of living that way for the rest of her life.
Fifteen extra dollars a week.
She would be rich. She would sign up for drivers’ training tomorrow.

She smiled at the driver as she got off the bus. She practically skipped all the way upstairs to Eddie’s apartment. She had her confidence back and was growing more and more excited about the new job when the ringing telephone interrupted her thoughts.

“Shaffer residence, Penny Goodrich speaking.”

“Hello, this is Mrs. Cole from Waring Elementary School. I’m Peter’s teacher. I wondered if you could meet with me tomorrow afternoon after school.”

“Well . . . I’m not a relative, Mrs. Cole. I’m just taking care of Peter and Esther while – ”

“I know. Mr. Shaffer came to the school and explained the arrangement before he left for the army. Would this time tomorrow work for you, Miss Goodrich?”

“I guess so. I could come right after work.”

“Thank you. I’m in Room 5. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Now what? Did Peter need extra help with his homework? Was he causing trouble? Penny hoped not, because she didn’t know how to handle discipline problems. She couldn’t even get Peter to talk to her. Now Eddie would realize for certain that she didn’t know anything about kids. She was in over her head and dumber than a green bean to have volunteered for this job in the first place. She would be an even bigger fool to think she could drive a bus.

Penny barely slept that night for worrying. She was groggy-eyed the next morning when Mr. Whitney came to her cashier’s booth again. “I don’t want to rush you, Miss Goodrich, but I will need to know your decision soon.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Whitney, but I don’t have a birth certificate. My mother said she lost it years ago and – ”

“Where were you born?”

“Here in Brooklyn, I guess.”

“Well, the New York State Vital Records Office can issue you a new one. You’ll probably have to pay a few dollars, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

She was about to explain that she had made up her mind not to take the job when Mr. Whitney added, “In fact, I’ll give you an extra half hour for lunch today so you can go over and apply for a new one. That’s how badly I need drivers, Miss Goodrich.”

Penny did as she was told. She always did. As soon as she finished filling out all the papers at the records’ office, she shoved the job decision to the back of her mind as she continued to worry about this afternoon’s meeting with Peter’s teacher. Her knees shook as she walked through the doors of his elementary school.

“I’ll come right to the point,” Mrs. Cole said after the introductions. “Peter hasn’t spoken a word to me or anyone else in school in weeks.”

The news astonished Penny. She would have fallen over if she hadn’t been sitting on a chair. “You either? He hasn’t talked to me since the day I arrived and his daddy left for boot camp. I thought he was mad at me for some reason. I had no idea he wasn’t talking to anyone.”

“His sister, Esther, came to me a few days after their father left and said that Peter had laryngitis and couldn’t talk. I sent him to the school nurse, but he didn’t have a fever and his throat didn’t seem swollen. I decided to wait and see if he was going through a phase, but when nothing changed I thought you and I should talk. He has been doing fine with his schoolwork, and he doesn’t cause any trouble. He simply communicates by writing, not speaking.”

“What should I do? I-I don’t know what to do. I don’t have any experience with children, Mrs. Cole. I just wanted to help Eddie out.”

“I’m aware that Peter’s mother passed away over a year ago and that his father has recently left home. I’ve heard of cases like this before where a child becomes so traumatized that he simply shuts down. For a boy as sensitive as Peter, I can see how losing both of his parents in such a short time might have that effect.”

“Do you think I should take him to a doctor?”

“Not yet. You seem like a kind, capable woman, Miss Goodrich, and I have a feeling that once you and the children settle into a new routine, Peter will be okay.”

It was the second time in two days that someone had told Penny that she seemed capable. She felt like a fraud.

“Will Peter’s father be coming home anytime soon?” Mrs. Cole asked.

“He’ll get a furlough when he finishes basic training.”

“Then I think the best thing to do is to simply wait and see. Don’t pressure Peter. If the problem doesn’t resolve on its own, we can all meet to talk about the situation when Mr. Shaffer comes home.”

Penny thanked Mrs. Cole and walked back to the apartment. For some reason her tears would not stop falling the entire way. She didn’t want to raise two difficult children. She didn’t know how. All she wanted to do was marry Eddie Shaffer. Was that asking for so much?

C
HAPTER 9

A
BASEBALL GAME
blared from Jacob’s radio. It had done so for the past hour, but he could only stare at the machine in frustration. He wanted to change the station or at least lower the volume, but every time he tried to manipulate the tiny knobs with his useless hands he made matters worse. That was how he had ended up with the baseball game in the first place instead of the musical program he usually listened to.

He was tired of wearing bandages on his hands, tired of being helpless. The dressings should have come off a week ago, but the doctor had detected a problem. The burns were not healing right. There was a slight infection, and Jacob would not only have to keep the dressings on for another week but the doctor had made the bandages even thicker. The bulky cast on his right arm added to his frustration.

A stack of newspapers cluttered his dining room table. They contained articles he wanted to save, the latest maps showing where the battle lines were drawn, and photographs of the Nazi bombings in London. But Jacob could not hold a pair of scissors, much less cut with them.

Women from the congregation continued to come by every few days to drop off casserole dishes and quarts of soup. They offered to come inside and help Jacob, but he chased them all away. Let the dirty dishes pile up – what did it matter? Rebbe Grunfeld still coaxed him to let the men from the shul come here to pray. The deluge of food must be part of the enticement as they tried to persuade him to join them again. Jacob continued to refuse.

“It’s a line drive into center field . . . the runner heads toward second base. . . . The center fielder scrambles for the ball . . . and he fumbles!”

Would the baseball game never end? Jacob wanted to hear the latest news about the war and the Allied invasion of Italy. The news should come on soon. It usually did around suppertime – and suppertime meant more frustration as he tried to heat up another meal with these mittens on his hands. The doctor should try working with these clumsy things. See how he liked it.

He sighed and sat down at his desk, fumbling for his son’s letters. Jacob had waited all day to reread one. After much practice these past few weeks, he had finally figured out how to blow into the opened envelope and remove the letters with his teeth, then smooth them out on his desk with his mittened hands.

When Avraham had first begun writing, it had been easy for Jacob to picture his son through these letters and visualize the life he led in Hungary. He could imagine Avi’s excitement when he saw the old country for the first time and when he met his relatives and their families. Later, Avi’s letters had given details of his studies and told how much he valued the rebbe’s wisdom and insights. Then Sarah Rivkah had entered the picture, and Avraham had spoken of little else as his love for her blossomed.

Jacob had read the letters so many times that he had their contents memorized. He already knew what today’s letter would say. He knew both the joy and the pain it contained.

Dear Mama and Abba,

I have wonderful news. Sarah Rivkah and I have decided to marry. I love her and she loves me. I don’t want to live another day of my life without her. She is a precious gift to me from Hashem, blessed be He.

I know the news of our engagement may upset you, and I am so sorry for that. You will say that I am too impetuous, that I am moving forward too quickly. You will advise me to wait a year before marrying her. I can almost see your face, Abba, and hear the concern in your voice as you say these things. But Uncle Yehuda knows Sarah’s family very well, and he has agreed to act in your place for our betrothal and marriage. Mama, I am so sorry that you will not be here with us to celebrate this joyous day, but I know that you will love Sarah Rivkah the moment you meet her. She is the daughter you have always wished for. Please rejoice with us.

I received your most recent letter, Abba, and I understand why you are begging me to come home. I am as concerned as you are, now that the Nazis have invaded neighboring Poland. You are probably right in believing the war will eventually spread to America, too. But if another worldwide war truly is coming, then Sarah and I want our chance at happiness before it does. Right now it is very difficult to emigrate to the U.S. from Hungary because of all the quotas. Nobody wants to take in more Jews, it seems. But since I am an American citizen, I’ve been told that it will be easier for Sarah Rivkah to immigrate if we are already married. It might make it easier for her parents and the rest of our family to come, as well.

Jacob stopped reading. He knew the rest. The mail took so long to travel across an ocean filled with U-boats and warships that by the time Avraham’s next letter arrived, the wedding had taken place. Eleven months and dozens of letters later – after Belgium, the Netherlands, and France had all fallen to the Nazis – Hashem had blessed Avi and Sarah with a little daughter.