Whispers from Yesterday (31 page)

“Stand still, Sophia. I’ll never get your hair brushed if you continue to dance around.”

“I can’t help it. I’m going to school, Mama. Will I like it? Will the teacher like me?”

“Everyone will like you, my little angel.”

“Esther has to stay home. She’s still a baby. I’m six.”

“That’s unkind to your sister. Now don’t move while I tie this ribbon in your hair. See. It’s the same color as your dress.”

“Oh, Mama. I’ve never had a satin ribbon for my hair before.” Despite her mother’s command to stay still, Sophia turned and gave her a big hug. “Thank you, Mama.”

“You’re welcome, darling.”

Sophia rubbed the ribbon against her cheek, her eyes closed. Was it her imagination or did the scent of lemon verbena linger in the air? It had been her mother’s favorite toilet water. How superior she’d felt because she got to go to school while Esther had to stay home. But the feeling hadn’t lasted. She’d been lonely at school without her sister. She’d missed her.

“I still miss you, Esther,” she whispered. “I’ll be glad when I see you in heaven.”

She set aside the ribbon, then reached into the box again, this time withdrawing an ivory hair comb.

“The comb! The one from the shop window. Oh, Esther, you’re the one who bought it.”

“Do you like it then? Are you surprised?”

She hugged her sister. “Beyond words. I love it. I’ll wear it because you gave it to me. You’re my best friend, Esther, and my beloved sister.”

“I love you too, Sophia.”

Sophia reached up and placed the comb in her hair, hair that was much thinner and totally white.

“I’ll give it to Karen,” she said. “It will look lovely with her blond curls.”

She smiled when she saw the next item in the box. It was a playbill, a program printed on one sheet of ivory paper and folded in half.
Pygmalion
was printed across the front.

Bradley had taken her to see the play on their first date, back in 1944.

“I hope you’ll like it. The play, I mean. Shaw’s my favorite playwright.” Bradley took hold of Sophia’s arm and escorted her toward the borrowed Ford.

She thought him handsome, even with the black patch he wore over his right eye. Not as handsome as Mikkel Christiansen, her first love, but handsome enough. He hadn’t told her how he’d lost his eye. She only knew it had happened while he was serving in the Pacific.

But she didn’t want to think about the war tonight, and she definitely didn’t want to think about Mikkel. She just wanted to have a good time. There were few enough opportunities for fun these days. Besides, she liked the way Bradley Taylor looked at her, as if he thought she’d hung the moon.

He reached through the open window of the automobile and retrieved a small white box. He held it out to Sophia. “This is for you.”

She opened it. Inside was a single red rose. “An American Beauty for an American beauty.”

When she looked up, he kissed her.

“We were good together, Bradley, you and I. If only I’d realized it sooner than I did. I could have been a better wife to you.”

She closed her eyes and allowed the memory of that evening to drift through her mind, savoring each and every moment. She’d begun to fall in love with him that night.

She sighed, opened her eyes, and looked once more into the shoe box. As she lifted out the crayon drawing, her eyes misted with tears.

“Dear, sweet Maggie.”

She reached for a tissue. Then she smiled.

“That’s you,” Maggie said proudly, “and that’s Daddy and that’s me and that’s Pogo. See? I colored that black spot around her ear.”

“It’s very nice, Maggie.”

“Where’s Daddy? I wanna show him, too.”

“He’ll be in for lunch soon. You can show him then.”

Maggie slid onto a kitchen chair. “I love my daddy a whole bunch, and he loves me. I’m his honey bunny.”

“And you’re mine, too.” Sophia kissed her on the cheek.

“Yours, too, Mama!”

Sophia sighed again. She wished those precious years could have been prolonged. Maggie hadn’t doubted her love then. That had come later, when she was a teenager. If Sophia had only let go of that last seed of resentment, if she’d stopped feeling jealous because Maggie was Esther’s child by birth, Esther and Mikkel’s …

But she couldn’t undo the past.

If she’d wanted proof of that, she only had to lift the final item from the shoe box. An envelope, smudged and made brittle by the passing years.

She opened the envelope and withdrew the letter inside. She didn’t have to read it. She’d memorized it long ago.

12 M
ARCH.
1946 C
OPENHAGEN,
D
ENMARK

Dear Mrs. Taylor,

Pardon my poor English, but I write to tell you of your sister, Esther, and her husband, Mikkel. They were good friends to us before and during the war. Because of their goodness my husband Isaac, my children, and I are alive today.

I grieve greatly to learn of their deaths. I think you do not know perhaps, and it has taken much time to find you for Esther’s sake.

We have living with us Margaret Rose Christiansen, daughter of Esther and Mikkel Christiansen. She was sent with us to Sweden to escape the Nazis. We hoped for long time to find Esther waiting for us in Copenhagen when we return, but know now she will not be here. We feel great love for little Rose, but she should be with family, as Esther wanted.

Mrs. Taylor, many horrors happened during war. I want you to know how Esther gave herself for others. Her heart was filled with love when many more were filled with hate. Even when she was afraid, she had great faith in her God. I will remember. I will never forget.

We await to hear from you.

Hannah Abrams

Sophia refolded the stationery and slipped the letter into the envelope. Then, with unshed tears blinding her, she placed it into the shoe box and closed the lid.

Saturday, January 9, 1943

Dear Diary,

Today is our little Rose’s first birthday. We had a party for a few friends from church. Hannah and Isaac and their children were with us as well. It almost seemed an ordinary day. It took contributions from several families, but I managed to obtain the necessary ingredients to bake a cake. It was small, and no one got much more than a few bites. Still, it was good.