Always and Forever Page 24

  “When are they coming?” Jesse clamored as she walked into the kitchen. “Are they bringing me presents?”

  “Jesse, don’t expect Grandma and Grandpa to bring you presents every time they see you,” she scolded. But she knew they always brought some small gift for Jesse.

  Right on schedule the grandparents and Aunt Sophie arrived. It seemed to Kathy that the apartment became alive with their presence. There was the usual effort of Jesse to prolong his time with them.

  “Mom, you spoil him rotten,” Kathy laughed when her mother pleaded that he be allowed to stay up another fifteen minutes.

  “After all, a boy who’s going into the first grade in September—” Her father exuded pride and love.

  At last Alice took Jesse off to prepare for bed. Aunt Sophie insisted on helping Kathy bring dinner to the table while Edie and Adam pored over the latest batch of snapshots of Jesse. Kathy felt loved and cherished here in the midst of her family.

  “All right,” Aunt Sophie ordered. “Everybody to the table.”

  Over dinner her mother asked about Marge and her progress with the shop.

  “She’s running into all kinds of problems,” Kathy reported, “but she’ll make it. We talk at least twice a week about the latest developments. I wish she was here in New York, and I could help her.”

  “Kathy—” All at once her mother appeared anxious. “Are you serious about finding a job when Jesse starts first grade?”

  “I can’t wait,” Kathy said softly.

  “How does Phil feel about this?” her mother pursued. She spoke casually, but her eyes betrayed her concern.

  “I don’t know if he even hears me.” Kathy stared at her plate. Edie—who, of necessity, had worked all of her adult life—found it inconceivable that any woman would want to go out to a job if she wasn’t forced to do this. “But this is my decision to make.”

  “I read somewhere that Eleanor Roosevelt said that more and more women will go out to work in the years ahead,” Adam recalled.

  “I read that, too.” Edie was faintly defiant. “But she said that was because we live in a two-pocketbook era. That it takes two wage-earners to support a family today. Kathy doesn’t have that problem.”

  “She has other problems, like other women, too.” Sophie nodded in comprehension. “They won’t starve if they don’t go out to work, but for them it’s not enough to stay at home, raise kids, wash their husbands’ socks—”

  “Aunt Sophie, Kathy doesn’t wash Phil’s socks.” Edie laughed.

  “Women have a right to do something with their lives,” Sophie insisted. “So the floors are dusty and the chrome needs polishing, but their minds are healthy. If Kathy wants a job she should have it.”

  “In time, Aunt Sophie,” Kathy said affectionately, “we’ll have a quiet revolution. A feminine revolution. But it’ll be good for everybody.”

  David was grateful for the approach of spring. He loathed the cold, gray winters in Berlin. He always felt himself living in exile in Berlin—more so than ever in winter.

  He ought to feel good, he reproached himself in the midst of a lonely dinner at a crowded cafe, though like himself many dined alone. This cafe, mercifully, didn’t smell of boiled cabbage and cigars. His work was going well, he considered. The prospect for world peace seemed bright with Stalin dead, though he worried about the red-baiting plague that infested the United States. He’d feel less pessimistic tomorrow night. Tomorrow he’d have dinner at Gretchen’s apartment and spend the night.

  Tomorrow night he’d ask Gretchen to marry him. The moment had come, he thought in sudden decision. Hadn’t he said he’d do this when spring arrived? Spring was almost here. There would be no more depressing, solitary dinners. No more nights of lying alone and fighting insomnia. He would make his peace with the past.

  As always, the next morning he was the first to arrive at the Institute. He knew there were those who resented the long hours he spent at work, who made snide remarks behind his back about his traveling to Paris and London and the United States to share the results of his experiments. But medical research was international—it belonged to the world.

  Gretchen arrived and went immediately to put up coffee. She scolded him for being a caffeine addict, but she always brought him a mug of fresh coffee minutes after she walked into the lab.

  “I got up very early today to go to the butcher shop,” Gretchen told him with a satisfied smile. “Before the East Berliners come in to shop. We’re having wiener schnitzel for supper.” Though for most Germans the midday dinner was the largest meal of the day, dedicated workers at the Institute settled for a lighter midday meal and allowed themselves the early evening American-style dinner. “I’ll leave the lab early today.”

  “I heard birds singing this morning,” David told her. “That’s a sure sign spring is in the air.” He remembered a favorite saying of his mother’s—all those years ago before he was sent to New York. “Spring is a new beginning. It should be the beginning of each new year—not a cold and dreary time like Berlin Januarys.”

  “Will you have clinic hours tonight?” she asked.

  “I have help now,” he reminded her. For the past two months a pair of young doctors had been sharing his unpaid practice. “I’m taking off. I’ll be at your place by 7:30.”

  All through the day at odd moments he remembered his decision to propose to Gretchen tonight. It was both an ending and a beginning, he told himself. An end to an impractical dream—how could he ever think that one day he might have a life with Kathy?—and the beginning of a realistic new life. Mama and Papa would want him to marry, to start a new family.

  After Gretchen left for the day, he worked with an eye on the clock. Tonight he wouldn’t be an hour late to dinner, he vowed, though Gretchen was understanding and forgiving when he did this. He would be there on schedule, with a pound of coffee—which Gretchen would appreciate—and Himbeertorten from the bakery.

  As he had promised himself, he appeared at the apartment at 7:30 sharp. Even before Gretchen opened the door, he was conscious of the appetizing aromas of dinner on the range.

  “David, coffee!” she said and lifted her face to his. Coffee was expensive and not always available in the stores. “And raspberry tortes. You remember that I love them.”

  Over dinner they talked about the new American president; Gretchen was fascinated by everything American.

  “Eisenhower is the first Republican president in twenty-four years,” David told her, while in a corner of his mind he considered the best moment to ask Gretchen to marry him. He suspected that others in the Institute assumed this would happen in time. “It’ll be interesting to see how he handles the Cold War.”

  Inevitably they talked about the way East Berliners were sneaking into West Berlin for the free food packages being supplied by the Americans.

  “Rumors are that soon the packages will be given out on a monthly basis,” Gretchen told David. “Right now they’re serving 20,000 to 30,000 people a day.”

  “And do you know what each package offers?” David said, faintly derisive. “A pound and a half of lard, 2 tins of condensed milk, 1 pound of powdered milk, and a package of lentil beans and a pound of flour or rice. This is supposed to be nutritionally sufficient for one person for a week.”

  “And they—the ones who come to distribution centers—receive this once a month.” She hesitated. “I know it sounds callous of me, but I find it hard to feel compassionate toward hungry Germans when I remember the concentration camps.”

  “I know,” David confessed. “There are moments when I want to scream out to all those people around the world who’re so touched by the way the Berliners hang on—that these are the people who allowed their countrymen to kill six million Jews.”

  “But they’re fighting Communism,” Gretchen said bitterly, “and that’s like a Holy War. Forget the concentration camps.”

  “I heard an English journalist say the other day that West Berlin is the cheapest atom bom
b, and a fairly peaceful one at that. West Berlin keeps the Communists in check.”

  “It still amazes me that we both came back to Berlin after the war. Gretchen said in an effort to dispel the suddenly somber mood. “I was waiting for you to arrive.”

  “Gretchen, will you marry me?” he asked softly. “I’d meant to wait until after dinner to ask—” He managed a self-mocking chuckle.

  “How can I say no to a man who brings me coffee and raspberry tortes?” Her face was luminous. “Oh, David, yes. Yes!”

  “Quietly?” It was almost a plea. “Just a few of the crew from the Institute. And the rabbi.”

  “Yes, we’ll want the rabbi.”

  “Right now could I have more of the wiener schnitzel?” His hand reached across the table to cover hers for a moment. “You’re not only lovely and bright—you’re a terrific cook.”

  The evening ended as he knew it would—with their making love. Tonight there was a special intensity, he thought while they lay tangled together beneath the comfort of the blankets in the cold bedroom. For a moment he considered giving Gretchen the jeweled pin that remained hidden away in a dresser drawer in his tiny apartment, but almost immediately he discarded this idea. Gretchen was sentimental—she would wear it constantly. He knew he couldn’t bear to see any woman but Kathy wear that delicately fashioned jeweled bow. Perhaps years later, when they were grandparents, he’d give it to Gretchen. But not now.

  “Let me set the alarm.” Gretchen reached for the clock on the night table when he began to yawn. “You’ll never forgive me if I let you oversleep.”

  “It’s ridiculous for us to go to sleep so early,” he protested.

  “No,” she rejected with a gentle smile. “You work like a madman. You need to sleep.”

  It was absurd to spend his life pining for what he couldn’t have, David scolded himself. Tonight he had eaten well, loved well. What more should a man demand of life?

  Eventually he fell asleep. He awoke knowing instantly that it wasn’t morning, a moment later conscious of his surroundings. Seeking comfort he turned on his side and reached an arm out to Gretchen. But she wasn’t there. Now his eyes—growing accustomed to the darkness—saw her standing by the window, staring out into the night.

  “Gretchen?” He was anxious without knowing why. “Can’t you sleep?”

  “I was too excited,” she said and walked back to the bed. Standing at the edge. “David, who is Kathy?”

  “A girl I knew in Hamburg.” He was bewildered by the questions. “One of our group. We were a team—”

  “You talked about her in your sleep.” She paused. “I think you love her very much.”

  “That was a long time ago—” David pulled himself into a sitting position. He was shaken by Gretchen’s statement. “She’s married to my cousin in New York.” He’d never told anyone that he loved Kathy. In sleep his mind betrayed him. “That was a long time ago,” he repeated.

  “I think it would be wrong for us to marry.” Her voice was strained but firm. “She would be forever in the bed with us.”

  “Gretchen, that’s all over.”

  “It’s not over, David,” she said gently. “But we can go on as before for now. Even half a loaf is better than none. But I want you to understand that—that whatever we have is of the moment. If someone else comes along, if I feel I can be the only one in his life and he wants the things I want of life, then it’s over.”

  “Gretchen, I’m sorry.” He was torn by anguish. He’d thought he could be whole again, but part of him forever belonged to Kathy. “I’m sorry—”

  Chapter 21

  AGAIN, THE KOHN CLAN took up residence at the Southampton house for the summer. Kathy provided herself with weekly escapes into Manhattan. She said nothing to Phil about her plans to start the job search right after school opened. She would tell him, of course, she reasoned, but not yet. He would hardly be aware if she was working, she thought bitterly.

  She was gaining much self-confidence because of her involvement with Marge’s shop. Marge welcomed—and adopted—her suggestions. She knew her mother worried about Phil’s reactions, but Bella approved.

  This year she faced the summer in higher spirits because she saw the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. She would have to start low on the totem pole, she warned herself. But by the time Jesse started college, she would have an established career. And on the day she saw Jesse enter his freshman year at college, she was leaving Phil.

  Early in the summer Kathy realized that Phil was off on a new affair. He was not bright enough to hide his trail, she thought with scorn.

  Using his sisters’ constant entertaining at the house as an excuse, she insisted on renting a house at the beach in Maine for three weeks. Her mother and father and Aunt Sophie would come for a week, she plotted, and Rhoda and Frank for the next two weeks.

  “Jesus, Kathy, we’ve got the big house here at Southampton,” Phil complained.

  “Gail and Brenda are constantly having parties.” Phil knew they were making frantic efforts to push themselves into the upper echelon of Southampton society. It should have been obvious to them, Kathy thought, that they’d never break through. “I need some quiet time. Jesse needs it. And I wouldn’t want to spend the summer back at the apartment,” she said pointedly. She knew that on those nights when Phil said he was staying in New York at the apartment he wasn’t staying alone.

  “Nothing expensive,” he warned. “Dad’s slow with the bonuses right now, though there’s no need for his hysteria.” Julius was upset about the group that was fighting the fur industry in fear that some wild animals would soon become extinct and in outrage over the painful trap deaths inflicted on these animals—the group with which Rhoda and Frank were deeply involved—but Phil didn’t know that.

  “It won’t be an expensive cottage,” Kathy said sweetly. “I’m not talking Bar Harbor.”

  With record speed—helped by Rhoda and Frank—she rented a cottage right on the beach at an unfashionable area just above Ogunquit. Frank knew the town and the beach. “You’ll love it, Kathy. No crowds, marvelous beach.” Both Alice and the housekeeper would go on vacation. The real estate broker assured her there would be a daily cleaning woman available, and she planned to do the cooking herself, though she knew the week that Sophie and her parents would be there, her aunt would insist on cooking. At eighty-five Sophie was still mentally sharp and physically active.

  On an early Monday morning Kathy drove her small entourage out of Manhattan and headed for Maine, Dad beside her on the front seat, Mom and Aunt Sophie in the rear with Jesse. This was going to be a good time, she told herself joyously.

  It was one of the most relaxing periods she could remember, Kathy thought on the last day of her family’s vacation time with her. No pretenses, no playing games. And Frank had been right. She loved this part of Maine. Most mornings she watched the sun rise. The sunsets were glorious.

  The woman who came to clean was happy to baby-sit in the evenings so that Kathy was able to take her family out to some of the charming restaurants within comfortable driving distance. On two nights they saw summer theater productions.

  The day her family left, Rhoda and Frank came up. The following morning, while Jesse, lulled by the sea air, still slept, Frank insisted on making breakfast for himself and the two women and serving it on the deck.

  “Oh God, there’s something so wonderful about sitting here and watching the waves hit the beach,” Rhoda said rapturously. “Frank, you’ll finish that article out here for sure.”

  “I saw him bring in the typewriter,” Kathy joshed. “He wasn’t fooling me when he said he’d collapse on a chaise and sleep away these two weeks.”

  “Tell her, Frank,” Rhoda ordered.

  “Tell me what?” Kathy demanded. Was Rhoda pregnant?

  “Well, first, let me tell you that I may be pregnant.” Rhoda glowed. “I know, I’ve been late before. But this time I’ve a premonition it’s real.”

  “Rh
oda, how wonderful!” Kathy leaned forward to hug Rhoda exuberantly, almost spilling a cup of coffee.

  “Hey, I sweated over a hot stove making that coffee,” Frank kidded. “Take it easy.”

  “Rhoda, I’m so happy for you.” She knew how desperately Rhoda and Frank wanted a child.

  “I figure I’ll be able to work most of the first term,” Rhoda said, “then go on maternity leave. My salary goes into the bank toward that little weekend house we want to buy up in Putnam or Dutchess County.”

  “We both love Manhattan,” Frank conceded, “but five days a week of the hassle is enough. We want to be able to get in the car and take off Friday evenings and come back Sunday nights. You like to get out to Greenwich for weekends; I know, you see Central Park trees from your windows in the apartment, but it’s not like the country—”

  “Frank, tell her the other thing,” Rhoda prodded.

  “I’m doing a series for the magazine about the agony of animals who’re being trapped for furs. And I hope to expand the series into a book. I have a publisher interested.” Frank was trying to sound casual, but Kathy knew how much this meant to him.

  “That’s great, Frank. When will the first of the series come out?” Phil and his father would be livid, Kathy thought uneasily.

  “It’ll be in the issue hitting the newsstands right after Labor Day,” Frank told her.

  “That’s great timing, hunh?” Rhoda’s smile was dazzling. “Just at the time when women start thinking about buying fur coats.”

  “I don’t want to run into Phil when the series starts appearing,” Frank said, grinning. “The fur industry is going to be in an uproar.”

  “I don’t think it’ll be hard to avoid Phil. When was the last time you saw him?” Phil had a way of being tied up on business the nights Rhoda and Frank came to dinner, or when they were scheduled to go to Rhoda and Frank’s apartment.

  “We both feel very strongly about this,” Frank said seriously.