Families needed to know and pass them on. The world needed to know.
From snippets Simone had let slip during conversations, Katherine knew there was quite a tale to be told.
She decided she would give the book to her nephew Andrew. He had shown how much he cared about their family’s past when he had gone to what was now Ukraine to search for his roots. Memories flooded back to Kat. She recalled her surprise when she made a last-minute decision to go with him from Antibes. She shuddered at the memory of how unbearable that trip to her parents’ village had been for her.
Next she opened a small silk pouch and removed a gold chain from which hung a delicate Star of David. Elisabeth’s mother had pressed the pouch into her daughter’s hand when Elisabeth had been secreted away to the convent that night in 1943. She had instructed Elisabeth to ask the nuns to hide it for her until the war was over. And they had done so.
It had belonged to Katherine’s great-grandmother. Elisabeth told Kat she had never worn it again after the war, but she had always treasured it. Kat knew her mother had not been able to embrace her Jewish faith, or any other, for the rest of her life.
Kat’s fingers slowly traced the pattern. She thought of all it signified and where this necklace had been. She thought about how the Nazis had intended to make it an emblem of shame that had only strengthened its significance.
Slowly, and with deep emotion, she put it around her neck and secured the clasp. I will wear this to honor Anyu and her ancestors—my ancestors.
She knew her niece and nephews would value the other mementos in the box and the stories would live on. That pleased her.
Kat felt a pang of regret that she was childless. There were times in her life when the reality left her feeling empty and bereft. But James had always become mute on the subject, leaving her to work through what felt like grief. It occurred to her now that the love Philippe was giving her filled the void that James had not. The emptiness was gone. She could let it go.
The thought of Philippe’s daughter, Adorée, came to her. They would make a family unit, the three of them. With any luck, that little unit would blossom if Adorée married or had children. Something else to anticipate—if she stayed in France. That “if” apparently was becoming the elephant in the room.
The dying embers of the fire cast a soft, soothing glow and spread warmth into the room. Katherine turned off the lamps and then lay on the couch, drawn into the hypnotic flickering light. Tapestries of childhood moments appeared from the shadows. Swatches of her life and the people in it hung in the air before dissolving into the darkness. Waves of emotion washed over her, but she was determined not to feel sad. There was so much that was good to look forward to. So much to be thankful for.
As much as she mourned the absence of her parents, she felt blessed to have had them for as long as she did. She was acutely aware that this visit home might be her last for a very long time. Or would it? She knew these growing anxieties of hers would have to be shared with Philippe. Her love for him was not in question, but her commitment to living forever in France was becoming an issue.
Lying there, she willed the love and happiness of her life in that house to settle deep in her heart. The past was past. It had shaped her and there was much from it that would stay with her forever.
Once in a while a loud snap and spray of sparks in the hearth startled her, but soon she was asleep where she lay. At some point during the night, a warm throw her mother had crocheted found its way over her. She awoke to the alarm on her phone the next morning, with a slight crick in her neck.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The nurses at the station counseled Katherine when she arrived, giving her careful instructions about not making loud noises or sudden movements near Molly. When she inquired, she was told Roslyn was not in today. A
From snippets Simone had let slip during conversations, Katherine knew there was quite a tale to be told.
She decided she would give the book to her nephew Andrew. He had shown how much he cared about their family’s past when he had gone to what was now Ukraine to search for his roots. Memories flooded back to Kat. She recalled her surprise when she made a last-minute decision to go with him from Antibes. She shuddered at the memory of how unbearable that trip to her parents’ village had been for her.
Next she opened a small silk pouch and removed a gold chain from which hung a delicate Star of David. Elisabeth’s mother had pressed the pouch into her daughter’s hand when Elisabeth had been secreted away to the convent that night in 1943. She had instructed Elisabeth to ask the nuns to hide it for her until the war was over. And they had done so.
It had belonged to Katherine’s great-grandmother. Elisabeth told Kat she had never worn it again after the war, but she had always treasured it. Kat knew her mother had not been able to embrace her Jewish faith, or any other, for the rest of her life.
Kat’s fingers slowly traced the pattern. She thought of all it signified and where this necklace had been. She thought about how the Nazis had intended to make it an emblem of shame that had only strengthened its significance.
Slowly, and with deep emotion, she put it around her neck and secured the clasp. I will wear this to honor Anyu and her ancestors—my ancestors.
She knew her niece and nephews would value the other mementos in the box and the stories would live on. That pleased her.
Kat felt a pang of regret that she was childless. There were times in her life when the reality left her feeling empty and bereft. But James had always become mute on the subject, leaving her to work through what felt like grief. It occurred to her now that the love Philippe was giving her filled the void that James had not. The emptiness was gone. She could let it go.
The thought of Philippe’s daughter, Adorée, came to her. They would make a family unit, the three of them. With any luck, that little unit would blossom if Adorée married or had children. Something else to anticipate—if she stayed in France. That “if” apparently was becoming the elephant in the room.
The dying embers of the fire cast a soft, soothing glow and spread warmth into the room. Katherine turned off the lamps and then lay on the couch, drawn into the hypnotic flickering light. Tapestries of childhood moments appeared from the shadows. Swatches of her life and the people in it hung in the air before dissolving into the darkness. Waves of emotion washed over her, but she was determined not to feel sad. There was so much that was good to look forward to. So much to be thankful for.
As much as she mourned the absence of her parents, she felt blessed to have had them for as long as she did. She was acutely aware that this visit home might be her last for a very long time. Or would it? She knew these growing anxieties of hers would have to be shared with Philippe. Her love for him was not in question, but her commitment to living forever in France was becoming an issue.
Lying there, she willed the love and happiness of her life in that house to settle deep in her heart. The past was past. It had shaped her and there was much from it that would stay with her forever.
Once in a while a loud snap and spray of sparks in the hearth startled her, but soon she was asleep where she lay. At some point during the night, a warm throw her mother had crocheted found its way over her. She awoke to the alarm on her phone the next morning, with a slight crick in her neck.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The nurses at the station counseled Katherine when she arrived, giving her careful instructions about not making loud noises or sudden movements near Molly. When she inquired, she was told Roslyn was not in today. A
Similar Books
