“But Rumania?!”
“Oh, is dat where? Well—dat is of course not de fanciest place in de world—for becoming de fine lady of a new Boss.”
As if this visit was no different from the hundreds of others of their friendship, Hannah poured their coffee, added condensed milk to Jane’s, sugar to hers, the slight tremor of her hand hidden as she stirred. Her kitchen, that symbol of constant comfort held a sudden alien silence. Knowing what she must do, that it was she who first having taken John’s fledgling under her wing—now needed to let her know she could fly away, Hannah began, “Vifey—”
“Yes?” There was so much desperate need in that yes, for a moment it stopped Hannah from what she had to say.
“Now, child—now I will say all dis in German dat you understand so good—so no mistakes—because it is important. So … first and foremost—the man you love … no—no interruptions! Because you do and someday you will wake up and say, ‘Hah! Hannah was right—she knew—she told me so a long time ago.’ So—you love this man who before today was losing his dream—the dream that pulled him across the great sea; oh, it was fine for a while, for all of us it was fine, but now it is all changing. Only money and power and more money and more power—like sausages in my sister’s husband’s butcher shop. Very good for a business but not good for a dream. Now, all of a sudden your John has, out of the blue, been given a chance to dream all over again—in new lands, honored and protected this time by the most important motor company in the whole world—and what do you know—surprise, surprise! He wants you, his wife, to share it all with him. How can you even think of denying him?”
“But the children?”
“What about them? Just think, someday they will be men very smart who can speak many languages, know more of the world than just here our Highland Park.”
“Hannah, I can’t leave. I can’t leave you.”
“Oh—now you stop right dere—dis minute. Of course you can. You? You can do anyting! If you can survive the big influenza, for sure you can survive Rumania!”
Hannah’s methods were so skilled that when John returned that evening Jane was calmed sufficiently to make logical inquiries—turn to him, discuss his plans for their departure as though this upheaval was no more to her than a summer outing to Belle Isle.
When John explained to his sons what awaited them in August—young John got his atlas—had his father trace their long journey in pencil. At first Michael too was excited over their great adventure—then thought better of it when he heard it meant leaving school. Still too young to fully understand how his childhood was about to change, Billy accepted the busy preparations, as though the packing, the general chaos, the harried to and fro, this summer like the last, a big Hanukah-Christmas was probably the reason.
At first John had planned to rent his house to a man on the line but after being told that darkies were not allowed in Highland Park—he sold it to an Armenian friend of Zoltan’s, lock, stock, and barrel.
As summer progressed, for Jane the days became a blur. Packing up an existence to exist somewhere else unknown presents an uncertainty quite unique to it. For Jane, ever the willing adventurer yet in need of roots for a sense of place within her universe—the finality of packing up a home that had become a steadying frame of her life upset her more than she had thought possible. Too many good-byes, too many “take cares,” too many tears. Having to leave her life Jane could school herself to endure, having to leave America and Hannah was quite another elimination. In the years to come, Jane could never precisely remember that final summer’s day, luggage piled high, locomotive steam enveloping her visual memory, turning emotion opaque, sorrow defused. What did remain, haunted—Hannah’s face, all control gone as she ran beside the moving train calling, “Ninnie! Write! Don’t forget—write! God bless you! Kiss the children! Good-bye Vifey! Good-bye!” And then suddenly as though she had never existed—Jane lost her.
Eyes fixed on America, Jane stood by the railing of the ship that was to take them across an ocean through the Straits of Gibraltar and into the Mediterranean Sea.
Now as she was about to return from whence she had fled when but a girl, this conjured up so many childhood memories that she feared her newfound maturity might not be secure enough to combat them.
Really Giovanna after all these years what have you learned? One farewell and you are right back where you began—a willful child with no direction looking for what? And at any price? Remember, an adventure is an adventure no matter where it leads you! Taking herself in hand, she turned her back to the coastal breeze, and faced the sea.
Coming up behind her, John put an arm around her waist, pulled her against him.
“Don’t be sad. We’ll be back—someday. And then I’ll buy us another house.” He searched her face. “Okay? Tell you what—then, I promise I’ll find one even closer to Hannah.” Jane began to cry. “Tesoro, it’s not good for the boys to see you crying. For them all this is a glorious adventure.”
Jane blew her nose on the elegant white linen handkerchief she had made to match her traveling outfit.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. It is a glorious adventure.”
“Remember our first? It’s not that long ago.”
“Yes—I was frightened then too.”
“But you didn’t cry.”
“Then I was frightened just of you—not of what might lie ahead or what I was leaving.”
“Were you really frightened of me? Why?”
“I didn’t want to be a disappointment, after all you really wanted to marry Camilla not me.”
“I’m glad I didn’t.”
“You are?”
“Of course!” Astounded, John turned her to him. “I love you, Ninnie, don’t you know that?!” Embarrassed to admit she didn’t Jane shook her head. “You’re a fine wife, Giovanna.” And wishing to lighten the moment John added, “And I am very grateful that you forced me to marry you.” That made her giggle.
“I didn’t.”
“Oh, yes you did!”
Standing close together they watched America begin to fade.
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