Joseph Kertes - Gratitude

Budapest March 27, 1946

THE FACT that Paul didnt turn up at his sisters funeral could only have meant that he hadnt known her intentions the night before. Klari wouldnt let anyone tell Istvan and Marta. They had a small son. Theyd suffered enough. They all had. She would find the appropriate time to tell them in person.

Within an hour of the service, she and Robert, Lili and Simon became a pack of hunters. They searched for Paul like the very oppressors theyd learned to evade. They telegraphed Hermina in Paris and Anna in Debrecen, only to alarm them. They did succeed, though, in enlisting their services in the search. Simon and Lili visited Pauls old law office, now defunct, to search for evidence of a visit from Paul, but they found none. The rabbi whod married Simon and Lili and had just buried Rozsi helped spread the word, but no one had seen Paul. Robert contacted Andras Gaal, an official in the mayors office, another man hed treated in his clinic, to find out if Paul had been issued an exit visa, but the man found no record of one. Was he travelling as a Swedish diplomat? Was that it?

The first glimmer came from Istvan. His telegram read, Stop looking for Paul . Just four words, no more. Not even love . Even Rozsi had found a place for that in her note.

The very next morning, Robert and Klari travelled by train to Szeged, almost without exchanging a word, but without shutting their eyes either. A single weary tear rolled down Klaris cheek, and Robert watched its progress intently, waiting for it to let go.

Stop looking for Paul .

Was it a command? A request? The bloodless piece of paper contained no clue. Had Paul helped compose the message?

The spring windows beamed with promise. Though theyd passed through a cold snap, the first fruit bulged with life. Horses pranced in the fields as if theyd never known a rider. For a giddy moment, Klari imagined that a nest of love awaited them in Szeged, that a young woman, possibly Zsuzsi, would be there with Paul, Marta and Istvan, that Zoli would be awaiting his Rozsi, and that Rozsi herself would rise again. She pictured her cousin Alexander, just arrived from his London Films, the only one who could turn such a dream into reality, or his kind of reality, at least, sometimes the only kind that counted.

Shed in fact contacted her cousin Sanyiher Alexanderin England to ask if any of their people had turned up magically in England, and could he look up a family of Bandels from the Carpathian region, and a Zoltan Mak, a fine photographer. Did the agencies know of any of them, and could they locate them? Sanyi answered right away that he was relieved to learn Hermina had survived but was dismayed to hear of Etel, Bela, Janos and the many others Klari had asked about.

A taxi dropped Klari and Robert in front of Marta and Istvans quaint little home in Tower Town. Though it sat in the shadow of taller buildings, it was a bright and stalwart place.

Istvan met his uncle and aunt and tenderly hugged Klari, closing his eyes, clutching her. Istvan still seemed gaunt and aged to her. She could feel the bars of his ribs against her own. Istvan would merely have shaken his uncles hand normally, but circumstance compelled the men to embrace.

Just behind Istvan, stepping out of the shadow of the little place and into the spring light, was Marta, holding a baby boy just as striking as herself, with black curls and brown eyes as warm as his mothers.

How old is he? Klari asked, running her fingers through the boys hair. The boy watched the fingers as they withdrew.

Hes seven and a half months, Marta said, bless her heart, almost eight.

Heavens, Klari said. And another one on the way?

Marta smiled. Istvan stood with his hands on his hips, still commanding the door, commanding the little house. Then he said, Come in, please.

As they entered, they continued to gaze at the infant. Does he look like you? Klari asked her nephew.

If he does, then hes mine, Istvan said.

The visitors smiled. Could he be serious?

The boys hair was not baby hair. It was prematurely thick and blue-black. How did such a young boy grow such locks? Even ravens started out covered in down.

Did you name the boy Heinrich? Klari asked, good-naturedly.

No, Istvan said, but didnt explain. We named the boy Janos, after someone we knew.

Oh, Robert said, taking a seat. Istvan sat too.

They all sat, Marta on the floor with her son between her legs. The child bobbed drunkenly, then hunched over to try to take his mothers shoelace into his mouth.

May I get you some tea and cake? Marta asked. Ive made a cherry cake.

Well, Robert said.

Thank you, Klari said, but were not hungry yet.

Robert looked crossly at his wife. Her look urged him on: You must tell them before we eat .

Your sister, Robert said, but then hesitated.

Rozsi?

Rozsi couldnt bear to go on, Klari said.

Marta gasped. She looked at her husband to see whether shed understood correctly.

Foolish girl, Istvan said.

She was in despair, Klari said. In the end, we couldnt reach her.

Marta studied Klaris face, then rose to join her husband. She handed Istvan the baby, then kissed her husband on the head. He sorted out little Janos and bounced the boy on his knee.

Then Istvan burst into tears. Marta kissed him again on the head, took the child back, kissed Istvans wet cheek, and moved aside so Istvan could have a moment with his aunt and uncle. When they separated, even Robert had a tear in his eye.

Marta said, Lets have the tea and cake. Itll make us feel a little better at a time like this.

Yes, the cake, Istvan said, distractedly. My Marta makes the very best cherry cake. He was still crying.

The moment Marta left for the kitchen, the boy joined his father by crying, too, though she was still in plain view. They moved to the kitchen table, to follow Marta and to calm the boy, and soon they were drinking tea and eating cake, showing their approval and gratitude. Marta stood beside them, bouncing little Janos in her arms. When he grew still more restless, she turned away to give the child her breast. He took to it hungrily, and he hummed.

Robert set down his fork and asked, Whats become of Paul? Please tell me.

I dont know, Istvan said.

But he was here, Klari said.

Yes, he was here.

Marta glanced over her shoulder to see what her husband would say.

Robert asked, What did he say? Where did he go?

Im not sure.

Please, Istvankam, Klari said. Please dont torture us; were getting old. We came all this way to find him. He looked sharply at her. And to see you again, of course. I didnt meanI mean, were so glad to see you and your little family. What a dear your wife is, and the lovely boy

Paul didnt tell me, Istvan said. He went to Americathe Americas.

The Americas ? Robert repeated.

Istvan nodded.

North or South? Robert asked.

One or the other.

Robert jumped to his feet. The Russians are looking for him. They came by my office.

I know. They came by here, too. And Paul showed up an hour later. I told him theyd been here and hid him in the cellar, under those floorboards, but he didnt stay there long.

What did you tell the Russians?

I told them Paul lived with you. I also said we were not the enemy. I told them my father was the first resister in this country, and he died for it. The records speak for themselves. He was on Russias side, in fact, before Russia knew it and long before the Russians arrived.

And then?

Then they left, and Paul left too, not long after.

Please tell us something more, Klari said.

Hes out of the country already. He mentioned Philadelphia and Argentina.

Did he mention Siberia?