Erich nodded. “Can I sit by the window?” he said, already on his way.
“Yes, the window. You can wave. I’ll be right there.” She pointed to the observation deck. “But I’ll see you. You won’t be afraid, will you?”
“He’s excited,” Rosen said to Jake, smiling. “A first airplane. And a ship. Well, mine too. This kindness-I can never repay you.”
“Just be a good father to him. He’s never had one. His mother-I don’t know what he remembers. A few visits.”
“What happened to her?”
“She died. In the camps.”
“You knew her?”
“A long time ago.” He touched Rosen’s arm. “Raise him as a Jew.”
“Well, how else?” Rosen said mildly. “That’s what you want?”
“Yes. She died for that. Tell him, if he asks, that he should be proud of her.” He paused, for a moment at the Alex again, watching the shuffling walk back to the cell. “Now, you’ve got Frank’s number at Collier’s?”
“Yes, yes.”
“I told him to meet the boat. But just in case, that’s where to reach him. He’ll have money for you. He’ll fix you up with anything you need. Till you get on your feet.”
“In New York. It’s like a dream.”
“It won’t seem like a dream after you’ve been there a while.”
“Do you want to go to the bathroom?” Lena said to Erich. “On the plane, I don’t know. There’s still time. Come.”
“To the women’s?” Erich said.
“Oh, so big all of a sudden. Come.” She led him away.
“I wonder, does he know what you do for him? ” Rosen said. “How lucky he is.”
Jake glanced at him. What passed for luck in Berlin. But Rosen was looking over his shoulder.
“Who is the old man? He knows you.”
Professor Brandt was coming toward them in his old dark suit, the high Weimar collar as stiff as his walk.
“Good morning,” he said. “So you’ve come to see Emil off too?”
“Someone else,” Jake said. “I didn’t know he was on the plane.”
“I thought, perhaps it’s the last time,” Professor Brandt said hesitantly, explaining himself. He looked at Jake. “So you were a friend to him after all.”
“No. He didn’t need me. He arranged things himself.”
“Ah,” Professor Brandt said, mystified but reluctant to pursue it. He checked his pocket watch. “They’ll be late.”
“No, there they are.”
Coming through the waiting hall like the front wedge of a military unit, heels loud against the floor, Emil and Shaeffer, Breimer with them, trailed by GIs carrying bags. An airport GI, as if alerted by the heels, appeared from the side and opened the door, standing at the head of the stairs with a clipboard. When they reached the gate, they stopped short, surprised to find visitors.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Shaeffer said to Jake.
Jake said nothing, watching Emil walk up to his father.
“Well, Papa,” Emil said, disconcerted, a young voice.
“Come to see the boys off, huh?” Breimer said. “Nice of you, Geismar.”
Professor Brandt stood still for a moment, looking at Emil, then extended his hand. “So it’s goodbye,” he said, his voice shaky behind the formal gesture.
“Well, not for good,” Emil said pleasantly, caught by the hand but trying to sidestep any sentiment. “I’ll come back sometime. You know, it’s my home, after all.”
“No,” Professor Brandt said faintly, touching his arm. “You have done enough for Germany. Go.” He dropped the hand, looking at him. “Maybe things will be different for you now, in America.”
“Different?” Emil said, flushing, aware that the others were looking.
But their eyes were on Professor Brandt, whose shoulders had started to shake, a raw, uncontrolled blubbering, catching everyone off-guard, an emotion no one expected. Before Emil could react, the old man reached out and clutched him, wrapping his arms around him, holding on, a death grip. Jake wanted to look away but instead kept staring at them, dismayed. Maybe the only story that really mattered, the endless ties of life’s cat’s cradle, tangled like yarn.
“Well, Papa,” Emil said, leaning back.
“You made me so happy,” Professor Brandt said. “When you were a boy. So happy.” Still shaking, his face wet, so that now the others did turn away, awkward, as if he had somehow become incontinent.
“Papa,” Emil said, still helpless in the grasp.
Then Professor Brandt pulled away, collecting himself, patting Emil’s upper arm. “Well, but here are your friends too.” He turned to Jake. “Forgive me. An old man’s foolishness.” He stepped aside, ceding place, not bothering to wipe his face.
Emil looked at Jake, oddly relieved, grateful for any interruption but now uncertain what to do. He started to offer his hand.
“So,” he said, “all ends for the best.”
“Does it?” Jake said, ignoring the hand.
He nodded at Jake’s sling. “The shoulder. It’s all right?”
Jake said nothing.
“It’s a misunderstanding about that. Shaeffer told me.”
“No misunderstanding.” Jake opened his mouth to speak again, then glanced at Professor Brandt and instead just turned away.
“We certainly don’t want that,” Breimer said, genial. “Not after what you two have been through.”
“No, we certainly don’t want that,” Shaeffer said pointedly to Jake, a signal to take Emil’s hand.
But the moment had passed, because now Emil had turned too, toward the edge of the gate area, where Lena was coming around the corner with Erich. She was bent over, talking to him. When she glanced up and saw the waiting party, she stopped, slowly raising her head. Another second and then she began walking again, shoulders back, determined, the way she’d come into the Adlon dining room. Not in her good dress this time, a cheap print with tiny flowers, but beautiful, catching the light just by walking in it.
“What’s she doing here?” Shaeffer said as she approached.
“That the wife?” Breimer said. “Well, why the hell not? Say good-bye to her husband.”
Within earshot now, standing in front of Emil.
“No, you’re mistaken,” she said to Breimer, but looking at Emil. “My husband died. In the war.”
She moved past him, leaving a silence. Jake looked at Emil. The same flustered expression he’d given Professor Brandt, a confused despair, as if he had finally glimpsed the missing piece, then seen it float away before he could tell what it was.
“In the war?” Breimer said.
Lena took Jake’s arm. “They’re boarding. Come, Erich.”
Rosen put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and they moved toward the stairs behind the GIs with duffel bags.
“Now, remember to hold hands, yes?” Lena turned to Rosen. “You have the lunch?”
Rosen held up the bag with a tolerant smile.
Lena knelt in front of Erich. “Like the mother hen, that’s what he hug. A hug from my chick. Always so good. I’ll write to you. Shall I do that in English? Dr. Rosen can read, then you. You can practice, how’s that for a plan? Jake too. Come,“ she said to Jake, standing up, ”say goodbye.“
Jake hunched down, one arm on Erich’s shoulder. “Be good and listen to Dr. Rosen, okay? You’ll have lots of good times. And I’ll come visit someday.”
“You’re not my father?” the boy said, curious.
“No. Your father’s dead, you know that. Now Dr. Rosen is going to take care of you.”
