Belle's Story

Chapter Six

“Belle?” I asked, as I flipped through her photo album looking for that photo of my great aunt.

                “Yes, darling?”

                “Did you ever find Mae?”

                The faraway look returned to Belle’s eyes. “Ah, Maedella. My Maedella. How I miss you.”

                “Did you ever find her? “

                Belle sat up as erect as she could. It was as though she was giving herself the strength to remember the past. “Let me finish the story. You’ll see in the end.” Her voice was resolute. “I stayed in a boarding house in Mazowiecki, the Jewish ghetto of Minsk. Until then, I had only traveled to the Gymnasium. I knew I was here to find Mae, but I couldn't help but stop and take in the new sights and sounds and smells. Buildings were mainly row houses. I was used to row houses from my time in Vilna, but was more comfortable with the real homes of our little Pavoloch; we had yards and chickens. The houses in this new place were fairly well maintained and my boarding house was near a manicured garden by the town hall. The wind was warm and strong the first time I walked past the garden. Full of roses, flax flowers and fragrant linden trees, it perfumed the entire block. The tops of tall stately birches rustled in the wind. I walked passed it often while in Mazowiecki.

                As she described the garden, Belle’s speech got softer, slower.

                “Grandma, is something wrong?”

                Belle bent her head to the floor. After a few seconds she answered. “Oh, our mother had a splendid rose garden. It was Mae’s job to help with the weeding and the pruning. Mae adored that garden. Thinking of the roses reminded me of Mae. It was fitting that Mae loved gardening so. She was delicate, like the petals of a flower. Mae looked a little like you and you are the gardener in the family now too.”

                Belle placed her pointer finger on the tip of my nose, and her paper-thin nail brushed my skin. I blushed a little and ducked my head, remembering the game Belle played with me when I was little. She’d poke my nose and I’d poke hers back. Then, we’d share an Eskimo kiss. Bringing my mind back to today, I thought about my vegetable garden at home. I wanted to try some heirloom tomato varieties this year. I'd purchased seeds at an exchange last fall and was curious to know how they'd work out. For the briefest of moments, a pang of home sickness flashed through me. Was Ben holding things together? I had orchids sitting in the big picture window of our living room. They looked ready to bloom just before we left. Had the buds opened? I forgot to tell Ben how to water them. I refocused my thoughts back to matters at hand and lifted my chin, turning to face Belle.

                “You loved Mae a lot, didn’t you?”

                “What a silly question. Of course I loved her. She was my sister.”

                “I mean more than that. You really loved her, like a soul mate.”

                “I'm not sure I know what you're asking. What do you mean, soul mate?”

                “You, know. It's someone you share everything with. Someone who knows you so well that they can finish your thoughts. Someone, you would give your life for. Someone you can't imagine life without.”

                “Yes, I suppose she was. I shared all my secrets with her. I would do anything to protect her. And, yet, she ran away and didn't even let me know she was thinking of such a crazy thing. Maedella, my little Maedella.”