After half an hour passed, a middle-aged man in a white coat opened the door to the lounge. They immediately rose from their seats. Helen clutched George’s arm. “How is he?” she called out, before the doctor could introduce himself.
“He’s stable and resting,” the doctor said. He held out his hand to Helen. “I’m Dr. Beineke. I’ve been treating your husband.” The boys all lined up to shake Dr. Beineke’s hand, but Mort stayed put next to Sol. He didn’t want to waste time prolonging the greetings. He just wanted to hear the report. “Your husband had a mild heart attack,” the doctor explained. “We have several more tests that need to be run, but as of now, we see no reason why he won’t make a full recovery. We’ll need to watch him closely over the next several days, and we’ll keep him here to monitor him.”
“Do you know what caused it?” Harry asked.
“Any number of factors; heredity, for one. I’d say excess weight is definitely on the list. When he’s ready to be discharged, we’re going to have to talk about modifications to his diet, as well as specific medications we’d like him to start.”
“We’ll do whatever you tell us to do,” Helen said. “Anything to make sure he gets better.”
“We can go over the details tomorrow. Right now, we’re just keeping him sedated for observation. We don’t want him moving around until we get some test results back.”
“Can we see him?” Mort asked.
Dr. Beineke nodded. “Yes, but there are quite a few of you here, so why don’t you go in one or two at a time.”
Mort waited in the lounge while the others took their turns. He was the last to go in, after Sam and Joe. The room smelled like Clorox and menthol cough drops. Under the dull blue hospital blankets, Abe looked small and pale. He had none of the vigor Mort usually associated with him, and for the first time in Mort’s life, he sensed his brother’s vulnerability. He sat down on a chair next to the bed.
Mort studied his brother’s face. Before this evening, Abe had filled up every room he’d ever entered with motion and sound. His voice, his appetite and his laughter had all dominated. Now that these were dormant and the space around Abe was still, Mort was able to conjure images he had not allowed himself to remember for decades.
He thought back on all the girls Abe had tried to fix him up with, all the parties and dinners Abe had invited him to, the way Abe had encouraged him to go back to school. One thing became clear: Abe had, in his own way, always tried to look out for him. Even setting up the Thursday-afternoon study sessions with Natalie after Teddy died. Sure, Mort knew Abe wanted to cushion the blow of losing Teddy for Natalie. But Abe also understood how much it would help Mort with his own personal loss. Not many men would have been as generous as Abe in the sharing of a child’s affection.
The next thing he knew, Helen was patting his shoulder, gently trying to rouse him. When he awoke, he saw that he was holding Abe’s hand. He placed it back at his brother’s side and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Guess I dozed off for a minute,” he told Helen, embarrassed. “I guess so,” she answered, looking worried but pleased. “Stay as long as you want.”
Chapter 55
JUDITH
Judith wasn’t surprised when no one could find her mother for the cake cutting. It was clear to her that Rose no longer worried about keeping up appearances. After all, she hadn’t even cared enough to walk her own daughter down the aisle. Judith didn’t believe her mother’s excuse about feeling dizzy before the ceremony for one minute. She had seen it all before.
Judith couldn’t decide if her sisters felt the same way she did, or if Mimi and Dinah were just oblivious to their mother’s behavior. As the oldest, she was the only one of them who remembered what Rose was like before, back when she still acted like their mother. Mimi and Dinah had no memories of that woman. I lost someone, Judith realized, someone my sisters never knew.
Mimi and Dinah didn’t remember that Rose and Helen used to be best friends either, but Judith did. She thought about it all the time: all the Thanksgivings they had together before her mother started making them go to Aunt Faye’s, all the school picnics where they sat together eating Aunt Helen’s sandwiches, all the times she’d come home from school to find Aunt Helen and her mother drinking coffee and chatting together at the kitchen table.
When she was younger, Judith had tried to trace the change in her mother back to a specific day or event, but all she could ever come up with was the day Teddy was born. That couldn’t be right. She knew her parents were thrilled when Teddy came along. Her mother couldn’t have been unhappy about that.
When Teddy was a baby, Judith had thought her mother was just tired from staying up with a crying infant. But when Rose had stopped caring about the house, the meals, and even whether the younger girls had matching socks in the morning, Judith had decided it was more than just exhaustion. She had picked up the slack as best as she could, but when Teddy’s first summer had passed and Rose still wasn’t herself, Judith understood that something in her mother had broken.
Rose had grown anxious and irritable. Her outbursts became the norm. It was obvious (at least to Judith) that Rose wanted nothing to do with Aunt Helen. Her aunt continued to invite them over for dinners and brunches, but Rose always had an excuse.
As she grew older, Judith had continued to wonder about the night of the blizzard. She had tried to reconstruct the evening so many times, but nothing ever became clearer in her mind. All she could remember was the snow, and blurry bits of the other details, so over time, she convinced herself that the night wasn’t so mysterious after all.
*
After the photographer finished the photos of the bride and groom with the cake, Judith headed to the ladies’ room next to the ballroom. The anteroom was set up as a lounge area, complete with upholstered seating and mirrors. Edward’s sister, Lillian, and several of her friends were already there, adjusting their dresses, checking stockings for runs and blotting freshly applied lipstick. Lillian’s dress didn’t need adjusting and her makeup was already perfect, but a few of her friends needed touch-ups. One of them, a chubby brunette in green taffeta, was sitting on a flowered chaise dribbling raindrop tears. “My father just told me that if Richard doesn’t propose soon,” she could barely get out the rest of the sentence, “he’s going to make me get a job!”
Lillian didn’t see what all the fuss was about. “Just make him propose,” she snapped, before turning her eyes toward Judith. “What about you? When are you getting married?” Judith wanted to disappear inside one of the stalls in the next room, but a line had already formed and she would have to wait her turn.
“I thought she was already married,” a pale willowy girl in lavender chimed in. She looked Judith up and down. “Isn’t the oldest supposed to get married first?”
“Yes, but Judith is single,” Lillian decreed. “Is there someone special I don’t know about, Judith?”
Judith tucked back a strand of her hair and met Lillian’s stare. “No one special, I’m afraid. How about you?”
The other girls froze, and no one spoke. The prolonged silence became uncomfortable, and it was clear to Judith that she had said the wrong thing.
“You’ve heard, then.” Lillian glared at her.
“No … sorry. Heard what?”
“Broken engagements happen all the time,” one of the girls said. “He wasn’t good enough for you anyway.”
“Not nearly good enough,” another echoed.
It was definitely time to leave. “I think I’ll head back,” Judith said, retreating. She wanted to return to the safety of the reception, but she really did need to find a bathroom first. She made her way over to the front desk and asked if there was another one near the lobby.
“Walk all the way down to the end of that corridor,” the desk clerk told her, pointing away from the ballroom. “There’s a ladies’ room at the very end on the left side. If you turn the corner to the coatroom, it means you passed it.” The clerk apologized. “It’s a little bit of a walk.”