The clerk merely smiled and shook his head. ‘No, sir, I’m afraid you don’t understand this hotel’s policy. It’s strictly no Nigras or Jews allowed.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Herschel said, scarcely believing his ears.
‘Understand what, sir?’ the clerk inquired. ‘The connection between Nigras and Jews? In these parts we tend to believe that one’s black on the outside and the other’s black on the inside. Have a nice evening.’
Sick at heart, Herschel returned to the car and related the incident. ‘How did they even know I was Jewish?’ he had wondered aloud.
‘Herschel, my beloved, be honest – your accent is not exactly like George Washington’s. Now, I suggest we find someplace that will maybe give “our kind” something to eat and then try to get some sleep in the car.’
They arrived in Millersburg the next morning. It was a ramshackle, sleepy hamlet the color of clay baked by the summer sun. Herschel had spent a restless night (parked behind a closed diner), wondering whether on the morrow it would be best to seek directions to the Bennett home from the police or from the post office. With his vestigial horror of uniforms – especially with guns attached – he opted for the post office. It did not stand, as did its Cleveland counterpart, in a great stone edifice. Quite the contrary, it was a sagging appendage to the town pharmacy.
‘’Course I remember the Colonel,’ the druggist acknowledged with warm southern hospitality. ‘But – if I may be so bold – whatever would you want with what’s left of his family?’
‘Uh,’ Herschel asked hesitantly, ‘what exactly do you mean by “what’s left”?’
‘Why, as y’all must know, the Colonel himself is dead – I assume you saw we put his name up on the Town Hall memorial board right there with all the white men who fell. And it’s been years since Lorraine scooted out of this tank town with some fancy Dan from Atlanta. All that’s still here’s old Miz Bennett and young Linc.’
‘Can you tell me where they live, please?’
‘With due respect, where else would a Nigra live but in Niggertown?’
‘Could you direct me, please?’
The druggist chuckled. ‘My friend, just go to the end of Main Street – and follow your nose.’
It was little more than a parallel row of shacks, distinguished only by the fading color of their desiccated wood – formerly brown, formerly green, formerly red. Here and there was a tin mailbox with a name scrawled on it. BENNETT was, relatively speaking, the neatest of the lot.
Under the inquisitive gaze of half a dozen people seated on nearby porches, Herschel and Hannah knocked. A large black woman, white hair pulled back against her temples, answered the door.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked, curiously scrutinizing her visitors.
‘We are looking for the home of Colonel Lincoln Bennett, madam,’ Herschel said softly.
‘Don’t you folks know my son is dead?’ she asked, anger and sadness both still perceptible in her voice.
‘Yes, madam. I knew him in Europe during his … last days. My name is Herschel Landsmann and this is my wife, Hannah. Your son rescued me and then fought with the doctors to save my wife. We wanted to meet his family and express our thanks.’
Elva Bennett hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to act. Finally she said, ‘Would you care to come in?’
The Landsmanns nodded. She opened the screen door and led them inside. ‘Can I offer you some iced tea?’
‘That would be very nice,’ replied Hannah, as she walked into the living room. The mantelpiece was dominated by a large photograph of Linc in full dress uniform. His oak leaves and many medals were also on display.
Mrs Bennett returned with three mugs and they all sat down, the hostess on a tired armchair and the Landsmanns on an equally well-worn sofa.
‘So,’ said the elder woman, now with a friendly smile, ‘you knew my Lincoln.’
‘The finest man I ever met,’ Herschel said with deep conviction.
Mrs Bennett concurred. ‘If he’d been white he’d have made fourstar general – and that’s the truth.’
The Landsmanns nodded. ‘I have no doubt at all,’ Herschel stated.
Then came an uneasy silence. How could he explain the purpose of his visit? He tried to broach it tactfully.
‘Mrs Bennett, my wife and I have just lived through a calamity I could not begin to describe—’
‘Some of Linc’s last few letters gave me some idea,’ Mrs Bennett answered sympathetically.
‘Your son,’ Herschel continued, ‘your son was like a holy angel to us. After all the years of degradation we had suffered, he was so kind. He treated us like human beings. And yet we survived and he did not. I cannot tell you how pained we are.’
Herschel was still having trouble getting to the point. Hannah came to his rescue. ‘We were wondering if there was any way we could help—’
‘I don’t follow, ma’am,’ said Mrs Bennett.
‘His son—’ Herschel began. ‘Lincoln was always talking about the hopes and dreams he had for him. We want to be sure these dreams come true.’
‘Is he all right?’ Hannah asked. ‘I mean, are he and his mother—’
‘I’m afraid Linc Junior has no mother,’ she replied, a sudden flash of anger in her eyes.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Hannah.
‘Well,’ Mrs Bennett started with a sigh, ‘it’s a long and unhappy tale. Those two never did get along even before Linc was called overseas. In fact just about the time he … fell in action, the lawyers were finishing up the papers for their divorce. But as soon as she heard, she skedaddled right back.’
‘Because of the child—’ Herschel suggested. ‘She must have been concerned about him.’
Elva Bennett shook her head in vigorous dissent. ‘Because of ten thousand dollars, Mr Landsmann. That’s GI insurance for the next-of-kin – ten thousand dollars. Every week after that she came all the way out to Millersburg from Atlanta jus’ to go by the post office an’ see if that check had come. Which, of course, in due time it did.’
Her indignation was mounting. ‘And do you know, Mr Landsmann,’ she said, her voice quavering, ‘do you know that in all those treasure-huntin’ trips she didn’t once come by to see her son? And the U.S. gov’ment took her for the next of kin! That woman—’
She dissolved into tears.
As Hannah offered the comfort of a gentle touch, Herschel thought out loud, ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Bennett, I don’t understand. Why isn’t he living with her in the first place?’
Elva’s mood changed from sorrow to indignation.
‘Why should she live with a child she never wanted? She never forgave Linc for not letting her get rid of that baby before it was born. Lorraine fancied herself as a great lady, she didn’t want to be “tied down.” She hated life on the base and was always going off to Atlanta on her own for days at a time. I’ve raised that boy from the very day he was born.’
She dabbed her eyes with Hannah’s handkerchief and apologized, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be speaking this way. The Good Book tells us it’s a sin to hate.’
Herschel tried delicately to explain their visit.
‘Mrs Bennett, please don’t be offended, but may I know if you and your grandson have any financial difficulties?’
She hesitated for a moment, then answered, ‘We make out all right.’
‘Please, I ask because we want to do something – anything – to show our gratitude.’ He hoped his fervor would earn her trust.
Reluctantly the old woman unburdened herself. ‘Well, naturally, when my son was alive we always got a part of his paycheck. Every month, regular as clockwork. When that stopped I was countin’ on the insurance to see us through till young Linc was big enough to work.’
‘How old is he now?’ Hannah inquired.
‘He’ll be eleven next month. The twenty-seventh.’
‘So that means he’s a long way from seeking employment,’ Herschel concluded.
?
??’Round here, most boys start at fourteen – even earlier if they’re tall enough.’
‘But that is such a pity. I know his father wanted him to have an education, even go to college.’
‘That dream died with him,’ she replied softly.
Herschel and Hannah glanced at each other and each knew what the other was thinking.
‘Mrs Bennett,’ Hannah began, ‘we owe your son a debt that has no price. We would be honored if you would allow us to be of assistance.’
‘We are not rich people,’ Herschel continued, ‘but I have a job and I can save from it. So when the time comes young Lincoln will be able to attend college.’
Elva Bennet was both overwhelmed and confused. ‘Mr Landsmann, don’t you know there’s not a colored school between here and Atlanta that’s good enough to prepare him for any college? And there’s no chance he could go to a payin’ school ’round here.’
The Landsmanns felt at a loss. These were barriers they never thought they would encounter. After an embarrassed silence in which none of them knew what to say, Hannah suggested, ‘But where we live, Mrs Bennett – in the North – I know there are schools, excellent schools, where I’m sure the boy could go. And that surely would open the doors to a college.’
Elva was more confused than ever. Why were these people offering to pay for her grandson’s education? Why should any white couple want to do a thing like that? But she continued to explore the issue – and examine the Landsmanns.
‘Do you think he could possibly get into one of them northern places? I mean, our Nigra schools barely teach a little reading and writing. There’s sixty-one children in Linc’s class and frankly I don’t think the teacher even knows his name.’
Panicked by the thought that she was about to deny their request, Herschel blurted, ‘But we could have him tutored. Really, Mrs Bennett, we would get the best tutors. And then he could go to the best private school.’
Herschel continued, oblivious to the astonishment on his wife’s face. ‘We both mean this with our whole hearts. We want to give your grandson the chance to achieve everything his father wanted for him.’
Elva was inwardly torn. If these folks were serious, if they would really send Linc to a private school, what would she be left with? Photographs? War medals? Memories? An empty house?
She wondered what the Good Book would counsel. Her thoughts immediately went to a passage in Proverbs: ‘Blessed is the man who finds wisdom … Though it cost all you have, get understanding.’ She owed it to her grandson. Even more, she owed it to her son. But she delayed the agonizing decision by asking further questions. ‘What exactly did you have in mind?’
‘Well,’ Herschel replied, ‘I’ve heard about these so-called “prep schools” where he could live with other boys his age. And then again there are the “day schools” in the Cleveland area.’ He again exchanged glances with Hannah. She then said hesitantly, ‘He – Lincoln – could stay with us.’
Elva found it difficult to contemplate the thought of young Linc actually living with another family. A white family at that. And not only white, but …
‘You folks are Israelites, isn’t that right?’
‘We are Jews, but we are not religious,’ Herschel replied.
‘But you believe in Almighty God?’
Before Herschel could confess his agnosticism, Hannah interposed, ‘Yes, yes. Of course.’
‘Could he still go to a Baptist church?’
‘I’m sure we could find one,’ Hannah replied.
The old woman was silent again, deep in thought.
‘You people were once slaves of Pharaoh in Egypt?’
Herschel nodded again. ‘Yes, a long time ago.’
‘My grandfather was a slave, a short time ago. Mr Lincoln was our Moses. I suppose that gives us something in common.’
‘We certainly know what it is to be persecuted, Mrs Bennett,’ Hannah added.
Finally Elva asked, ‘How would you propose to do this?’
Hannah answered tentatively, herself growing intoxicated by her husband’s dream. ‘We could take him up to Cleveland. He could live with us as part of the family. We’d treat him like—’ Her voice broke slightly. ‘ – the child we no longer have.’
Elva pondered for another moment and then said, ‘I can’t decide this on my own. Linc’s gettin’ to be a big boy now. He’ll have to make up his own mind.’
‘What time does he get home from school?’ Herschel asked, his heart quickening.
‘That depends. Sometimes he stays late and plays ball with the other fellas.’ She smiled. ‘He’s a natural, you know. Just like his dad.’
‘Perhaps we could go see him—’ Herschel hesitantly suggested. ‘I’ve got my car outside. If you’d like to come and show us the way …’
‘Goodness, you don’ need to drive there, it’s an easy walk. The Nigra school is jus’ where it’s supposed do be.’ She smiled ironically. ‘Across the other side of the railroad tracks.’
Herschel could recognize him at once.
Even if he hadn’t been tall for his age or by far the best of the players scuffling on the dusty schoolyard court, shooting at a netless metal basket, he would know Lincoln Bennett’s son. There was a kind of brightness in his eyes, a zeal, a dynamism that was unmistakable.
‘I’ll call him over,’ Elva offered.
‘No,’ said Herschel, ‘we can wait.’ And watch, he added to himself. My God, the boy is handsome, he thought. His father would have been so proud.
After a few minutes, the players noticed the strangers in their midst: the white couple staring at them from the sidelines. Who were they – some kind of school inspectors? And why was Elva with them – had Linc done something wrong?
They stopped playing and Linc, still dribbling the ball deftly, first with one hand, then the other, then behind his back, walked up to his grandmother.
When she introduced the couple as ‘friends of your daddy during the war’ he stopped bouncing the ball and grew solemn.
‘You actually knew him?’ the boy asked.
‘We did and he was always talking about you. And how proud he was. That’s why we wanted to meet you.’
The boy’s face wrinkled up as if on the verge of tears.
‘Why don’t we all go and have some ice cream?’ Hannah tactfully suggested.
The others waited outside as Herschel went into a ‘white’ grocery store and emerged with chocolate-covered ice cream pops for all. They then slowly walked back to the Bennetts’ home, nervously avoiding any mention of what they were intending to discuss.
Young Linc took an instant liking to Herschel. But the nature of their invitation stunned – and frightened – him.
‘You mean leave my granny?’ he asked timidly.
‘You could come back here for Christmas and vacations,’ Herschel offered, hastily adding, ‘and if you’re unhappy, you could come back right away.’
‘Would you like to just give it a try for a little while?’ Hannah added gently.
Troubled and in conflict, Linc looked at Elva. She turned to the Landsmanns and said, ‘I think this is something my grandson and I have got to talk about in private. Could you let us have some time alone?’
Herschel and Hannah agreed almost in unison.
‘We could drop by again tomorrow morning if you would like,’ Hannah continued.
‘I think that’ll be all right,’ Elva answered. ‘I want to pray for guidance. And then we both have got to search our hearts.’
‘Herschel, are you crazy in the head? Have you maybe forgotten that you’re not a rich man anymore? Now you’ve made that lovely boy start dreaming about private schools – tutors, even. Where did you get such ideas? You know we’ve got bubkes in the bank.’
‘I know, I know,’ he said half aloud, ‘but I want to do it so badly I would give anything …’
‘Face it, my darling,’ Hannah responded. ‘We don’t have anything.’
They walked two paces before Hers
chel spoke.
‘I do, Hannah.’
‘What?’
‘I have one last possession that I would sacrifice for Lincoln Bennett.’ He paused and then said, ‘My self-respect.’
Hannah understood at once. ‘You mean you’d go to Stefan? …’
Herschel shrugged, half-embarrassed, half-defeated. ‘I know we agreed that we should never put ourselves in his debt because accepting his money might mean accepting his values.’
He then confessed. ‘Two months ago Stefan opened a bank account in our names and put in twenty thousand dollars. He said it was for a down payment on a house. I didn’t even tell you because I never would have touched it.’
Herschel looked at her. ‘But Hannah, twenty thousand could put Lincoln straight through college. So nu, Hannah, do you think that’s worth losing my self-respect for?’
She looked at him with love and answered.
‘Darling, you wouldn’t be losing anything. We would both be gaining something very precious.’ She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. ‘Just please God he says yes.’
They were too excited to eat breakfast so they made a walking tour of Millersburg and ended on a bench in the main square in front of the wooden ‘Honor Roll’ of local soldiers who had died in World War II. It was crowned by the crossed flags of the Star-Spangled Banner and the Confederacy.
‘He’ll never come with us.’ Hannah sighed pessimistically.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Look at this memorial. Look at whose name stands right on top.’
Herschel focused on the list before him. Of all the men from Millersburg who had died in the war, the highest ranking was Colonel Lincoln Bennett. Death had given him the respect he had always been denied in life.
When they returned at the appointed hour they both sat nervously facing the boy and his grandmother. Finally Herschel found the strength to ask, ‘Have you decided, Linc?’
The boy responded with another question. ‘What about my friends? I wouldn’t know anybody. I wouldn’t have anyone to play with.’
Herschel answered honestly. ‘All I can say is that we will do our very best to find you some new friends.’