The Sweetness of Forgetting (78)

“I don’t really have any Jewish friends,” she says. “And now that I know I’m, like, Jewish, I was just curious about, you know, Jewishness.”

“It’s called Judaism, not Jewishness,” I tell her. “Besides, you’re not Jewish, Annie. You’re Catholic.”

“I know,” she says. “But I can be both. Mamie’s both.” She turns to Gavin again. “So, like, do you go to Jewish church every week?”

Gavin smiles. “It’s called temple. And I don’t go every week, even though I probably should. Some Fridays, I’m working. And some Fridays, I’m just too busy. That’s not very good, is it?”

Annie shrugs. “I don’t know. We, like, never go to church or anything either.”

“Well, I was planning to go to temple tomorrow,” he continues. “You’re welcome to come with me, Annie, if you’re curious. If it’s okay with your mom.”

Annie looks at me excitedly. “Can I go, Mom?”

I hesitate and glance at Gavin. “Are you sure?” I ask him.

“Absolutely,” he says. “I always go by myself. It’d be nice to have the company. I actually go to a synagogue in Hyannis. If you’re going to visit your grandmother tomorrow, I can swing by and pick Annie up at the hospital at the end of visiting hours.”

Annie is grinning at me, and I shrug. “It’s fine by me,” I say. “As long as you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Gavin says. “I’ll come by tomorrow evening. Okay?”

“Cool,” Annie says. “Thanks. It’ll be cool to be, like, two religions at the same time.”

I stare at her for a minute. “What did you say?”

She looks embarrassed. “I just mean it’s, like, another side of me, you know?” She pauses and rolls her eyes when I don’t say anything. “God, Mom, I know I’m Catholic. Don’t freak out.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s not what I meant. I mean you just gave me another idea for how we might find Jacob.”

“How?” Annie asks. She and Gavin are looking at me curiously.

“Interfaith organizations,” I say slowly. “If Jacob trusted a Christian friend to bring the love of his life to a Muslim mosque during the war, he’s obviously someone who respects other religions, right?”

Gavin is nodding, but Annie looks confused. “So what?” she asks.

“So what if he came to the States and carried on that tradition?” I say. “What if he’s part of an interfaith organization somewhere?”

“What do you mean?” Annie asks.

Gavin answers for me. “I think your mother is saying that maybe Jacob joined one of those organizations where people work together for understanding between the religions,” he says. “Kind of like the way people from different religions worked together in Paris to help save your great-grandma.”

Annie looks unconvinced. “I don’t know,” she says. “Sounds kinda dumb. But I guess it’s worth a try.”

“I’ll call some interfaith organizations today,” I tell Annie.

“And I’ll try calling some synagogues,” Gavin says. “You guys try to find out Jacob’s birth date, okay?”

Annie and I nod. Gavin thanks Annie politely for the pastries, smiles at me, and then turns to go.

“Give me a call if you find out anything, okay?” Gavin says as he heads for the door. “See you two tomorrow!”

“Bye!” Annie chirps, waving at him.

“Bye,” I echo. “Drive safely,” I add. He smiles once more, turns, and leaves the bakery.

“He’s so nice,” Annie says once he’s gone.

“Yeah,” I agree. I clear my throat and go back to setting up for the day. “He is.”



Annie is spending the night at Rob’s, and since it’s been a slow day, I text her and tell her that she doesn’t need to bother coming in after school; I can clean up myself this afternoon. She calls me from her dad’s house after she gets off the bus and tells me excitedly that he’s left a note for her saying it’ll just be the two of them that night and asking whether he can take her out to a special dinner.

“That’s great, honey,” I say. I’m glad; it sounds like Rob is making an effort to make her feel important. Maybe my words the other day meant something after all.

“When you go to the hospital, can you tell Mamie I said hi and that I’ll be there tomorrow?” Annie asks. “In case she can hear you?”

“Of course, sweetie,” I tell her.

I pick up Alain at home after I close, and we chat the whole way to the hospital. I’m realizing how very much I like having him around; he fits nicely into our life. Some days, he helps out around the bakery; other days he spends at Mamie’s bedside; and on days like today, he stays home and surprises me by doing things around the house. I returned a few days ago to find all the framed artwork in my attic hung up on the walls; today, I returned to find my pantry and freezer, which both had been virtually empty, cleared out and restocked with new groceries.

“It is the least I can do,” Alain said when I’d confronted him in disbelief. “It is nothing. I took a taxi to the supermarket.”