Echoes Page 0,56

seventeen years now, and so much had happened. Her daughters had been born, her husband had died, everything in her life had changed, and she had become a countess, which meant nothing to her, although she suspected it might have impressed her sister.

“Isn't today the day you go to the synagogue every year? Why do you do that, Mama?” She knew that her mother had been deeply intellectual, and she had always had a profound fascination with religion. Perhaps it was religious curiosity that drove her there, or a gesture of respect for other people. She knew how devoutly Catholic her mother was.

“I like it.” She did not tell her oldest daughter that she went there to see her mother, and today she had touched her. They had not spoken a single word to each other, but just holding her hand for a moment had revived her. Since Antoine had died, she knew to her very core that she needed to see her mother. It was some sense of continuity from the past into the future. Monika was the link for her, as Beata was between her mother and her daughters.

“I think it's disgusting that Jews can't be newspaper editors or own land anymore. And that some of them are being sent to work camps,” Amadea volunteered at dinner with a look of outrage. Hitler had been appointed chancellor in January, and ever since then there had been laws passed against the Jews. Beata had been aware of it, as most people were, and thought it disgraceful, but there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. And as most people did, she had her own problems and worries. But the current anti-Semitism was of great concern to her for a number of reasons.

“What do you know about that?” Beata looked startled.

“I know a lot about it actually. I went to some lectures by a woman called Edith Stein. She said that women should become involved in politics, their community, and the nation. She wrote to the pope, condemning anti-Semitism. And I read her book about Life in a Jewish Family. She was born Jewish, and became a nun recently. She became a Catholic eleven years ago, but the Nazis still think of her as Jewish. They forced her to stop lecturing and teaching. Now she's in a Carmelite convent in Cologne. She's actually very famous.”

“I know. I've read about her. I find her interesting.” It was the first bond Beata and her daughter had made, on an adult level, the first serious conversation they'd had in years. Amadea was encouraged by it, and decided to open her heart to her. She was impressed that her mother knew of Edith Stein, too.

“Sometimes I think I'd like to be a nun. I spoke to a priest about it once. He thought it would be good.” Beata looked upset as she glanced at her daughter. For the first time, she realized how absent she had been, and how lonely Amadea was. Other than her friends at school, her only companion at home was a child half her age. It was a wake-up call to Beata to pay more attention to her. Antoine had been gone for six years, and Beata felt as though she had died with him.

“Your father wouldn't like it if you became a nun.” She remembered what he had said when the priest who had married them said that she should have become a nun. Antoine had strongly disapproved, not only for her obviously, but he thought it was a wasted life for women. He thought women should be married and have children. “You should get married when you grow up, and have babies.” She tried to echo Antoine's words, as though she could speak for him, and in fact had an obligation to do so, since he could no longer speak for himself.

“Maybe not everyone is meant to have children. Gretchen's sister became a nun three years ago. She loves it. She took her first vows last year.” The more Beata listened to her, the more she realized how out of touch she had been. Amadea sounded as though she were heading for the nearest convent, and Beata realized she had a responsibility to pay closer attention and talk to her, not just about taking Daphne to ballet, or dropping her off at school, but about the things that mattered to her. She hoped it wasn't too late to make that connection with her again. Beata realized with