August 6, 1943
"Papa, I've met a man," I said, as soon as I'd gotten up this morning and put on my yellow dress. I hadn't actively tried to conceal my new friendship from him, but he'd been busy, and I hadn't known how to communicate my thoughts.
"What sort of man?" he asked mildly, between sips of coffee, a passion we both share.
"An Englishman," I said, "attaché to a general. He's—not Jewish." I hadn't quite meant to say that. If Edwin was just a casual acquaintance, what did it matter? As I heard myself say the words, I realized that it mattered very much.
"I knew it would be so," said Papa, as placidly as before.
"What?" I asked, looking up from putting sugar into my cup.
"I pray a great deal, my Anna," he continued, "and sometimes I hear answers." He put his hand on top of mine. "You know the rumors as well as I do. It won't be long before Budapest isn't a safe place for us any more. This man will take you far away, where you will be protected."
"I've only just met him," I said, indignation and confusion and surprise swirling around my mind.
"These are bad times," my father answered. "Long ago, I wished for something different for you, but this is how it will be, how it is meant to be."
"I don't even know if he likes me, Papa," I retorted.
"You're blushing," he said.
"What if I don't like him?"
"Still blushing."
I laughed and shook my head, trying to be irritated, but too happy to manage it. I could hardly believe Mr. Jarvis could possibly come to really care for me, but it had been a long time since I'd seen my father wrong about anything important. At the very least, I was glad he didn't object to the idea of the tall Englishman—my tall Englishman. Maybe.
I put on my deep pink lipstick and laughed at myself for wondering if Edwin liked the color. Anna, you're acting like a teenaged schoolgirl I remonstrated with myself. But I couldn't help it. I kept remembering the end of our picnic. We hadn't touched, but he'd smiled at me, the kind of smile that people only have when they're looking at their favorite thing in the world. I've stored the image in my mind, where it will rest always, no matter what happens.
I made my way to Mr. Jonas's shop, as I always do, glad to be back at my usual post for the day. Mr. Jarvis had said he would come if he could, though his day would be busy. I tried to reconcile myself to the likelihood that he wouldn't, but I couldn't help feeling disappointed as the hours wore on, slow and monotonous.
Finally, a half hour before closing, a familiar silhouette filled the doorway. I was glad I didn't have any customers, because I grinned like a ninny, and I could feel myself going red again. "Good afternoon, Anna," said Edwin, smiling and removing his hat. "I've discovered a solution to our problem," he continued.
"What problem?" I asked, baffled.
"The problem of our not seeing each other for the entire weekend," he said.
"Oh?" I said, "and what solution do you suggest?"
"There's an officers' party at my hotel on Saturday night," he said. "I would—be very honored if you would accompany me."
My breath caught in my throat. This was different from casual visits in slow shops and impromptu lunches. This meant—
"You actually like me?" I blurted out, not particularly elegantly.
Edwin moved closer, looming over me across the counter in what I can only describe as a highly pleasant way. "I like you very much indeed." Now he was blushing.
"I like you too," I said, figuring that as I'd made a start, I might as well finish.
"Does that mean you'll come?" he asked after a moment of silly grinning.
I nodded. "But only after dark, when the Sabbath ends."
"I understand," he said. "I'll come for you the moment the light disappears."
"Here," I said, pulling out a scrap of receipt paper and writing my address on it. "This is where I live." He put it into his breast pocket.
"I have to go," he said, still smiling. "I'm—I'm ever so pleased." I nodded, bewildered and delighted and a lot of other things all at once.
I must stop writing and sew, for the Sabbath is almost here, and I haven't worn my best dress in ages.