Rachel continued the story. “Once your father got over the first relief at finding his son, he turned to his sister-in-law. He was far less…” she paused, looking for the correct word, “…far less controlled than he seems to be now. He called her irresponsible, neglectful, and selfish. I had gone out to search for your brother, so I was there. It was quite a scene…” Despite her serious tone, Rachel’s eyes twinkled slightly; she was a woman who enjoyed high drama. “Cele, of course, didn’t simply apologize for what she’d done, as she should have. She lashed out at your father, making wild accusations. Why, she actually said he’d sent your mother to her grave.”

Annie couldn’t help herself. “Well, he did push my mamma to go out and help others when she was still ill herself.”

Rachel turned an astonished eye on her. “Is that what you think, child? Nonsense!” Her voice softened. “Your mother was a tzadeikes, Annie, as giving and generous as her sister was selfish. But one thing they had in common: They were both headstrong. Why, Natie and I used to laugh at how your father, who was quite a strong personality himself, used to do whatever his wife told him. Your father couldn’t push your mother to do anything. If your mother had decided to go and nurse a sick family, there was nothing your father could have done to change her mind.”

It was like swimming in the sea when she was a little girl — a wave pulled you in, pushed you out, lifted you up and dropped you down until your head was spinning and your mouth tasted of salt and you didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Aunt Cele: sweet and loving and caring, or neglectful and selfish? Papa, reserved and controlled Papa, crying over his little boy? Shouting at his sister-in-law?

But Rachel was not yet finished; there was more to reveal, more to discover, another wave to send Annie reeling.

“The upshot was that your father forbade Cele from seeing you. For a few weeks there was a succession of women coming to take care of you during the day, but none of them were successful.”

“Why not?” Abe asked, speaking for the first time. “Was Moe such a handful even then?” he grinned.

“Your father insisted on someone religious, not so easy to find in those days,” Rachel answered, ignoring her grandson and addressing Annie. “Cele still lived nearby, and she would try and see you. You children would cry for her, but your father had forbidden it. The women simply didn’t know how to handle the situation. And then, one day, matters came to a head. Your father received a letter from an attorney. I can still remember his face, pinched and drawn and completely white, when he showed it to my husband.”

“A letter?”

“That’s right. The attorney was representing Cele, who was seeking custody of her sister’s children. She claimed that your father was not capable of taking proper care of you, since he was working all day.”