A Gathering of One

By Bonnie Feuer

After two personal tragedies in one year, the landscape of Gertrude's life looks flat and barren. Suddenly childless, she wanders in a vast emptiness for months. Her women gather, bringing sustenance and encouragement, but it is not until a long look in the mirror shows a serious weight loss and sickly pallor, that she knows a change must be made. Summoning an intrepid strength, Gert pulls herself together and takes a step forward. With relief and wide open arms, her boss welcomes her back to work.
When her younger sister, Mildred, gives birth to Mark, Gert is instantly enamored with him. Every moment of her spare time is spent helping with her adorable nephew. However, as the little boy grows, she notices odd behaviors and repetitive actions that worry her. She keeps these concerns to herself, as Mildred has a fragile constitution and often needs care, herself. Shortly after Mark turns five, he becomes a big brother to Bonnie. Gert becomes Bonnie's other mother and lifelong hero.
Born into a troubled household, Bonnie takes on the role as the easy one. Her father works in the movie making industry, which requires him to travel all over the world. Sadly, when he is home, he can not contain his anger at Mark's disruptive behaviors and resorts to physical punishment. Mildred has retreated to bed, where she barks out demands to Bonnie and hides when Mark is being admonished or hit. Bonnie hides, too, while beseeching God to let her die. It is during these times that Gert infers there is distress and dependably shows up to offer comfort to everyone, especially to young Bonnie, who is living such a restricted life. She becomes a reliable presence who brings support during chaos and shared joy during all of the triumphs. She sees Bonnie through every milestone and heart break, including a high risk pregnancy and devastating stillbirths. As Bonnie grows up, the caring between her and Gert becomes reciprocal and lasts for the rest of Gert's life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350919509

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A Gathering of One

© 2023 Bonnie Feuer

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN 979-8-35091-949-3

eBook ISBN 979-8-35091-950-9

Table of Contents

A Gathering of One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

You saw me bludgeoned by circumstance.

Lost, injured, hurt by chance.

I screamed to the heavens . . . loudly screamed

Trying to change our nightmares to dreams.

The sun has come.

The mist is gone.

We see in the distance our long way home.

—Maya Angelou from In and Out of Time

A Gathering of One

By Bonnie Feuer

She was one-thousand women, carved from bedrock, eroded by elements and time.

She was a thousand women;

Two-thousand arms, open to gather and provide.

She was gold-flecked October,

April’s painted sky, the birth of a mountain.

She was one-thousand women, who had lived before and gathered as women do.

She was a wise, nurturing, dependable gathering of one.

Chapter One

Turning away from conversation and turning down sustenance,

she stood there, hollow and naked, allowing the storm to have its way.

Eleven years before I was born, a freak accident occurred which forever altered the life of my aunt Gert and set the stage for mine.

In March of 1942, in Jersey City, New Jersey, two sets of new aunts and uncles were at the hospital to meet their tiny, five-pound niece and to congratulate first-time daddy, Abe Kempner. In a room down the hall, Gert Kempner remained sedated from the effects of preeclampsia and an emergency cesarean section, weeks before her due date.

Huddled together at the nursery window, the family members commented on the infant’s perfection and melted over every precious yawn and pout. Good-naturedly, they argued over who the baby resembled. After fifteen minutes, a nurse appeared and announced the end of visiting hours. Resigned to the hospital rules, the relatives blew kisses to the baby and waved as her cradle was wheeled through a pair of heavy swinging doors. It was there that the nurse paused for a second. It was there that one of the doors swung before the cradle cleared the opening. It was there that the door slammed into the foot of the cradle, creating a momentum so strong that the infant was launched into the cradle’s headboard.

A collective intake of breath could be heard, as everyone’s hands covered their gaping mouths. Almost at once, they started assuring one another that the baby’s head had not made contact with the cradle.

Gert and Abe’s baby passed away during that night. The cause of death was declared natural, as the sudden demise of an infant born too early was not unusual in 1942.

Frantically, Abe tried to locate a baby in need of adoption. Standing at a pay phone, address book in hand, he called agencies, friends, and colleagues, desperate for Gert to awaken as a mother. His attempts were to no avail. They were both in their late thirties and deemed too old to adopt an infant. In addition, Gert’s dangerously high blood pressure made her an early death risk.

When Gert finally awakened, it was to the distant cries of an infant. She asked the nearest nurse if that was her baby. The nurse answered, That’s nothing for you to worry about. Your baby doesn’t cry anymore.

As the words penetrated, racking sobs took hold of Gert. What do you mean? she cried. I need to see my baby.

Nurses whispered and tried to calm her. She examined their faces for a glimmer of hope, but no one made eye contact. With a pillow against her new incision, she rocked in her bed, aching for the baby she would never hold.

One nurse found Abe, who had fallen into a troubled sleep on a couch in the waiting room. She told him that Gert had just been informed of the loss. He raced down the hall to cushion the blow. Climbing onto the bed, he sat next to her and, in heartsick tears, he rocked along with her, muttering, I’m sorry. God help us. I’m so sorry.

Gert felt desperate to be home. She could not remain for another minute in the place where her child had died. Her doctor understood and told her she could leave as soon as she was able to stand and walk. Without pause, Gert slid off the bed and stood up. Then, overcoming a wobbly feeling, she took a deliberate step. Although slightly bent, she walked across the entire room.

True to his word, the doctor discharged her.

Long before Gert and Abe arrived at home, the relatives were there. Gert’s sisters, Ethel and Mildred, changed the linens and freshened up the whole apartment. They brought food and their loving, dependable presence to the couple that was struggling, in the grip of despair. During those delicate early days, everyone was careful to avoid the topic of babies or children. They were all bereft over the family’s loss and the devastation of their loved ones. This gathering was supposed to have been a celebration; the welcoming of a new family member. Instead, the relatives milled around, shaking their heads, wiping away tears and sighing.

A week passed and, physically, Gert continued to heal. She felt strong enough for Abe to go back to his office at the insurance company he owned. While he was there, he tried tirelessly to find a way to adopt an older or hard-to-place child. Gert kissed him as he left each morning and proceeded to wander the apartment, imagining her baby girl in every corner of each room. She and Abe had chosen the name Arlene if the baby had been a girl, and Gert repeatedly called out to her, as though searching for a child who was only momentarily out of sight. Her sisters and many friends continued to visit, bringing treats and attempts at conversation.

Months dragged by and visits dwindled. Gert realized that she was no longer active in her life. Remaining at home each day provided too much time to wallow in her loss. She toyed with the idea of going back to Lillian’s Bridal, where she created and perfected wedding gowns and other fancy dresses. When she told Abe of her idea, his smile illuminated the room and he wholeheartedly encouraged this healthy step forward.

Abe had become increasingly frustrated about not finding a child to adopt. He kept notes, addresses, and phone numbers of every possibility that had fallen through. Finally, a very promising lead came his way. The search was to take him to Philadelphia. Wanting to protect Gert from possible disappointment, he told her that he had to go for business reasons and off he went, filled with new hope.

As he happily set out for Pennsylvania, Abe consciously ignored physical discomfort. Trying to shake it off, he promised himself that if the pain continued, he would see the doctor immediately upon his return.

The life-changing phone call reached Gert while she was at work, carefully cutting champagne-colored satin. She was told that her only love in the world, her partner through life, had pulled over on the New Jersey Turnpike and quietly passed away. Staff from the hospital near New Brunswick assured her that even though Abe had had a massive coronary, he had died without suffering.

Support arrived in shifts. Ethel and Mildred stayed with her while Abe’s sisters took turns taking care of his mother. Gert had someone with her twenty-four hours a day to see her through the early days of anguish. Shock and wrenching grief attacked her in waves, landing like a punch and knocking the breath out of her. Turning away from conversation and turning down sustenance, she stood there, hollow and naked, allowing the storm to have its way.

Abe’s car was delivered, along with his personal effects. Gert clutched his belongings as one would a life preserver and hungrily searched through his papers, seeking some sort of reason. When she learned that he had been on a mission to find her a child, she nearly crumbled under the weight of guilt and a gratitude that had no place to go.

The relentless phases of grief were painful and slow. Gert frequently sighed without any relief and moved through time as one moves through a nightmare. Days gave way to months that were tedious and empty. The women in her life came with offers of tempting meals and ideas for activities, but Gert was lost in a place somewhere outside of herself.

While in her apartment she felt a fierce desire to go outdoors. Once there, she would attempt a short walk and be overcome with a panicky need to be back in her home. She couldn’t seem to find a comfortable place in a world without Abe. Stuck in stagnation, she felt like she was drowning and feared the nothingness that accompanied each day.

Severe weight loss was evident and her normally ruddy complexion developed an undertone of gray. After noticing herself in the mirror one afternoon, she realized that Abe would be very upset to see her withering away. He would want her to continue the productive life they had begun. Gert could almost hear him insisting that she take better care of herself. This new thought process brought the very first glimpse of possibility to her own future.

Once again, Gert returned part time to her job at Lillian’s. Although she carried a heavy, oppressive burden, her resolve to make Abe proud became a driving force. Staying late at the shop one evening, Gert became absorbed with some lace scraps and shimmering pearls. She arranged them in different patterns and then started over. Slowly, her natural creativity surfaced and the results were stunning. Out of nowhere, a sliver of her old passion had her wildly stitching lace patches in a row. She pinned this to an unadorned gown, immediately creating the effect of an elegant dropped waistline. The row of delicate lacy points faced the floor, and to each point Gert attached three hanging, oval pearls. The result was one of subtle movement and quiet sophistication.

Lillian was thrilled with the creation. Dancing around the fitting area with the dress, she announced that this new look would become a trademark style of the store. As Gert felt the door to her life slowly reopen, she recognized it as hope and cautiously stepped through.

Thanks to Lillian, Gert’s bridal gowns became very popular. Young ladies came to Jersey City from all over New York and New Jersey to have Gert create the gown of their dreams. She encouraged each bride to describe their desired dress in minute detail while she sketched exactly what they imagined. As soon as the picture was tweaked, changed, and approved by the bride, Gert took measurements, then ordered the material, lace, netting, and beads and set to work. The results were pure magic.

Naturally, her confidence grew and with it came a newfound strength. A year passed and Gert felt the need to move forward to rebuild her life as a single woman. With Lillian’s blessing and valuable help, Gert bought and set up a bridal boutique of her own in Fort Lee, New Jersey. She rented a spacious apartment there, immediately befriending Virginia and Nat, the couple who lived next door. Since Fort Lee was just over the George Washington Bridge, much of her business still came from New York. Gert was so busy, she had to hire two seamstresses.

As Gert was settling into her new life, her sister Mildred gave birth to a baby boy named Mark. In the rare moments when Gert wasn’t working, she could be found in Queens, New York, holding, feeding and adoring her little nephew. Smitten with the blonde, blue-eyed child, she happily lavished him with time, gifts, and an endless supply of love. However, as her nephew grew, Gert began to notice odd repetitive habits and negative behaviors that planted a seed of worry. She did not mention this to Mildred for fear of upsetting her baby sister’s delicate constitution.

By the time Mark was four, Virginia and Nat had introduced Gert to a handsome and talented gentleman named William Mitchell. Mr. Mitchell owned Mitchell Accessories, a well-known carpet and accessory factory in Manhattan. He was dashing and romantic. On each date, he took Gert to a different restaurant, thoroughly enjoying himself, as he introduced her to foods that were new to her. They attended concerts, Broadway shows, and the ballet. When they went dancing, people stopped to watch them glide together in perfect harmony. Bill was thoughtful, respectful, bright, and witty. For the second and last time in Gert’s life, she fell in love.

A month after Mark turned five, I became his baby sister and Bill Mitchell became our uncle.

Everyone was thrilled to have a healthy baby girl join the family. However, time exposed worsening behavioral problems in Mark, which angered my father and caused my mother to retreat to her bed.

Chapter Two

For all of my life, I’ve marveled at the way my childless aunt

innately knew exactly what children needed

When I was three and Mark was eight, my father bought the family a house in Teaneck, New Jersey. It was located less than five miles from Aunt Gert and Uncle Bill’s apartment and everyone was ecstatic to be living so close to one another. As soon as we moved in, Uncle Bill arranged for carpeting in all of the rooms. Mine was the color of cotton candy. Gert made me a gorgeous bedroom set. It included a white bedspread and rose-colored dust ruffle, curtains and throw pillows – all trimmed in white.

I quickly realized that my aunt was part of almost everything that was good in my life. Her very presence was all that was needed to improve any day. The gentle hum of a distant plane still recalls the first time I recognized my gratitude for her. Although I was not yet familiar with the word, I never forgot the feeling.

Standing in my backyard on a crisp and breezy morning, I could not see the plane, but its low rumble filled the endless blue space. At the age of four, I had been zipped into a thick, fisherman-knit sweater and told to go outside to be with Gert. While I was trying to spot the plane, she was singing and hanging freshly washed laundry on ropes that were stretched between my house and my climbing tree. Pillowcases, towels, and sheets billowed and flapped as the soft wind played with them.

The minute Aunt Gert noticed that I had come outside; she smiled and put down the clothespins. As she approached me with her hand held out, she said, Hello, my sweetheart. I took her hand and she gently led me to the sunny smelling laundry. Pulling me in between the hanging pastel sheets, we wove in and out of the damp maze. As we walked, Aunt Gert started to sing, Blue Bird, Blue Bird through my window. Blue Bird, Blue Bird through my window; Oh, Darling, are you happy?

This game was enchanting. The moving shadows cast by the sweeping linens provided moments of darkness, quickly followed by bursts of light from the late-morning sun. Faster we went, in and out, with Gert singing and holding my hand and me giggling; loving the magical feelings and realizing, in an instant, that I was lucky.

I still don’t know if that cool, sunny morning belonged to springtime or autumn. Whatever the season, that was a glorious time. Before my Aunt Gert left this world, she and I shared countless perfect days, but a plane never echoes in a magnificent sky without me stopping to remember my wonderful aunt and the day I first knew the joy of a grateful heart.

Often, Mark and I spent the weekend in Fort Lee with Aunt Gert and Uncle Bill. I loved being there; sharing in the chores that Gert couldn’t attend to during the week. Together, we went to the grocery store to choose the ingredients needed to make a special dinner for Uncle Bill

Aunt Gert was supremely loving and patient as she taught me to tie my shoes, sew on a button and peel carrots. At that point, I hadn’t decided if I even liked carrots. My germ-conscious mother scraped them with a knife until only the twisted, yellowish center remained. Then she scrubbed them under running water. By the time she felt they were safe enough to eat, they were thin and soggy. Aunt Gert taught me how to use a peeler to gently take off just the outer layer by myself. It was fun creating the long, orange-colored ribbons and watching them drop into the sink. This left the crunchy sweetness, which I found that I loved and immediately considered carrots to be a treat. Aunt Gert glowed over my enjoyment. She always handed me two from the refrigerator, saying, Here you go . . . one for each hand.

Time with Aunt Gert made me feel better than time with anyone else. There were always conversations, and many of them involved stories from Gert’s childhood. These filled my mind with vivid mental images of how it must have been for her, back then.

One rainy afternoon, she sat on the couch and smiled at me. She patted the seat next to her. Come, listen to a story, she invited. I settled in next to her and she began. I was born in 1906 to Bessie and Joseph Sachs. My father was the deputy sheriff of the Hudson County Courthouse. Before I was born, there was an older brother named Harry and a sister just a year old, named Ethel.

"My family owned a two-family brick house on a busy street in Bayonne, New Jersey. We lived on the first floor and rented the second floor to another family. Harry was old enough to do many things by himself, but Ethel was born too early. She was small and frail. My mother fussed over her, believing that she was weak. Making that situation worse was the fact that she became pregnant with me while she was still nursing Ethel. She feared that this would further weaken her baby, who was already difficult to feed. I was born very sturdy. I was chubby and strong and ate very well. Before long, I was larger than my older sister.

Because I remained the stronger and larger sister, all of the difficult household chores fell to me. Ethel was not expected to do much of anything. I thought this was unfair, but never complained, even when I saw that Ethel could do a lot more than she let on. For all of my young life, I felt like Cinderella.

When Ethel was nine and I was eight, your mother was born. She looked just like a princess and became the star of the Sachs family. I adored my little sister, Mildred, and happily helped my mother to take care of her. We are all grown up now, but your mother is still my baby sister and I am happy to help her when she needs me.

I loved hearing her tell that story. I could see her recalling the important parts she wanted to share. She looked sort of foggy and distant, like she was entering a dream. Her eyes glistened as she spoke of her parents, who were long gone. They were my grandparents and because I would never meet them, I was left knowing that there was a blank space in my life where love should have been.

When I started kindergarten, Aunt Gert made me three pleated skirts with matching jackets. They looked very grown up. I vividly recall her standing next to me in her living room and zipping me into the navy blue skirt. She then had me try it, while explaining that the zipper would always be on the left. Thanks to her, I started school knowing left from right and all of the daily tasks she had taught me earlier. She said the sweetest words to me as I learned, always encouraging my enthusiastic attempts and complimenting the results. For all of my life I have marveled at the way my childless aunt innately knew exactly what children needed.

It was around this time that my father gave me a lifelong gift. Weekend mornings always meant that he was absorbed in reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. Looking at the pages in his hands, I wondered how anyone could make sense of the black lines and dots. When I asked about that, he gave me the comics so I could enjoy the pictures, but even the comics had words and I wanted to know them.

I asked my father to help me. After writing out the alphabet, he smiled and shook his head in disbelief, as I quickly memorized the sound of each letter. When I asked for more, he taught me how to put the letters together. The three and four letter words came easily. He then taught me how to sound out syllables and combine them into larger words. The newspaper was our tool, and before school began, I was reading on my own.

The words in the comics made me roll my eyes. I thought they were boring. The atricles I could read in the