What will be when Tatte falls over and he needs a strong arm to help him up?
Holding the picture of the three girls—Hannah, Perla, and Becca — Emmy kneels beside her Zeide. “Zeide, can I take it with me?”
“Emmy!” Hannah steps towards her daughter, stretches her hand to pluck the photograph away. Emmy holds it away. “I’m allowed to ask, am I not?”
Hannah turns to look at Tatte. His eyes are still clear, his composure unruffled. Does the photograph not mean something to him?
“It’s just, how will I persuade people to help me find her if I do not know what she looks like? And it’s not only for me.” Emmy lifts the picture towards her face. “When you look—the heart-shaped face, long lashes, the stare so old and composed, though she is the size of a child… well, then, she no longer just another little Jewish girl no one cares about. She is a person.” Emmy pauses and looks down at the picture. “And she is beautiful.”
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