3. Sift together 3 cups flour, baking powder, and salt, then add to the egg mixture, approximately one cup at a time, beating after each addition.
4. Add anise seed and make sure mixture is well blended.
5. In a separate, shallow bowl, mix together confectioners’ sugar and fennel seed.
6. Flour hands lightly and roll tablespoon-sized lumps of dough into balls. Roll each ball in confectioners’ sugar mixture, making sure it’s well-coated, and place on greased cookie sheets.
7. Bake for 12 minutes. Cool for 5 minutes on baking sheets, then remove to wire racks.
Rose
Something was terribly wrong, and Rose knew it. All afternoon, she had been sitting in front of her television, watching daytime reruns of programs she knew she had seen before. But it didn’t matter; she couldn’t remember the plots anyhow. She had grown very tired, and back in her room, she realized she could no longer feel her body. Then, everything had gone black.
The world had still been dark as night when they came for her, the people from the home. She heard them saying unconscious and stroke and barely hanging on, and she wanted to tell them that she was fine. But she found that she could no longer use her tongue, nor could she open her eyes, and it was in this way that she realized her body was failing her, just like her mind was. Perhaps it was time.
And so she let go and drifted further into the past. As the ambulance sirens sounded in the distance, as the doctors shouted and gave orders from very far away, as the small voice of a child cried near her bed, she released her grip on the present and let herself float, like jetsam on a wave, back to a time just before the world fell apart. There were voices then too, in the darkness, just as there were now. And as the present disappeared, the past came into focus, and Rose found herself in her father’s study, in the apartment on rue du Général Camou. She was seventeen again, and she felt as if she had a crystal ball and no one believed her.
“Please,” she was begging her father, her voice hoarse from endless hours of fruitless persuasion. “If we stay, we will die, Papa! They are coming for us!”
The Nazis were everywhere. German soldiers filled the streets, and the French police followed along like lemmings. Jews were no longer permitted to go out without the yellow Star of David sewn over their left breast, a brand marking them as different.
“Nonsense,” said her father, a proud man who believed in his country and in the goodness of his fellow man. “Only criminals and cowards run.”
“No, Papa,” Rose whispered. “It’s not just criminals and cowards. It’s people who want to save themselves, who don’t want to blindly follow, hoping that everything will be okay.”
Her father closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Beside him, Rose’s mother rubbed his arm comfortingly and looked at her daughter. “You are upsetting your father, Rose,” she said.
“But, Maman!” Rose exclaimed.
“We are French,” her father said tersely, opening his eyes. “They are not deporting French.”
“But they are,” Rose whispered. “And Maman is not French. To them, she is still Polish. In their eyes, that makes her—and us—foreigners.”
“You are talking nonsense, child,” her father said.
“This roundup is going to be different,” Rose said. She felt like she’d said it a thousand times before, but her father wasn’t hearing her because he didn’t want to. “They are coming for all of us this time. Jacob says—”
“Rose!” her father interrupted, slamming his fist on the table. Beside him, Rose’s mother jumped, startled, and shook her head sadly. “That boy has a runaway imagination!”
“Papa, it’s not his imagination!” Rose had never spoken against her parents before, but she had to make them believe her. This was life and death. How could they be so blind? “You’re our father, Papa. You have to protect us!”
“Enough!” her father roared. “You will not tell me how to run my family! That boy, Jacob, will not tell me how to run my family! I am protecting you children, and your mother, by following the rules. Do not tell me how to be a parent! You know nothing of such things.”
Rose fought back the tears in her eyes. She put her right hand on her belly, without intending to, and she quickly moved it back to her side when she saw her mother look at her curiously and frown. She wouldn’t be able to hide it from them for much longer, and then they would know. Would they forgive her? Would they understand? Rose thought not.