Madam Zira & the Henderson Affair

I felt myself tearing up again. I'd always carried a great amount of guilt regarding Isaac. Always felt I'd been too harsh with him; the wicked stepmother he grew to despise. I'd loved Isaac like my own, but we never seemed to get along.

"Where is he, Rolf? Where is Isaac?"

"He lives near Tahoe," Rolf explained; "He's a cattle rancher with a wife and four kids."

I felt my jaw drop slightly. I simply could not believe little Isaac Rosenberg, Bronx ruffian, had matured into a cowboy with four kids and a ranch full of cattle.

"If this weren't a showstopper," I replied, referring to the reunion with my mother and brother, "to learn Isaac is alive and well and is a cowboy is icing on the cake."

Rolf chuckled. "Well, he wants to see you sometime, Edie. He told me to have you contact him whenever you felt ready to."

I felt overwhelmed with emotion again. I fell against my mother and cried on her shoulder, feeling her slender but still nimble hands caressing my hair.

In less than 10 minutes, I had been reunited with my long lost mother and brother…to then learn that my long lost stepson was alive and well and wanted to reunite. I went from having no family to suddenly having a mother, a brother and a son. And this strange man named Rolf Henderson had been vitally instrumental in making it all happen. At this moment, I not only felt genuine love for him, but I also realized I truly was in love with him. Even if somewhat due to his participation in reuniting me with my family. Our relationship had been nothing but magical; and I was a self-confessed thrill-junkie. And, Rolf Henderson was half-Jewish. I could now be assured that Mama would approve…

************

I never did make it to Cocoa Beach.

I learned that my wonderful brother David and Mama lived in a large house about two hours outside Vegas. David was a successful probate lawyer and had been taking care of Mama for many years. I was truly grateful for that. David was divorced but had two lovely grown daughters who I was fortunate enough to meet and with whom I was beginning to forge a loving relationship. They were great young ladies – one was in her 3rd year of law school and the other was a successful Vegas showgirl. Of course, it was my niece Sarah – headliner of Harrah's' "Folies Bergere" cabaret show – to whom I instantly bonded. She too, had the gypsy in her soul.

And David. My wonderful beloved David. Papa would have been so incredibly proud of him. David was a smart, caring, gentle man, with a wicked sense of humor, but an astounding sense of honor. And he'd been wonderful to Mama.

Mama became the center of my life; and I became the center of hers. Despite her years of incarceration, Mama had survived Auschwitz and brought David to America about 30 years ago. She had never remarried, and had worked as a seamstress for years to support David and help put him through school. Thanks to some dear friends who knew of Mama's desire to find Papa and me, they put her in contact with Rolf Henderson.

It took both Mama and David many months before either were comfortable enough to talk about their time in Auschwitz. It was incredibly difficult for me to hear, but I wanted to know. I wanted to know everything about them both. We had virtual lifetimes to catch up on, and I knew by Mama's failing health that every minute I could spend with her was precious.

So I parked the Winnie in the driveway of David's suburban house and moved in with them. Rolf moved in too. We got married six months later by an Elvis impersonator in a little chapel in the gaudy glitter of the Vegas Strip. We laughed through the entire ceremony, and we've been laughing together ever since.

Rolf Henderson and I had been married almost a year when Mama died. And we were all with her when she did. One of the last things she told me was that she could go to Papa now happy that she had both of her babies back. I miss her every day, but I am equally as grateful that I had had her in my life again. Mama and I had come full circle – from birth and then to death. I looked at it that way with no regrets. I felt blissfully blessed for those two years we had together before she joined Papa.

Now, Rolf Henderson is the light of my life. We live in a small house in the suburbs of Las Vegas. I work part-time as a Blackjack dealer at Ceasar's. I took the job just for fun, as I was secretly delighted to discover that Rolf was a wealthy man and spent his time writing and recording his books on audio purely for fun. In the winters we took the Winnie out on the road and sold the tapes – or tried to – at truck stops and small art fairs. However, I permanently retired Madam Zira's wig to the closet shelf. Zira was a wonderful woman, but I don't miss her.

As Rolf likes to say –

"You can take Edie Rosenberg Henderson out of the gypsy, but you just can't take the gypsy out of Edie Rosenberg Henderson."