【赫临译笔】钱包里的信 - 心云驛站

几年前，在寒冷的一天，我在街上偶然发现了一个钱包。里面没有能够证明身份的东西，只有三美元和一封看上去随身携带了多年的皱皱巴巴的信。

撕破的信封上唯一可以辨认的是回信地址。我打开信，发现这封信写于一九二四年，差不多六十年前。我仔细阅读，希望找到点蛛丝马迹来确认钱包主人的身份。

这是一封写给男友的绝交信，字迹娟秀，写信人告诉名叫迈克尔的收信人，她母亲不让她再和他见面了。虽然如此，她会永远爱他。署名汉娜。

这是一封精美的信。但是除了迈克尔的名字外，没有其它办法来确定失主。也许我给信息台打个电话，接线员可以通过信封上的姓名查到电话号码。

“接线员，这是一个不同寻常的请求，我正在找一个钱包的失主。您有办法帮我通过钱包里的一封信上的地址查出电话号码吗？”

接线员把我的情况报告了上级主管，主管告诉我这个地址后列有一部电话，但她不能把号码给我。然而，她可以打个电话说明情况。如果对方愿意，她再联系我。我等了一会儿，她回了电话：“这有位女士想和你通话。”

我问她是否认识一个名叫汉娜的人。

“噢，当然认识了，这所房子是我们三十年前从汉娜家买来的。”

“你知道现在哪里可以找到她吗？”

“多年前，汉娜不得以把她母亲安置在一家养老院里，也许那家养老院可以帮你找到她的女儿。”

这位女士给了我那家养老院的名字。我打电话得知汉娜的母亲已经去世。接我电话的女士给了我一个地址，她认为在那里可以找到汉娜。

我给那个地址打了电话。接电话的女士说汉娜现在住在一家养老院，并给了我一个电话号码。我打了过去，对方说：“是的，汉娜现在和我们在一起。”

我问是否可以去探望她。当时是晚上十点。院长说汉娜可能睡了。“但如果你想碰碰运气的话，也许她正在活动室里看电视。”

院长和一个守卫在养老院门口接待了我。我们走上三楼，见到了汉娜的护理员，她告诉我们汉娜的确在看电视。

我们走进活动室。汉娜是一位温柔的银发老人，笑容温和，目光友善。我告诉她关于捡到钱包的事，并让她看了信。看到信的那一瞬间，她倒吸了一口气。“小伙子，”她说：“这封信是我与迈克尔最后的联系。”她把目光移开，过了一会儿，若有所思地说：“我非常爱他，但那时只有十六岁，妈妈说我太年轻。他太帅了，像演员肖恩·康奈利（007扮演者）。

我俩都笑了。院长让我们单独呆在一起。“是的，他叫迈克尔-德斯坦。如果你找到他，告诉他我还时常想起他，我至今未嫁，”她说着，眼里涌出了泪水，却透过泪水微笑着。“我想没有人能配得上迈克尔……”

我谢别汉娜，乘电梯来到一楼。走到门口时，守卫问：“老太太能帮上你吗？”

我告诉他老太太给了我些提示，“至少我知道了失主的姓氏。但我很可能暂时不再追寻下去了。”我解释着，我已经花去了将近一天的时间寻找失主了。

我们说着话，我掏出了那个镶着红短花边的棕皮钱包，让守卫看。他仔细看了一眼，说：“嘿，到哪我都认得这个钱包。这是德斯坦先生的，他总丢钱包。我至少在大厅里捡到过三次了。”

“德斯坦先生是谁？”我问。“他是八楼的一位老人。这肯定是德斯坦先生的钱包，他经常出去散步。”

我谢过守卫，跑到院长办公室，把守卫的话讲给他听。他陪伴我来到八楼，我祈祷着德斯坦先生还没有睡觉。

“我想他还在活动室，”护理员说：“他喜欢夜里读书……一个可爱的老人。”

我们走进亮着灯的那唯一的房间，一位老人正在那里读书。院长问他丢了钱包没有。迈克尔抬起头来，摸摸后兜，说：“天哪！丢了。”

“这位先生捡到一个钱包，看看是你的吗？”

看到钱包的那一瞬间，他如释重负地笑了。“是的，”他说：“是我的。一定是今天下午丢的，我要酬谢你。‘

“噢，不用，谢谢，”我说：“但我要告诉你一件事。为了找到失主，我读了这封信。”

他脸上的笑容消失了。“你读了这封信？”

“不仅读了，我想我知道汉娜在哪儿。”

他的脸色变得很苍白：“汉娜？你知道她在哪儿？她还好吗？她还和过去一样漂亮吗？”

“请告诉我！”迈克尔催促道。“她很好，和你认识她时一样漂亮。”“你能告诉我她在哪儿吗？我想明天就给她打电话。”

他抓住我的手，说：“你知道吗？收到这封信时，我的生活就结束了。我至今未娶。我想我一直爱着她。”“迈克尔，”我说：“跟我来。”我们三人乘电梯来到三楼，朝汉娜呆的活动室走去，她还在看电视。院长朝她走过去。

“汉娜，”他温柔地说：“你认识这个人吗？”我和迈克尔站在门口。她扶了扶眼镜，看了一会儿，没有说话。“汉娜，这是迈克尔，迈克尔-德斯坦。你还记得他吗？”“迈克尔？迈克尔？是你！”

他慢慢走到她身边。她站了起来，两个人拥抱在一起。然后，两人坐在沙发上，手拉着手，谈了进来。我和院长走了出来，我俩都哭了。

“瞧，真是造化弄人，”我富有哲理地说：“天意不可违呀。”三周后，我接到院长的一个电话，他问：“周日能抽空来参加一个婚礼吗？”没等我回答，他继续说：“是的，迈克尔和汉娜要喜结良缘！”

婚礼很可爱，养老院所有的人员都参加了庆典。汉娜穿一件米色连衣裙，看上去很漂亮。迈克尔穿一套深蓝色西装，站得笔直。养老院给了他们自己的房间，如果你想看一个七十六岁的新娘和一个七十八岁的新郎行为举止像孩子一样的话，就来看看他俩。

持续了近六十年的爱情终于有了完美结局。

LETTER IN THE WALLET
It was a freezing day, a few years ago, when I stumbled on a wallet in the street. There was no identification inside. Just three dollars, and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been carriedaround for years.
The only thing legible on the torn envelope wasthe return address. I opened the letter and saw that it had been written in 1924——almost 60 years ago. I read it carefully, hoping to find some clue to the identity of the wallet’s owner.
It was a “Dear John” letter. The writer, in a delicate script, told the recipient, whose name was Michael, that her mother forbade her to see him again. Nevertheless, she would always love him. It was signed Hannah ．
It was a beautiful letter. But there was no way, beyond the name Michael, to identify the owner. Perhaps if I called information the operator could find the phone number for the address shown on the envelope.　
“Operator, this is an unusual request. I’m trying to find the owner of a wallet I found. Is there any way you could tell me the phone number for an address that was on a letter in the wallet?” 　
The operator gave me her supervisor, who said there was a phone listed at the address, but that she could not give me the number. However, she would call and explain the situation. Then, if the party wanted to talk, she would connect me. I waited a minute and she came back on the line. “I have a woman who will speak with you.” 　
I asked the woman if she knew a Hannah.
“Oh, of course! We bought this house from Hannah’s family thirty years ago.”　
“Would you know where they could be located now?” I asked.　

“Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home years ago. Maybe the home could help you track down the daughter.”　
The woman gave me the name of the nursing home.I called and found out that Hannah’s mother had died. The woman I spoke with gave me an address where she thought Hannah could be reached.
I phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home. She gave me the number. I called and was told, “Yes, Hannah is with us.” 　
I asked if I could stop by to see her. It was almost 10 p.m. The director said Hannah might be asleep. “But if you want to take a chance, maybe she’s in the day room watching television.”　
The director and a guard greeted me at the door of the nursing home. We went up to the third floor and saw the nurse, who told us that Hannah was indeed watching TV.　
We entered the day room. Hannah was a sweet,silver-haired old- timer with a warm smile and friendly eyes. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she saw it, she took a deep breath. “Young man,” she said, “this letter was the last contact I had with Michael. ” She looked away for a moment, then said pensively, “I loved him very much. But I was only sixteen and my mother felt I was too young. He was so handsome. You know, like Sean Connery, the actor.” 　
We both laughed. The director then left us alone. “Yes, Michael Goldstein was his name. If you find him, tell him I still think of him often. I never did marry,” she said, smiling through tears that welled up in her eyes. “I guess no one ever matched up to Michael...” 　
I thanked Hannah, said good-by and took the elevator to the first floor. As I stood at the door, the guard asked, “Was the old lady able to help you?” 　
I told him she had given me a lead.“ At least I have a last name. But I probably won’t pursue it further for a while.” I explained that I had spent almost the whole day trying to find the wallet’s owner. 　
While we talked, I pulled out the brown-leather case with its red- lanyard lacing and showed it to the guard. He looked at it closely and said, “Hey, I’d know that anywhere. That’s Mr. Goldstein’s. He’s always losing it. I found it in the hall at least three times.” 　
“Who’s Mr. Goldstein?” I asked. “He’s one of the old-timers on the eighth floor. That’s Mike Goldstein’s wallet, for sure. He goes out for a walk quite often.” 　
I thanked the guard and ran back to the director’s office to tell him what the guard had said. He accompanied me to the eighth floor. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.
“I think he’s still in the day room,” the nurse said. “He likes to read at night...a darling old man.”
We went to the only room that had lights on, and there was a man reading a book. The director asked him if he had lost his wallet. Michael Goldstein looked up, felt his back pocket and then said,“Goodness, it is missing.” 　
“This kind gentleman found a wallet. Could it be yours?”
The second he saw it, he smiled with relief. “Yes,” hesaid, “that’s it. Must have dropped it this afternoon. I want to give you a reward.”
“ Oh, no thank you,” I said. “But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet.”
The smile on his face disappeared. “You read that letter?”
“Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is.”
He grew pale. “Hannah? You know where she is?How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was?”
I hesitated.
“Please tell me!” Michael urged. “She’s fine, and just as pretty as when you knew her.” Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow.”
He grabbed my hand and said, “You know something? When that letter came, my life ended. I never married. I guess I’ve always loved her.” “Michael,” I said. “Come with me.” The three of us took the elevator to the third floor. We walked toward the day room where Hannah was sitting, still watching TV. The director went over to her.
“Hannah,” he said softly. “Do you know this man?” Michael and I stood waiting in the doorway. She adjusted her glasses,looked for a moment, but didn’t say a word. “Hannah, it’s Michael. Michael Goldstein. Do you remember?” “Michael? Michael? It’s you!”
He walked slowly to her side. She stood and they embraced. Then the two of them sat on a couch, held hands and started to talk. The director and I walked out, both of us crying.
“See how the good Lord works,” I said philosophically “If it’s meant to be. it will be.” Three weeks later, I got a call from the director who asked. “Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding?”? He didn’t wait for an answer. “Yup, Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!”
It was a lovely wedding, with all the people at the nursing home joining in the celebration. Hannah wore a beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. The home gave them their own room, and if you ever wanted to see a 76- year-old bride and a 78-year old groom acting like two teen-agers, you had to see this couple.
A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.