The Big Nap (12 page)

Ruby struggled for a moment, but finally gave in, as I knew she would.

By the time we’d reached our house Ruby had bargained her way into two chocolate bars and a bag of
gelt.
It remains a mystery to me how a person who could negotiate effectively with the nastiest and most powerful of federal prosecutors could fall entirely apart when faced with a wily three-year-old. It all probably comes down to the fact that I’d never gone into a negotiation on behalf of a client feeling bad because it had been weeks since I’d taken the prosecutor to the park or played Candyland with him. Guilt is a powerful thing.

When we wheeled our way into the kosher grocery, we found Nettie seated on a high stool behind the counter, leaning wearily on her elbows. Her face was crumpled and her wig looked uncombed. She’d aged years since the afternoon she’d first suggested that Fraydle work for me. When we came in, she roused herself to smile at Ruby and pat her red curls, but then sighed again. Isaac had fallen asleep in the stroller on the walk over to the store, so, once I’d hushed Ruby with her candy bars, Nettie and I were able to talk in peace.

“No news,” I said, rather than asked.

“Nothing.”

“Nettie, it’s been three days. It’s time to do something about this.”

“I know. I know. I’ve been saying this to Baruch from the beginning. He must get help from outside. He must call the police.”

“But he won’t.”

“No.” She rubbed her brow.

“Nettie. You must see how this looks. It looks like he isn’t interested in finding her. If he really cared, he would call the police!”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. Baruch is dying inside, I’m telling you. He does nothing but look for his child. But we are not like you. We have our own ways. We help ourselves.”

“But clearly your ways aren’t working! You haven’t found her yet. And every day that passes makes it less likely that you will.”

“I tell my brother every day, please call the police. But he won’t. He is a stubborn man, Mrs. Applebaum. He is a stubborn man.”

“What about Mrs. Finkelstein?” I asked. “Do you think she might be willing to talk to the police? Just to report Fraydle missing?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Well, have you talked to her about it? Have you suggested calling the police?”

Nettie leaned over the counter and grabbed my hand. “You do it!” she said. “You talk to her. Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

I disengaged from her hot, dry grasp. “Nettie, your brother won’t even talk to me on the phone. He’s certainly not going to let me into his house.”

“He’s not home!” she said. “He’s out looking for Fraydle. He’s out driving night and day. You go now, you’ll find just Sima, my sister-in-law. Go now! It will take you only a moment. I’ll watch your children.”

I looked at her doubtfully for a moment. But the truth
was, I felt guilty. I hadn’t told Fraydle’s parents about Yossi, and I wasn’t planning to. The least I could do was try to convince them to report their daughter’s disappearance to the police.

“Okay.” I agreed. I checked on Isaac, who was still sleeping and told Ruby I’d be right back. She opened her mouth to protest, but snapped it shut and smiled at Nettie, who was dangling a little mesh bag of gold coins in front of her eyes.

“Oooh.
Gelt
,” Ruby breathed.

“You like chocolate,
maydele
?” Nettie said, unwrapping one and handing it to Ruby. Ruby crammed it in her mouth and held her hand out for another. “One at a time, darling.” Nettie stroked her hair and cupped a palm on her cheek. She turned to me. “So go already,” she said.

I left the store by the back door and walked over to Fraydle’s house. I opened the creaky little gate and found two little boys around Ruby’s age or a bit younger playing at the top of the long flight of steps leading to the front porch. Their mouths opened in round O’s as I came up the stairs. One of them, the older, shouted something in Yiddish and ran inside the house. The younger popped his thumb in his mouth and sucked it, all the while backing carefully away from me. I smiled at him, but his eyes just grew bigger and he moved a little more quickly.

I reached the front door just as Sima Finkelstein walked through the doorway. She was holding a dishtowel in one hand and another little boy on her hip. Her long skirt was covered with a flowered apron.

“Yes?” she said.

“Hello, Mrs. Finkelstein. I’m Juliet Applebaum. I was here a couple of days ago?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. You have news about Fraydle? You know where she is?”

“No. No, I’m terribly sorry. I haven’t found her. Could I come in for a moment?”

She hesitated, but then stepped back and motioned me through the door. I walked quickly into the house and back to the kitchen. She followed me. There was a baby asleep in a bouncy seat on the kitchen counter and Sarah, Fraydle’s sister, stood at the sink washing dishes. She looked up when I walked in the room, but blushed and looked down again when I said hello.

Sima motioned me to a chair. She set the little boy down on the floor and he toddled off. She sat down next to me. “Can I get you something? A glass of tea?” she asked.

“That would be lovely.”

“Sarahleh. Put the kettle on for tea.”

The girl obeyed, filling the dented metal teakettle from the sink.

Suddenly, there was a crash of crockery. The shock of the noise made me jump in my chair. The baby woke with a cry and Sima stood up and rocked the bouncy seat. Sarah stood at the sink, stock-still.

“Sarahleh, what happened? Did you break something?” her mother asked.

“No, no. I just dropped a plate. It’s fine. See?” The girl held up a blue saucer with small white flowers. Her mother nodded and sat down again. The baby stopped her cries and settled down. Sima closed her eyes, as if exhausted. I looked over to Sarah in time to see her surreptitiously slipping the broken pieces of what looked like another saucer into the pocket of her skirt. When the girl realized that I had seen her, her face turned ashen and she looked at me, wide-eyed. I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring way.
She took a breath and turned back to the sink. I shook my head at the thought of a house where the consequences of breaking a plate were so terrifying.

I turned back to the girl’s mother. “Mrs. Finkelstein, I’ll be perfectly honest with you. I came here to try to convince you to report Fraydle’s disappearance to the police.”

Sima shook her head. “That is my husband’s decision, Mrs. Applebaum. He will decide if that is appropriate. For now, we are looking for her ourselves.”

“I understand that, Mrs. Finkelstein. But I also know that the longer you wait, the harder it will be for the police to find Fraydle once you do go to them. The trail will be colder. Do you understand what I mean?”

The woman nodded her head slightly and stared down at her hands. They were work-roughened and red and the nails were bitten almost to the quick. Her cuticles were torn and chewed. She grasped her right hand with her left, twisting her wedding ring.

“Mrs. Finkelstein. Sima,” I said, “please, we must do something here. What if she hasn’t run off? What if something really happened to her? Every minute you wait makes it less and less likely that you’ll find her.”

The rabbi’s wife looked up at me, gathered herself together, and spoke. “I know you are trying to help. But this is not your business. My husband will find Fraydle. He does not need the police or any of you to help him.” She rose from her chair and walked out of the kitchen. Grudgingly, I followed her. I walked out the front door that she held open for me, down the steps, and out the gate.

This family, these people, were a mystery to me. Like my own grandparents, theirs had probably come to America from a
shtetl
, a tiny, Jewish village in Eastern Europe. The isolationist life steeped in tradition and religious observance
that Fraydle’s family led in the heart of Los Angeles was not much different than the lives led by our respective great-grandparents in Poland, Lithuania, or Russia. My assimilated life, with my non-Jewish husband, was two or three or ten worlds apart. How was it that people from the same place, brought up in the same religion, ended up so entirely different?

I trudged back to Nettie’s store and found her crouched on the floor, blowing soap bubbles for Isaac, whom she’d propped up into a sitting position. He was giggling hysterically as Ruby chased the bubbles around the store. The few customers who’d arrived in my absence did not seem to mind having to wait to make their purchases. All of them older women, they leaned against the counter and smiled at my children.

When Nettie noticed me, she hoisted herself up off the floor with a groan and busied herself checking out the line of waiting women. When they’d all left, she turned to me.

“And? What did she say?

“She refused to consider it. She said her husband knows best.”

Nettie snorted derisively.

“Nettie, tell me about this match of Fraydle’s.”

“The Hirsch boy? A wonderful match for Fraydle. An important family. And wealthy.”

“Yes, you told me that. Did Fraydle agree to the match?”

“Everyone agreed. Baruch is thrilled. The Hirsch family is happy. The boy likes her. It’s all set.”

“And Fraydle’s mother? What does she think?”

“Ah, Sima.” Nettie shook her head. “Sima wants Fraydle to choose for herself. Sima is a big believer in love matches. Don’t ask me why; hers certainly wasn’t one. Her parents chose for her and that was that. And Sima and
Baruch have been very happy. Happy enough. Anyway, they have a lovely family.”

“Did Fraydle choose what’s-his-name, Hirsch?”

Nettie looked uncomfortable. “Ari Hirsch. The boy’s name is Aharon, but they call him Ari.”

“Did she choose Ari Hirsch for herself?” I was getting insistent.

“Not specifically,” Nettie replied.

“What does that mean? Not specifically? Did she say she would marry him or not?”

Nettie shrugged her shoulders. “She didn’t agree, not exactly. But she didn’t reject him, either. She told Baruch she needed more time. She said she would do as her parents asked and marry, but she needed more time to decide if she wanted to marry Ari Hirsch.”

A thought occurred to me. If this marriage was so important to her father, and if she had refused to obey him, would he, could he, have tried to force her?

“Nettie, I have a question for you. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but what would your brother have done if Fraydle refused to marry the boy? Would he have made her do it, anyway?”

Nettie looked at me. She shook her head firmly. “Baruch, maybe he would have tried to make Fraydle marry Ari Hirsch, but Sima wouldn’t stand for it. I told you, she always insisted that the girl be allowed to make a free choice. She would never have let my brother force a match on her daughter.”

A possibility was beginning to occur to me.

“But let’s say somehow Rabbi Finkelstein got Fraydle to do it. Would Sima object to the marriage once it had happened?”

“A marriage is a marriage. Once it’s done, that’s it.”

“Look, Nettie, there’s got to be a reason your brother is refusing to get the police involved in the disappearance of his child. Maybe he’s unwilling because he knows where she is. Is it possible that your brother sent Fraydle to the Hirsches, maybe against her wishes, and without Sima knowing about it?”

Nettie looked at me. To my surprise, she did not seem at all shocked at my question. “Anything is possible,” she said.

B
Y
the time Peter walked in the door at ten o’clock that night, I’d already decided what I was going to do. He came into the bedroom and found me standing over Isaac’s changing table, which we’d moved into our room once we’d realized he wasn’t going to be sleeping in his and Ruby’s room any time soon. I was holding my nose and dabbing at the mess in front of me.

“Hey, honey,” Peter said, kissing me on the cheek. “That’s gross.”

“I know. Totally disgusting,” I agreed. “Why is it
green
? I swear this kid did not eat anything today that was this particular shade of fluorescent green.”

“Here, you take a break, I’ll deal with this.”

I handed over the box of wipes and, after washing my hands, stretched out on the bed.

“Listen, Peter, my mom’s been bugging me to go visit her and my dad in New Jersey.”

“I can’t possibly get away right now.”

“No, I know that. I was thinking of just me and the kids.”

“Okay.”

And that was it. No
Please don’t leave me.
No
I’ll be lost without you.
Nothing.

When I told my mother that we’d decided to come out and visit, she positively crowed with delight. She inventoried all the baby items she needed to borrow or buy and almost hung up on me in her eagerness to get started setting up the kids’ room. I managed to get plane tickets for the next redeye to New York. Thank God for frequent-flyer miles. I debated using another 25,000 miles to get Isaac a seat of his own but decided to risk having him on my lap. After all, how many people would be flying to New York in the middle of the night in the middle of the week? I packed three suitcases full of everything I could imagine ever needing, including a breast pump, ten changes of clothing for the kids, every infant medication known to humankind, and an assortment of toys, games, rattles, and dolls. You would have thought we were setting out for a year at the South Pole, rather than a week in Northern New Jersey, the shopping-center capital of the world.

The next evening, Peter drove us to the airport and insisted on parking and taking us to the gate, even though I’d offered to martyr myself at the curbside check-in. He schlepped my sixty pieces of carry-on luggage for me and entertained Ruby while I gave Isaac one last preflight diaper change. When the preboarding announcement came, he grabbed me and wrapped me in a bear hug.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” he croaked, resting his face on the top of my head.

“We’ll miss you, too.” I reached up to kiss him, but Ruby wriggled in between us, forcing me to step back and out of his arms. He gave her a kiss goodbye and then transferred all the various bags to me. I walked down the ramp pushing Isaac in his folding stroller, holding Ruby’s hand, with Isaac’s car seat in the other hand, the diaper bag around my neck, a flight bag full of snacks and toys hanging from each shoulder, and my purse clenched in my teeth.