Tracie Peterson (30 page)

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “There’s much to be done and Tateh won’t be back for several hours. He has a meeting with Mr. Blackwell.”

“On a Sunday? I thought that rich
goy
went to synagogue, I mean church, on Sunday.”

Darlene shrugged. “It is no concern of mine … or yours.” She narrowed her eyes at Hayyim. “You mustn’t talk about my father to other people. There are those who say you gossip like an old woman and I won’t have it, do you understand? My father is a good man and I won’t have people look down upon him because of loose, idle palaver.”

Hayyim looked genuinely sorry for his indiscretion. “Esther has a way of getting it out of you,” he said by way of explanation. “I didn’t even realize I was talking until I was well into it. I meant no harm.”

Darlene pitied him and for a moment she thought he might cry. “I know well Esther’s way. Just guard your mouth in the future.”

“You know I would never hurt you, Darlene. You know that I would like to speak to your father about us.”

“There is no ‘us,’ Hayyim. I do not wish to marry you and I will not leave Tateh.”

“I would never ask you to leave him. I would work here as your husband and make a good life for you and your father. I would care for him in his old age and he would never have to work again.”

Darlene smiled because she knew Hayyim was most serious in his devotion. She shook her head. “I could not take you for a husband, Hayyim.”

“Because I am poor?” He sounded the question so pathetically.

Darlene touched her hand to his arm. “No, because I do not love you, nor would I ever come to love you.”

She left him at that, knowing that he would not want her to see him cry or show weakness. He was still a child in some ways, and although being orphaned by his parents and losing his brothers all to cholera had grown him up, Hayyim was not the strong, intelligent man she would hope to call husband.

A fleeting image of Pierce Blackwell came to mind and Darlene reached into her pocket for the valentine he’d sent. She pulled it from the envelope and for a moment, remembering that Pierce’s father was the cause for her heavy heart, thought to throw it in the fire. But she couldn’t destroy it. For reasons quite beyond her ability to understand, Darlene put her work aside and went quietly to her bedroom. Going to her clothes chest, she gently lay aside her nightgowns and put the envelope safely away. Replacing the gowns, she felt a strange tugging at her heart. Pierce might be a Gentile, but he was considerate and intelligent and very handsome. It was difficult not to be persuaded by such strong visual enticements.

Going back downstairs, Darlene picked up her sewing and began her work. There was much to consider. Her father’s words still haunted her and the questions in her mind would not be put aside. Perhaps she would go later and speak with Mr. Singer. Without a rabbi to consult, perhaps Mr. Singer could advise her. But to do so would betray her father’s actions and bring about harsh reprisals. Still, to say nothing and have no knowledge of what she should do could only cause more grief. Perhaps if she knew more, she could persuade her father to give up this foolish notion of accepting Christianity as being truth. Otherwise, this issue of Jesus as Messiah was going to be quite a barrier to overcome.

I know that ye are Abraham’s seed; but ye seek to kill me, because my word hath no place in you.
J
OHN
8:37

D
arlene walked bitterly into spring with a heaviness of heart that would not be dispelled. She listened to her father’s words and knew him to be quite excited about the things he was learning. There were phrases he spoke, words that meant something different than they’d ever meant before. Salvation. Redemption. The Holy Spirit. All of these frightened Darlene to the very core of her being.

Now, with less than a week before Passover, Darlene didn’t know whether to make preparations for a
seder
meal, or to just plan to spend Passover with Esther. By now, everyone knew that her father was a man torn between two religious views. He went faithfully to the synagogue on Friday evening and Saturday, but on Sunday he went to the Christian church with Dennison Blackwell. He was rapidly viewed as being both crazy and a traitor, and neither representation did him justice as far as Darlene was concerned.

The ringing of the shop doorbells caused Darlene to jump. Nervous these days from a constant barrage of Esther’s questions, Darlene had decided that every visitor could possibly represent some form of gossip or challenge related to her father. This time, her assessment couldn’t have been more accurate. With a look of pure disdain, Reuven Singer filled the doorway. He wore a broad-rimmed black hat, with a heavy black overcoat that fell to the floor. His long gray beard trailed down from thick, stern lips and one glance into his pale-blue eyes caused Darlene to shiver.

“Good morning, Mr. Singer. Tateh is out, but I expect him back soon.”

“I know full well that your father is out. I know, too, where he has gone. He’s at the church of his Christian friends, no?”

“It’s true,” Darlene admitted. She felt sick to her stomach and wished she could sit down. “You’re welcome to wait for him upstairs. Come, I’ll make tea.”

“No. Perhaps it is better we talk.”

Darlene glanced around her. Hayyim was on the third floor moving bolts of cloth. She knew he’d be busy for some time and would present no interruption for the cantor. “We can sit in here or go in the back.”

“The back, then.”

She nodded and led the way. Her hands were shaking so violently that she wondered if the cantor was aware of her fear. She offered him the more comfortable of two stuffed chairs and when he had taken his seat, she joined him. Barely sitting on the edge of her chair, Darlene leaned forward, smoothed her skirt of pale-blue wool, and waited for Mr. Singer to speak.

“Miss Lewy, it is believed by many that your father has fallen away from the teachings of his fathers. I cannot say how much this grieves and angers me, nor can I stress enough the dangers you face.”

Darlene swallowed hard. What should she say? To admit to everything she knew might well see her father ostracized by his own people. Deciding it was better to remain silent and appear the obedient child, Darlene did nothing but look at her folded hands.

“Avrom has feet in two worlds. It cannot remain so. He is a Jew or he is a traitor to his people.”

Darlene could not bear to hear him malign her father. Squaring her shoulders, Darlene looked him in the eye. “Mr. Singer, may I ask you a question?”

The old cantor seemed taken aback by her sudden boldness. He nodded, his gray beard bobbing up and down with the motion.

“I’ve heard it said,” she hesitated. She wasn’t a scholarly woman and all of the things she was about to say had come straight from her father’s mouth. She could only hope to accurately translate the things she’d been told. “I’ve heard it said,” she began again, “that the words of Isaiah make clear the coming of Messiah. The Christians believe Isaiah speaks of Jesus, but we believe it speaks of Israel. Is this true?”

The cantor eyed her quite sternly for a moment. “It is true.”

“The Christians also believe that Jesus is not only Messiah, but that He offers salvation to anyone who comes to Him.”

“And what salvation would this be?” the cantor questioned. “Would it be salvation from the persecution our people have faced from their kind? Would it restore Israel and Jerusalem back to our people? Salvation from what, I ask?” The deep, resonant voice clearly bore irritation.

“Well …” Darlene was now sorry to have brought up the subject. So much of what her father had shared regarding the Christians seemed reasonable, but confusing. “I thought it to mean salvation from death.”

“You are of God’s chosen people, Miss Lewy. By reason of that you are already saved.”

“But the Christians believe… .”

“Feh! I care not for what the
goyim
believe. You are responsible for three things.
Tefillah
—prayer.
Teshuvah
—repentance. And
tsedakah
—righteousness. If you do what is right in God’s eyes, make your prayers, and turn away from your sins, God will look favorably upon you. The only salvation we seek is for Israel. Why do you suppose we say, ‘Next year in Jerusalem’? We mourn the destruction and loss of our beloved homeland. We long with fervency to return. Messiah will rebuild Jerusalem and the Holy Temple and restore his people to their land. The Turks now control it. Would you have me believe that the Christian Jesus came to earth but was unable to establish such restoration?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I suppose that is why I ask.”

The cantor seemed to soften a bit. “It might be better if you were to leave this place. Esther has already told me there is room for you in her home. She would happily take you in and keep you.”

“Leave my father? How could this be in keeping with the scriptures to honor him?” Darlene was devastated by the suggestion.

“He is a traitor to his people if he believes that Jesus is Messiah. He will be forsaken and there will be no fellowship with him. He will become as one dead to us and you will be as one orphaned.”

Darlene couldn’t help but shudder. She thought of the tiny, homeless children who frequented her doorstep. Would she be reduced to begging scraps of food and clothing from the friends and neighbors who would deem her father unfit—
apostate
—dead? She shuddered again. “I could not leave Tateh. He isn’t well and he might die. He needs me to care for him.”

The old man’s harsh demeanor returned. “He will surely perish if he turns from God. As will you. Will you become
meshummad
—traitor to your faith and people? Will you trample under foot the traditions of your ancestors and break the heart of your dear, departed mother? If you follow your father into such betrayal, you will leave us no option but to declare you dead, as well.”

Darlene felt shaken and unsure of herself. “I … I’m not …”

The cantor got to his feet. “Christians have sought to destroy us. They treat us as less than human and disregard us, malign us, and even kill our people, all in the name of Christianity. Can you find acceptability in such a faith?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but strode proudly from the room.

Darlene sat silently for several moments. She could feel her heart racing and perspiration forming on her brow. Why did such things have to be so consuming? The ringing of the bells caught her attention, and Darlene thought perhaps Mr. Singer had returned. Jumping to her feet, she was surprised to find her father standing in the door. A quick glance at the clock on the wall showed her that more time had passed than she’d been aware of.

“Tateh, you’re back!”

Abraham smiled broadly. “That I am and I have news to tell you. Come upstairs and we’ll sit together.”

Darlene followed her father, wondering what in the world he had to tell her. His countenance was peaceful and his smile seemed to say that all was well, but in her heart Darlene feared that this talk would forever change their lives.

“Let me check on your dinner,” she said, barely hearing her own words. She opened the oven to reveal a thick-breasted chicken roasting golden brown. Poking a fork into the center of it, she was satisfied to watch the succulent juices slide down the sides and into the pan.

“Come, dinner will wait,” Abraham stated firmly.

Darlene closed the oven and took her place at the table. It was always here that they shared important matters. It was at a similar table in Germany that her father had told her of her mother and brother’s death. It was at that same table he had announced their departure for America. What could he possibly wish to share with her now?

“What is it, Tateh?”

Abraham smiled. “I have invited the Blackwells to share Passover with us.”

Passover? Her heart gave a sudden lurch. If Tateh was considering Passover, perhaps things weren’t as bad as she supposed. But to invite the Blackwells to their
seder
was a shock.

“You’ve asked them here? For our
seder
?”

“Yes. The message this morning at their church was all about Easter and the last supper of Jesus Christ. The last supper was a celebration of Passover. Pierce said that he wondered what that Passover feast might have been like, and I told him he should come see for himself.”

“And they accepted?”

“Dennison and Pierce did. Mrs. Morgan, Dennison’s widowed sister, declined interest. I don’t think she much cares for our kind.” His words were given in a rather sorrowful manner. “Of course, she also takes a strong stand where Dennison’s youngest child is concerned and refused for both herself and Constance Blackwell.”

“I see.” Darlene felt a lump form in her throat. “Well, I suppose I have preparations to see to.”

“You are unhappy with this?” Abraham looked at her so tenderly that Darlene couldn’t distance herself from him.

“No, not really.” She considered telling him about the cantor, but decided against it. “I’m just surprised that they would want to come.”

Abraham chuckled. “I think Pierce would make any excuse to come. He seems most anxious to see you again. He always asks about you and wonders how it is that you are ever away when he comes for fittings.”

Darlene blushed, feeling her cheeks grow very hot. She thought no one had noticed her purposeful absences. “I suppose it is because I have much to do.”

Abraham laughed even more at her feeble attempt to disguise the truth. “Daughter, you are not so very good at telling falsehoods. I’ve seen the way your face lights up when I speak of him. Perhaps you have a place in your heart for him?”

“No!” Darlene declared a bit too enthusiastically. “He’s not of our faith and besides, I would never leave you.”

“You will one day. It is important for a woman to marry and I will see you safely settled into a marriage of love and security before I die. So, if you think you can prolong my life on earth by simply refusing to marry, think again.”

Darlene saw the glint of amusement in his eyes. She loved this man more than any other human being. Falling to her knees, she threw her arms around his waist and with her head on his lap began to cry. “I love you, Tateh, please do not jest about your death. I’m afraid when I think of you dying and leaving me behind. I think of how much it hurt to lose my mother and I can’t bear the thought of your passing.”