Family Secrets (6 page)

The years went by and Aunt Becky stayed on in their home, content, but Papa had begun to worry about her, and thought it was time she had a husband. Since she couldn’t seem to find one on her own, he would have to find one for her. She was nearer thirty than twenty, no longer a silly girl, and some good man would be glad to have her.

The children split into cliques: Lavinia and Melissa were together, Hazel had no one, Andrew chased after Lavinia; and Basil and Rosemary, being close in age, were close friends. Lavinia would have thought that Andrew and Basil, being brothers, would have been close, but they were very different in temperament and there was jealousy between them. Andrew was a worrier, a conniver, a planner. He wanted a pony and he asked for one; Papa gave it to him. Basil, on the other hand, wasted his time feeling sorry for himself. “Andrew got a pony,” he would whine. “I wanted a pony, but Papa never gave me one. Papa gave Andrew a pony, not me.”

“You never
asked
him for a pony,” Lavinia said.

“Papa likes Andrew better than me.”

“Quitter,” Lavinia said. “You’ll never get anywhere in life if you don’t fight for it.”

“Andrew gets everything. I never get anything.”

Much as he delighted in his pony, Andrew was busy thinking of something new to wish for, to ask for, to get, to prove that he, not his brother, was the favorite.

He admired Lavinia because she was older and had a way of taking over. Because he admired her, he teased her, pleased to have found a way of getting close to her. Andrew knew that Lavinia wanted them all to be American, that she hated it when anyone spoke Yiddish in front of strangers. He only knew a few words, but it was his delight to chase her down the street in front of amused onlookers, imitating a goat. “Tsigeleh maaaaa!” he would bleat, while Lavinia, all dignity forgotten, ran away from him, her face red. It was not the goat baa she minded, it was the “tsigeleh.”

“Play with Hazel,” Lavinia would tell Rosemary. Rosemary had her kitten in the doll carriage, and Lavinia had put a doll’s dress on it.

“No,” Rosemary said.

“Don’t be selfish.”

“She’s stupid,” Rosemary said.

“Shh! Shame on you. Sisters should love each other.”

“Then you play with her,” Rosemary said. “My kitten has an appointment to see the doctor. She’s going to have puppies.”

Before they moved to the new house the old grandmother died. She had been their link to an old and vanished time, and now she was gone and buried. Gone her musty black dresses, her permanent mourning, gone the black sheitel, gone the spitting on the floor and the tossing of salt over the shoulder to keep away evil, the endless search to root out tref, the prayers, the curses. Gone the old witch, gone the snarls of “Orphan!” Now they were all one family. Lavinia was very relieved.

SEVEN

Adam had found a prospective husband for Becky. His name was Isman Levine, and he was two years younger than she; a short, ruddy-faced, timid, eager young man. Adam had told him that if he decided to marry Becky, and she would have him, then he would set Isman up in his own business, with a haberdashery store. Not a big one, of course, but a nice one with prospects for a young man who was willing to work hard. As their family grew, so the business would grow, and Isman was grateful and eager to try.

Becky looked at herself in the glass, waiting for her first meeting with Isman Levine. Isman meant “a good husband” in Hebrew, which was a good sign. She hoped he would find her pretty. Bena had written to her from back home, telling her that she had married Mattis Andreyov, the handsomest young man in town. Now Bena had two handsome little sons and a daughter as beautiful as herself. It was time for
her
to marry, to have children. She could not go on forever pretending Lucy’s little ones were her own, content to dream of her mystery husband as if she were still sixteen.

Melissa came to the bedroom door and knocked.

“Come in.”

“He’s here, Aunt Becky.” The child had a little smile on her face, half mischief, half awed envy. She knew the man downstairs was Aunt Becky’s future husband, and
she
had seen him before his bride had!

“What is he like?”

“He has light brown hair.”

So. Not black. Not Mattis Andreyov, but then she was no Bena.

“Curly?”

“I think straight.”

Ah. Straight. Well, perhaps he had a happy disposition and could make her laugh. It didn’t matter if a man was no beauty if he could keep laughter in the home. “Do I look all right?”

“You look like a queen, Aunt Becky.”

Becky kissed Melissa. Such a little liar! Such a flatterer, such an imp! Like a queen, imagine!

Becky walked down the stairs and went into the front parlor. Isman Levine was sitting on the green velvet chair, but when he saw her he stood up. She noticed that he was not much taller than she was. His light brown hair was combed back very straight and smelled faintly of pomade. She was touched. He must have wanted to make a good impression on her as badly as she had wanted to make one on him.

“Please sit,” she said, and sat across from him on the chair’s twin. She noticed that Lucy had put a bowl of fruit and some plates and napkins on the low table between them, and a small silver bowl of almonds and raisins.

“I am Isman Levine,” he said.

“I know,” Becky said gravely. Who did he think she thought he was? The man in the moon? Ah, no, but she should not be so critical. He was as shy as she was, and he probably couldn’t think of anything to say. “A piece of fruit?” she offered.

“Not right now, thank you.”

She held out the silver bowl of almonds and raisins. “Oh, thank you,” he said. “My favorite.” But he took only a few, and then he held them in the palm of his hand, tossing them up and down. His eyes met hers for a moment and he looked away. Why, the man is blushing, Becky thought, and her heart went out to him.

“Perhaps you’re thirsty?” she said.

“Oh, please don’t trouble yourself.”

“It’s no trouble.” She was relieved to go into the kitchen for a moment to collect her thoughts.

Lavinia and Melissa were hiding behind the kitchen door. “Scat!” Becky whispered fiercely. “Don’t you dare listen.” Melissa was stifling a giggle and Lavinia’s eyes were as big as saucers. “What do you think you’re going to hear? Grown-up secrets? Go away.” The two little girls ran up the back stairs. Becky filled a pitcher with cold lemonade and put it with two glasses on a tray.

“It’s a warm night,” she said to him. “I thought cold lemonade would be better than hot tea.”

“It looks very nice.”

They drank lemonade solemnly and both of them looked at his shoes. What small feet he had, Becky thought. She imagined those feet dancing, graceful, lively, and pictured herself dancing with him.

“I like to dance,” Becky said. “We used to have dances back home. People don’t dance so much here, and I sometimes miss it. Do you like to dance?”

This time she was sure he blushed. “I … not much,” he said.

“You don’t know how?” she said kindly. “But that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I would be glad to teach you, not that I’m so good myself.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“You’re not Orthodox?”

“Oh, no.”

“Then you’re shy,” Becky said. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of either. I myself am more shy than I seem to be.”

“Yes, I am sometimes shy too,” Isman Levine said. “But I must tell you the truth, because you would see it anyway. I don’t dance because … because, you see, I have a small limp.”

A cripple! Oh, God forbid, Adam wouldn’t bring her a cripple to marry, never! She must have had a terrible look on her face because suddenly Isman Levine stood up.

“Look,” he said. He began to walk from one end of the room to the other, and it really was quite a small limp, nothing to shock a person. “See, it’s really not a big limp, but my foot hurts a little, and so I don’t like to dance. But I’m not a cripple. I can make a good living, and I would be a good husband and father. It’s not because of the limp that I haven’t married before this, it’s simply that I wasn’t ready.”

Oh, the poor man! Becky felt a lump in her throat and tears filled her eyes and, before she knew it, spilled out for this gentle young man who was demeaning himself by walking before her so she could see his limp.

“Oh, please sit down!”

“I have disgusted you.”

“Oh, no, no. It’s not right that a man should have to shame himself in such a way in front of a woman. Please sit down, I beg you. If you hadn’t told me about the limp I wouldn’t even have noticed it.”

“Really?”

“Of course not.”

“I’m so used to it,” he said. “I hardly ever think about it. I never had time to play games as a boy, anyway, because I had to go to religious instruction after school, and then I had to help my family.”

“You’re a scholar, then?”

“No, no. My parents were religious, but I suppose all parents are more religious than their children.”

“Yes,” Becky said, not really ever having thought about it one way or the other.

“Things are different today,” he said. He was quite comfortably settled into the green chair again, one leg crossed over the other, the shiny leather boot dangling gracefully. She could not even remember which foot it was which was lame. “When my father married my mother, he never even saw her until after the ceremony when she lifted the veil. But today we can not only see our intended bride, we can even pick her.”

“It must have been quite dreadful in the olden days,” Becky said.

“For me,” Isman Levine said, “I’m happy to be living here and now. I am sitting in this comfortable house, with this lovely young lady, and I am thinking … do you know what I’m thinking?”

“No. What?” Becky said.

“Well, I’m thinking: I wonder if she would be willing to marry me?”

At that moment Becky thought she was almost in love with him. Imagine, the tact of the man, the humbleness of him, to pretend that she had a choice, that he was her suitor, that it had not all been arranged already by Adam. It would never have occurred to her to say, no, I will not marry you. Adam had chosen this man, Adam had brought him here, and that was enough for her. Yet here he was, this Isman Levine, asking her if she was willing to marry him!

“I think I would be most willing to marry you,” she said.

He smiled, a sweet smile, and her heart began to pound. Isman Levine would be good to her. They could have a life together.

“Then I am very happy,” he said.

Becky smiled. “So am I.”

She went then to call Adam and Lucy and the children, which was not difficult because everyone was listening already, except for the smaller children, who were asleep. Lucy sent Lavinia and Melissa to bed, and then Adam and Lucy and Isman and Becky sat there in the front parlor and made conversation, just like two couples. Isman now gobbled up three pieces of fruit, and Becky was pleased.

After a nice little visit Isman said goodnight and went home. Adam said that he lived alone in a room because his parents both were dead. Becky had seen those advertisements in the newspaper: “Room for refined, single Jewish lady or gentleman. Good meals.” She had always thought it was sad to have to live that way, and she could hardly wait until she and Isman were married so she could make him a good home.

When she went upstairs to her bedroom Becky found Lavinia and Melissa cuddled together on her bed in their nightgowns. “What are you bad girls doing here?” she whispered, delighted to see them and share some of her joy.

“Do you like him?” Melissa whispered.

“Yes, of course.”

“Tell us everything he said,” Lavinia said.

“No, I won’t,” said Becky. “Some things are private. And besides, I heard you little mice sniffing behind the door.”

“We couldn’t hear anything,” Lavinia said. “The kitchen is two whole rooms away.”

“Did he get down on his knees to propose?” Melissa asked.

“Where did you get such an idea?”

“They always do that in novels, don’t they, Lavinia?”

“Yes,” said Lavinia. “But that doesn’t mean real people know how to do it.”

“Did he?” Melissa said. “Did he? Tell us, Aunt Becky, don’t be mean.”

“I never even heard of such a silly custom,” Becky said.

“And afterward,” Melissa said, “did he kiss you?”

Becky felt her face flush. Kiss her? Why, she had not even thought about that. Isman Levine had walked into that house a total stranger, and to leave it having kissed her … it was a shocking idea.

“It’s all right to kiss if you’re engaged,” Lavinia said.

“I bet he did,” Melissa said. “Aunt Becky’s blushing.”

“How do you children know about such things?” Becky said, amazed.

“Everybody knows about kissing,” Melissa said airily.

Everybody but me, Becky thought.

EIGHT

The Great War of 1914 brought changes to the Saffrons, but none that the children were really aware of. The boys were much too young to be drafted, and the girls were too young to know any of the young men who went off to war. Lavinia, the oldest, after all, was only seventeen when the war was all over. The major changes that came about due to the war were in Adam Saffron’s business, and he seldom shared any of this information with the family.

Because of the war, the building business was, as Adam’s new partner Klein said, “lou-say.” There were no materials, no labor force, nothing. So Adam’s family found that he was in the shipping business. He had been studying and learning the mechanics of running ships, and he was a good organizer as well as a man who traveled in different circles and was not afraid to go into a new business if an old one looked unprofitable. Ships were needed during a war to carry cargo as well as soldiers. If a man owned a freighter he could lease it to the government at a better price than he could get from private jobs, and if he could manage other people’s freighters more economically and efficiently than other men could, then the government would be glad to hire him. So Adam ended up both owning a freighter of his own and managing several others. When the war was over he resumed building, but decided to stay in shipping as well.