Then Sings My Soul Page 7

  Peter sat back, face ashen, and studied his little brother.

  Jakob was sure Peter would hate him.

  “You were only four,” Peter said finally.

  “But nearly five.” Jakob wiped his nose and face on the sleeve of his arm.

  “Still, you were a baby too.” Peter pulled him close. “You did only what you knew to do. And if you hadn’t—”

  Jakob pushed away from him. “If I hadn’t hidden, Faigy wouldn’t have died.”

  “If you hadn’t hidden, you both would’ve died.”

  Jakob was silent for a moment, considering this. “But I could’ve at least thought to grab Papa’s stone before they came back.”

  Peter stood and paced, exasperated. “So what if you had?”

  “Then we’d have two.”

  “Okay. Then we’d have two. But who cares about two stones? We have one, and we have each other. And that is enough.”

  “It will never be enough,” Jakob said. Tears continued to run down his face, but he had stopped sobbing. He curled himself into a ball and lay down on Peter’s bed facing the window, the darkening sky outside the leaded glass a blur to his stinging, weep-worn eyes.

  Jakob recalled the day they’d buried their grandfather Dedus shortly before Easter the spring before they left Chudniv. That same evening, candlelight had flickered across the room as his sisters Zahava, Ilana, and Tova hunched over fragile eggs and used kystkas2 to drip melted beeswax onto the shells. He remembered the way the kitchen smelled as if he were there, honey from the wax, boiled bark and berries, sunflower-seed husks, cochineal, and elderberry, all used to make the dye for the pysanky.3

  Jakob had been sitting on his mama’s lap watching. “Why do you make pysanky? We just buried Dedus.”

  “We don’t have to honor the shivah anymore, Jakob, not since we became Christian, right, Mama?” Ilana vaunted, then turned back to her egg, upon which she carefully dripped wax along predrawn lines curled into the shape of a flower.

  “No, Ilana. That’s not right. Not exactly.” Mama raised an eyebrow, a warning against Ilana’s prideful tone. “We believe Yeshua is Messiah, yes, but we honor God the Father as we always have.” Mama nodded to the Bible Sasha the priest had given Papa at Christmas, in its place on the fireplace mantel. She and Papa had been requiring the children to read aloud from it as often as they could, especially the New Testament. Papa had been adamant that they all—even his daughters—know it as well as they knew the Torah. Sasha the priest came often to visit their shtetl. Father always invited him in, and Mama prepared and gave him the best of their food and drink. The tall, round, black hat he wore made his graying beard more prominent, especially against the rest of his dark clothing. Sasha and Papa and sometimes Peter, too, sat at the table in the kitchen talking about the Talmud and the Torah, arguing and laughing and arguing again, their conversations stretching deep into the night as they burned many candles to their nubs.

  “Mama, are you sad Dedus is gone?” Jakob had whispered into her ear to avoid the teasing of his sisters.

  “Yes, I am, very much. He was my Tato. And he loved to tickle me as I like to tickle you, my sweet boy.”

  Jakob giggled as Mama’s fingers played against his ribs, her whisper back to him tickling his ear too. When she stopped, he wrapped his small arms around her neck.

  “Time for you to go to bed.” Mama hoisted Jakob until his head rested cozily on her shoulder, and she carried him to his bed. His was a small cot next to where Peter lay reading by candlelight. Her breath had always felt warm and soft against Jakob’s ear. “Do you remember the Kaddish the rabbi said today at Dedus’s funeral?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “My brothers, my sisters, and I must say it every day now for eleven months, and also a year from now, on the day Dedus died.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s easy when something bad happens, especially when someone you love very much dies, to become bitter and angry at God. The rabbis believe saying the Kaddish can help us remember that God is good, that He is just and righteous, even when bad things happen. Because God does not cause the bad. Man causes the bad. God is always good. And so we are always to praise Him.”

  “Do I have to say it every day too?”

  “You don’t have to since you are so young. But it would be good if you can.”

  “But you will be here to remind me God is good. Why must I say it?”

  “Because I will not always be around. And so you must be able to know these things for yourself.”

  “But you will always be here, Mama.”

  Eliana bowed her head.

  Peter put his book down. “Do people who believe in Messiah Yeshua say it too?”

  Eliana turned her head toward her eldest child. “I don’t think so. But we can.”

  “Say it now, Mama,” Jakob had said.

  “Why don’t we say it together? Come, hold my hand, Peter.”

  Then the three of them, candlelight flickering against their hopeful faces, had recited the Kaddish for the second time that day, as they did every day after that.

  “I’m sorry,” Peter whispered, firelight reflecting off his face as he approached Jakob where he lay on the bed.

  “So am I.”

  Peter grasped Jakob’s hand with the remaining thumb and forefinger on his right hand. “Hakarat hatov.* It is our duty to praise.”

  Jakob watched a star flicker and another shoot across the sky outside the window. “Yes,” he replied, watching more stars come out as Peter recited the traditional evening prayers as Mama and Papa had done what seemed like ages ago.

  * Recognizing the good.

  1994

  South Haven, Michigan

  CHAPTER 10

  After the funeral, Nel considered how little the church she’d grown up in had changed, except for new carpeting in the sanctuary, donated by the Pershing family. Mr. Pershing served as vice president of one of the big auto manufacturers, and the brass, inlaid floor plate with the Pershings’ name on it, centered in the aisle, ensured no one forgot their generosity. The rest of the church floor consisted of cold, square industrial tiles, from the narthex to the teen room in the basement. Parishioners—at least the ones who’d come to pay their respects to her mother—hadn’t changed either, except for more gray hair and a heavier scent of night cream, Ben-Gay, and pipe tobacco. Nel had a feeling that younger families in town, if they attended, came either because they’d grown up there or married into a family that grew up there, or were new in town and chose the church because they grew up Presbyterian. After all, if there was one thing you could count on in a new town, it was the consistency of the Presbyterian church. A curmudgeonly old man Nel recognized as Mr. Wiley, of Wiley and Sons Lumber Company, stood smiling on one side of the doors leading out of the church as Nel prepared to help her father navigate the concrete steps.

  “Mr. Stewart?”

  Jakob was more intent on brushing away Nel’s attempts to hold him by the elbow than paying attention to yet another elderly man approaching him on the sidewalk.

  “Dad.” Nel nudged him, tilting her head toward the man when Jakob looked at her questioningly.

  Judging from his walker and tentative gait, the man wasn’t in any better shape than Jakob. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stewart. Catherine was a true lady.”

  “Lev?”

  “Yep. It’s been a while, I know. How are you, boss?”

  “Well, well, well. Lev Herzog. It sure is good to see you.” Jakob shifted his cane to his left hand and extended his right to Lev. “I’d be running races in the parking lot here if my daughter would let go of my elbow.”

  “Okay, Dad.” She rolled her eyes and grinned. She extended her hand to Lev. “Nel Stewart. Thank you for coming, Mr. Herzog.”

  “Call me Lev. Please, young lady.” He shook his head and his e
yes widened, looking amazed. “Last time I saw you, you couldn’t have been more than knee high.”

  He turned to Jakob. “Say, boss, do you remember when Dave Carter took over the press room?”

  Jakob erupted with deep laughter, and the two began carrying on about their years together on and off the factory floor, Lev leaning on his walker, and Jakob leaning on his cane.

  Nel was grateful when she spotted her friend Lori. “Lori! Hi!”

  “Nel, I’m so sorry. How are you, friend?”

  Throughout school, Nel and Lori had been inseparable. Despite her excellent grades, Nel was always on the verge of trouble, and somehow Lori reeled her in or smoothed everything out. Some incidents were relatively minor, like the junior prom when Nel was so busy swooning over her prom date, she hadn’t noticed the salad stuck on her front tooth. Lori yanked her into the bathroom, nearly breaking the stiletto off one of Nel’s dyed-to-match high heels, and plucked it out before he’d noticed. Other times were more serious, like the time when Nel snuck out of the house to meet a bunch of boys on the beach for a bonfire. When Jakob and Catherine found Nel’s empty bed, they called Lori, who covered for her by making up a sleepover story on the spot, then risked getting in trouble herself by going out to find Nel at the bonfire and bringing her back home.

  The most significant save came after college, though, when Nel lost her baby in 1975. Lori was the first person Nel had called as she lay weepy and muzzy-headed from morphine in a hospital delivery room.

  “The baby came early,” Nel had sobbed into the phone. “And there was a lot of bleeding. Too much bleeding. The blood was everywhere.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “The bleeding stopped. But the baby … He was so small … so beautiful … He was perfect. I felt his heart beating. I felt it, Lori. Until it stopped.”

  “Oh, Nel, I’m so sorry. I’m on my way over there. I’m so sorry.”

  When Lori, in medical school at the time, arrived at the hospital, she’d found Nel on the floor of the bathroom in a growing puddle of blood. She’d passed out and hit her head, and if Lori hadn’t been in the room with her, the doctors said she would’ve bled to death before the nurse had found her on rounds. The fall wasn’t the worst of it, although that in itself required several stitches above her eye. The majority of the blood came from her uterus, and they’d had to rush her back to surgery. The doctors worked on her for two hours, transfusing her with unit after unit of blood, until finally they’d had no choice but to give her an emergency hysterectomy. She’d never have children of her own.

  “It’s so good to see you too.” Nel embraced her friend, their affection for each other resurrecting itself the way it always did when they hadn’t seen each other in months—as if they’d never been apart. “Thank you so much for coming.”

  Lori stepped back and flipped a long blonde braid over her shoulder as she lifted her toddler daughter, Hadley, onto her hip. Lori was one of the few people Nel knew who could look fabulous wearing overalls with dress flats and cute cardigan sweaters, all after birthing five children, including Hadley, her fifth. “Sorry about bringing this little squirt, and for the jeans … Trey’s working, and my sitter canceled last minute. I decided to run over here while I had the chance, before the others get off the school bus.”

  Nel stuffed back a fleeting sense of envy over her friend’s perfectly balanced life as a wife, mother, and part-time pediatrician. “It’s totally fine—I’m just so glad you’re here.”

  “You look fabulous … and I love the dreads.” Lori reached out and curled one of the thick strands around her finger playfully.

  “Really? Thank you. I saw a few raised eyebrows in the church.”

  “They were probably just wondering how you are. Dreads aren’t exactly a new thing.” Lori laughed. “You staying in town long?”

  Nel watched Lori tug Hadley’s hat down tighter over her curly, bright-blonde hair and tiny ears. The air was chillier than it had been the day before. Hadley pressed her head into Lori’s shoulder.

  “I’m not sure. Dad … well, he’s weak. I’m not sure he can be left alone. Mom must’ve been doing most everything for him. But I’ve got deadlines, and holiday orders are coming in like crazy already. I need to get back.”

  Lori nodded empathetically, then followed Nel’s gaze to Jakob, who’d finished talking to Lev and now swayed precariously toward the Crown Victoria, each of his lurching steps a totter away from a snapped hip, a twisted knee, a hard and possibly mortal fall. He struggled to pull the giant passenger-side door open, and before Nel could run over to help, Billy Esposito, who’d been talking to a younger group of Brake-All guys, helped him. “They don’t have much reserve at that age, that’s for sure. What is he, eighty-something?”

  “Ninety-four.”

  “Wow.” Lori shook her head, looking amazed.

  “The house is falling apart. He’s falling apart. I’m not sure what I’m going to do.” Nel looked up at the sky, the gray billows of clouds rolling in from the lake threatening freezing rain or perhaps snow.

  Hadley fussed, the freezing air pinking her plump cheeks. Lori shushed her, then turned to Nel. “We can talk more, maybe grab coffee before you leave or something. I know of some great assisted-living places and home health agencies recommended by colleagues who work with adults, if it comes down to him needing help.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not sure he’d ever go for that. Losing Mom, then losing their home … I’m not sure he’d survive. Too many memories there. And he’d cringe over help coming in. He’s so stubborn.”

  “Yeah … it’s a tough spot to be in. For both of you.” Lori leaned in closer to her. “Don’t look now, but here comes David Butler.”

  Nel turned despite Lori’s warning and nearly fell into him. He was standing right behind her.

  “Sorry to surprise you like that.” He grinned and extended his hand. “David Butler, by the way. I’m not sure if you remember me.”

  “I remember,” Nel said, composing herself and shaking his hand.

  “I’m truly sorry about your mom. She was a fine lady.”

  “She was.”

  “I’ll let you two catch up,” Lori said, Hadley squirming in her arms. “I gotta get Hadley home before the school bus brings the others. Don’t you leave town without calling me, ’kay?”

  “’Kay. Thanks so much for coming, really.” Nel turned back to David, who was straightening his tie. “I saw you at Mattie’s when I arrived yesterday. I thought you’d moved to Florida a while back.”

  “I did. Didn’t work out.” He glanced around the parking lot, looking uneasy with her question.

  “Oh—I’m sorry to hear that.” She decided not to press him for details. “So you’re fixing houses?”

  “I’ve got my own handyman service. Started it a couple years back. More and more people buying up and building vacation homes here, so I keep pretty busy.”

  “I bet. How long have you been working on Mattie’s?”

  “A couple weeks. I’m just about finished.”

  “Mom and Dad’s place is looking pretty bad.”

  “I kinda noticed that.” The wind blew his hair across his greenish-gray eyes.

  “Might need you to take a look at it one day when you’re at Mattie’s.”

  “I’d be happy to. Give me a holler if you’re home and I’m out there.”

  “Will do.” She struggled to look him in the eye, determined not to reveal the resurgence of her old feelings of high school infatuation. And at her mom’s funeral, of all places. Then again, her mom might’ve encouraged her. “Thanks again for coming. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Nice to see you too, Nel. And like I said, I’m real sorry about your mom.”

  She watched him walk across the parking lot to his truck.

  “What was that all about?”

 
Nel startled, not hearing Mattie come alongside her.

  “Sheesh, I’m jumpy today. It was nothing … I mean, he was just paying his respects.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Oh, stop,” Nel said, giving Mattie a playful nudge on the arm. At the same time, if she were honest, she couldn’t help wondering what David was all about either. Could he seriously be toying with the same emotions she was? He was the one who’d dumped her that night. She hadn’t forgotten that. Still, she noticed his phone number on the side of his truck.

  Yes. She would need to get an estimate from him. Mom and Dad’s house was going to need a few repairs.

  CHAPTER 11

  The following week, Jakob sat near the picture window overlooking the lake and watched through the nearly naked tree limbs as the colors of the dusk sky blended and mingled like the variegated colors of tourmaline. Nel had made a fire in the fireplace, but it did nothing to chase the chill out of his legs, which had felt perpetually numb since the frigid burial service at the cemetery. From this spot in his favorite chair, he could hear Nel washing and clanging around glass pans and other remnants from the dozen or so casseroles Mattie and Catherine’s friends from choir had been bringing by. The clamor was a welcome noise. The house was way too quiet without the buzz of Catherine and her activities and housekeeping. The woman had rarely, if ever, sat down.

  The day before, Mattie came over, and he’d listened as she and Nel wept and laughed for hours while they cleaned out Catherine’s side of the closet, choosing which items to donate and which were too threadbare to keep, and packing away most of the rest. Jakob was grateful for their help. Not only had the initial thought of poking through Catherine’s belongings bothered him, he just didn’t have the strength or inclination to do any of that himself. His mind had fallen into a sort of haze he struggled to wade through during the days, the creaks of floorboards and the wind against the eaves sounding like Catherine’s voice to his waning hearing.