“Here comes our waiter now,” Jules said brightly.
Ella gazed down at the cream cheese sandwich set before her. Beside it lay a luscious green olive. She loved olives, but better let this one go, she decided regretfully. She wasn’t quite sure how one eats an olive in a restaurant. She picked up her sandwich, making sure to crook her little finger gracefully, and began to eat, taking small ladylike bites. She kept her eyes averted. Oh, dear, it’s so embarrassing to eat when someone is watching you, especially when you want to make an impression.
“Aren’t you going to eat your olive?” Jules asked. “I thought you liked olives.”
“I do. But I just don’t feel like olives right now.”
They ate in silence. Ella noticed that Jules didn’t touch his olive either. She was painfully conscious of the crawling slowness of each passing moment. Just as she was about to say something—anything—to fill the emptiness. Jules leaned forward and put his hand on hers. “You know, Ella,” he said earnestly, “when two people go out to eat together for the first time, and they’re uncomfortable, I think it’s a sign that they think a lot of each other, don’t you?”
Ella looked at him gratefully. This was one of the nice things about Jules—he was so understanding. “You were uncomfortable too?” she asked in disbelief.
“Was I?” Jules exclaimed. “From the very first moment we barged in here! And when that knife dropped, I wanted to sink through the floor! After all, I didn’t know what to expect. This is the first time I’ve ever taken a girl to a restaurant!”
“Oh, Jules!” Ella sighed in great relief. “This is the very first time I’ve ever eaten in a restaurant!”
They looked into each other’s eyes and all strain seemed to melt away. “Now, Ella,” Jules said, grinning, “for a perfect evening, we ought to get up, go out, and come in again.”
Abruptly Ella began to giggle. She felt lighthearted and gay.
The waiter appeared with his pencil and pad. “Begging your pardon, sir, but may I suggest as dessert our specialty, Parfait Royale?”
“Why, sure,” Jules agreed with an easy wave of his hand, “bring us two of them.”
In a few moments they were both gleefully digging into heavenly mounds of strawberry and vanilla frozen custard, marshmallow fudge, and whipped cream, topped with pink and white slices of nougat. Between mouthfuls, they chatted easily, as if they had been eating in restaurants together all their lives.
Out of the Frying Pan
At lunchtime the following Wednesday, Ella told her sisters: “I’ll be going to the hospital this afternoon. But first I have to go to the library. Mama’s finished her books and wants me to change them for her.”
“Let’s leave the dishes and wash them later,” Henny proposed. “Then we can all go to the library.”
“No,” Ella replied quickly. “It’s a long walk. Besides, someone has to stay around the house. Suppose Papa calls—or somebody else. Anyway, I have a date, and I don’t want the whole family tagging along.”
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place, instead of beating around the bush,” Henny said. “Isn’t Jules working?”
“He is—that is, he was. Oh, I don’t know …” Ella retreated into her room. That was bothering her, too. How could he get off in the middle of the day? Something must be up. When she asked him on the telephone last night, he wouldn’t say. Just kept insisting he must see her today—that he had something very important to tell her.
She came back into the kitchen looking cool and summery in a fresh green and brown gingham dress. “My, how nice!” Charlotte exclaimed admiringly.
“Thank you. I feel nice, too.”
“I wish we could see Mama,” spoke up Sarah.
“So do I. Why don’t they let young children in?” asked Gertie.
“Because they might bring sickness into the hospital,” Ella explained.
“Now what’ll we do with ourselves all afternoon?”
“You can come along with Charlie and me,” Henny offered. “We’re going to Crotona Park. We can watch the kids fishing for catfish in the lake.”
“I’d like to,” Sarah agreed.
“Gertie and I don’t want to,” Charlotte decided for both of them. “We’ll stay home.”
Ella picked up the library books and ran down the stairs. At the landing, Grace was waiting for her with a bouquet of lovely dark Jack roses. “Here,” she said, “these came out of our garden. Mother thought you’d like to take them with you.”
“Oh, aren’t they beautiful! Thank you, Grace! Mama’ll be so pleased!”
The hall bell rang. “That’s Jules,” Ella cried, her cheeks growing pink. “I’ve got to go now. So long, Grace.”
At sight of her, Jules’s face lit up. “Hello, there,” he said, relieving her of the flowers and the books. They walked together, her arm linked in his.
“Ella.” Jules finally spoke. His voice sounded grave. “Ella,” he repeated, “I’ve joined the Army.”
The blood seemed to race away from Ella’s heart. “But you couldn’t! You’re only nineteen. They’re not drafting boys under twenty-one!”
“They take you at seventeen if you enlist.”
“You haven’t!”
“Yes, Ella, I already have.”
“Why?” Ella was stunned. “What made you decide so suddenly?”
“It wasn’t suddenly. I’ve been thinking about it ever since the war started. It wasn’t easy to decide, Ella, believe me. But I had to do it. Can you see that?”
“It’s not your duty—not till you’re twenty-one!” Ella argued.
“Maybe not. It’s hard to explain.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s like this. Our parents, yours and mine, found the first real freedom they ever knew right here. By coming here, they made sure that their children would be free also. We can’t let anyone take that freedom away, can we?”
Ella did not answer. Jules talked on earnestly. “We’re Jews. You know tyrants have always tried to destroy us. In exactly the same way Germany is now trying to destroy little Belgium. Tyrants must be stopped—the sooner the better. That’s why I can’t sit around waiting till I’m twenty-one.”
“I think I understand.” Ella’s voice trembled. “Only—when—when do you have to go?”
“Tomorrow.”
“So soon?” She took hold of his hand and held it tightly.
By now they had reached the library. Jules paced up and down outside waiting for her. It did not take Ella long to exchange her books.
At the hospital door, Jules said, “I’d like to go in with you, Ella, but I can’t stay too long. There are a million last-minute things to attend to, and I want to spend this last evening with my folks. You understand, don’t you?”
They stood for a long time looking at each other. Jules tried to smile. “It’s hard to say good-by.”
Ella nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Don’t, Ella, please—” Jules pleaded. He bent down and kissed her on the cheek.
Meanwhile the two stay-at-homes were very busy stringing dried cantaloupe seeds on long white threads. “Mine don’t lie straight,” complained Gertie. “They go every which way.”
“They’re supposed to. You’ll see, the necklace will look nice that way,” Charlotte assured her.
Bz-zzz! Someone was pressing hard on the bell. “Who could that be?” Charlotte asked.
Dropping their necklaces, they hung over the banisters to see. “Why, it’s Mrs. Shiner!” Charlotte whispered in surprise.
“Mrs. Shiner?”
“You know. The lady whose supper we ate. Don’t you remember?”
By this time Mrs. Shiner had seen them. “Hello, darlings!” she called out. She came up, puffing, and hugging a package tight in one arm.
Shyly the girls led her into the parlor. Flopping down on the couch, Mrs. Shiner laid the package in her lap and let out a deep sigh. “Pfui, it’s so steaming outside, everything sticks to you,” she fre
tted, as she fanned herself vigorously with her purse. “Your Aunt Lena wrote me a letter from the country that your mama is sick in the hospital with an operation. I was so worried I had to come right over. So how is Mama now?”
“Oh, she’s much better,” Gertie answered.
“Thank God for that! Tell me, who’s taking care of all you children while your mama is away?”
“We’re taking care of ourselves,” Charlotte replied proudly.
“All by yourselves! Can you imagine! Your mama is certainly lucky to have such smart children.” She held out her package. “Here, darlings, I brought you something. So for one meal, anyhow, you shouldn’t have to cook.” She began to chuckle. “Now that I know already how much you like—you know what—I made sure to cook a big piece. Here, put it in the icebox.”
“Corned beef! Oh, Mrs. Shiner, really you shouldn’t!” Charlotte was overcome. “You’re so kind—so thoughtful. Thank you so much!”
“Just wait till the others see this!” Gertie added gleefully.
“You’re here all alone?” Mrs. Shiner asked, looking around.
“Uh-huh,” Gertie answered. “Henny and Sarah and Charlie went to Crotona Park. And Ella’s at the hospital.”
“I’m sorry to miss them. Well, it can’t be helped. Maybe I can go visit your mama at the hospital sometime.”
“I think you have to have a pass for visiting, Mrs. Shiner, but you’ll have to ask Ella about that,” Charlotte said. “She’ll be here round five o’clock. Couldn’t you wait?”
“Well—” Mrs. Shiner’s eyes surveyed the room again. “It’s nice and cool here—and I got a little time—”
“We have some seltzer in the icebox. How about a cold drink?” suggested Charlotte.
“Oh, thanks. A cold drink I would certainly appreciate.”
Gertie took her cue from Charlotte. “Please, not just seltzer, Mrs. Shiner. You have to have something to go with it. Mama always serves company something to eat.”
Mrs. Shiner put up her hands to protest. “My dear children, don’t bother yourselves. It’s not necessary at all.” Then suddenly she smiled at her two small hostesses and relaxed against the back of the couch. “All right,” she said agreeably, “let me see what you can do.”
Gertie ran and got Papa’s newspaper. “Here, Mrs. Shiner, you can read while we’re getting everything ready.”
Mrs. Shiner was amused. “It’s going to take so long?”
In the kitchen, the girls rushed about hunting through the icebox, the cupboard, the breadbox. “No cake and no crackers anywhere!” Charlotte said in dismay.
“What’ll we give her?” Gertie worried.
“We ought to have something special that she’d really like. I know! A pancake!”
“A pancake!”
“Yes. A big pancake, like Mama makes!” Charlotte became inspired. “And we can serve it with strawberry jam!”
Gertie’s eyes sparkled. This was going to be fun. Ella never let them do more than peel and wash vegetables and other boring things like that. Here was their chance to do some real cooking.
Soon the two little cooks were clothed in Mama’s clean aprons. They ran around the kitchen collecting everything they needed. Charlotte took command. “You break open the eggs while I measure out the milk and flour.”
Gertie smashed an egg against the mixing bowl. Cr-a-ck! The shell fell apart. The egg came slithering out on the table. In a panic she scooped up most of it and dumped it into the bowl. Her hands felt all gooey. She gazed at Charlotte ruefully. “Gee, eggs are awfully slippery. And it jumped out all of a sudden. You better open the next one.”
Charlotte broke the second egg without mishap, then added a pinch of salt and some sugar. “Now Gertie,” she ordered, “you pour in the flour gradually while I mix.”
Charlotte began to beat vigorously with a wooden spoon. “It’s so thick I can’t pull the spoon around. Better start pouring in the milk, a little at a time.”
The mushy lump began to thin out. It grew thinner and thinner until finally Charlotte yelled “Stop! That’s way too much! Get more flour, quick!”
Flour and stir—flour and stir—at last the batter seemed right. Charlotte beamed with satisfaction.
“Why has it got all those lumps and bumps all of a sudden?” Gertie asked. “It never looks like this when Mama makes it.”
Charlotte pondered. “I guess we didn’t beat it enough.” Again she beat and beat, till her arms ached, but the lumps just wouldn’t go away.
“Now what’ll we do?” Gertie asked in desperation.
Charlotte considered a moment. “I know. We’ll strain it.”
Slowly Charlotte pushed the doughy liquid through the wire mesh. It worked! The mixture came out smooth and creamy yellow. The girls heaved a sigh of relief.
Next Charlotte took out Mama’s enormous frying pan. “Gee,” she remarked, “this handle’s kind of loose. It wobbles.” She put a large pat of butter into the pan. When it sizzled, she poured in some batter.
They set the table while the pancake fried slowly and evenly on one side. Charlotte turned it over with great care. It was coming out just fine. A delicious buttery aroma spread through the room. “Mmm, mm!” Gertie sniffed appreciatively.
Mrs. Shiner came into the kitchen. “What smells so good?” she asked.
“It’s a special kind of pancake we’ve made for you,” Gertie said proudly. “It’s ready now. Please sit down.”
Mrs. Shiner waved her hands. “Oh, my, darlings! I didn’t mean for you to go to all that trouble.” But she sat down and waited to be served.
Charlotte viewed her creation with delight. It looked so appetizing. Its edges curled up crisply. Carefully she lifted the pan from the stove and carried it ever so slowly toward the table. Easy, now, she told herself, this handle is so wobb—with a suddenness that was startling, the handle turned in her grasp. The pan turned! Out slid the pancake! Kerplop—on the floor! There it lay, a steaming circle of gold and brown, right at Mrs. Shiner’s feet. And there was Charlotte, staring at the upside-down frying pan in her hand.
Gertie covered her eyes and shrieked. Mrs. Shiner clasped her hands in consternation. As for Charlotte, all she could say was, “Oh, oh! oh!”
Gertie dropped to her knees and with two fingers, daintily lifted the edge of the pancake. “It’s still good, Mrs. Shiner,” she said with a woebegone expression. “It’s only been on the floor a little bit.”
Charlotte looked down helplessly. “Aw, don’t be silly.”
But Gertie wouldn’t give up. “Maybe we could wash it off,” she said.
“Don’t feel so bad, darlings,” Mrs. Shiner said consolingly. “I’m sure the pancake would have tasted as good as it looked. I’ll tell you what!” she added, with sudden inspiration. “Why don’t we all go out for an ice-cream soda?”
At once the two gloomy cooks brightened. The unfortunate pancake was put in the garbage pail. Off came the aprons, and soon the girls were stepping joyfully alongside Mrs. Shiner on their way to the ice-cream parlor.
“I like tutti-frutti ice cream in my chocolate soda,” Gertie told Mrs. Shiner happily.
A Good Week
Each morning, first thing, Charlie would ask, “Is Mama coming home today?” Each morning the answer was the same: “Not today, Charlie, but soon.”
Every day now, there began to appear on their table what Charlotte called “the relative dish.” On Monday Aunt Fanny showed up with a dish of homemade apple strudel. On Tuesday it was Aunt Olga with a dish of pickled herring. Wednesday brought Aunt Minnie with homemade noodles. And so on—all the hard-to-make things. Papa and the girls were very appreciative. It was good to have family in time of trouble.
The air was soft and balmy this Saturday evening as the children waited downstairs for Papa. Ella and Sarah sat gossiping on the low stoop. Charlie, with Henny holding onto him, teeter-tottered along the curb of the sidewalk. Gertie and Charlotte stood leaning over the stoop railing, peering through the wi
ndow of Mr. Healy’s butcher shop. “They sure are busy,” Gertie said.
“Well, the Christians are shopping for their Sabbath,” Ella told her.
“Our Sabbath is ending, and theirs is just beginning,” observed Sarah.
“Ours isn’t ending yet,” Ella said, “Not till three stars appear in the heavens and Papa makes Havdola.”
Sarah scanned the red-gold sky. “It takes a long time to get dark in the summer.”
But in a little while the red-gold faded to gray, the street lights went on, and here was Papa back from evening services at the synagogue.
In the kitchen the children gathered around Papa for the Havdola ceremony. On the table lay a braided candle with many wicks, to resemble a torch when lit. Beside it stood the wine cup filled to overflowing—a symbol of hope that the coming week would be equally overflowing with good things. Here also was their beautiful, silver-ornamented spice box, pungent with the scent of the spices it contained. Just so would the fragrance of the Sabbath that was hastening away linger on throughout the entire week.
Charlie stood on tiptoe. This was his proud moment, as Papa allowed him to hold the lighted Havdola candle. He stood very still, gazing spellbound at the many-tongued flame.
First Papa chanted the blessing over the wine. Then, picking up the spice box, he shook it and set it down on the table again. He brought his hands close to the candle, his bunched fingers curving inward to make a shadow. Reverently the words fell upon the ears of the children:
“Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who maketh us distinguish between light and darkness, between the seventh day and the six working days.”
Now Papa poured a little of the wine on the table. Taking the candle from Charlie’s grasp, he dipped it into the spilled wine. The flame sputtered—Tzi-iszt!—and died out. The Sabbath was ended. “A good week!” Papa proclaimed. “A good week!” the children cried in unison.
All-of-a-Kind Family Uptown Page 5
