Jessie giggled. “Yes, Grandma.”
“Now, sit in the living room and help yourselves to latkes,” Harriet added. “There’s applesauce and sour cream to go along with them.”
Jessie led Rachel to the sofa. Benjamin remained where he was. When they took a seat, he sat on a side chair, back ramrod straight.
The table was set with Happy Hanukkah paper plates and napkins bedecked with spinning dreidels in blue, white, and silver. Rachel helped herself to a latke, adding a dollop of applesauce. Benjamin gripped the arms of his chair and Jessie wrinkled her nose. “Those don’t look like the ones we ate in class,” she said.
“Jessie, don’t be rude,” her father said.
Rachel smiled at the little girl. “No, these look much better. The ones in class were from a mix. Your grandma made these from scratch, right Harriet?”
“That’s right,” Harriet said. “No box mixes in this house! I peeled and grated every potato myself. Try one, Jessie. You liked it last year.”
Jessie looked at her dad for reassurance. He gave a single nod, and she took one on her plate. Taking a small bite, she chewed, and her eyes widened. “Yummy! It tastes like French fries!”
Harriet shook her head. “I don’t know if the comparison is a compliment, but I’ll take it.”
“They’re delicious, Harriet,” Rachel said. Crunchy, like home fries, they were one of the oily foods used to commemorate the miracle of the oil. Rachel loved them.
Harriet beamed and turned to her son. “And what do you think, Benny?”
Benjamin’s jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth. “They’re excellent, Mom. The entire building smells of them.”
“Oy. I’ll have to give some to the neighbors so they don’t get mad at me.”
“Since when do you worry about others being mad at you, Mom?”
Harriet straightened as much as her five-foot frame allowed. She glared at her son before directing a smile at Jessie. “Sweetheart, why don’t you come help me in the kitchen and leave your daddy and your teacher to get to know each other better.”
“But…” Jessie glanced between her grandmother, her father, and Rachel. Swallowing, she nodded and followed her grandmother into the kitchen. “Can I help you cook?”
Rachel turned to Benjamin. “Your daughter’s adorable, as I’m sure you know.”
He finished his latke and wiped his mouth, his movements spare and deliberate. Across the coffee table from him, she focused on the cleft in his chin and his square jaw. She was a sucker for square jaws.
“I do,” he said. “But it’s nice to hear. She loves your class.”
Rachel’s insides warmed. “I’m glad.” She looked around the living room. The display of family photos on the wall caught her attention for the first time. “I can’t believe I didn’t know you were Harriet’s son. I’m surprised I’ve never run into you here before.”
He shrugged. The movement accentuated the fit of his sweater across his chest. The wool looked soft and matched the deep ocean blue of his eyes.
I should not notice the eyes of my student’s parent.
“I’m sure we’re on different schedules,” he said. Rising, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked to the window overlooking Twenty-fourth Street. He slid his hand along the white window shears, wandered to the bookcases and stared at the multi-colored book bindings. At least, she thought that’s what he stared at. All she knew was he didn’t speak. The oppressive silence was worsened by him moving around as if he were afraid to stay in one place for too long. She followed him with her gaze and searched for something to fill the silence.
“Have you lived in the city for long?” she asked. Boring, but they had to start somewhere.
He swung around as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Uh, ten years. We always planned to relocate to the suburbs when Jessie was old enough to need a yard to run around in, but Lauren got sick.” He dug the toe of his loafer into the plush beige carpet, his shoulders slumping for the first time since she’d met him.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be.”
She wanted to change the subject. “So, what do you do?”
He looked up. “I’m an IT consultant.”
She didn’t know much about computers, and she needed to lighten the mood. “That’s right. Jessie mentioned you ‘play’ with computers.” She grinned, but he didn’t react. “She is such a pleasure to have in class, as I’ve told you before. I have a real soft spot for her. And her pictures are cute. I try to give her a little extra attention in class,” she said. “Nothing overt the others would notice, but enough so she knows I care about her.”
It was as if her voice gave him his armor. He straightened, his face all harsh planes and angles. “Extra attention isn’t necessary. You’re just her teacher, despite what she draws. Nothing more.”
His tone slashed through her. She gaped. Anger simmered beneath the surface. She channeled every comment her mother ever made to her about posture, every command her ballet teacher shouted about poise and presence, and turned to Benjamin.
“I’m the woman who instructs her how to share, play well with others, and express herself. I remind her to take turns and think of the other person’s feelings. I manage a roomful of almost thirty students who sometimes act more like animals than people, but when I finish with them, they are well-behaved little humans. And I do it all in addition to teaching them to write, to use numbers, and to read. I may not be many things, but I am not just a teacher.”
She rose and stalked into the small kitchen. “Harriet, what can I do to help?”
Harriet washed her hands and dried them on a dishtowel. “I chop the vegetables and Jessie seasons them. Why don’t you take over for me, and I’ll go talk to my son.”
Harriet handed Rachel the knife and with an admonition to be careful with it, left the room.
“Okay, Jessie, show me what to do.”
Jessie stood on a stool with a dishtowel tucked into the neck of her silver dress. She pointed to the sharp knife and the head of broccoli. “You cut it with that. Grandma said small pieces. Then you put them in the bowl, and I add the spice.”
“Yes, you do, don’t you!” Rachel gave her a brief hug, letting out her tension, and began slicing.
“Did you bring your menorah?” Jessie asked.
Rachel nodded. “I did. I’ll put it with yours when we’re ready to light them.”
“What color candles did you bring for your menorah?” Jessie asked.
“Well, my box of candles has all kinds of pretty colors in it. I always like the helper candle, the shamash, to be white. I don’t know why, but I do. I brought one white candle and a yellow one for the first night. What about you?”
Jessie paused. “You have the rainbow boxes? I love those! Daddy wanted all blue.”
“I love blue,” Rachel said. “Did you know it’s my favorite color?”
The little girl’s face brightened as if her teacher relayed a special secret. The voices from the other room got louder, and Jessie pursed her lips in worry.
“Why are grandma and Daddy yelling at each other?”
Rachel suspected she knew the answer, but she didn’t want to worry Jessie. “Hmm, I’m not sure. Let me go check. You stay here and make sure nothing happens to the veggies, okay?”
“What will happen to them?” Jessie asked. “Do you think they’ll run away?”
Laughter burst from Rachel’s chest and filled her with joy. This was why she wanted to foster a child—to spread joy. “I’ve never seen broccoli run, but maybe you should keep watch just in case. And if it does run, I want a picture, okay?”
Jessie smiled wide. “You got it!”
Rachel put the knife in the sink and walked down the hall. Benjamin paced, and Harriet stood with her hands on her hips.
“You didn’t just invite her over because she’s your neighbor, Mom. You invited her to set me up!”
“It’s time you stopped mourning and lived, Be
njamin!”
“It’s not your call to make!”
“I’m your mother, and I know what’s best for my son. You need a miracle. And she’s it!”
“She’s also right here,” Rachel said. “And Jessie can hear you.”
Silence descended on the room, except for the ticking of what Rachel assumed to be a clock and the hum of the refrigerator. It might have been comforting if she wasn’t the interloper. But she was. And it was time to leave.
“Although I don’t approve of your motives, Harriet, I do thank you for your hospitality. I’ll take a rain check on dinner, though. Please tell Jessie I said goodbye.” With a swift pivot, she fled Harriet’s apartment and returned to her own. Leaning against her closed door, she shut her eyes in mortification. Harriet was a force of nature, manipulating everything and everyone around her. Her son was single. So was Rachel. Of course, an invitation like this was a setup.
She wandered toward her bedroom. How could he and Harriet be related, yet be so different? What kind of a man spoke in such a rude manner to a virtual stranger, his daughter’s teacher no less? Although tonight was embarrassing, she’d probably been saved from something worse. While Jessie was her favorite student, she didn’t want to deal with Benjamin’s rigid self-control outside of the classroom. Even if he made her mouth dry.
As she changed into flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt, a glow of light from the window caught her eye and her heart skipped. She’d left her menorah in Harriet’s apartment. Well, she’d have to wait until tomorrow to pick it up. There was no way she’d return now. Her stomach growled. She’d also missed dinner.
As she went into the kitchen to get something from the refrigerator, her doorbell rang. She walked to the door and cracked it open.
Benjamin.
Pale face and mussed hair replaced his earlier stoic features.
“Is Jessie with you?” he asked.
Rachel opened the door wider. “No, why?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his eyes widened in fear. “Mom and I were arguing, and when we finished, she was gone.”
As a kindergarten teacher, she knew children were anything but quiet, and little feet hadn’t pounded outside her door. “Come in,” she said.
“No, I have to find her.”
“Did you check the fire escape or the roof?”
He looked at her like she possessed three heads.
“She’s six. She won’t go far, but she will want to get away,” Rachel said. “I’m a city kid. It’s what I did.”
Without giving him a chance to speak, she strode to the fire escape she shared with Harriet. Opening the window, she craned her neck. A small body huddled in the corner of the iron landing. Looking over her shoulder at Benjamin, she nodded, before climbing out to Jessie.
“Hey, Jessie.” She knelt by the little girl, curled in a ball. Jessie’s face was wet, and her eyes were puffy. “Why are you out here?”
“Everybody was yelling, and it made my ears hurt.”
She grabbed Jessie in a hug. The girl’s skin was cold. “Don’t cry, baby doll. Grown-ups argue all the time. It’ll be okay. Let’s get you inside and warm you up. Everyone is worried about you.”
“No. I don’t want to go with you. You left without saying goodbye. And you’re mad at my daddy.”
Rachel rocked the little girl. “Oh, Jessie. I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have said goodbye to you.”
“I thought you didn’t like me anymore.”
Rachel’s stomach plummeted, and she pulled away from Jessie. “Not possible. I think you’re amazing.”
When Jessie raised her face, Rachel put a finger over her mouth. “But don’t tell the other kids, okay?”
Jessie buried her face in Rachel’s neck. The smell of snow combined with strawberry shampoo and little girl sweat made Rachel’s throat swell. She wanted this more than anything. If only she could make it happen.
“Let’s go inside, baby doll. It’s cold and your daddy’s waiting.”
They climbed inside, the warmth of the apartment a welcome relief after the chilly December air. Benjamin stood where she’d left him as if frozen. She gave Jessie a gentle nudge toward her father, and when the child reached him, he melted. He grabbed her in a fierce hug and squeezed.
Still cold, Rachel wrapped her arms around herself, realizing she wore a thin top without a bra in front of the father of one of her students. Great. Her robe was nowhere in sight. She pulled the shirt away from her body, but it didn’t help. Before she could slip away and find her robe, Benjamin picked up Jessie and strode to the door. He paused.
“Thank you.”
And he was gone.
Chapter Two
“Daddy, what is that thumping?” Jessie asked.
Benjamin still clutched her in his arms, though they were in his mother’s apartment. He rested his nose in her hair. Her part was cold, and her curls tickled his cheeks, but he’d be damned if he let her go. He could have lost her. She was his entire world. Without her, he’d be alone.
“What thumping?”
She arched her back away from him and placed her hand on his chest. “This thumping.”
“It’s my heart. I was scared when I couldn’t find you.”
His mother sat on the sofa and rose when they walked in. “I’m relieved you’re home, Jessie!” She approached and put her hand on the little girl’s neck. “You scared me, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Jessie said. “But you were yelling, and it was too loud.”
He made eye contact with his mother. Then he turned Jessie’s face to him. “I’m sorry. But next time, you go into a bedroom and shut the door. You don’t leave the apartment. Ever. Especially without telling us.”
Jessie nodded. “Can I get down now?”
No. Nodding, he let her go and rubbed his back. He wanted to hold her forever, but his muscles would object, even if she didn’t.
“You know, we never lit the Hanukkah menorah,” Harriet said.
Hanukkah. Miracles. Finding Jessie was his own Hanukkah miracle.
The three of them walked across the room to the banquet. Jessie placed the shamash and the first night’s candle in her Winnie the Pooh menorah. Harriet did the same with her candles as well. Benjamin, who was in charge of the matches, lit each shamash candle. Together, the three of them chanted the prayers—the two Hanukkah prayers they’d chant each of the eight nights, and the prayer of thanksgiving, which they only recited on the first night. Guiding his daughter, he helped her use the shamash to light the first night’s candle. Afterward, they hugged each other.
“Ms. Schaecter forgot her menorah!”
“Don’t worry, Bubbelah. I’ll make sure she gets it. Would you like your present?” His mother looked at Benjamin, and he nodded.
She handed her granddaughter a box covered in silver and blue wrapping paper and sat on the sofa. He sat next to his mother. Jessie opened her gift. Inside the box were three more boxes, each covered in paper similar to the first. Jessie squealed.
“Mom, we discussed this,” Benjamin said under his breath. “One gift tonight and one on the last night.” He and Lauren had come up with a plan to let Jessie celebrate the holiday, but not be overwhelmed with tons of gifts every night. This was their compromise.
“I decided to pull a Grandma Prerogative.”
He tilted his head askance. Somehow, she always managed to get her way.
She patted his knee. “Lighten up, Benny. It’s Hanukkah.” She laughed. “See what I did there? Get the joke?”
He shook his head. He couldn’t win with his mother. It was better to give in now.
Jessie unwrapped a card game from the first box. Her eyes filled with excitement. “Can we play it?”
“Finish opening the rest of the presents, first,” Benjamin said.
The second box was an art set, with paints and crayons and markers and a variety of paper. “Oh, Grandma, I love it!”
“Don’t forget the small box,” Harriet said.
Inside was a heart necklace. Harriet leaned over. “It’s my heart,” she said, pointing a finger at the gold charm. Every time you wear it, know you carry me with you.”
Benjamin’s throat thickened as Jessie hugged his mother.
“Now, why don’t you set up the card game while your dad and I go into the kitchen.”
“You’re not going to start yelling again, are you?” Jessie asked.
“No, Bubbelah, we won’t.”
Benjamin frowned as he followed his mother. Before he left the room, he turned to his daughter. “Don’t forget to thank Grandma,” he said. “And don’t go anywhere.”
“Thank you, Grandma!”
“You’re welcome, Bubbelah.”
In the kitchen, he leaned against the counter as his mother scooped pieces of brisket onto a plate. “What’s up?” He glanced toward the living room, assuring himself Jessie was still there.
“You need to apologize to Rachel. Take this to her, since the poor girl is probably starved. Oh, and you can take her menorah while you’re at it. No one should miss out on lighting the Hanukkah candles.”
“I can apologize later, Mom. And I’m sure she’s eaten already.” He didn’t relish the idea of an awkward encounter in person.
“Nonsense. Besides, it’s not how I raised you. And,” she said, handing him the wrapped plate and forcing him to back out of the kitchen or risk being run over, “if she doesn’t light the candles tonight, she’ll have orphan candles left in the box at the end of the holiday. And next year her candles will be messed up, with random extra boxes of mismatched ones. You don’t want to do that, do you?”
His super-organized side—a result of Lauren’s death—shuddered. Candle boxes came with the exact number needed for the holiday. Having leftovers one year? Ugh. He stewed at the machinations of his mother. Had no one ever taught her the art of subtlety? Did she expect her blatant matchmaking efforts to succeed?
As he walked once again to Rachel’s apartment with the plate of food, her menorah, and her candles, he gave a point to his mother. Because although he didn’t want to do it, here he was, knocking on her door. Unlike his mother’s, hers wasn’t decorated.
Waiting for a Miracle Page 2
