They sat on the bank putting on their shoes. Nathan asked, “Have you heard about the new theatre that’s just been constructed?”
“Yes. Why?”
“An orchestra from San Francisco is going to perform there next Sunday afternoon. They’re going to play selections by Mozart. I have an extra ticket you could use if you’d like to attend.”
Her eyebrows went up. “I’d heard those tickets were expensive. How could you afford…” She shook her head. “No, I couldn’t attend. Not possible…my parents wouldn’t let me…they wouldn’t let me stay here if they saw us fishing together.”
“I see.”
While Sophie tied a shoe lace, she said, “I’ve never heard an orchestral performance.”
Nathan’s expression brightened. “I have and I assure you it’s not to be missed. It’s a similar kind of beauty which you and I adore in nature. I’m certain you would enjoy the concert.”
“That’s presumptuous of you. How can you be so sure?”
“My heart tells me you would, but,” his demeanor changed to a taunting expression and voice, “you’ll have to meet me in front of the theatre at one o’clock next Sunday to see if I’m correct.”
Sophie shook her head. “Thank you for inviting me but it’s unlikely I can get away.”
Nathan cleaned their catch, cut it into strips, and placed it next to the fire, supported by small sticks.
“Where did you learn to cook a fish like that?” Lazar asked.
“The wife of a trapper. I’m really smoking it instead of cooking it. It takes longer but has a richer taste in my opinion.”
Sophie added another log to the fire.
“Lazar, do you like to read poetry?” Nathan asked.
Lazar’s face brightened. “Who doesn’t?”
“I brought a book of poems. We could do readings before we eat.”
“Let me see what you have.” Lazar paged through the book.
“Keats’ A Draught of Sunshine is one of my favorites.”
“Attention everyone,” Nathan announced. “We are most fortunate today. We are to be honored with a dramatic reading by Lazar…what’s your last name?”
“Katz, but I don’t…”
“Mr. Lazar Katz will provide us with a dramatic reading of a Keats poem.”
Nathan applauded. Sophie did the same then the other’s followed.
Lazar walked to the front of the group and cleared his throat. His voice was shaky at first but soon steady and confident as the emotion of the poet’s words took hold of him. He finished the reading with a lilting tone in his voice.
Everyone applauded.
“Anyone else?”
“I memorized a poem for school by Rebecca Hammond Lard,” Rose said.
She walked to the front of the group. Sophie noticed she glanced to ensure Matis was watching before beginning.
“Lovely, thank you, Rose,” Nathan said as the applause died down. “If I may, I’ve just discovered what is called a nonsense poem. With your permission, I’ll read it.”
His reading of, “The Owl and the Pussycat,” was regularly interrupted by substantial laughter. Sophie beamed while she clapped for him.
“Now ladies and gentleman, I wish to announce the presence of a fine Shakespearian actress.”
Sophie gasped. “Nathan no.”
“If we encourage her, she will provide a dramatic reading of Lady Macbeth’s monologue.”
With much applauding, she stood and walked to the front.
Sophie turned her back to her audience. When she turned to face them again, she wore a mad woman’s twisted face and rubbed her hands. She performed the lines with her expression and demeanor alternating between madness and fear.
There was silence when she finished followed by thunderous applause.
Nathan approached her. “You were great.”
“Time to eat,” Rose announced.
“You’ve invited a stranger to dinner, Sophie?” Rose said in a quiet but remonstrating voice when away from Nathan.
“He’s a friend so I invited him to join us.”
Rose moved to stand directly in front of Sophie and shook a finger in her face. “Don’t look at him like you’ve been doing when Matis is around.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your face glows when you look at the stranger.”
“That’s silly. We just had a little fun fishing and we’re just friends. Nothing more. Obviously, we have no future as he’s not Jewish.”
“The two of you embraced and you both laughed and screamed when you caught the fish. That certainly was inappropriate. When you were wading in the river, I’m sure your carrying on could be heard to the other side of the city.”
Sophie wouldn’t look directly at Rose. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“You are not being fair to Matis who expects to marry you,” she said in a voice suddenly tinged with anger. “It’s like you’re teasing him. That’s mean of you, Sophie.”
She turned to face her friend. “Rose Goodman…you’re in love with Matis.”
Now Rose avoided Sophie’s gaze. “Yes, as it happens. We’ve been good friends since childhood. He may not be the brightest man in town but I know we would be perfect for each other. However, the match is between you and him. My family has nothing. My parents wouldn’t even think about approaching a wealthy parent like Yaakov the butcher for a match.”
Sophie stared at Nathan who was laughing with the other men while they sampled the salmon. With hands on hips and determination in her voice, she said, “Rose, I will not be marrying Matis.”
“But the match…”
After dinner, Sophie overheard Matis having a private talk with Nathan.
“Stay away from Sophie. She’s obviously attracted to you. A match has been made and I’m to be her husband.”
“I see. How does Sophie feel about that?”
“It doesn’t matter how she feels or how I feel. As I said, a match has been made. We’re Jews and we have traditions we live by. She thinks she needs a Tzadik, but what she’s going to get is a butcher. I’m sorry but you wouldn’t know what a Tzadik is.”
“Tzadik…an interesting word…meaning a learned man,” Nathan said. He began speaking Hebrew.
Sophie gasped and put a hand over her mouth.
Still speaking Hebrew, Nathan explained the origin of the word Tzadik, its numerical value, its significance in the holy Gemara and how it was related to the Hebrew word for charity, Tzedakah. “Shalom, Matis.” Nathan shook his hand and walked away. Matis just stood there, wide eyed, jaw dropped, and thoroughly astounded at what he had just heard.
* * *
Sophie was trembling, her mind spinning as she gathered the last of her things and began walking home.
Out of breath, Rose ran up to her and excitedly exclaimed, “Sophie, stop walking, and listen to me. Lazer just told me, Nathan gave Matis a thorough lesson on the word Tzadik. Not only that, but the entire lesson was given in…Hebrew. From what he said, Nathan must be Jewish.”
“I know. I heard him.” Sophie shook her head. “But it can’t be. Surely he would have told me by now.”
Sophie’s body stiffened as her expression changed from confusion to one of determination.
“I don’t know how but I’m going to marry him.”
Chapter Thirty-Three: Ishmael Gershom
“So you were out by the river with some stranger I’m told,” Sophie’s father raged.
“I was. I’m capable of making my own friends.”
Her father slapped her and grabbed a fist full of hair at the back of her head. “As long as you live in my house you live by my rules.”
“Yes, Papa.”
Tears welled up in Sophie’s eyes.
With a slap to the other side of her face, her father continued, “I’ll tell you when you can go out and who you can go out with.”
* * *
Late Sunday morning, Sophie changed into her finest dress.<
br />
“What are you doing?” her mother asked.
“I’m going to the new theatre to hear the San Francisco orchestra. I’m meeting a friend there.”
“After your father finishes working in the bakery this morning, we have guests coming.”
“I’m going to miss them.”
“Sophie you have to stop acting like this. Your father and I have made a match for you.”
“So…” she said, stamping her foot. With hands on hips Sophie glared at her mother. “You’ve invited them and didn’t tell me. Were you going to surprise me when they arrived at our front door?”
Bessie said in a pleading voice, “Sophie, please be reasonable.”
“Reasonable? You and father go sneaking around behind my back trying to force me to marry an ignorant man? Is your opinion of me so low you think I have no mind of my own?”
Bessie put her hands together as if praying and continued to plead, “Sophie, you’re my daughter and I love you dearly but you’re not a pretty girl. You’re eighteen. Another year and no one will want you. How do you expect to attract a man without a match?”
She stood tall while remembering Nathan’s smiling countenance while he carefully considered her thoughts and ideas. With utmost confidence she stated, “With my mind, mother; with my mind. How sad you refuse to see that.”
Sophie’s mother drew back a hand to slap her.
“If you strike me, I will be happy to explain to everyone at the theatre, being slapped is preferable to spending one’s married life living in intellectual poverty.”
Her mother eye’s widened in anger but she didn’t move. Sophie pulled on her bonnet and neatly tied its strings into a bow. She checked her appearance in a mirror one final time, pulled on her gloves, and put her purse over her arm. “Have a pleasant afternoon mother. Please give my best to Matis and his family.”
* * *
Sophie approached the man standing in front of the theatre who wore a finely tailored suit and top hat. The minute she saw him, she tried to remain calm but her heart beat increased and she couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across her face. He greeted her then noticed the bruises on her face.
“Who hit you?”
“Please, we have a pleasant afternoon in front of us.”
“You expect me to ignore someone striking you? Not on my watch.” He seethed.
Sophie saw his fists were clenched. “Please Nathan. Let’s go in and we’ll talk afterward.”
He hesitated then slowly offered his arm. She grasped it firmly and sighed deeply.
While waiting for the music to begin, she turned to Nathan. Speaking in Hebrew, she inquired about a complicated question provoked by that week’s Parsha. He answered in the same language and then Sophie explained why, in her opinion, Rabbi Hillel’s interpretation was superior to Rashi’s.
Nathan wore an ear to ear grin. “A superb analysis, Sophie. I am humbled by your learned mind. We must have more discussions like this.”
Sophie beamed. “Most men get upset and don’t want to listen when I argue an interpretation of Torah.”
“How utterly foolish of them. I on the other hand, get the benefit of your superb intellect.”
As the music began, she positioned herself so she was leaning against his shoulder.
After applauding the first piece, she hooked her arm around his and held it against her. “My favorite melodies during services are the before and after Haftorah blessings.”
“I agree with you. It lifts my heart to chant them.”
As they stood to applaud the orchestra at the end of the concert, she said, “You were correct. I could listen to music like this every Sunday for the rest of my life.”
When they were walking out of the theatre, Nathan asked, “When can I see you again and when can I meet your family?”
“It’s complicated with my family.”
“What shall we do about that?”
She tightened her grip on his arm. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I enjoy spending time with you. You make me proud to be who I am. I have to work something out with my family but I’m not sure how.”
“Perhaps I’ll think of something.”
His countenance darkened and he stopped walking. “Sophie, did someone in your family strike you?”
“You don’t understand what’s going on.”
“You’re a grown woman. No one has the right to strike you. You should leave. You can stay with someone in my family.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She tugged at his arm and they continued walking. “If I leave, there’ll be no one to protect my little brother.”
“How do you protect him? And from who?”
“If he, my father, is beating my brother I interrupt him in a way so he focuses his anger on me.”
“Sophie …”
She glanced up the street, stopped walking and covered her mouth. Sophie gasped.
“Who is that?”
“My father…and my brother.”
“He’s going into the medical office.”
They ran up the street. When they entered, they heard Ismael say in a firm voice, “He fell.”
“What about these other bruises?” William asked.
“None of your Goddamned business little doctor.”
Nathan and Sophie entered the office.
“What wrong?” Sophie said to her trembling brother.
“He fell,” her father repeated while glaring at her. “Go home. You’re not needed here.”
“Did you break his arm?” Sophie asked.
He back handed her across the face. She toppled sideways, her head striking the edge of a desk. Nathan grabbed her.
William’s features twisted into his father’s angry countenance.
“Get busy, Doctor or I’ll give you a good one,” the baker said.
Mr. Gershom stood directly to the doctor’s left and he was at least a foot taller. As fast as a rattler’s strike, William’s left fist rose from his waist to his shoulder then directly into Mr. Gershom’s nose.
The man screamed and put a hand to his face. Blood spurted out between his fingers. William handed him a bandage. “Hold this on your nose.” He placed an armless chair behind the injured man. “Sophie and Mordechai need to live with Celeste and me for the time being. Sit down. You’ll give your permission now.”
The baker shouted, “The hell I will.”
Just before his butt hit the seat William pulled the chair away. The cruel father screamed again as he hit the floor. The doctor put the chair, which had foot rails, over him and sat on it; thereby preventing Mr. Gershom from rising.
“You bastard. You can’t do this to me. I have friends.”
William spoke slowly in a measured tone. “I’m a doctor who’s carefully inventoried your son’s injuries. Who do you think the police will believe? A baker who beats his family or a doctor?”
“I have a great reputation in this town.”
“You won’t when I get done spreading the word you’ve just broken your son’s arm and he’s covered in contusions.”
“I’ll find a way to get even with you.”
“You tell Sophie and Mordechai they can leave with us. Either that or Nathan and I will beat you bloody then walk you over to the Police.”
“The unappreciative cow can leave.”
“And her brother?”
“No.”
William kicked the restrained man’s left elbow as his left hand held the bandage against his injured nose. The baker screamed in pain.
“Your son?” William shouted.
“Alright. Yes,” he said in a subdued tone.
William let him up. Mr. Gershom staggered toward the front door. “You bastards. I’ll get even with you.” He slammed the office door. William smiled at Mordechai and finished bandaging the young fellow’s splinted arm.
“Are you okay?” Nathan asked Sophie.
“My head got slammed but I’m okay.”
“What about your Mother?” Nathan asked.
“I’ve repeatedly asked her to leave but she won’t.”
Mordechai asked, “Where are we going?”
“Where no one will hit you.” William said.
“And Mama?”
Sophie said, “I’ll get word to her.”
* * *
Papa died?” Sophie asked her mother the following day in the parlor of the Gershom home. Nathan stood at her side.
“Your father arrived home after a night of drinking. He said, ‘One day I’ll find them without those damn Kaplans around. I’ll beat a lesson into them they’ll never forget.’ He staggered to his bed, took another swig of whiskey and collapsed in an unconscious stupor.”
Bessie twisted uncomfortably. She looked at Nathan. “Sir, would mind waiting outside. I have a private matter to discuss with my daughter.
Nathan nodded and moved to the porch.
Bessie turned to Sophie. “No more hitting…I told him that again and again as I walked to the kitchen and retrieved my ten inch cast iron fry pan. I returned to our bedroom…”
“Mama no,” Sophie said.
“I held the handle with both hands then slowly raised it over my head. Using enough force to lift my heels off the floor, I brought it down on his head; again and again thinking of all the times he hit you and your brother while I did nothing.”
“Mama you didn’t…”
“I only stopped when my arms lacked the strength to lift it one more time. When I finally released my grip on it; I remember a loud clang as it hit the floor. I looked at him for the last time and told him, No more hitting.”
“Mama, that’s enough.”
Bessie continued, “I removed my blood-flecked-dress and scrubbed the blood from my face, arms and hair. After adding two logs and kindling to the fireplace, I folded the soiled dress and put it in the fire. Two more logs went on top. As the fire grew and consumed the dress, I’m sure the orange flames reflected in my eyes.” She laughed. “I remember, I even told the fire, No more hitting.”
The Pioneer: A Journey to the Pacific Page 19
