A Papa Like Everyone Else

by Sydney Taylor

  Gently they helped her to a chair. She winced a little as she sat down. Gisella knelt beside her, stroking her hand. Szerena hurriedly wet a cloth and pressed it to the cut on Mama’s leg.

  “Thank you, my sweet children,” Mama murmured, smiling wanly. “Shush now—shush,” she tried to reassure them. “It’s all right—all right.”

  Her eyes traveled around the room. She gave a deep sigh, then said, “We’ve been robbed.”

  “We didn’t know what had happened,” Szerena whispered, bursting into tears.

  Mama’s head moved sadly up and down. “All my best linen and tablecloths—the red bedspread—and heaven knows what else!”

  “Our clothes, too?” Gisella broke in, knowing the answer, yet hoping against hope.

  Mama’s face was gray with fatigue. “Yes, my darlings, I’m afraid your new clothes, too.”

  “Oh!” Gisella sank into a dejected little heap on the floor. All their beautiful holiday clothes gone! How could anyone be so horrible as to steal them!

  “I see even the pot with the chickens I prepared for roasting was stolen,” Mama went on sorrowfully. She stroked Gisella’s blond head. “Shush. Shush, my children. Don’t cry anymore. Just think how much worse it could have been. You might have been harmed in some way. I might—God forbid — have lost you both!” She drew them close. Thus they clung together for a long time till the tears had ceased to flow. Then Mama began to tell what had happened.

  “When I came back to the house and found the door wide open, I knew immediately something was wrong. I rushed inside, and when I saw all this, my first thought was that you had been kidnapped! But then I asked myself, when could it have happened? I had been away such a short time. And you were both here up to the moment I’d gone. Whoever had made off with you, couldn’t be far away. I felt sure it was the Gypsies, and I figured they wouldn’t dare take the main road for fear of being seen. So I ran to the back of the house, and there I saw large footprints in the soft earth. I realized then that the thief must be heading across the open fields.

  “I ran and ran. My heart was beating like a hammer. Then I saw him—a tall, thin man walking rapidly, with a pack on his back. I knew I had found the thief, because the pack was my good red bedspread all bulged out with the things he’d stolen.

  “I yelled for help. But there was no one around to hear me. So I began to run even faster till I caught up with the thief. I grabbed hold of his arm and screamed at him. ‘What have you done with my children?’”

  Gisella shivered. “Oh, Mama! Weren’t you afraid?”

  “I had no time to think about being afraid.” She brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “He tried to shake me off, but I hung on for dear life. ‘Kidnapper! Thief!’ I kept yelling. ‘Where are my children?’ I remember I beat at him with my fists.

  “ ‘Get away from me! I know nothing about your children!’ he shouted. He turned and glared at me.” Mama put a hand to her chest. “I’ll remember that evil face till the day I die! He snarled at me, and then he hit me across the face. But still I wouldn’t let go. He kept pressing on ahead, dragging me along with him.

  “He struck at me again and again. I fell. I can’t remember very clearly what happened after that. I must have fainted. Anyway, when I came to, the road was empty. The thief had disappeared, up toward the hills, I suppose. There was nothing more I could do except to run to the magistrate and our neighbors for help. But first I had to come home and take another look. So I came running back, praying all the while that I’d find you here.” She covered her eyes with her hands and sat very still.

  “Mama,” Szerena whispered, “your leg. It’s still bleeding. Maybe we should get the doctor.”

  Mama examined the wound. “It must have been cut when I was being dragged along. It’s not too bad. I can take care of it myself.” She rose, limped over to the attic ladder and slowly climbed up, with Gisella and Szerena helping her along.

  In a corner of the attic, Mama searched around till she found a large spider web. With the utmost care, she loosened it from its fastenings and spread it across the wound. The silvery, sticky threads adhered instantly to the cuts. “This will heal it nicely. In a few days, my leg will be as good as new. By the way,” Mama asked suddenly, “where were you both when the thief was in the house?”

  “Across the street in Mari’s house,” Szerena replied, shamefaced. “We wanted to see her new doll. We intended to come right back. . . .”

  “Well, for this once I cannot be angry with you for disobeying me. The angel Elijah himself must have sent you there. Otherwise . . .” her shoulders hunched, and she clasped her hands together tightly “. . . better not even to think about it.”

  Soon they were back downstairs. Mama told the girls, “I must go at once to see the biro to report the robbery. Just look at this mess! Tsk!” she clicked dolefully. “All topsy-turvy! Well, we’ll have to take care of it later. Right now I have to make myself presentable.”

  By the time she had washed, combed her hair, and donned a fresh skirt and blouse, Mama was her calm self again. “Come,” she said, “we’ll lock up the house, and I’ll drop you both off at Zali Neni’s. You’ll stay with her till I get back.”

  News of the robbery fanned through the village like a forest fire. Upon Mama’s return, neighbors came flocking to the house bearing gifts of food and linen to replace what had been stolen. “Poor Rezi Neni. Such a calamity!” they kept exclaiming, with much head shaking and gesturing. “And to have it happen on the very eve of Passover, too!”

  “What did the biro say?” someone inquired.

  “He was very sympathetic,” Mama replied. “But he explained that he was only the biro, and this was a task for the csendor. And we don’t have a policeman in Helmecz.”

  “There is a csendor in the village of Laz,” offered a woman.

  “That’s not very far,” put in another.

  Mama nodded. “I know. The biro has already gone to Laz to fetch him. They should be here shortly.”

  Within the hour, the biro and csendor were in the house. Gisella and Szerena had never before seen a policeman. They could not take their eyes off him. How resplendent he looked in his brass-buttoned blue uniform, topped by a visored hat from which a plume of brightly colored feathers stood up gaily! He was very tall, and the red stripe running down the side of each trouser leg made him appear even taller. He spoke with authority but was most polite, bending forward courteously to listen to Mama.

  “Every time those roving bands of Gypsies appear, there’s bound to be trouble,” he commented, frowning.

  The neighbors nodded in silent agreement.

  “But we will see what can be done,” he went on. “I know they’ve set up their camp in the hills, but they like to do their trading in Ungwar. It’s too late to go there now. But they’ll be lined up in the marketplace tomorrow morning. They’ll have their merchandise spread out on the ground. I dare say much of what they offer for sale is stolen. But we can’t always prove it. You know your own things. If they have them, you’re bound to recognize them.” He bowed ceremoniously. “I’ll call for you in the morning. Good day to you all.”

  Mama slumped wearily in her chair. Zali Neni put her hand on Mama’s shoulder. “You’ve had a terrible day. Go lie down for a while. The girls will help me straighten up here.”

  “That’s right. And don’t worry,” the neighbors chimed in. “If there’s anything you want, you need only ask.”

  “As for the Seder,” Jozsi Bacsi announced, “nothing’s lost. Zali and I want you and the children and your guests to come to ours. You’ll all be guests at our Seder.”

  Mama looked around with gratitude. “It’s good to have family and friends in time of trouble,” she said, her voice trembling.

  Szerena marched proudly alongside the csendor. Gisella held tight to Mama’s hand, but all the while the edge of her eyes noted everything. The Gypsies and their wares were already settled at one end of the square. They appeared ragged and un
kempt and yet strangely attractive. The men, slender and dark-haired, wore brightly hued shirts and golden loops in their ears. The women, in gay, swirling skirts, moved with an easy grace, lifting their heads pridefully. As they wheedled and harangued the passersby, arms and hands danced, white teeth flashed from swarthy faces. Even the small children cavorting about stared back impudently at her.

  Slowly they made their way down the length of the street. Mama searched through the assorted merchandise and scanned every male face. As the csendor passed by, one young Gypsy laughed and said mockingly to his mate, “High and mighty is the peacock! Always coming around to cackle!”

  There was sudden quiet among the spectators. They glanced furtively at the csendor. His countenance remained unmoved, but with a sudden motion, he raised his hand and struck the Gypsy across the mouth.

  Gisella winced almost as if her mouth had been slapped. Still—how dare he talk like that to a csendor!

  The Gypsy seemed cowed. But his burning eyes were alive with hate. The whole Gypsy market ceased its chattering. Gisella could feel the smouldering tenseness in the air. Mama turned to the csendor. “I’m afraid my things are not here. Neither is the thief.”

  Scornful, triumphant glances darted from one Gypsy face to another. But the csendor was not yet finished with them. “The thief’s probably been warned,” he said. “Who knows how far away he may be by now. Well, there’s nothing more I can do except make sure that it won’t happen again.” In a loud and commanding voice, he said, “All you Gypsies, pack up your things and get out immediately! Every one of you! If there is a single one left in this district by tomorrow morning, I’ll have him locked up!”

  He turned to Mama. “I’m very sorry about your things.”

  “You did everything you could,” Mama assured him. “I thank you.” She sighed. “This will be a Passover we will long remember.”

  FIVE

  My dearest Wife,

  I was so glad to hear from you and to learn that you are all well. I cannot tell you how proud it makes me to see how beautifully our little Szerena writes. And Gisella’s words, too. It’s hard to realize that they are old enough to do this for you. In my mind I still see them as little babies.

  And now for a piece of wonderful news! I now have my own business!

  The job at the cigar factory was not bad. But working like this, it would take, God knows how long, before I’d be able to put by enough money to bring over my family. The only way, I decided, was to own my own business—be my own boss. Now I am able to speak English quite well. So I started looking around, and by luck I found fust the right place—a small fruit and vegetable stand. It is tiring work and a long day. I have to get up at three o’clock in the morning to get to the wholesale market to buy the produce. Then back to my little place where I stay till late at night waiting on the customers. But I do not mind. It is for our future—yours and mine.

  Of course, every penny I saved had to go into the business. But business is very good. I am making money. I figure that in a year I shall have it all paid for and enough left over to send for you. By then I shall be a full citizen, too. I just need my second papers. My first I have already.

  I know you will be needing some money for the Passover holiday. So I send you a money order for $10.00 and also a present for each of the girls.

  My heartfelt love to all of you.

  Herschel

  “It’s like money from heaven, even if it is too late for Passover,” declared Mama. “What with the robbery, it couldn’t have come at a better time.”

  As for the girls, they were overwhelmed with delight. Papa had sent identical dresses in green and red cotton plaid with hair ribbons to match.

  “Isn’t the pattern odd!” Szerena exclaimed. “We don’t have material with stripes like this.”

  Picking up her new dress, Gisella walked over to the window. The late afternoon sunshine cast a sheen of gold over the brightly patterned cloth. It’s like a miracle, she mused. Almost as if Papa knew our holiday clothes had been stolen. But how could that be? He couldn’t possibly have gotten our letter yet.

  “Papa’s always so generous and kind,” she heard Mama say. “He never forgets us.”

  A jumble of feelings tore at Gisella. She wanted to be angry at a papa who had gone away and left them! But—her eyes lowered to the dress in her arms—it was beautiful!

  “Lucky for us the package didn’t get here before Passover,” Mama went on, “otherwise the thief would have stolen these dresses, too.”

  “Well, they didn’t get here in time for Passover,” Szerena chimed in, “but they’re just in time for Majus Nap.”

  “That’s right,” Mama responded cheerfully. “But that’s tomorrow. Let’s put them away in the chest now.”

  “May day! Wonderful, joyous Majus Nap!” chanted Gisella. She waltzed lightheartedly out of the door and around the back of the house. She came to a halt before the woodpile where Imre, their neighbor’s son, was neatly stacking the wood he’d cut for Mama.

  “Imre, have you fixed up your branch yet?” she asked.

  “Branch?” he repeated in his quiet voice. “What branch?”

  “For tomorrow. Tomorrow is Majus Nap.”

  “So?”

  “So you have to fix up a branch. One with blossoms on it. Or even just plain leaves from a tree.”

  “And then?”

  “Then you must make it look even prettier with ribbons and bows.”

  “So then what happens?”

  “So then, in the middle of the night when everybody is fast asleep, you creep out and stick it either on the gate or the fence of the house of the girl you love.”

  Imre continued piling the wood. “Oh, you mean that silly custom.”

  “It is not silly!” Gisella protested. “I think it’s a lovely idea!”

  Under his thatch of sandy-colored hair, Imre’s blue eyes beamed down on her with amusement. “You really think so?”

  “Oh, Imre! You know you’re just teasing.” They both exploded into laughter.

  “I guess that whole business must seem romantic to a girl,” Imre admitted. “But I don’t notice any of the Jewish lads doing it.”

  “No. I don’t know why.”

  Imre shrugged. “Different people, different customs, I guess. There are many interesting celebrations the Jews observe that we Christians don’t.”

  “Imre, who’s your girl?”

  Imre pretented to think hard. “Oh, she’s little and has green eyes. Her hair is like white gold. And she always wears it in braids.”

  “Who can that be?” inquired Gisella.

  Imre poked his finger at her. “Why, you, of course.”

  “Oh, Imre!” Gisella giggled. “You’re teasing again. Can I see your branch when you’ve fixed it up?”

  “Who knows? Maybe I’ll get my girl to show it to you tomorrow.”

  Gisella danced back into the house. “He’; so nice, that Imre,” she announced. “And he’s always doing all those things for us.”

  “He gets paid for it,” Szerena reminded.

  “He doesn’t get very much,” remarked Mama. “And many’s the time he has refused to take anything. Yes, he really is a very fine young man.”

  Next morning Gisella woke to the first crow of the cock. Bounding out of bed, she flew to the window. Pinkish clouds, like a fleet of ships, were sailing across the green-streaked sky. The rising sun was just barely winking at her. “Szerena, wake up!” Gisella cried. “It’s a beautiful day!”

  Mama didn’t have to coax them to hurry with their chores today. As soon as they were through, they hastened to dress for the school outing. Brown sandals, ribbons in perky bows on their heads, and finally the new plaid frocks.

  Mama packed then lunch in a neat cloth bundle and gave them each two fillers to spend.

  “Two pennies!” cried Szerena.

  “Ooh! So much money! Oh, Mama, thanks!” they chorused.

  “From Papa,” she told them, smiling in
to their upturned faces.

  They gave her a hug and kiss and started off.

  “Have a good time,” she called after them.

  Holding hands, they ran quickly down the path toward the street. “Oh!” Gisella grasped her sister’s arm. She pointed to the long lilac branch fastened to their gate. It was covered with clusters of delicate lavender blossoms through which a yellow satin ribbon was entwined. And where the blossoms ended, the shiny ribbon was looped in a big bow. with long floating streamers.

  “Who do you suppose put it there?” Szerena exclaimed.

  “Imre!” Gisella responded at once.

  Szerena giggled. “It would be just like him to play such a trick.”

  Gisella buried her face in the sweet blossoms. “It’s so lovely!”

  “Yes, it is,” admitted Szerena. “I must say he did go to a lot of trouble just for us.”

  For us? Gisella repeated silently. She knew in her heart that Imre had really meant that branch for her. “Yes,” she agreed, “he certainly did.”

  “Let’s take it along,” proposed Szerena. “Then we can show it off to everybody.”

  “Oh, no!” Gisella said quickly. “It’ll get spoiled. And the ribbons will be all crushed, too. Why don’t we leave it right here? It looks so pretty where it is. And then we can be sure to see it when we come home.”

  By the time they arrived, most of the children were already assembled at the foot of the steep path leading up to the schoolhouse.

  “Say,” Ilona greeted, “where’d you get those pretty striped dresses?”

  “From America!” Szerena replied happily. “My papa sent them.”

  The girls all gathered around to ooh and aah over the wonderful frocks. It made the sisters feel very proud.

  “Let’s get our branches while we’re waiting,” suggested one of the older boys.

  “Yes. Let’s!” Everyone scampered across the road to the tall trees at the edge of the forest. Carefully the older boys began snapping off the smaller branches. By the time their teacher arrived, each child was supplied with a leafy branch.