Wait. Whoa. Stop right there. Even in my wildest dreams…
Serakh must have seen the shock on my face, because she touched my knee and shook her head. “We will speak of this later,” she whispered to me. “Let Dolcette finish.” Then she helped Mon Treacute;sor to settle on Dolcette’s other breast. “Your father found Avram,” she prompted.
”Yes. Papa and I had come to Paris for Papa’s business and to find a husband for me. I had warm feelings for Avram from the beginning. He was lost in sadness and grief, but I felt sure he would recover.”
Dolcette gripped the covers and stared into space. I watched Mon Treacute;sor nurse, falling more and more in love with him by the second.
Serakh’s eyes filled with tears. “But Avram did not?”
”He was such a kind man, so quiet. He rarely spoke of Mainz. Papa gave him the bakery business as my dowry. We married, and Papa returned to Falaise to be with Mama. Avram continued to make trips north to the grain farmers by the Rhine. He prefers their rye, although he sells little to the community here in Paris. When he came back on the evening before Rosh Chodesh Kislev, he brought me the news that the Christian knights had captured Jerusalem from the Saracens.”
I nodded, doing a quick calculation. Since rosh chodesh means the start of a new month, and Hanukkah always begins on Kislev 25, Avram must have returned nearly four weeks ago. I had just come home from the hospital then.
Dolcette stroked the top of her baby’s head and said nothing. I watched Mon Treacute;sor working his little jaw muscles as if his life depended on it. Which, I realized then, it did.
Dolcette took a deep breath and continued, her voice tight and strained. “Avram told me that the Christian armies burned the great synagogue with a great many Jews trapped inside. Then they exiled all Jews from Jerusalem. He believes this tragedy is his fault.”
”A sad time,” Serakh said. “Jerusalem is a holy place that should belong to all peoples of the earth.”
I touched the baby’s tiny fingers. “But how could Avram be responsible?”
Dolcette’s lips quivered. “I told him the same, day after day. He would not listen. Avram told me that he had a vision, a fearsome one. Avram made a vow to name our firstborn son Ysaak and to send him to Heaven. By the blood of our son, the Jewish people would be restored to their rightful place in the Holy City.”
Unbelievable. Jews didn’t sacrifice their children. Wasn’t that the lesson from Abraham and Isaac in the Bible?
Serakh shot me a warning look. I bit my lip.
Dolcette touched a wisp of Mon Treacute;sor’s fine black hair. “I told Avram no, we are simple, humble Jews, not prophets. I told him no, we will have a girl. See, I am carrying high, not low. When I eat garlic, the smell does not seep out through the pores of my skin. Avram prayed it would be so.”
I shook my head. How could I have ever dreamed this up?
Dolcette grabbed Serakh’s arm. “Now you see there is no hope here. Only until the brit milah is my baby safe. Take him now!”
Serakh stroked Dolcette’s hand. “Cast your fears aside. Tikvah and I will find a way. Your son will grow to manhood and honor you in your old age.”
Dolcette eyes drilled into mine, searching for reassurance.
”Tikvah, tell Dolcette that you will not let this come to pass.”
”I’m sure everything will be all right,” I said, trying to sound convincing. What else do you tell a dreamed-up character desperate to save her child?
Dolcette wiped a tear from her cheek and kissed my hand.
”Now let us tend to you and your little one,” Serakh said. “Tikvah and I must leave soon, but we will return with the answer.” She rubbed Dolcette’s feet while I watched the baby nurse and wondered how all this could seem so real.
The lines in Dolcette’s face eased, and her shoulders inched downward. “Let me help you with your travels,” she said. “I have a penny coin of silver from the lands the Duke of Normandy has conquered. A merchant in Falaise gave it to my mother. She assures me that the silver is genuine. Please take the coin from my pouch.”
It looked more like a dime than a penny—a shiny sliver of silver with a man’s face on one side and a cross and squiggles on the other. Since I didn’t have a pouch, I slipped the coin into the empty slot in my penny loafers.
Serakh put Mon Treacute;sor across Dolcette’s lap and told her to tap on his back until he burped. Then Serakh replaced the soiled rag between his legs with a clean diaper and wrapped him again. Mon Treacute;sor was nearly asleep when I put him back in the cradle. So was Dolcette.
Serakh kissed Dolcette’s forehead and blew out the candle. As soon as we closed the bedroom door, she whispered, “Learn what you can about Avram and the events of Mainz, and then do what you must.”
”This is completely ridiculous.”
Serakh’s eyes narrowed. “No. This true. The One has guided me to you, so I feel certain you will find a way. There must be knowledge that comes of your place and time or a special skill that you possess. Let us return to the trees. You will give me my robes, wind the blue thread around your finger, and close your eyes against the flash. It will not be as bad this time.”
She lied.
CHAPTER TEN
I would have screamed if I could have forced my mouth to work. What difference does it make whether you feel hit by a ten-ton truck or an eleven-ton truck? The next thing I knew, I was back in the ladies’ room at Barston’s, slumped against Serakh.
”Breathe,” she commanded, just like the last time.
I sucked in air, my head throbbing.
She waited until I could stand on my own and then said, “Here are your two silver discs.”
”Dimes,” I managed to mutter.
”Are not flat metal circles called discs?”
”Never mind.” I stuffed them into my skirt pocket, too dizzy to bend down and put them in my penny loafers.
I straightened my cardigan and blouse and pulled up my knee-highs. Serakh stood next to me by the mirror. My face was nearly as pale as my bandages. My left eye twitched.
”Soon you will leave this room,” she said softly. “I will not follow. But we will meet again for the sake of Dolcette and her baby. I trust that you will help her. I will visit you again when you find the answer.”
I took another deep breath, my head pounding. I clutched my prayer shawl as she guided me to the door. “You go to the tables and I will travel from this room. Do not be afraid.”
I stumbled out to the booth where I’d left all of my things.
”Perfect timing,” Leona said, gesturing to the two hot chocolates, one slice of apple pie, and two forks that the waitress must have just brought. Her smile vanished. “Hope, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I dropped into the seat across from Leona and bit back tears.
”Did something happen at school today?”
”I-I…S-so weird. There w-was this girl. In in the l-ladies’ room. And then I had a fuh-lashback or s-s-omething.”
”What!”
I winced. Half of Barston’s could hear her.
”Sorry.” Leona ratcheted down the volume. “What happened? Did you faint? You could have gone totally berserk in there! We have to tell your dad. Or go to the doctor. I thought you said you haven’t had any flashbacks. I could so totally kill Dagmar.”
I shook my head. All of this was absolutely incredible. The Beatles were singing “I Saw Her Standing There,” and if it wasn’t such a scary coincidence, I might have managed a smile.
Leona started shredding her napkin. “This is an awful time for your mother to be in Israel.”
”L-last week I was f-fine.” What’s happening to me now?
”Do you want me to call my mom to take you home? Do I look funny? Like the wrong color or something?”
Leona seemed ready to wav
e her hand in front of my face and ask me how many fingers she was holding up. Still, she meant well. I stared at the prayer shawl bunched in my lap and concentrated on breathing. I was freaked enough already. Telling her the truth—whatever that was—was more than I could handle. She was my best friend. She’d forgive me.
I rubbed my temples. “Y-you have a buh-rown s-s-spot on your n-n-nose.”
Leona gasped. Then she rubbed the tiny birthmark over her left nostril. “Very funny. Come on, you know what I mean. I’m worried. You can’t fool me. I know you’re upset.”
I shrugged and picked up my fork. The apple pie tasted like mush. My heart still hammered in my chest. Leona shook her head and took a sip of hot chocolate. “Tell me what happened in the ladies’ room.”
”R-really, I d-don’t w-w-ant to talk about it.” Which was so true. What could I say? That a psychedelic girl from who knows where had turned the ladies’ room into a living tableau of some Renaissance horror show? Or worse, that LSD was taking over my brain? I tucked my feelings away until I could sort them out later.
Leona’s napkin was now complete confetti. “Okay, but I’m walking you home in case you get sick or something. Deal?
”D-deal.” I smoothed the prayer shawl, folded it neatly, and showed it to Leona. She cooed over the embroidery and asked me a ton of questions. I answered mostly with nods and shrugs. I kept thinking about Serakh, and Dolcette, and Mon Treacute;sor, wondering why everything still felt so real. No. It didn’t happen. It couldn’t have happened.
The waitress gave us her we-need-the-table look. Leona and I split the bill, as usual. I put my shawl in its bag and collected my books.
”I’m buh-ringing in Chuh-inese for d-dinner,” I said, trying to pretend that everything was normal.
”Great idea! You love Chinese. From Hunan Garden?”
”Um-hmm.”
”There’s a new place on Shattuck. House of Chen. My dad says they have better food than Hunan Garden, although you know him. He could eat a mule and think it’s filet mignon.”
A genuine smile graced my face, until I looked down at my penny loafers and saw that silver coin.
Waves of blood whooshed against my eardrums. My body turned to marble and my eyes refused to move.
”Hope, speak to me! Should I call an ambulance? Hope?”
The marble cracked. Inch by inch I turned toward the voice.
Leona was crouching next to me, her face clouded with concern. “You were staring at the floor and suddenly you went sort of catatonic.”
”I n-n-need air.”
Leona parked me on a bench in front of Barston’s. After I convinced her I felt better—which I sort of did—she went back inside to pay the bill and collect our things. As soon as she left, I pulled out the coin and studied it in the palm of my hand. A figment of your imagination doesn’t weigh anything. A flashback doesn’t fit in your penny loafers. Whatever happened in the ladies’ room wasn’t the same as the Mr.-Zipper-Mouth-screwdriver flashback I had in the kitchen.
I slipped the coin into my pocket, stuck the dimes in their usual slots, and stared at the sidewalk.
Leona appeared with our things. “Is your dad home?”
I shrugged. You never knew when my father would be off somewhere, figuring out what Einstein meant.
”What’s his phone number at the lab?”
I filled my lungs and shook my head. “I-I’m okay. Honest. I j-j-ust got d-dizzy. I’m d-due for m-m-my p-period.”
Leona rolled her eyes. Still, she sat next to me quietly for a couple of minutes, while I cobbled myself back together. Dad and Einstein. Maybe there really was such a thing as a time warp, or whatever they called it. Physicists aren’t crazy—at least my father wasn’t. Flaky sometimes, but not crazy. Maybe Serakh took me through some sort of time warp. Outlandish. But not impossible.
As we walked to House of Chen, Leona agreed not to tell her folks about what happened. Her mom might tell my mom, and then I’d never get permission to go to the music festival. She chatted about Mr. Zegarelli’s warning to stay away from the student demonstrations on campus.
”My dad’s really upset,” she continued. “I mean, suppose they come after the administration? Suppose they decide to block the entrance to Sproul Hall so my dad can’t get to work? Is Dagmar involved?”
I shrugged. My sister hung out with the hippies and druggies, and maybe they were a part of this. But from what I saw in the newspapers, the protestors dressed as straight-up as my business-major brother.
Leona offered to order the Chinese food for me, and I let her. Then she walked me home. “Call me tonight,” she said. Besides checking in with my grandfather, hers is the only phone call I don’t mind making.
I put the food in the fridge, leaned against the counter, and scratched at the edge of my bandage. I counted my inhalations. And when I got to ten, I clenched my fist and shut my eyes.
Nothing. No flashbacks. No zipper mouths, no screwdrivers with teeth. No girls with bronze skin or newborn babies. I counted to ten again and let my eyes open to my own kitchen in my own time. And that coin.
The Second Day
Paris
26 Kislev 4860
Anno Domini 1099, festival eve and feast day for Saint Abra of Poitiers
Sunset, Sunday, December 11–Sunset, Monday December 12
Berkeley
26 Kislev 5725
Sunset, Monday, November 30, 1964–Sunset, Tuesday, December 1, 1964
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I tried to calm my nerves and sort out my thoughts while I picked at my moo goo gai pan—the mushrooms slick and slippery in my mouth. The coin was real. I could still feel it in my pocket. Therefore Serakh must be was real, right? Time warps could be…real? Maybe. If I thought like physicist
”You are feeling ill, sheyna maidl?”
I touched Grandpa’s hand and I sipped my tea. “N-not hungry.”
His forehead wrinkled in concern.
”The p-penicillin. Fuh-rom the c-car a-accident,” I said, using the white lie that Mom decided would be easier for her father to handle.
Grandpa took another bite of his lo mein and folded his napkin. “I’m not hungry tonight, either. I’ll go to bed early.”
He hoisted his thin frame from his chair and leaned against the table, unsteady. As I got up to help, he raised his hand to stop me. “No, no, I can make it on my own.”
Shuffling down the hall toward the bathroom, my grandfather seemed to have shrunken into himself since breakfast, as if he’d added ten years to the seventy-six he’d already lived. He looked paler, his eyes more watery, his speech slower.
Walking by his side, I longed to tell him about Serakh. Nothing about a time warp—that was barely believable—but maybe Grandpa knew something about her. After all, Serakh said she had met him and my grandmother Miriam, and she knew about the prayer shawl.
I took a gamble. “I s-saw that g-girl who v-visited you l-last n-night.”
”What girl?”
”Sh-she has buh-ronze skin and wh-white hair. Her n-name is S-Serakh.”
My grandfather stopped shuffling. He touched his chest, his hand shaking. He muttered something in Polish or Yiddish and slumped against the wall.
”Guh-randpa!” I grabbed him under his arms. Color returned to his cheeks. I remembered to breathe. We stood together while he recovered his strength. He patted my cheek, the way he’s done since I was a little girl.
”I am fine,” he whispered.
I didn’t believe him.
We walked hand-in-hand to his bed. I got him a glass of water. He took a sip, then pushed the glass away. “I should never have given you that tallis. Never. She’ll take you away like she did my Miriam.
I sat next to him on the bed. “N-no one t-took Guh-randma away,” I explained as gently as I could. “She d-died abo
ut a f-few weeks b-before I was born.”
He shook his head. “My Miriam told me so many times. Finally I believed her. She made me promise that the child named for her would get her tallis.”
“D-did she know S-Serakh?”
“Who?”
“The-the g-girl who c-came to your r-room l-last night.”
“I was alone in my room all night.”
I bit my lip, and then I kissed his cheek. No way could my grandfather give me a coherent story until the morning, and maybe not even then.
I put the half-filled glass on his end table, laid out his pajamas, and sat next to him again. A thin stream trickled from Grandpa’s nose. He waved away the tissue I handed him and dug into his cardigan for that wrinkled handkerchief I’d forgotten to replace with a fresh one this morning. And then he wept, long and loud. I stroked his back, and then I put my arms around him.
Sadness pulled at me. Mom had postponed her trip by a couple of weeks to take care of me, and now it was my turn to take care of Grandpa. I wished she’d cancelled the trip entirely so she could be home with her father. He needed her, and I was making a mess of it.
After he’d cried himself dry, he took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. I managed a smile, because he likes that, and I put my lips to his cheek. I blew him another kiss as I closed the bedroom door.
The house was quiet. Too quiet. I wished anybody else were home—even Josh. I put Sylvester outside for his pre-bed feline adventures, cleaned up the kitchen, collected the prayer shawl and my schoolbooks, and nearly walked past the menorah in the living room.
With Grandpa asleep, I might have skipped lighting the candles, and I didn’t need to be reminded how so-so my singing was. But that ridiculous lion seemed lonely. Without bothering to turn on the light, I put two candles in his butt end and the
The Ninth Day Page 5
