Jacob's Way (3 page)

Yuri picked up a huge leg at once, took a bite, then yelped, “Ow, that's hot!”

“Things are usually hot when they come right out of the fire, Yuri,” Reisa laughed. “Now, why don't you let it cool a little bit.”

“I can't. I'm too hungry.”

Reisa saw that the others were served, then sat down. “What were you saying about America?” she asked. “I can't believe all Jews lose their faith.”

“Not all, perhaps,” Yuri said grudgingly. He took a bite of the dark meat, chewed it with evident relish, and swallowed, then waved the leg around as if it were a baton. “They forget that they are Jews. They cut off their earlocks. They don't eat kosher food. They don't go to the synagogue.”

As the meal progressed, Yuri did most of the talking, with Reisa and her grandfather listening carefully. America was almost another planet to them, and Yuri was the only real contact they had—that and the two books he had brought back. The book of poems had delighted her. But the other book,
Uncle Tom's Cabin
, grieved her greatly. She asked, “The black slaves in America. Are they still beaten like Uncle Tom?”

“No. Of course not. The war settled all that.”

“What war was that? Did America fight against an enemy?”

Yuri took another bite and chewed lustily. “They fought themselves,” he said. “Half the country believed in slaves, the other half didn't. So they had a war, and those that believed in slaves got whipped.”

“Good!” Jacob said firmly. “No man should be a slave.”

“Nor no woman either,” Reisa added with a smile.

“Right you are, my daughter.”

The meal went on until they were all stuffed and warm and full. Reisa carefully divided some of the meat for the elderly Pavlovs to take back with them. Yuri stayed for a while to help Reisa with her English. He listened as she read from the book and corrected her pronunciation as best he could.

“Now, let me test your vocabulary. What is the English for
pipek?
”

Reisa's hand flew to her mouth, and she said in a shocked tone, “You shouldn't say things like that!”

Yuri's eyes danced with humor. “Well, you've got to know what to call things. What's
pipek
in English?”

“I don't know. I have no idea, and I don't want to discuss it.”

“Must you speak of such things, Yuri?” Jacob protested. “It isn't nice.”

“The English for
pipek
is belly button. Don't you suppose Americans have belly buttons? Of course they do! If you went to America, you couldn't call them a
pipek
. They wouldn't know what you were talking about. You've got to know belly button.”

Despite himself, Jacob laughed. “You are an
awful
man, Yuri Pavlov! I think I do not want you to teach my granddaughter anything more intimate than belly button.”

“As you will, Jacob.”

“What are the women like in America?”

“The Jewish women?”

“Just any women.”

“They're like women here. Some of them are very bad, but I'm sure you wouldn't want to hear about bad women. They're like Gentiles here, I suppose.
Goys
are the same everywhere.”

“But do the Jewish women keep their hair covered?” Jacob demanded. “Do they wear scarves?”

“The more Orthodox do, but even when I was there a new movement was going on.”

“What kind of a movement?”

“It was called the Reform Movement.”

“I've heard of it.” Jacob leaned forward with interest. “What do you know about it?”

“Not much—except I was against it. Why should we change the ways of our fathers? Would you believe they have services in English and not in Hebrew?”

“I can't believe that!” Reisa exclaimed.

“It's true enough. And they say there's no need to eat kosher food. Why, would you believe I've seen Jews eating meat and then washing it down with milk?”

“It's an abomination!” Jacob exclaimed. “They could not be good Jews.”

“They think they are. Anyway, I was glad to get back here where men still hold with the old ways of God.”

For some time the three sat there in companionable silence. Finally Yuri rose and said, “I must go sleep this off. Thank you so much for the fine feast. It was good of you.”

“It was Reisa's chicken.” Jacob smiled.

“No. It was God's chicken,” Reisa said quickly.

Yuri came over and shook Jacob's hand and then turned to Reisa with a smile. “I give honor to your chicken who has brought comfort to me and my aged parents. I will see you tomorrow.”

After Yuri was gone, Jacob said, “That was a fine meal. You can cook as well as your mother—or your grandmother, for that matter. A claim I would not make of anyone else.”

“Why don't you sit down and have some more tea?”

“I believe I will. I haven't been so stuffed in years.”

He sat down and began to read while Reisa poured tea out of the samovar. “Here. Taste some of this.”

As Jacob sipped the tea, Reisa said, “A funny thing happened this morning,
Zaideh
. A huge goose fell into our yard, half frozen.”

Jacob listened, then suddenly smiled broadly. “Now I know why you sacrificed one of your precious chickens. You were too tenderhearted to kill that goose.”

Reisa laughed aloud, her eyes sparkling. “You're too clever for me! I can never fool you.”

“You try it all the time—but I like it. Do you think the goose will ever be able to fly again?”

“Yes! I will feed him and care for him until he is strong. Then he can go south to join his flock.”

The two talked for some time, but finally Jacob fell silent. Reisa knew that something was on his mind and just simply waited.

Finally Jacob sighed heavily and turned to face Reisa. “Daughter, I have some news that is not pleasant.”

“Is it something the mayor told you?”

“Yes.”

“I knew he gave you bad news. What is it?”

“It may never come, but I must have you prepared, my Reisa.” Jacob had trouble framing the words, but finally he took one of her hands in his. “There may be trouble coming from the government.”

Instantly Reisa understood. “A pogrom,
Zaideh?”

“Yes.”

Neither of them spoke, and the only sound in the room was the sputtering of the fire. Every Jew lived under the shadow of the pogroms—government attacks on the Jewish community. They were frightful persecutions, including the massacre of entire communities of Jews.

Boris got up, arched his back, and came over to nuzzle Reisa's calf. She picked him up and stroked his fur. “It will be all right. The Master of the Universe will take care of us.”

“You believe that, Reisa?”

“Yes. Does it not say in the book of Deuteronomy, ‘If a bird's nest chance to be before thee in the way in any tree, or on the ground, whether they be young ones, or eggs, and the dam sitting upon the young, or upon the eggs, though shalt not take the dam with the young.' So if the Eternal One cares for a little bird, he will care for us.”

Keeping one hand on Boris's thick fur, she stretched out the other, putting it on her grandfather's thin shoulders, and stated again firmly, “He who cares for a tiny bird—or a big goose—will care for us!”

On the Wednesday after the feast, Yelena Petrov appeared early at Reisa's door, her broad face flushed with excitement. “You must come with me, Reisa,” she said urgently. “My cousin Sonya is getting married today in Kitzel.”

Reisa smiled at Yelena, but shook her head. “I've got too much to do, Yelena.”

“Don't be such an old woman! You need to get out and have some fun.”

“My grandfather would never let me go.”

Yelena grasped Reisa's arm and shook it urgently. “My father would never let me go alone, but he said if you'd go with me, he'd consent. There'll be lots of good food and dancing and music. There'll be some good-looking men there, too.” Her eyes sparkled and she urged, “Let me talk to your grandfather. I can talk him into letting you go with me. Where is he?”

“He's studying, but—”

Reisa's protests were cut short, for Yelena simply hustled her inside and began at once to bombard Jacob with pleas. Jacob listened with amusement for a time, then said, “How will you get to Kitzel and when will you be back?”

“My uncle is going to the wedding, and we can ride in his wagon. We can stay at my cousin's house. We'll be back tomorrow before dark, I promise. Oh, please, Reb, let Reisa go! She needs to have a good time.”

Jacob was well aware that his granddaughter had few pleasures, and after inquiring into the arrangements carefully, he said, “Very well, but have your uncle stop by before you leave.”

Reisa went to her grandfather and gave him a hug. “Now promise you won't worry about me,” she said.

“I won't promise that, but you have a good time.”

“I'll bring you some of the wedding feast,” Yelena said. “Now, get your things ready, Reisa. My uncle wants to leave soon.”

The two girls made their preparations, and shortly before three, Yelena's uncle, a tall thin man named Fedor Varvarinski, pulled his wagon up in front of Jacob's door. Reisa was ready, dressed in her best dress, and she turned to kiss Jacob's cheek. “Be sure and eat enough,” she prompted. She climbed into the wagon and seated herself beside Yelena. As they set off she waved at Jacob until the wagon took the curve that hid their house.

“We're going to have a good time,” Yelena said with satisfaction. “My cousin Boris Babin will be there—he's Sonya's brother. So good-looking! He'll fall in love with you, I'm sure! Then we can have another wedding…”

The village of Kitzel was only five miles away, but the horses were old and slow, so that the sun was low in the west before Fedor nodded his head. “There's Kitzel, right over that rise.”

The party reached the village just as dark was falling, and Yelena saw to it that she and Reisa were settled in the house belonging to the bride's father. They arrived in time for the evening's festivities, and Reisa thoroughly enjoyed the music, the food, and the dancing. The celebration went on until nearly eleven, and Reisa found that Boris Babin was indeed fine looking and a good dancer.

Shortly before midnight, the two girls were in bed, weary, but too excited to sleep. Yelena whispered about the men she'd danced with until Reisa finally could not stay awake. She fell into a deep sleep in the middle of Yelena's talk and slept dreamlessly.

Reisa awakened as the first gray light of dawn slanted through the small window, touching her face. She sat up, stretched, and then reached out and shook Yelena, who was sleeping soundly. “Wake up!” she commanded. When her companion grunted and tried to burrow deeper under the blankets, she yanked the covers back. “It's time to get up,” she said firmly.

Yelena groaned, but emerged with her hair swirled wildly and her eyes half-open. “It's too early,” she complained, but at Reisa's urging, she sat up. “I'm hungry.”

“You're always hungry—even after you've had a big meal,” Reisa laughed. “Now, let's get dressed. I think I can smell breakfast cooking.”

Yelena sniffed, then exclaimed, “It smells good!” She leaped out of bed and began to dress, shivering in the cold.

Reisa pulled her clothes on hurriedly, including her coat, for the room was cold. Turning to watch Yelena, who was lacing her boots, she said, “I slept like a log! It's going to be—”

Reisa never finished her remark, for the sound of many horses traveling hard came to her. She straightened up and went to the window at once. The room was on the second floor, and she could see in the pale light of dawn a dark mass driving down the street. “Soldiers on horses!” she gasped. A sudden fear ran along her nerves.

Yelena darted across the room and took one look at the street. “Cossacks!” she whispered hoarsely. “It's a pogrom!”