Belle's Story

Chapter Eleven

As soon as I returned to Belle's room, she pounced on me for disappearing.

"Deborah, where have you been? I was worried."

"I'm sorry. I had to take a walk to clear my head."

"What did the doctor say to you that upset you so much?"

"He didn't say anything to upset me. He said he's glad I'm here."

"Deborah, that is the same thing I told you when you knew I was lying. Tell me the truth."

"He said we should think about hospice. What do you think? Should we use hospice?"

"I don't know enough about it. I want your opinion."

"We should probably talk to Mom and Lawrence, but I think if hospice can help you be more comfortable, then yes, we should use it."

"Alright. We can talk about it later. Right now, let's come back to my story. I want to tell you about Mae."

"Do you think you're strong enough?"

"Deborah darling, I am dying. Sit by me now. I do not want my story to die with me. Where was I?"

I exhaled deeply in hopes it would sweep away all the gloom inside me.

"You had just gone to work for the butcher's family.

"That's right, the butcher. Well, let me see; what happened next? Oh, yes...I had never taught anyone anything and I had no idea what I was doing. The first few weeks were turbulent, funny I suppose. Yakov was almost thirteen. He was busy studying for his bar mitzvah and did not need much additional instruction. The girls were another matter. They ranged in age from five to fifteen. Marya was the eldest, followed by Nadia, who was eleven and little Rebekkah. Belle stared at the flowers on her ledge as if the narrative was blooming out of them.

"I believe there were two other children who died. I am not sure how they died, but that explains the gap between Rebekkah and the others. Rebekkah was a beautiful and bright little girl, but very spoiled, spoiled as old milk Papa would have said. Nadia was the smart one. It did not matter that I did not know how to teach, Nadia knew how to learn. She was intellectual and curious. She had a knack for language and took to French perhaps more than me. Marya was Mae's age, but they were nothing alike. Mae was soft and sweet and carefree. Marya was serious and studious. She carried a sense of dread with her, as though she knew what was getting ready to happen in Russia, but could do nothing to stop it. Marya rarely smiled, and when she did it I felt there was a deep sorrow hidden beneath her upturned lips.

"Each day my teaching skills got better. By the time I had saved enough money for the trip to America, I had three books full of notes on teaching. I spent a good deal of time teaching them Hebrew. My best subject was, of course, French. But I managed to also teach the girls a little German as well as some basic mathematics, history and literature.

I didn't teach on Fridays, as the girls spent the morning cooking Shabbat supper with their mama. Being a butcher's family had its perks. As Lidyia prepared the brisket, Marya and Nadia would kneed, fold and twist dough into braided loafs. Once it rose and went in the oven, the smell of baking challah filled the house the rest of the day. Little Rebekkah helped some. Sometimes she would kneed a little bread, or help with the filling for the kreplachs[1]. Most of the time, she would sit on my lap and we would sing folk songs or play silly hand patting games. She liked me to brush her long honey hair and I let her brush mine as well. In just a few weeks, I grew to care deeply for those girls. It would have been easy to settle into a regular life with them. But, I was only there to earn enough money to continue my search for Mae.