by Andrea Lena DiMaggio
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncmR4Wof0UQ
Previously published in serial form
Russia. 1911
Aram stared out the window of the small cottage. Even at nearly midnight the village seemed like daytime with a brilliant moon illuminating the night sky. As welcome as the nighttime breeze might have felt to any of his neighbors, it did nothing to warm the boy. He drew his legs close and wrapped his arms around in a self hug as the aches inside felt almost too unbearable.
A dog down the lane barked loudly, evoking a sad sigh. The last of all his losses seemed to be the cruelest since his father had made sure the boy would have at least one friend at the event of what proved to be an inevitable passing. With no one left after his sister died, the puppy had been at least a small promise of hope.
But promises are not only meant to be broken, but some of them never had any hope to begin with. The little dog was playful and frisky and rash; and Aram bade farewell to yet another promise as the puppy strayed into the path of a Cossack who paid no heed to where his horse had run. The boy shook his head in sadness and perhaps more than just a bit of anger.
Aram Sokol greeted the dawn after a nearly sleepless night. A day of reflection would be welcome as any gift his father might have bestowed. No studies for the day and no friends meant he would be all alone in his own home; alone because no one would care enough to seek his advice or offer a smile with a nod of wanting to be anywhere near him. But alone meant finally undisturbed as Aram walked slowly to the closet in what had been his sister’s room; a rough burlap curtain that had given the girl privacy in life and then in her passing.
He pushed the curtain back, revealing the sum total of Ester’s life. A spinning wheel sat in the corner; dusty after nearly two years disuse. Sewing lay incomplete on her bed; sad testimony to the pain the boy bore daily. He picked up the dress and bit his lip. A dull green it might have been to some, but to Aram it was vibrant and alive. For a moment he was transported to the recent if painful past; remembering the last words Ester spoke to him alone…..
“Promise me? I… I know Mama would say this if she were still here.”
“But what about Papa?”
“He loved you, lybi… I think he almost knew.” Ester pronounced as if things were always meant to be how we feel instead of what life had brought them both; lives either ended too soon or promising to last all too long. Aram shook his head as the tears flowed freely. They had very little time left; even less by themselves as the cottage would be filled with well-wishers who would soon become mourners. Ester reached up weakly and grabbed her brother’s hand and squeezed as her gaze fell upon the dress that lay draped across her legs; olive but not drab to either sibling. A gift from one and a treasure to another.
“Hold it up so I can see?” She smiled through her own tears; as valiant a gesture as Aram would ever behold. He winced at both her touch and the endearment, but she would have none of that.
“Only once, mein shvester?” She smiled weakly and the boy nodded; a reluctance that was too shameful to keep and a need too urgent to set aside. He held the dress up against his body.
“There you are, my sweet Yehudit,” Ester beamed proudly; both at the fine detail of the stitches and finer detail of the creation that stood next to her. She sighed and smiled and gripped Aram’s hand tighter until her grasp grew weak. He looked down and saw that her eyes were filled with life and then sightless in one moment. Shaking his head, he spoke her name as Ester breathed her last. He didn’t hear the knock at the door as he fell onto the bed and cried….
The young woman stood nervously as the ferry landed against the wide river bank. She had just set foot on the dirty road leading up the shore when a light touch to her shoulder provoked a start. She turned and found a kind looking woman smiling at her.
“Traveling alone can be very…. imprudent, lyb pyrrand, yes? Maybe you and I should travel together?” The woman said as she nodded. The young woman went to speak but the older woman held her hand up in caution.
“You can’t be too sure who to trust, Lybi?” She stepped close and pulled the girl’s scarf up and a bit tighter around her neck. The girl wore no sheitel. and a wool hat had been pulled down over her decidedly short hair. Kissing the girl’s cheek softly, the old woman cooed like the protective grandmother she must have been at least at one time to someone else.
“I can’t call you Anschul or Dovid, myydl. What is your name?” She pulled back and winked and smiled once again. The girl lowered her head.
"Your name... My name is Eitel Kotler, but you can call me Bubbe Eitel. We all have names."
“M…my name?”
“Miryam? Ruti?....No….Let me guess? Yehudit?” The girl wanted to run away
“Y….yes?”
“Well, Yehudit, we shall travel together as far as our paths agree. Will that be all right?”
Yehudit looked at the woman as she eyed her up and down and for the first time in her life she knew that everything would be all right. And she spoke with a brand new confidence borne of the love of Tevye and Devorah and Ester Sokol; only one word, but a password of sorts that would bear her entry to a whole new world.
“Yes.”
Riga, Latvia, May, 1912…
“Yudi? “ the old woman called from the front of the store. The aroma of fresh challah filled the bakery and drifted happily to the street outside. The bell on the door rang with a soft clink. A moment later a man stood at the counter.
“Your employer is doing well by you, Bubbe, yes?”
“I can’t complain. And employer? You forget he and I are betrothed,” Bubbe Eitel laughed softly. At nearly seventy-seven, Meyer Abkin would remain married to his business; the bakery was his second love after his beloved wife Akiva who had preceded him into paradise, so to speak, only three years previous. He lived in the small apartment above the bakery, but made available the large room at the back of the store, giving the old woman a home and a safe haven for her and her granddaughter Yehudit.
At least that was the plan. The man who stood at the counter wanted to help amend that arrangement, and what was the harm in that.
“You haven’t told me your answer, and it’s been quite some time since I asked? Should I just move on?” He acted put out and displayed his usual impatience. Bubbe Eitel shook her head.
“The girl is not yet thirteen, Moshe Galitzsky; a fact we have discussed more than several times. Patience, my dear man, patience. Time enough to find a bride. You look hale and very sturdy and the Olinsky family has already three daughters of age; all very strong and healthy.” The man was past his fortieth birthday, but was as well-off as anyone in their neighborhood.
“I’m not looking for strong, Bubbe Eitel.” His expression was one more suited to talking with other rough men over wine instead of discussing a child wither her bubbe. He looked over her shoulder through the door to the back of the bakery. Yehudit blushed and turned away. Things had been challenging enough in a new place with new acquaintances and even a few friends, but life would come to an abrupt halt if her secret was discovered.
“Think about it, Bubbe, it could mean a great deal for you and the girl.”
“I’ll think about it. Here, have a nice babka….you like sweets, Moshe Galitsky. But like baking, making a family is all about timing. I’ll think about it, but you should really think about the Olinsky girls. Or maybe even the widow Papernik; she’s still young and has three boys who could help you with your business.” Moshe shook his head absent-mindedly and looked once again to the back of the bakery. Yehudit had disappeared. He nodded to Bubbe Eitel and walked out with the babka tucked under his arm.
“Come, myddl…it’s safe now. “ A moment later Yehudit stood next to the old woman and looked out the window of the bakery as the man disappeared around a corner.
“We cannot continue this. I must….” She put her head down and began to cry. A second later a gnarled hand softly her chin.
“No turning back….no matter what happens, you can’t.”
“It’s not too late. I don’t….you can be hurt…bad, Bubbe. I won’t let that happen.”
“Nonsense, child. Besides…at seventy-three, what more can life throw at me that I have not yet faced? When I lost my Abi, I thought I could not go on. But here I am. And you can face everything life throws at you, myddl, yes?” She patted Yehudit on the cheek playfully.
“I know a man…my cousin’s friend. He’s a doctor. He’ll help.”
“Unless he can put me back in my mother’s womb….” The girl put her head down; both the memory of her mother and the futility of hoping for the hopeless sent her into the old woman’s arms, weeping.
“Let me see what we can do, my little Yudi.” She held the girl in her arms as she sang an old lullaby to the girl; putting the girl’s fears to rest, so to speak. It wasn’t the best plan in the world, but it was at least a plan. Who could know what was possible unless they tried.
“What about H’r Galitsky, Bubbe? He seems determined.
“Well, he wants his own children. It will not be easy for him to hear, but he doesn’t need to know the reason why you cannot have children, my sweet Yudi. No worries.” She patted the girl on the cheek once again; this time much less playful and more out of an assurance and endearment.
“It will never work, Bubbe…It can’t.”
“It can and it will,” she said with a smile.
“Just give it to the Almighty, myddl. He made you the way you are; not how others wish to see you or even how you fear yourself to be. You are Yehudit Sokol. From before you were born, grʼandʼátʻr!”
“I have prayed every night since I can remember, Bubbe…every night.”
“From your mouth to His ears, myddl.” She looked at the girl and then looked upward; a hopeful prayer if there ever was one.
The home of Dr. Zalman Abramov, a few weeks later…
“You understand there are no promises, yes?” The man had just walked around a screen; talking over his shoulder at the girl.
“Yes…I don’t understand…” Yudi's voice trailed off.
“You’re…there’s something about you, myddl. You aren’t quite ….normal.” He laughed softly.
“The…doesn’t every boy have one of those?” He could almost picture her looking down even though she was hidden behind the screen.
“No, child.” He shook his head. He had only read about children like Yehudit Sokol, but until that moment had never seen one in all of his years as a doctor, and he had seen it all, as they say.
“You’re….unique. Like your own twin? A boy and a girl in the same body? I don’t know how to explain but no, no boy has that. And no girl has what you also have. But we can make sure one way or the other. I have a friend…a colleague…we can settle things for you. And judging by your appearance, none too soon. I take it you want to be Yehudit?” The girl winced as she walked around the screen; her eyes widened in confusion before clarity quickly set in. He held up his hand, gesturing with a soft, downward motion.
“I’m sorry, myddl, I can see you are Yehudit. We just have to make things fit both inside and outside.
“I’m….” She put her head down.
“Scared? Everyone is scared sometimes, Yehudit,” Bubbe Eitel said as she put a shawl around the girl’s shoulders.
“Will I…can I…”
“I don’t know, yet. We can only hope. But we will help you.” Zalman Abramov grabbed both of the girl’s hands in his and squeezed gently.
“Will you?” The thought of her dreams being fulfilled overcame the girl and she began to sob. The old man drew her into his arms and patted her gently on her back just as if he was her own Zayde Zalman. Bubbe Eitel stepped closer and put her hand on Yehudit’s shoulder.
“See? From your mouth to His ear!” She laughed and continued to rub the girl’s shoulder gently. As she did, she noticed that while Zalman Abramov was continuing to pat the girl’s back, his attention had turned to Eitel Kotler. He smiled warmly at her and she blushed.
Somewhere between time and space where dreams are born…
“You make a beautiful bride, Yehudit,” a voice came as from beyond; almost like a messenger of sorts. The girl looked down and found herself not in wedding finery, but a simple old green dress. She sighed.
“I am not ready. I fear I will never be ready.” She looked around and found she was standing on the deck of a ship. The fog was thick, but noises in the near distance told her that the ship was near land. She could almost make out lights in the darkness and a very large object seemed to jut straight out of the water and tower over the ship; dimly lit and barely visible as it disappeared back into the fog.
“You’ve been ready all your life,” another voice spoke; closer and more real; it sounded almost melodic but strong and masculine at the same time. She looked up to see a very handsome red-haired young man standing against the deck rail next to her; his smile invasive and inviting at the same time. And she felt safe.
“I don’t know why, but something is telling me to let you know that dreams do come true. Take it for what it’s worth.” He reached over and pulled her closer. She saw strength and kindness and sadness and joy in the man’s eyes, and she shook her head; fearing it was all just a dream. He smiled and spoke,
“Yehudit?”
The voice quickly gave way to the sound of crowing down the lane as the girl woke up. She looked around and saw that she was in the old bed in the backroom of the bakery and that the dawn’s sunlight had just begun to peek through the worn curtain of the one small window at the rear of the room.
The home of Zalman Abramov once again; only days later…
“What would the Reb say if he knew you were here…helping?” Bubbe Eitel shook her head and looked out the large window in the sitting room, as if the teacher might stroll casually up the walk and come into the house.
“Well…” The old man paused and laughed. Issur Demsky was more than a doctor; the neighborhood sage, in a way. Apart from the Rebbe, most everyone looked to him for advice. And advice he gave; freely but with great caution and disclaimer.
“I am not my brother. You should ask him.” He would say; a perfectly good response since he was the wisest man in the neighborhood save for one; his brother Issak, the Rebbe. Issur looked the girl up and down and half-smiled.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news….never mind. It’s all bad news.” He laughed, indicating that while things weren’t going to be good, neither would they be bad.
“Stop teasing. It’s hard enough for the girl.” Yehudit winced at the description. She was glad that someone besides Bubbe Eitel understood, but the ‘hard enough’ seemed to be trying to push her hope aside. The middle aged woman standing next to Bubbe Eitel used her hand in a broad gesture.
“Issur Demsky; give the girl some answers. Stop with the teasing and help the poor girl.” Miryam Demsky scolded her husband.
“I’m not sure what is good news and what is bad, but I will try to convey both in a way that will be helpful and not hurt too much.” Two doctors in the room, and no sign of any good thing. Yehudit put her head down. Miryam put her hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“What he means to say…” She looked back and forth between Issur and her brother Zalman and smiled.
“What they mean to say is that you’re not a boy…. That much they are sure of. But …” she paused and practically stared at the girl’s waist.
“I’m sorry, myddl… It’s …”
“A start that came too quickly to an end,” Bubbe Eitel interjected. Yehudit would never have the worry of siring any children, but she would never know the joy of bearing them, either. The old woman stepped closer and Miryam deferred while remaining close as Bubbe Eitel pulled Yehudit into a consoling hug.
Never once in her first twelve years had she given thought to what it might mean to be a girl even though she longed for that. But on the verge of womanhood, in a manner of speaking, the moment became one of sad realization as she felt the loss for what she never had and never would have in this lifetime. She gave way to the overwhelming sorrow that had filled the room and wept in Bubbe Eitel’s arms.
“Shhhhh….shhhh….” The old woman said softly; a warm blessing in the midst of what felt like a curse. But as the psalmist says somewhere, I’ve never seen the righteous forsaken in the land of the living. What the Almighty deigned to take away….rather what He chose not to bestow?
Bubbe Eitel was convinced that what would come into the girl’s life would more than make up for any lack she felt she had or anything she felt was necessary to be a blessing to others. What she may have lacked in her body would be more than compensated by the love in her heart she was destined to share with others. And that love would find its way in time to bless one in particular…
Riga, Latvia, May, 1913....
“Bubbe?” The old woman looked up to see Yudi standing at the counter.
“Yes, myddyl? You look very….” Bubbe Eitel seemed to be struggling more frequently for words. She smiled at the girl.
“Torn?” Yudi stepped back and right into the tall, handsome man standing behind her.
“Ah… Moshe Galitsky. What brings you into the shop after such a long absence? Is my challah suddenly something you crave? Perhaps a nice babka?” She looked at the man and thought, ‘such a pipik!’
“Well, you know why I have been away, Bubbe Eitel. And because people talk, you already know why I’m here now.”
“I am so sorry the widow Papernik decided to marry Dov Kugel.” She wasn’t sorry at all. Moshe Galitsky might be a shrewd businessman, but as a person, he left much to be desired.
“And you certainly can understand why I am here this fine summer day, Bubbe? He glanced at Yudi and then looked back at Bubbe Eitel.
“The girl has a name, and she is right here; whatever you have to say you should say to her. She is of age.” Yudi’s eyes widened in fear until the old woman added.
“But I should remind you that she is promised to another…. A nice young man in Ulbroka… his father is a tailor.” She lied; no boy in Ulbroka or anywhere else for that matter. Only in falsehoods and half-truths might the girl be protected; not only from the nearly incessant attempts to gain approval for courtship from the likes of Moshe Galitsky, but for any other man for that matter.
If the Almighty in his wisdom deigned it a good thing to create such a girl as unique as Yehudit Sokol, then surely he would reveal to her… perhaps her alone … a man who would be kind and caring enough to at least be able to discover and understand and maybe even love the girl? That man surely was not Moshe Galitsky.
“She may be ‘of age,’ Bubbe Eitel, but she isn’t old enough to appreciate what I can do for her.” His tone was dismissive enough to make Yudi cringe and Bubbe Eitel bristle, if only just below the surface. He shook his head; the arrogance of the man was no longer hidden beneath cloying charm as he spoke once again.
“I will not give up, and I will be back!” He closed the door only just ‘soft’ enough so as not to slam it.
“And we will be here, Moshe Galitsky!” Bubbe Eitel said. Sadly, that would not be true.
May, 1913…
Yudi walked quickly down the street; energized by the brightness of the day. As she entered the bakery, she found the store filled with people; more customers than she had seen in the past several days. A tall, sober looking man stepped up and half-smiled.
“You must be Yehudit?” His half-smile turned quickly to a sad frown at her slow, nervous nod. He was joined by a woman who looked vaguely familiar.
“Oh, child….I am so sorry….” She drew Yudi into a motherly hug.
“The doctor said it was quick; she did not suffer at all from what he saw….” She hugged Yudi again as the girl’s eyes widened in understanding. Yudi’s world was already in a life-time of upheaval, but her only friend in the world had just departed, leaving her alone, frightened and feeling hopeless all over again.
June, 1913…
“So tell me, Meyer Abkin? What must I do to convince you of my intentions?” Moshe Galitsky smiled wryly. Meyer Abkin looked over his shoulder at the girl sweeping the back of the shop. It had fallen on the old man unexpectedly to be the girl’s guardian after Bubbe Eitel’s passing. She heard Galitsky’s words and a shudder ran up her back.
“And you say you can give this girl a good life?” Meyer Abkin meant entirely well of the child, but had no way of understanding just how shrewd Moshe Galitsky was, and Galitsky knew it.
“I will guarantee that the girl will always have a home,” he smiled to himself; an expression completely lost on the old, barely-sighted man who leaned on the counter to steady himself. But Yudi could not help but notice the upturn of the left side of Moshe Galitsky’s mouth. She cringed and turned her back on the two, refocusing on the sweeping; hoping it would calm her enough to keep the bile from escaping her mouth. She didn’t know the man, but she felt fear rise over the prospect of being the man’s wife. A fear compounded by a secret that would likely get her killed.
“Yehudit? Yehudit? Why are you crying? I am here and I am not ashamed of you.” The voice sounded familiar, but as if coming from far away; a whisper on the wind rather than a loud voice. She looked around. The same ship she had dreamed of felt real. The deck creaked softly and the air was filled with the aroma of salt mixed with smoke, but where that came from she could not see.
“Yuhudit? Be still child.” She felt the fear in her heart ease and she began to cry again; this time not out of shame, but out of relief, though for what she could not say. The voice soothed but almost seemed to convict.
“Do not doubt, dear child. Be of good courage….” She felt the words surround her and enfold her like a hug. Looking around, she saw that the ship was moving quickly. Shouts came from all around her, and she turned to see a large shape looming almost in the path. She felt the deck under her feet almost lurch and before she could do a thing, she had fallen over the railing and into the water. More shouts were quickly drowned out by the sound of water rushing past her ears, and her eyes grew dim until she knew no more.
Yudi looked up from the bed to the small window in the dark room. It was still night, but the very beginning of dawn added a bit of light. She went to sit up and her hand pushed against the sheet that was soaked with perspiration and tears. As she eased her legs around and off the bed, she reached out in the dim light and grasped Bubbe Eitel’s pillow once again, but under the pillowcase. She pulled out her hand along with a fistful of coins and some paper with Cyrillic writing…. Money.
“Danken Got!” The girl exclaimed. Her deliverance had been planned for such a time as this, as it says somewhere. What she didn’t realize that her deliverance had been planned from before she was born; both as Aram in 1899 and again as Yehudit Sokol again in 1911. And now in 1913, she was going to see her deliverance come to pass, although in a way that she would never have imagined and certainly one of which she held no hope.
Le Havre, France, October, 1913; at the pier by the SS La Touraine…
Yudi kept looking around, fearing the worst. The money Bubbe Eitel had left her had been more than enough to travel West under the protection of a family moving to Rotterdam. From there, she made her way to France with a Dutch family couple whose daughter married a French Bookstore owner.
"Ich..."She stammered as she walked up to the ticket agent's window.
"Can...Canada?" She held up smallish beaded purse and pulled out some bills.
"Oui, Mademoiselle.." He smiled at her even as she felt someone standing behind her.
"Trentième...Francs,"
“You have enough to book passage, Mademoiselle, but I see you are traveling alone. Why not stay with me,”a dark man said with a discomforting laugh as he peered over her shoulder.
“I think not, Herr Kieselmann! You will have enough to deal with regarding what to say to Frau Kieselmann as it is, ja? Leave the madchen alone and find someone when you get to Montreal, ja?”
The old man poked at Kieselmann with his umbrella. Kieselmann might have done something foolish but for the two crewmen who stood at the gangway; arms folded. Dieter Mahler might be old and small, but he had friends among his fellow crewmen. The two nodded in approval as Kieselmann sulked and walked quickly up the gangway into the ship.
“My Greta would have been your age, bless her heart, but Gott and she are now maybe playing chess? Or perhaps talking about kittens or such? You will be safe, child. It will be alright, ja?” His eyes twinkled, and the look made her feel safe and secure and even loved. If Bubbe Eitel had a brother it would have been Dieter Mahler.
“I...I am grateful,” Yudi said with a stutter. She pulled the lapel of her coat closed against the breeze. Lowering her head, she managed a “Danke sehr, Vater,’ in respect to the man’s age. He smiled and winked again.
“I may be old enough to be your Grossvater, but I’m still a young man even if I approach my seventieth birthday. You may call me Onkel Dieter, bitte?”
“Ja,” Yudi said with a nod and a smile. “Danke, Onkel Dieter.” He smiled and cocked his head to the side, examining her in a way.
“Jude?” He asked; sudden but almost inviting. She felt safe enough to answer with a nod.
“Shhh….I am too.” He practically giggled. Even in France it was an occasional if decreasing risk to speak of one’s origin in some quarters, so to speak.
“And you have another secret, ja?” The words seemed to pierce her; cold like the wind, but she found herself once again nodding; this time slower and with a bite of her lower lip.
“Do not worry, child. No man revealed this to me and no look betrayed you. You are safe as if you were in your mother’s arms.” He smiled, but the words, as kind as they were, hurt nonetheless and she began to weep. He pulled her close and patted her on the back.
“I still miss my mother, child. I am sorry for bringing up such a sad thing, but I tell my friends as long as I can still ‘hear’ her voice, I am alright, ja? Can you still hear your Mutti?” Yudi looked at him and smiled through her tears as she nodded once again.”
“Come, we will see if the cook has any cocoa for such world travelers as ourselves, ja?” He took her by both hands and led her up the gangway and onto the deck.
“Marcel?” Onkel Dieter waved at a tall man standing by a doorway-shaped portal. The man smiled and walked quickly to the two.
“Marcel? This is my niece….” He hesitated and squeezed Yudi’s hand. She took his lead and nodded and smiled at Marcel.
“Yudi…Yudi… Sokol.” She winced at the sound of her own last name, but Marcel paid no heed and continued to smile.
“Oui, cher fille. Welcome to La Touraine. I hope you enjoy your trip.” He turned sideways and grinned. There were no first class passengers this voyage and the second and third class passengers were hardly there for an Atlantic Cruise. It would be as warm and comfortable as any minimally attended passage would be, but Marcel always treated everyone with respect and dignity, regardless of which class they ‘chose.’ He kissed her hand, sending a chill up her arm even as her face grew red and hot.
“Perhaps some cocoa for your niece, Onkel Dieter?” Marcel asked. The old man nodded and Marcel took Yudi by the hand and led her into the dining area. A few minutes later the old man and she were sitting comfortably by a heater at the wall furthest from the doorway.
“I believe with all my heart that something is in store for you. Gott in Himmel!” He smiled; more of a German than Yiddish expression, it nevertheless demonstrated from where he believed the blessing arose. It might be ‘in store,’ as he said, and she would come to know it as a blessing, but not so much at first.
“Onkel Dieter?” The girl blushed again and tears welled in her eyes. He answered with a kind smile and a nod.
“Why….why was I made this way?” She looked down at herself. He didn’t miss a thing, but leaned closer for her modesty and safety.
“I heard a wise man once say that Gott does not give us more than we can handle.” She winced at the words; the death of her family and then her best friend was hardly anything she felt she could handle. He nodded at her expression; complete understanding that could only come with sad experience and faith beyond the sadness.
“A even wiser man said that we all get good and bad things in our lives…the rain falls on everyone, no matter how just they are, ja?” Yudi nodded slowly but turned away.
“I can only say that I miss my Greta and my dear Luisa. But I also know that Gott has given me enough love to share, and what I have, dear child, I give to you.”
“But you don’t know…you can’t possibly know what it’s like….to be a freak…a monster…... something horrible.” She put her head down but felt his soft hand lift her chin.
“Not a thing, child. But a dear one made in the image of the creator.”
“No…you don’t understand. It’s ….” She said, forgetting for only a moment that he said he knew she had a secret. How could he know> And in knowing, why wasn’t he repulsed?
“You are who you are, dear child, ja? Not what but who, and I believe maybe that the Almighty makes no mistakes? That whatever he has for you is for a purpose to bless you, as the prophet says? 'I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for?'
He cocked his head and smiled warmly, leaving her sad and comforted at the same time,since he was so much like her father.
"I don’t pretend to know what the Almighty is thinking, but I believe with all my heart that he is good. And that makes everyone he created good. It’s up to all of us to become better, ja? You are a good young woman, Yehudit Sokol. Do not let the past make up your future for you, ja? Now drink your cocoa. It is getting as cold as the wind outside. And the ship will be soon underway to your future.
Mid-October, somewhere in the North Atlantic…
“Onkel Dieter? The ship feels like it’s moving faster.” The girl went to stand up and lurched forward; falling into a chair in the dining room.
“I don’t know, but it must be something important.
Several hours later…
“Mind your way, child,” a tall man in uniform said to her as he ran past. She leaned against the railing; already ill from the haste of the ship's movement. She climbed up the railing as the bile rose in her throat once again. Just as her feet stepped on first rail, she looked up to see another ship looming almost straight ahead. She heard shouts and the clanging of bells as the ship seemed to swing sideways.
She grabbed for the top rail, but the ocean spray had made the polished wood slick, and she lost her grip. Tumbling over, she fell down and into the water and in a moment was engulfed by the waves between the two ships. She looked up in time to see the hull of the other ship bearing down just before a swell pulled her under and everything went black….
“I am not ready. I fear I will never be ready.” She looked around and found she was standing on the deck of a ship. The fog was thick, but noises in the near distance told her that the ship was near land. She could almost make out lights in the darkness and a very large object seemed to jut straight out of the water and tower over the ship; dimly lit and barely visible as it disappeared back into the fog...
“Oh….there you are?” A woman’s voice seemed to speak to Yudi from beyond, but a moment later her eyes opened to the harsh overhead light of a bare bulb.
“You gave us quite a scare,” the woman spoke again. Yudi went to sit up, but was dizzy enough to fall back into the bed. A smiling face beamed from behind the woman before stepping closer.
“I was afraid we’d lost you.” He said softly.
“All thanks to you that she’s alive, young man,” a tall man spoke. He was wearing a very impressive uniform.
“That’s right, Captain. He’s a hero.” Yudi looked up and saw the young man smiling at her once again. She felt her face grow hot and would have blushed but for the white pallor that quickly accompanied the mixture of salt water and bile that ended up at the young man’s feet. She saw that his smile had only dimmed a bit before she passed out once again.
“You’re a sham… you’re not real and you never will be.” The girl’s head felt what seemed like the glare of ten thousand suns, and her accuser was obscured in the bright light; almost eclipsing it.
“Please…I am sorry. I am so sorry,” the girl cried. She knelt at the feet of her accuser and wept. She looked up to see her own face as the girl before her shook her head and frowned angrily before disappearing. The light dimmed even as another figure took the place of her accuser.
“You’re as true as can be.” The words were soft and soothing; a balm that began to take away her guilt and shame. She tried to argue, but the words failed to give sound to her thoughts as wave after wave of calm assurance washed over her, continuing to heal. She seemed to recall something someone had told her…
“...plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for?' ” The voice was old and wise and kind, but in a moment it was joined by another voice, speaking the same words.
“The future you hope for…”
“Can you sit up?” Yudi turned to find herself face to face with the young man. He had gotten down on one knee and was kneeling next to the bed; smiling.
“I…I think so…” Yudi went to prop herself up on one elbow but fell back against the headboard of the berth. The young man leaned closer and placed his hand behind her back, helping her sit up. She felt uncomfortable and the shame of the past seemed to push her away from him as she sidled against the bulkhead of the cabin.
“I’m sorry. You don’t even know me.” He apologized and pulled away, but only after making sure she was steady.
“Martin….”
“What?” Yudi stared at him.
“Martin O’Phelan,” he said softly. Between her Yiddish and everything else she had picked up she realized he was speaking English.
“Yudi….Yudi Sokol….” Her voice trailed off. The part of her accuser that remained firmly entrenched in her heart seemed to scream in her ear.
“Liar…your name is Aram…. Tell him!” She put her hand to her face and began to weep. Martin leaned closer once again.
“Nein…bitte….leave….p….please?” The older woman who had been there when she awoke put her hand on Martin’s shoulder.
“She’s scared and alone, Marty….don’t let it get to ye…She’ll be alright.” Martin nodded and stood up. His hand seemed to linger a bit at Yudi’s back before he walked away without a word.
“Shhh… darlin’…you’re okay,” she spoke. Just need to get you home, wherever that is, aye?” She smiled and sat down next to Yudi’s berth.
“Maggie O’Phelan, darlin’. Please to be makin’ your acquaintance. That’s my brother Marty.”
“Wh…where am I?”
“You're on a ship…of course you knew that…..”
“Oh… Ich…I…am on the ship….La Touraine….”
“No, darlin’. Not exactly.”
“On La Touraine….? Montreal…” She put her hand to her face and shook her head in confusion.
“I’m sorry, darlin’…. You fell overboard. My brother Marty saved you….”
“But Onkel Dieter…Wo ist…Onkel Dieter?” The girl practically sobbed.
“Oh, he’s alright. Not so, I’m sorry to say for so many of those dear ones who perished…the Volturno….it sank….folks from your ship and this one and others…they saved many, including you, darlin’ Your Onkel knows yer on this ship. The captain told me to tell you that your Onkel sends his wishes and something about havin’ a future? Anyway, the radioman said he was cryin’, but he didn’t sound at all upset.
“Aber…mmm….b…but…. Montreal… La Touraine?”
“Sorry, child, but you're not goin’ to Montreal. This is the Kroonland and you are on your way to America.”
Sleep, O babe, for the red-bee hums
The silent twilight's fall,
Áibheall from the Grey Rock comes
To wrap the world in thrall
Ellis Island, October 26, 1913….
Yudi stood next to her friends; newly found and welcoming friends who had taken her under their wings, as it were. Her gaze darted back and forth as sounds pulled her attention around the large open area in the crowded room. Little children and babies crying. Loud and animated discussions in every tongue; some exotic but many of them familiar to the girl. She shuddered as Maggie placed her hand on her shoulder.
“Now, darlin’? Nothin’ to be worried about. We’re here for you, and we’ll get everything sorted out good and proper. “The girl winced slightly; more from Maggie removing her hand as any gesture was greeted with caution even though she wanted to trust. Losing Eitel Kotler and then to be separated from a kind old man who reminded her of her father? It was almost too much to bear.
“NEXT!!!!” The voice came from a stern looking man sitting at a large table. He peered over his glasses at the girl.
“NAME?” Yudi hesitated; the abrupt manner of the man almost felt like it was physically pushing her back as she recoiled from the word.
“Come, on, child. I don’t have all day?” He had all day and then some; the lines never ended and the only respite from the sea of people was that he got to go home at the end of the day while they were literally herded into other large rooms to be poked and prodded before being ‘released,’ as if they were livestock. It might not have been pretty, but it was the gateway to a new life for everyone on the other side of the table. Yudi stepped close to the table and spoke.”
“Meine namen ….Yuhudit Sokol von…. “ She turned back to Maggie; the apologetic look on her face pleading for help in what to say.
“Dublin… yer from Cardonagh….” Maggie mouthed just out of sight from the man at the table.
“Ca…ar…do…nah?” Yudi mouthed the word back; haltingly and with a great deal of dread. She turned to the man. He was busy in conversation with another man who held papers that he was pointing to urgently.
“Judith McDonough?” He said almost absent-mindedly. She went to protest, but he had already written something down on the list in front of him. He looked at the tag on her sleeve.
“SS Kroonland”
“Max? Kroonland stop at Belfast?” The man to his left nodded.
“Well, Judith McDonough from Belfast, welcome to America,” the man said almost dismissively before he looked over her shoulder.
“Next!”
“Now, darlin’, you just follow my lead, aye?” Maggie said as she stood in the line leading up to a very kind looking old man; he tapped the chest of the girl at the head of the line. A look in her eyes and down her throat evoked a relieved nod.
“She’s just fine.” The woman behind the girl shook her head. Looking at the tag on the girl’s shoulder he smiled at the woman and spoke.
“Votre fille est sain.”
“Oui….Oui…merci….” She nodded and the man nodded back. A few moments later, the doctor had given Maggie a clean bill of health and was ready to examine Yudi.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, doctor? This here is my cousin Judy. She doesn’t speak but a wee bit of the English, and I expect you don’t speak the old tongue?” The man shook his head no.
“She’s a bit shy, so if she pulls back? She’s an orphan, and her only kin is here in America.” Maggie lied only a little. The girl winced at the word ‘orphan.” Her English was sketchy at best, but she had heard the word often enough to remember just why she had left home and she began to cry.
“There, there, child. “ The doctor smiled kindly and looked back and forth between Yudi and Maggie.
“I’ll make this as painless as possible,” he said. A few moments later the two sat outside the room in another area.
“We’ll be okay, darlin’,” Maggie said. Her fib about family wasn’t entirely untrue since in only a few days since their meeting, she had adopted Yudi as a little sister, along with everything that accompanied the girl from Russia all the way to America.
“Maggie?” Yudi’s tears had abated only somewhat, and she looked around the room in the same dread that nearly overcame her earlier that morning.
“Now, don’t you worry, darlin’! No one has found out yet, and yer safe for now.” The words seemed less daunting as time had gone on, and while she didn’t speak English well, she understood exactly what Maggie meant. And those words, as comforting as they had been intended to be, latched themselves onto the girl’s already ever-present shame and she sobbed in fear.
“You know we’ll be makin’ sure you’re okay, right?” Yudi looked at her friend…her sister in truth…and nodded nervously. Looking down at herself, she shook her head in sad recognition, but Maggie smiled and touched Yudi’s cheek.
“Now none of that,” Maggie said softly as she pulled the girl close for a hug.
“Between me and Marty, you have a family, and we’ll be just fine, darlin,” She laughed softly, but Yudi winced at the mention of her erstwhile new brother. Something about the young man frightened Yudi enough to push her further into her shame, and she buried her face in Maggie’s shoulder and continued to sob. Maggie shook her head in frustration as she sang a lullaby; even if the words were foreign to Yudi, the heart behind the singer soothed the girl into a less fitful weeping as Maggie held her as sweetly as Yudi’s mother ever had….
A leanbhan O, my child, my joy,
My love and heart's-desire,
The crickets sing you lullaby
Beside the dying fire
Kingsbridge, Bronx, New York, April 1914
“Marty? How did it work out?” Maggie had just finished setting the table. The young man sat down at the table in the small kitchen looking frustrated. Judy sidled over in her chair and looked away, but she listened sympathetically.
“Nothing but a pat on the back and a promise that they’ll be happy to raise a pint when I get a job. But….” His eyes widened and his smile emerged.
“Paddy McNeil says his Uncle Bill is looking for new players. Not much to start, but it’s a beginning.”
“That would be playin’ a game? You’re a man now, Marty. What do you suppose you can do with your life just playin’ a game.”
“It’s not just a game, Maggie, Darlin’, but a real way to put food on the table. We can only get so far with you takin’ in laundry and such, and I’m sure Judy wouldn’t mind a new dress now and then?”
At Marty’s words, the girl shied further away and faked a cough. Maggie smiled at her as she sat down. She grabbed the girl’s hand and urged her to grab Marty’s as she said grace. She squeezed Judy’s wrist and the girl winced; more at the understanding her friend conveyed, but the squeeze was quite emphatic. She looked at Maggie and shook her head slightly.
“I know….” Maggie started and the girl looked away, repeating the anxious gesture as she feared that she might reveal how she felt.
“I know yer doin’ the best you can, Marty lad, but we can’t build a future on a game.
“Paddy said his Da saw me play over at the park the other day, and he knows I can…. I can really make a go.”
“And what will we be callin’ ye, darlin’? Mister? Sir? Yer Highness? Seein’ how you’ll be royalty among the lads down at the pub.” She laughed but he glared slightly before his face softened into a half-smile.
‘You’ll still be callin’ me yer brother, Maggie my love.” At the word ‘love,’ Judy winced once again. Maggie still held her hand. She nodded and shook her head in succession; hoping to reassure the girl that she knew what the girl feared, but that no words of Maggie’s would ever betray a confidence. Still, the word left the girl saddened at the promise of sorts that she would never experience it in her lifetime. She stood up suddenly and spoke with a nervous stammer.
“You….Please…..I don’t ….mein….my….” Maggie took her meaning immediately and replied.
“Yer lookin’ a bit pale, Judy…. Here…” She stood up and gently took the girl’s arm in her hands.
“Marty….be a dear and see if Mrs. O’Brien has somethin’ for the girl?” She used her eyes in a gaze at the girl’s stomach. Marty got up and nodded.
"I’ll be back in a few, darlin’,” he said as he walked toward the door. He might have been speaking to his sister, but his eyes were on Judy as the endearment left his lips. She blushed and turned toward the wall.
“Away with you then, and thank Mrs. O’Brien for us all, aye?” He nodded again and was out the door and down the stairs. Maggie gently tugged the girl’s chin toward her.
“Now then, what’s goin’ on, Judy girl?”
“I….b…besodik….’ She blushed a deeper red and tears began to fall from her chin. Maggie didn’t understand the word, but she knew the meaning.
“Your secret is safe with me, darlin’. I know we barely know ye, but you’re a good one, you are. I would never….” Maggie patted her chest and shed sisterly tears.
“But you have another secret….yes?” Her eyes strayed toward the open door.
“I…” Judy shook her head as words got jumbled and shoved around. Yiddish crashed into Russian and German and the little English she knew until she spoke through sobs….
“L……lieb…..Mmmm…..Marty…..”
“Maggie’s eyes widened only a bit in surprise, since she had wondered since they met. She leaned closer and tilted her head in silent question. Judy nodded before finally saying,
“Ich…. I….Luf…..nein….lu…..love….Mmmmm Marty….” The dam burst and tears cascaded in shame mixed with sadness and only a tiny bit of hope. Maggie pulled her close and into her shoulder as the girl sobbed.
“Shhhhh shhhhh….. Tá mé anseo, mo dheirfiúr. Shhhh shhhhh….”
A few days later…
“’You’re a good one, kid, but not good enough,’ was all he said,” Marty shook his head and turned away.
“You mean after all that, you didn’t get a job. Oh darlin’ I’m so sorry.” Maggie shook her head in response and Judy sat quietly. Marty bit his lip but he began to laugh.
“Mr. Taylor has need of a groundskeeper and guess who he asked to help?”
“You got a job? That’s wonderful….” Maggie’s voice trailed off. Judy barely understood English but she completely understood the look of disappointment that crossed Marty’s face. She reached out and touched his arm. He smiled at her and patted her wrist, causing her to wince.
“There, there, darlin’. It was just a dream…. But I’m okay, really.” He smiled warmly at her and she returned his kindness with yet another dark blush.
“Gut….good. I…am….happy for you,” she said slowly. She wasn’t happy at all. Not for him, since he had wanted to play for the Yankees. And she wasn’t happy at all for herself, since she worried that she might reveal how she actually felt about the kind man who had saved her life.
“Then it’s all good.” He reached behind his chair and produced a bottle of wine.
“Let’s celebrate, aye?” Maggie nodded with a smile. Judy’s nod was weak and her smile weaker. Marty reached over and touched her chin; feeling the tears that had started to roll down her cheek.
“Really, darlin’….it’s all good.” And he surprised everyone including himself as he leaned closer and kissed her cheek.
“Now I know yer just figurin’ out what we’re sayin,’ but I know you understand that.” She didn’t understand his words but she knew his intent as his smile displayed, and she responded by bursting into tears. She stood up and walked quickly into the bedroom and shut the door.
“Now look what you’ve gone and done, you idiot!”
“What?”
“Never mind….” Her voice trailed off and she continued the conversation in her thoughts. Thoughts left unsaid that should have been spoken.
“You’re either blind or stupid, brother dear. Can’t you see the girl loves you?”
Two weeks later…
“Judy? Can ye’ come here?“ Maggie spoke over her should and the girl stepped from the kitchen and sat down at the table.
“I’ve got some good news, and it affects us all.” At the word ‘all,’ the girl winced. Maggie smiled and patted her on the wrist.
“My uncle owns a public house down on DeKalb, and he’s getting’ on in years. His son just joined the army, and he needs someone to run the place.” Judy tilted her head; making sense of English and Gaelic mixed with Yiddish and German and French had become a daunting task, but she was quickly picking it up.
“Oncle?”
“Seamus…. He’s been here forever, and the Pub is a good business. Not only that, but he takes care of his own. Not like some bars and such that don’t take care of their girls.” Maggie frowned.
“Ich….I …I don’t…verstehe… understand.”
“So long as you’re with me, darlin’, yer secret will ever be safe.” What was meant as consoling news nudged the girl instead into worry.
“My secret….Aber….I…. I mean….what about Marty?” She put her head down. Maggie patted her arm and leaned closer.
“You’ve got to decide, darlin’. I can’t promise what he’ll do, but I know with all my heart that he cares for you….even if ….” She shook her head and looked away; feeling disappointed for the girl
“He….he will love me…..like he loves you?” Maggie nodded reluctantly, but took a deep breath and spoke again.
“You’ll never know unless…. You’ve got to tell him.”
“I…I know…” Judy sighed and shook her head. It was almost too much to bear.
“Maggie….w…why am I….I…I cannot….” She gave into the moment and put her head on the table and wept. And Maggie put her head down on the table and wept along with the girl.
Kennedy’s Tavern, Bainbridge, Bronx, New York, early May, 1914…
The place was filled with men raising pints and waxing eloquently about how good it was back home. In the midst of the clamor, a happy ruckus seemed to sweep into the tavern. Marty walked up to the bar and placed a few silver dollars down.
“Drinks until that runs out for my lads, and then there’ll be more, aye, Uncle Seamus.”
“And what would be the occasion for such largesse, Marty, my boy?” The old man smiled, revealing a toothy grin that included a gap between his eye teeth.
“Well, you know I’m not one for rejoicin’ in any bad luck for someone else….” He tried not to grin, but his smile grew wider.
“But the left fielder broke his leg, and I’m gonna be playin’ for the New York Yankees.” He laughed. Maggie walked up and gave him a big hug. Judy stood off to the side, a relieved sigh accompanied the smile on her face.
“Well, darlin’,” Maggie grinned and continued.
“You’ve arrived, and I’m happy for my baby brother,” she looked up into his eyes and saw a glimmer that went beyond his new fortune. She only then noticed a small figure standing behind Marty. She breathed out heavily and shook her head, fearing the worst. Marty caught her gaze and turned around.
“Oh, and in all the rush, I hope you’ll be forgivin’ me for this, aye?” He turned around and nodded enthusiastically at the girl who held his hand.
“This is Kate…. Kate Taylor….Mr. Taylor’s daughter.” Marty squeezed the girl’s hand and she shook her head, but with a soft laugh.
“That’s Kathryn Taylor….” She began to speak and Maggie’ eyes widened in fear as the girl continued,
“Kathryn Taylor O’Phelan, if you please?” Maggie stared at the ring on the girl’s left hand before pulling the girl into an awkward hug, even as her thoughts were immediately drawn to the shy girl behind her. Judy bit her lip and smiled nervously; wanting so much to be brave in the midst of a lifetime of loss that called all too frequently for courage. She walked slowly to the three and held her hand out to Kate. The girl shook it and smiled
“And who might this be? You’re a pretty girl, ye are.” The attention hurt more than anything Judy could have imagined since the young lady was a very sweet girl who had captured the heart of the man she loved. No complaints about the life he’d lead; she loved him that much. But nothing would heal the ache in an already overwhelmed heart. She practically whispered.
“J..Judy….Mmmm….McDonough.” Maggie came to her rescue.
“You might say Judy’s a cousin of a cousin of a cousin, aye? Judy darlin’, would you mind helpin’ me in the kitchen for a few?” She ushered the girl into the open door and out of sight where the girl collapsed in her arms, sobbing. Maggie held her and stroked her hair.
“Yk byn….Aram….” The girl gasped. Maggie knew what the girl meant. She lifted the girl’s chin and spoke softly,
“No, precious girl. No. Yer name is Judy McD…” She paused in mid-sentence, shaking her head.
“No, darlin’! Yer name is Judith Sokol, and you’re my sweet baby sister.” Maggie tried very hard not to cry, and her soft sobs were almost soothing, Judy looked at her and the sobs grew deep and filled with lament. She would bless her creator for Maggie, but her heart still broke in two knowing that Marty would never be more than her brother.
“Shhhh, shhh,” Maggie spoke softly but inside her heart ached for the girl her arms; if only she had said something to her brother, but now it was too late and the kind soul she held was weighed down with yet another disappointment in the long line of loss and sorrow. She cursed herself and redoubled her efforts to sooth the hurt, but Judy just shook her head and continued weeping.
Several weeks later at Kennedy’s Tavern…
“Maggie….” Judy was standing by the door leading to the kitchen. The girl shook and tried not to cry. Maggie stepped next to the girl and scanned the bar and frowned. Over at the end of the bar, one of the lads was pointing and joking. She got her uncle’s attention and gazed down toward the men. Seamus calmly laid the bar towel down and walked around from behind the bar. A moment later he stood next to the fellow.
“Givin’ my girl a bad time, Timmy?” He leaned closer and the young man laughed nervously; a bad decision under best of circumstances, but it was late and Seamus was never one for suffering fools. He grabbed the fellow by his collar and belt and walked over to the front door. A moment later the fellow was lying in the street. Seamus turned to the others and shook his head.
“Well, lads? Class is dismissed unless one of ye wants yer own lesson, aye? I suggest you get yer bleedin’ arses out of my establishment!” He had hardly finished speaking and the young men had all scattered but for one. He held his hat in his hand and his face was downcast.
“Jimmy McCarthy? Your brother is a fool and a coward, and I’m not in the mood.”
“I wanted….I’m sorry, Mr. Kennedy….Timmy brings my mother a lot of sorrow, and I canna say I’m sad you tossed him out on his arse.” He avoided grinning, but Seamus knew Jim McCarthy was telling the truth, having known the boy since he was small.
“I’ll convey your apologies to the girl.” He turned around and looked at Judy and Maggie. Judy had stopped crying and was leaning close to Maggie. The young man sighed and nodded once before putting his head down.
“That’s all I can ask, Mr. Kennedy. I’ll be thankin’ you and takin’ your leave.” He nodded again and walked quickly out of the tavern.
“Are you alright, darlin’?” Seamus asked. Judy nodded slowly and wiped her face with her sleeve. The man smiled and walked back behind the bar. Maggie squeezed the girl’s shoulder; a gesture of understanding. But Judy’s attention was squarely on the back swing of the door through which the young man had just departed. Something familiar seemed to grab the girl and shake her to her core. Something that frightened and soothed her soul at the same time.
Maggie followed Judy’s gaze to the doorway and tilted her head in question. A moment later, her eyes widened in realization and she breathed out a long, drawn out sigh followed by,
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph….”
Dusk is drawn and the Green Man's thorn is wreathed in rings of fog
Sheevra sails his boat 'til morn upon the starry bog
A lyan van o, the paly moon hath brimm'd her cusp in dew
And weeps to hear the sad, sleep tune I sing, my love, to you
Very early the next morning; the McCarthy walk-up….
Jimmy sat at the kitchen table; head resting against folded arms. The front door creaked open and he sat up to find his brother Tim stepping lightly, shoes in hand.
“You needn’t worry, Tim. Mum is over at Aunt Kate’s helping with Moira’s new son. Kenny. We’ve got a new cousin; not that it matters any to you.” Jimmy glared at his brother, evoking a loud sigh and a glare back at Jimmy.
“Don’t get all high and mighty with me, brother darlin’. An while we’re at it, don’t you go stickin’ yer nose in my business. I can handle myself good and proper.”
“Maybe I will, Tim. I’m sure Seamus Kennedy would be happy to throw you out of his bar on a regular basis? Gamblin’ and drinkin’ ‘til you can’t stand up. You’re hurtin’ Mum and your hurtin’ me, but mostly you’re hurtin’ yourself. “
“Go ahead and say it, Jimmy boy. And that girl. At Kennedy’s. Ahhhhhhghhh….” Tim shook his head and Jimmy put his head down, leaving Tim to continue.
“You’re such a pansy, brother mine. At least I know what to do with woman. You? Books and readin’ and such. You’re hardly a man to teach me what’s what.”
“I am what I am, Tim. You’re like Da in so many ways. I guess I take after Mum, and more’s the pity, I guess. “ Jimmy put his head down.
“You guess? I know. I’ve seen you around girls, lad. I know what you’re all about, and I’m…”
“Ashamed of me, Tim? Go ahead. Say it. Do you think I like being what I am? All the teasin’ growin’ up. All the times you had to pull the bullies off me? All the times….” Jimmy looked away, feeling alone. He sighed and spoke.
“Don’t I know it? You think I like bein’ this way?
“I’m not ashamed of you. And….” Tim looked away and sighed in response.
“I’m not happy with the way I am, Jim. But you got to know I’m tryin’….hard. It’s just not ….
“I know. Maybe we have to lean on each other? You’re my brother. I love you. Mum loves you. Maybe you just have to learn to love yourself?”
“Aye….aye….”
But this I know for certain: you'll come back again
You'll come back again
And even as I promised you'll find me waiting then
You'll find me waiting then
Maggie’s walk up, a few days later...
“You seem to be a bit distracted, darlin’….. “ Maggie grinned and went to say something to tease, but pulled back as the girl looked at her and frowned.
“It’s hard…very…difficult,” Maggie and Judy were still in a place of finding a common ground where both of them were understood.
“Difficult….yes.” Judy put her head down.
“You’ve taken to him, darlin,’ and there’s no mistakin’ that.” Maggie put her hand on the girl’s shoulder but she pulled away. She turned toward the wall and hugged her shoulders. Maggie stepped closer and placed her hand on Judy’s and held fast.
Nein…no….p…please?” The girl looked at Maggie’s reflection in the mirror on the wall. The woman’s expression had gone from playful to sad and sympathetic. Judy turned.
“My…besodik….my secret….” Her voice trailed off as she put her head down once again.
“Keepin’ a secret so big is so hard, sweet girl….I’m so sorry.”
“My …my secret….you would not….tell?” Maggie would have been hurt by the girl’s question but for the fact that she knew how frightened and scared the girl still remained even after months with friends like her and Marty.
“Never, Judith McDonough….never.” The mention of the girl’s adoptive name gave more meaning to the words; no one would ever hear from Maggie where and how Judy came to come to this place in time.
“It….It hurts. Marty….never.” The words were short but true; even if English was still difficult, she could speak the truth. It did hurt.
“I know.” Judy had resumed her self-hug. It felt to Maggie also that the girl would never enjoy the warmth than only a hug from a lover could provide. She knew all too well that feeling of loneliness mixed with shame. She nodded at her own reflection and spoke.
“I’ve got my own…besodik. I know.” She eyed the girl up and down.
“You ….know….you always know?” Beyond the words the two had exchanged over the last few months, nothing was spoken about Judy’s secret. But this went beyond mere words. Judy’s eyes widened in shock and question.
“Even before you told me….the day you fell off the boat and into the sea, darlin’. You were soaked to the gills, and you had to get warm. You don’t even remember do you?” She tilted her head and Judy smiled at their reflections but shook her head.
“You had to get warm, and that meant getting those wet clothes off ye and into something dry. I saw you, Judy. I knew then before you even breathed a word, and I’m sorry.”
“You….understand….” Judy’s eyes began to mist.
“More than you know….and I’m sorry but I’m not the only one….” Maggie’s voice trailed off; needless embarrassment over what had been unavoidable.
“Marty…does he know?” Even now, after months of disappointment as Marty O’Phelan was married and now with a baby on the way, Judy’s heart ached over a love that would never be.
“He came up when I was….and he saw. He turned away at once, but I’m sorry, girl. He saw.”
“Oh….no….no…”
“Marty will never tell a soul. He understands.”
“Understands???? Nein….” She pled as she turned to face Maggie. She would have buried her face in her friend’s bosom but Maggie held her arms out to keep the girl apart. She needed to talk and it had to be eye to eye.
“Marty understands because he has always understood.” Maggie continued to hold out her left hand while she unbuttoned her blouse. She beckoned the girl closer. Judy stepped up and Maggie placed the girl’s right hand on her bosom….her mostly flat bosom. The girl pulled her hand away quickly.
“When I was little, my mother called me her treasure. When I was born, the doctor…a heathen that he was, wanted to let me die….But Mum wouldn’t let him. She called me her little pearl. That’s what my name means….pearl.”
“I don’t understand?” Judy’s eyes indicated almost otherwise as she stared at her friend’s face. Maggie’s eyes glanced at her before glancing down.
“I don’t suppose I’ll need to show you? We’re sisters in more than just being friends, darlin’”
“Was…what…..Maggie? I don’t…”
“When I was born I was quite different. But Mum kept it a secret from everybody, includin’ my Da, God rest his soul. But Marty knew. He never said a word to anyone. When we were little, he’d fight my battles for me.
“He’s just a wee bit sick, lads…quit pickin’ on him, or I’ll beat your bloody brains out,” he said to one boy. He kept anyone from hurtin’ me.
“He….him?” Judy was still trying to gain a foothold on learning English, but she understood enough to ask the question.
“We started out from Armagh after our Mum died, and ended up in Belfast, and after a bit, we had enough money to book passage to come here.” She laughed softly even as her eyes teared up.
“Yes….I remember you …told me.”
“What I didn’t tell you is that I left Belfast as Maggie O’Phelan but I came to Belfast as Patrick Sean O’Phelan, first born son of Patrick Sean O’Phelan, Sr.” Maggie put her head down and began to sob. Judy stepped close and pulled her into a hug. She whispered a soft shhh and then an old lullaby she remembered from when she was little. It was the first time she had given comfort to another person. And it was good.
“So….you see, Marty will never hurt you….He loves you like his own.” She patted her chest and gasped.
“He and Kate must have been meant to be, darlin.’ Twas nothing about you and everything about them that brought them together.” She smiled weakly. At thirty-three, even as young as that was, for Maggie there was likely no hope that she would ever find love, but maybe…just maybe there would be hope for Judith Sokol McDonough.
As they held each other, something came to Maggie that her mother always said; that God never makes mistakes... and that every single thing happens for a reason.
Kennedy's, early August, 1914..
God help you when wand'ring your way all alone
Your way all alone
God grant to you his strength as you'll kneel at his throne
As you'll kneel at his throne
“Hey, McCarthy? Where’s me bleedin’ money?” The tall man stepped out from the alley next to Kennedy’s and pushed Jimmy rudely.
“What are you talkin’ about. “ Jimmy knew Reardon was into book and such, but wasn’t one to steal or extort.
“Yer brother Timothy owes me money…. Seventy-five dollars and interest and he’s been a bit slow in payin,’ so I’m comin’ to his kin to collect.”
“I don’t have but twelve dollars, and that’s for me Mum, Harry.”
“I don’t fookin’ care, Jimmy. It could be for John Fookin’ Mitchel, for all I care. Hand it over.”
“No.” Jimmy stared at Reardon; the man was six-foot-two; taller by a foot and with at least one hundred pounds more than Jimmy as well, but he wasn’t going to give in. He stepped off the curb and into the street, nearly hit by a passing trolley.
“So that’s the way it’s gonna be, aye?” Reardon rolled up his sleeves and spit in each palm before putting up his dukes. Jimmy swallowed hard and waited for the first punch that never arrived as Reardon keeled forward, bouncing off the fender of a delivery van before falling into the gutter, face up. Jimmy looked past Reardon to find Seamus Kennedy slapping a sap in his right hand; grinning ear to ear.
“You best be along, lad. I’ll settle up with the beast here. He owes me as much; I heard him yappin’ his gums loud enough just a while ago. But ye best tell yer brother he owes me seventy-five dollars. I’ll take it out in trade, since I know the idjut doesn’t even have a bleedin’ job. He can stop by tomorrow, seven ay em is fine with me.” Seamus patted the young man on the back and walked into the pub. And two figures stood at the doorway. Maggie and Judy turned to each other; both sad for the younger girl.
The next morning...
“And that’s it? I don’t get a say?” Tim looked up at Seamus. The man offered him a hand and he stood up, the sadder but wiser recent recipient of a rude if entirely deserved shove.
“You got a say when you were stupid enough to gamble yer mother’s egg money these past months. Between me and yer brother, you’re square with Reardon, and if you work for me, you’ll be square. Two dollars a week until you’re paid back.” Seamus folded his arms and smiled.
“You can help clean the place and I’ll be needin’ help behind the bar since Ferguson decided to join up with the Brits in the war. You can handle all the deliveries if I’m not around and handle them with me if I am.” Seamus stuck out his hand and Tim took it, shaking it awkwardly, since Tim wasn’t used to keeping promises or even working for a living.
“And lay off my girls, Tim.” Tim was twenty-nine and had never met a girl he didn’t like…at least once. The younger girl intrigued him, but the older woman made him feel very uncomfortable without knowing why. She added to his awkwardness almost immediately.
“So, Tim McCarthy, I see yer on the straight and narrow, aye? And not a moment too soon, since yer Ma has needed yer help since Hector was a Pup, I’ll bet.” Maggie teased. Tim stared at her; for once in his life at a loss for words. She smiled at his uncharacteristic silence.
“Well…. Well….” Tim shook his head, searching for something clever to say. A man can only stand so much. Instead he lowered his head slightly as he walked past the two women, saying at last,
“God bless all here.”
A few minutes later, Jimmy walked into the pub and up to his brother. He shook his hand and smiled. Tim expected gloating but was surprised.
“Thank you. I told Mum you had a job and that you’d be payin’ her back. She just about bawled her head off but she was smilin’ the whole time. I’m right there with ye, Timmy Lad, okay?” It was an odd if welcome sight to find both brothers standing face to face without an argument. Jimmy pulled Tim into an awkward hug and kissed his brother on the cheek.
“God bless you.”
And off to the side, the two women smiled.
Maggie’s walk-up, a few weeks later….
Maggie heard a brisk rap on the front door. She walked over and opened it to find Jimmy McCarthy standing on the landing; hat in hand.
“Is Judith…Is Miss McDonough at home?”
“May I ask who’s callin’,” Maggie laughed and ushered him in.
“She’s in the other room. I’ll go fetch her.” Maggie walked over and entered the bedroom without knocking. Judy was sitting on the bed, her face pale and her hands shaking.
“Steady, Lass. It’s only him callin’. Ye don’t know what he’s here for.” Maggie had no doubt what Jimmy was there for, but it was not going to be an easy visit, no matter how it turned out. She lifted Judy to her feet. Grabbing a comb off the dresser, she ran it through the girl’s hair quickly before shoving her out into the outer room. The girl stood back and put her head down; her chin quivering from fear. Jimmy smiled.
“Miss McDonough? I’ve come to ask if I may call on you on a regular basis, if that’s alright with you and your kin.” It was alright and horrible for Judy at the same time. She had no idea what Maggie thought, but if she could see her friend standing on the other side of the bedroom door with fingers crossed she could have guessed.
“I….you….” She stammered. Jimmy seemed to rise up; standing only a bit taller than his five foot three. He smiled and stepped closer, leaving the girl more anxious than ever.
“I know I’m not much to look at, and I …I’m not ….like my brother.” He meant it as a compliment to Tim rather than an insult; the past several weeks had brought out the best in Tim and Jimmy meant only to compare how much more of a man he felt Tim was.
“Ich…I …think you’re….nice.” Jimmy was never one for words about himself, but nice actually was a good word for him. He was pretty much like what many of his brother’s lads believed and then some, but he would never be able to say that to a woman. That and still be thought of as someone to like. He did the stepping back, and knocked a vase of the small table next to the door. It fell to the floor, but landed with a clunk; the water spilling out onto a throw rug.
Judy got a towel from the kitchen and knelt down and wiped up the water. She looked up into Jimmy’s eyes and saw something she had only seen twice before. It both encouraged her and frightened her. She stood up quickly and retreated into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry. I’m usually not so clumsy. “ Truth was, Jimmy McCarthy was far from clumsy. He had learned at a very early age, however, to hide the way he really was. Something in his eyes completely disarmed the girl’s defenses; so much so as to leave her very vulnerable with only the hope that what she would say would never leave the room. She bit her lip and tears came to her eyes.
“Maggie? Maggie?” Her call was only a bit louder than a whisper but urgent enough that her friend came rushing to her side.
“What’s wrong darlin’ this boy hasn’t…” Maggie glared at Jimmy but Judy put her hand on Maggie’s arm.
“Nein…no, no….not bad…” She turned to Jimmy and half frowned; the expression of a someone whose next few words would likely consign her to a future of loneliness and heartache, but she could not keep quiet for both their sakes. She stepped closer to Jimmy as tears began to stream down her cheeks. Lowering her gaze, she placed her hand on her chest and patted it once.
“I… I’m sorry, Mmmm Mister Mc….Carthy….” She shook her head as the tears fell freely. He tilted his head slightly and squinted; wanting to hear what she had to say that had to be so horrible as to cause her so much sadness.
“Meine namen….My name…..nichs….not Judith….” She turned to Maggie and Maggie was speechless. She wanted to stop the girl, but her words seem to be stuck in the back of her throat. The girl turned around and faced Jimmy and spoke slowly and carefully.
“Ikh heys….Aram Sokol” She spun quickly and ran into the bedroom, closing the door with a slow quiet thunk.. In a moment she was on the bed, weeping almost silently into a pillow.
A few minutes later she heard a knock at the door. She didn’t even have strength to answer. A moment later she heard the sound of the door opening and the creak of floorboards.
“No, Judith….Judith Sokol, “ she heard her name past the sobs. The voice was familiar, but not just from the moment. She turned and struggled to sit up, A hand reached down and helped her; a soft, gentle hand that seemed to bless her merely by the grasp. She peered through eyes puffy from crying to see Jimmy McCarthy smiling through his own tears. He knelt on one knee at the edge of the bed’ almost a genuflect of unexpected understanding.
“Before you speak, you have to know that no man has spoken to me, Judith, but I know,” Judy’s eyes widened in horror, but he patted her hand softly.
“I’ve never been much…” he gasped at his own shame before collecting himself.
“I’ll never be a father….I am sorry for that, but maybe that’s why God in his mercy has brought us together, I hope.” She put her head down, but he lifted her chin with that same soft hand.
“But that’s just it, Judith Sokol. We aren’t his second best, but his first. You and me? I think you’re just about the sweetest girl I’ve ever met.”
“No…Pʼalş! No, Jimmy….” Judy swung her legs off the bed and stood up. She went to step past him, but stumbled into his arms. He held her at arm’s length and spoke.
“I don’t understand what you said, but I got your meanin’. You’re as real as ever was, and you’re just fine by me.” She shook her head no, but he pulled her close.
“If you weren’t real could I do this?” He kissed her on the bridge of her nose, savoring her tears.
“Or this,” he laughed softly, kissing her chin.”
“N…No…” She whispered, not in argument but in that she could not argue. He smiled and drew her close and kissed her gently and tentatively on the lips. She kissed back only for a moment before nestling in his arms as gentle sobs soothed her heart.
A few months later, on the Staten Island Ferry….
Jimmy pulled Judy close to him; even with the warmth of her coat, it felt good to be close. The future was theirs, as the old saying goes and they were going to live it in enjoyment for as long as they could. A cold wind seemed to bite through her to her skin, but he pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her small frame.
“Now don’t go gettin’ ahead of me now,” a voice called from down the deck a bit. Tim was waving at his brother. A beer in one hand was no surprise. That he held the hand of Maggie O’Phelan might have been a complete surprise for many, but she was a good woman, and he came to appreciate that because they kept no secrets from the start.
“It’s not where you got on the train that counts so much as where yer gettin’ off, aye?” A saying that made little sense to his friends but complete sense to the couple. The hardest part for him was admitting he was bein’ kept by an older woman, which suited him just fine.
A short while later a fog seem to rush up and surround the boat, leaving the harbor obscure except for the tall statue that towered over the low clouds. And words were spoken….familiar words…comforting words…. There may be as a testament to the grace of their god, but maybe also as a reminder of something that Judy’s mother said when she was growing up….
Ironic in that it sounded Irish as well, but it was Yiddish, and it means,
Whatever the reason, the words cut through the fog like a hot wind in August. Judy looked at Jimmy and spoke haltingly.
“I am not ready. I fear I will never be ready.” She looked around and found she was standing on the deck of a ship. The fog was thick, but noises in the near distance told her that the ship was near land. She could almost make out lights in the darkness and a very large object seemed to jut straight out of the water and tower over the ship; dimly lit and barely visible as it disappeared back into the fog.
“You’ve been ready all your life,” another voice spoke; closer and more real; it sounded almost melodic but strong and masculine at the same time. She looked up to see a very handsome red-haired young man standing against the deck rail next to her; his smile invasive and inviting at the same time. And she felt safe.
“I don’t know why, but something is telling me to let you know that dreams do come true. Take it for what it’s worth.” He reached over and pulled her closer. She saw strength and kindness and sadness and joy in the man’s eyes, and she shook her head; fearing it was all just a dream. He smiled and spoke,
“Yehudit?”
Judy stared into Jimmy’s eyes and he smiled as he said at last,
“Yehudit Sokol McDonough McCarthy….I love you!”
The winter may pass and the spring disappear
The spring disappear
The summer too will vanish and then the year
And then the year
But this I know for certain: you'll come back again
You'll come back again
And even as I promised you'll find me waiting then
You'll find me waiting then
Papa Can You Hear Me?
from the motion pictureYentl
The song was composed by Michel Legrand,
with lyrics by Alan Bergman and Marilyn Bergman.
As performed by Itzhak Perlman
Mi Mancherai (I Miss You)
from the Motion Picture
Il Postino
Performed by Destini Beaed
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j31V7YjVP3A
Gartan Mother's Lullaby is an old Irish song and poem written by Herbert Hughes and Seosamh Mac Cathmhaoil, first published in Songs of Uladh [Ulster] in 1904. Hughes collected the traditional melody in Donegal the previous year and Campbell wrote the lyrics. The song is a lullaby by a mother, from the parish of Gartan in County Donegal. The song refers to a number of figures in Irish mythology, places in Ireland and words in the Irish language. As sung by Meryl Streep
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ozcR47vy5qw
Solveig’s Song
From Peer Gynt, Opus 23
As Sung by Meav Ni Mhaolchatha
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xcssXMWtY9k
Artwork adapted from
The Dark Haired Beauty
by Alexej Harlamoff
Comments
Well...
There's nothing like a Rom-Dram that ends with a wee bit of Com!!! Does that make it a Rom-Dram-Com??? Thanks mom!!!
Da Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrat
another fantastic story
but from Drea, why would we expect less?