Shelly Sanders - Rachel's Secret

“What did Tevye decide?” asked Leah.

“He realized he didn’t know the answer,” said Rachel. “And I suppose nobody really does. If they did, maybe we all wouldn’t be here right now.” She glanced back at Korolenko. He was writing quickly, his pen moving fluidly across the paper. Rachel glanced up and met his dark eyes. She wondered what he was thinking and what he would end up writing. Even though Rena was sure this man was honorable, Rachel was not convinced.

Rachel heard Chaia’s laughter. It was coming from behind her but when she turned around, nobody was there. Everything was green. The trees, the grass. Spring was everywhere. There was the laughter again. Rachel turned in a circle. Her father’s violin played a haunting melody she’d never heard before.

“Sholom aleichem.”

“Sacha! Sacha Talinsky, where are you?” she called. Her voice echoed.

“It serves you right,” said Nucia’s voice, which seemed to float above her like a cloud.

Rachel looked up, but the sky was clear and bluer than she’d ever seen.

“Where is everyone? Why are you hiding?” Rachel cried. “Come out, let me see you.”

She walked and the green started to become a murky yellow. The trees lost their leaves and the wind began whistling by. Rachel crossed her arms and shivered.

Mikhail’s voice suddenly interrupted the silence. “Stop! Please don’t!”

Rachel covered her ears to keep Mikhail’s words out of her head. She began running until the sky was gray and snow was falling. Chaia’s face appeared before her, staring at her with blank eyes.

She stopped running and looked around. A path led to the right, where an arch of barren trees seemed to be waiting for her. Rachel began walking, but stopped when she heard wolves howling in the distance.

“Help!” she cried. “Help! Please, someone help me.”

A crashing noise sounded from in front of her. Rachel froze in place. There was a river, with three large objects floating in it. Rachel tiptoed closer until she could see they were heads. She screamed. The heads turned in the water, revealing the faces of Mikhail, her father, and Mr. Berlatsky. All three faces smiled at her.

“No!” screamed Rachel. “No!”

“Wake up! Wake up, Rachel, you’re having a nightmare.”

Rachel opened her eyes when she heard her mother’s voice. She pulled the cover over her face, expecting to see her mother’s head bobbing in the river.

Her mother pulled the cover down. “It’s all right. You were having a bad nightmare.”

Wearily, she turned her head away, but when she closed her eyes, she saw the river again, with the heads floating on its surface. The rest of the night Rachel lay awake with her eyes wide open, waiting for daylight to obscure her nightmare.

A soft cry woke Sergei. The flat was bathed in early morning light. He sat up slowly and remained sitting on the side of his bed until the grogginess subsided.

His mother sat at the kitchen table staring blankly out the window. As his eyes cleared, he saw that she was still wearing the clothes she had on the previous day. She looked exhausted. Rachel was right. His mother needed money right now. He tiptoed over to the coffer and replaced the money he’d taken.

“Mama, didn’t you sleep?” Sergei sat down beside her and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. “Mama?”

“Your father didn’t come home last night,” she said. Only her lips moved as she spoke, and she looked old and tired, her skin ashen gray.

“He probably lost track of time at the tavern, Mama. He’ll be home soon.” Sergei wrapped his right arm loosely around her shoulder.

She patted his hand. “You’re a good boy, Sergei. A good boy.”

He flushed with embarrassment.

“Your father… he used to be good also. Honest. Smart. But somehow he lost his way. I don’t know how it happened, or when.”

“It’s all right Mama. You don’t have to talk about—”

“Hush.” His mother interrupted with an urgency that surprised him. “I must talk. I don’t want you to lose your way.”

“I’ll stay with you, Mama, so that I don’t lose my way.” He was surprised by the words that had slipped so easily from his lips.

“No! That’s not what I mean. You must go far away from here—where you can escape your father’s reputation, where you can start fresh.”

A few months ago, this was exactly what he had wanted, but now he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t want to leave his mother and sister behind.

“I have something for you.” His mother stood up, walked to the cupboard, and took out the coffer.

Sergei held his breath as she pulled off the lid and took out the money he had just returned.“Here. Take this.” She pushed the rubles and kopecks into his hand.

Sergei pushed it back. “You need it for yourself and Natalya and Carlotta. I can’t take it.”

His mother fixed her teary eyes on his. “There is still enough money for us, and I have found work as a seamstress. We’ll be fine.”

Sergei stared at the money, which lay heavy in his hand.

“Put it in a safe place where your father won’t find it. He’s squandering everything he has on cards and drink. Go. Make haste. Hide it safely away.”

He hugged his mother tightly. Now he could go away with his mother’s blessing. Still, his throat constricted as he thought about leaving Natalya with his drunken father. And he worried about leaving Menahem all alone in the orphanage. But if he stayed, it would be hard to find work with his father’s tarnished reputation. There was no perfect solution, no easy answer.

Curious eyes peered around the corner as Sergei waited for Menahem. He attempted to smile at the children watching him, but his mouth refused to cooperate.

“Hello, Sergei!” Menahem beamed when he saw him, making Sergei feel even guiltier about the prospect of abandoning the boy.

As Menahem moved closer, Sergei noticed a lump on his forehead. “What happened to you?”

Menahem looked down at the floor. “Nothing. It’s all right. Can we just go?”

Sergei searched for the matron, hoping for an answer, but she was busy tending to a weeping child.

As soon as they were out of the courtyard, Sergei stopped walking and took hold of Menahem. “We’re away from the orphanage. Now, tell me what happened. How did you get that lump?”

“There’s this group of big boys,” Menahem answered slowly, “and when they tell us to do something, we have to do it, or they hit us.” He took a deep breath. “This one, named Ivan, told me to steal the matron’s key so he could go into the kitchen at night for food. I couldn’t do it. If you get in trouble, you have to sleep in a dark room all by yourself. I was afraid of being caught.”

“That’s horrible! When did he hit you?”

“When I was asleep last night. But it doesn’t hurt too much.”

Sergei groaned. “Didn’t the matron punish him?”

“I didn’t tell her. If I did, Ivan would keep hitting me.”

“But… your head?”

“She’s too busy to notice.” Menahem looked up at Sergei. “Don’t tell her. It’ll be worse for me if you do.”

Sergei sighed. “I promise. Come. Let’s get something to eat.” How could he ever say good-bye to Menahem, when the people who were supposed to be looking after him didn’t care about him.

“You look sad today,” said Menahem as they waited in line at a street vendor.

Sergei forced a smile. “I might have to go away.”

“From Kishinev?”

Sergei nodded. “I need to find a job. There’s nothing here.”

Menahem’s eyes brimmed with tears.