Shelly Sanders - Rachel's Secret

Sergei averted his eyes to keep from changing his mind. “What would you like to eat?” he asked.

“I’m not hungry.” Menahem turned and walked away.

Sergei followed. “I know that’s not true. You get barely enough to survive at the orphanage.” Menahem kept walking. Sergei grabbed his shirtsleeve and stopped him. “Talk to me, Menahem.”

“What do you care about what I eat? You’re leaving.” Menahem pulled away from Sergei.

Sergei pictured him covered in bumps and bruises from boys at the orphanage and flinched. “Don’t be mad,” he said. “I’m not leaving yet.”

Menahem peered at him. “Do you mean it? You’re really not going away?”

Sergei bit his bottom lip and nodded. “Not right away,” he said. He would keep trying to get work in Kishinev so he could watch over Menahem, and take care of his mother and sister. It was crazy, thinking he could just leave as if this boy meant nothing to him.

Sergei woke abruptly to the sound of breaking glass. He shook his head and touched his money pouch to make sure it was still there. Running his hand through his messy hair, he stood up and stretched. Outside his window the night was heavy and black.

Sergei heard a loud smash in the front room. Afraid that his family was being robbed, he walked cautiously from his bedroom, grabbing the heavy drinking cup from his bedside table to throw at an intruder if necessary. But the only person in the living area was his father, who gazed at him with hollow eyes from the sofa. Sergei entered the room and just missed stepping on a broken vodka bottle.

His father belched and kicked a glass tumbler lying at his feet.

“When are you going to stop drinking and get a job?” he asked his father. “How can you expect Mama, Natalya, and Carlotta to put up with this?”

“Do you have a cigarette?” his father asked, searching the room to find one. Sergei saw despair in his eyes, which frightened him. He hardly recognized his father anymore. It was as if a stranger had taken over his body and mind—a curse for not helping the Jews during the riots. Sergei trudged back to bed, where he lay awake for the rest of the night.

Rachel smiled when she saw Sergei waiting for her in the crowded hospital courtyard. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

He grinned and handed her a leather-bound journal full of empty pages. “If you’re going to write about Kishinev, you’ll need lots of paper.”

She looked down at the journal and cradled it in her arms, against her chest. “Thank you. This is a wonderful gift.” Her eyes glistened.

Sergei nodded and glanced at the entry to the courtyard. “I’ve been turned down for jobs at three cabinet makers, four shopkeepers, and a wax chandler today.” He paused. “So I’m hoping you can go for a walk and cheer me up.”

Rachel fell in step with him. “I know what you’re feeling. If you watched me sew, you’d be laughing in no time,” she said as they strolled out of the courtyard. “I spend more time getting rid of knots in the thread, and then re-threading the needle, than I do sewing. Fortunately, my mother and sister are making much better progress, or we’d never make enough money for our passage.”

“I know you’ll be safer in America, but I wish you weren’t leaving.”

Rachel blushed. “Maybe you’ll come to America one day and visit me.” She twisted her braid. “I hope you come.”

He stopped and touched her shoulder while people rushed by, jostling them as they stood in the middle of the sidewalk. In the distance, she heard the sweet sound of a balalaika . Her heart fluttered with the music.

“It’s too crowded here. Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“I don’t know. The river?”

“A group of my friends are there.” He lowered his eyes. “It might not be such a good idea.”

“You’re right… wait a minute! There’s another section of the river that hardly anybody knows about,” Rachel said. “Your friends won’t be anywhere near us. Come on.”

Rachel led Sergei past deserted makeshift shanties into a forest of towering spruce trees.

“We’re almost there,” she said, breathing in the savory aroma of wild mushrooms that lined their path. The ground was flat, wet, and green as they approached the river.

“I can’t believe how narrow the river is here,” Sergei said.

Rachel shaded her eyes and squinted. “You can hop to the other side. I haven’t been here in ages.” She pointed to a spot at the river’s edge. “Look, the ground is pretty dry over there.”

She ran to the spot and sat down. Sergei did the same, sitting close so that their arms touched. Rachel gazed ahead dreamily. “Sometimes I wish I could just live in a place like this, with no other people around to tell me what to do or say.”

She turned and met his eyes. Chills ran up her spine as his face moved closer and his lips met hers. They were warm and his breath smelled of tobacco and mint, which reminded her of Mikhail. Rachel pulled away. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m Jewish, and you’re not. Because if anyone saw you with me, they’d kill me, and maybe even you. I think that’s why Mikhail’s uncle killed him—”

“Because you were friends? You think his uncle killed him because of you?”

She nodded and looked away.

“That’s not true, Rachel. His uncle had just lost his job as a policeman. Mikhail’s grandfather believes he wanted to inherit his business—for the money. The indictment against Mikhail’s uncle was published in the newspaper today. The trial is tomorrow. Here,” he said, pulling a square piece of paper out of his coat pocket, “this pass will allow you to attend the trial. I would go, but I have to look for a job.”

Rachel stared at Sergei as she tried to make sense of his words. “You mean…it wasn’t my fault?” She took the pass and studied it carefully.

“That’s exactly what I mean.” He moved closer, so that their noses were almost touching. “Would it be all right if I kissed you again?”

Rachel held her breath and considered this. She felt a twinge of guilt for betraying Mikhail, but he was gone, and she’d never had deep feelings for him, not like these feelings she had for Sergei. Besides, she would be leaving soon. What harm could a kiss do?

She nodded, unable to tear her gaze from his. Sergei brushed a stray hair from her eyes and cupped her face in his hands. Their lips met, and he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her.

She trembled and pressed against him so tightly she could feel his heart beating. “I guess Rena was right. I do need to start trusting people again,” she said when they drew apart.

“Who’s Rena?” He sounded out of breath.

“A very smart lady at the hospital.” Rachel kissed him on the lips and smiled as he ran his fingers down her cheek. She felt his strong arms around her and wished she could hold onto this moment forever. Sergei had been so good to her, and to Menahem, which she knew would have impressed her father. It was going to be hard leaving him, but even if she stayed, they had no future. A Jew and a gentile could never be together.

A magpie began chattering noisily overhead, breaking the silence. They started back toward the hospital, hands by their sides so that their deepening relationship would remain a secret.

“Rachel… a letter came for you today.” Rena held up an envelope as Rachel walked past her office.

“Who would write to me?” Rachel entered Rena’s office reluctantly. She wanted to be alone to think about every moment she’d just spent with Sergei, to close her eyes and remember the way his hand felt on her face.

“Why don’t you open it and see.” Rena handed her the envelope and smiled.