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  Ella could tell Papa felt a little strange. She could see he missed the friendly atmosphere of his own synagogue where everyone chanted aloud in Hebrew, in his own fashion. In this grand temple, services were formal. The congregation sat listening quietly while the rabbi preached a sermon, mostly in English, in a resounding voice. “Just like an actor,” Ella whispered.

  “Praying in English!” Papa sniffed. “Some rabbi! He hasn’t even got a beard.”

  But the girls liked the services. They enjoyed listening to the choir and joining in the communal reading from the prayer books. If I could only be in a choir like that, Ella thought.

  As they walked home, Mama linked her arm through Papa’s. “Well, Papa, I guess the world has to move on. New times—new ways!”

  “I suppose it’s all right,” Papa answered. “They have good Jewish hearts, our children. God will hear their prayers in English, too, I’m sure.”

  Life was good for the family in the weeks that followed. But in the city, the epidemic still raged, and nearly every week Papa brought news of some unfortunate neighbor that was stricken.

  Especially they could not forget Lena. The girls wrote her weekly letters full of cheer and gossipy bits about their daily lives, with amusing little sketches drawn by Ella. But their letters were never answered. The children could not understand why. “She’s probably still too weak to write,” said Mama.

  Several times Mama invited Uncle Hyman to come and visit. But he told Papa he couldn’t. He said he wanted to be with Lena as much as possible.

  Then one day he suddenly appeared, more shabby and unkempt than they had ever seen him. His stocky body seemed to have shrunk inside his rumpled suit. His round face was drawn, and his once merry eyes were sorrowful.

  “How’s Lena?” Mama asked.

  “She’s all right,” he replied dully. “She’ll be coming out of the hospital in a couple of days.”

  “Why, that’s wonderful!” the children cried.

  Uncle Hyman shook his head. “Lena won’t marry me.”

  “What? What are you saying?” Mama was shocked.

  Charlotte could feel her heart sink. “Doesn’t she love you any more, Uncle Hyman?” she asked, her voice all trembly.

  Uncle Hyman’s hands rose and fell despairingly. “She does. But she won’t marry me.”

  “But, why? Why?” Mama kept repeating. “I just don’t understand!”

  Uncle Hyman wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Then the words came haltingly. “We didn’t tell anyone before—we weren’t sure—we thought maybe—” He raised his head and talked only to Mama. “Lena’s left leg is paralyzed. She’ll have to wear a brace for the rest of her life!”

  Mama rushed over and put her arm around her brother. “Oh, Hyman! To bear this alone—all this time.”

  For a while no one said anything. There didn’t seem to be anything to say.

  “So that’s why she won’t marry me,” Uncle Hyman continued. “She feels she has no right to hold me.”

  “She’s a proud girl, Hyman,” declared Mama.

  “Stubborn, you mean!” Uncle Hyman suddenly exploded.

  “Perhaps,” Mama answered, “but don’t you see, Hyman, Lena’s not the kind that wants pity.”

  “Who’s pitying her? So she won’t be able to run and jump around! What do I care? I’m such a bargain myself? To me, Lena’s the most wonderful happening in my whole life. All I know is I love her, and I want her to be my wife.”

  “Did you tell her that?” asked Ella.

  “I tried. But she wouldn’t listen. She said she never wants to see me again—just like that!”

  Slowly Mama walked round and round the room, thinking. Everyone watched her. “Now listen carefully, Hyman,” she said. “Just coming out of a hospital, Lena needs care. I’ll have Papa bring her out this Friday. It will do her a world of good being here with me and the children. She can sit on the porch or out in the back garden.”

  “She wouldn’t come.”

  “We’ll make her,” Mama said firmly. “When we’re together I’ll talk to her. Maybe I can make her understand how wrong she’s acting.”

  Uncle Hyman flashed Mama a look of hope.

  “But, Hyman,” Mama added gently, “I think it’ll be better if you don’t come here—at least till I’ve had a chance to talk to her.”

  Uncle Hyman nodded his head and sighed heavily. “Yes, I understand. Only please, please, try!”

  “I will, Hyman. I will,” Mama assured him earnestly.

  IN THE END it was Mama herself who finally brought Lena out. It was way past midnight when they arrived, and the children were all sound asleep in their beds.

  In the morning, Sarah asked, “Did she come, Mama?”

  “Yes. She’s here.”

  They would have rushed from their beds, but Mama held up her hand warningly. She seemed to want to tell them something, but all she said was “Be careful, children.”

  It was a quiet group that followed Mama into the kitchen. Lena sat in the armchair by the open window, a light shawl thrown across her lap reaching to the floor. She had grown thin. Her face appeared almost gray, and deep shadows lay in the hollows beneath her eyes.

  The sisters gathered around her with little Charlie grasping the arm of her chair. After a pause, Ella said, “We’re so glad to see you, Lena.”

  Lena smiled at them. Her voice seemed strangely weak as she answered, “I’m happy to be with you all.”

  Immediately the girls were chattering about how much they were enjoying themselves, but Mama shooed them off. “Time for breakfast,” she announced. “Besides, Lena needs rest and quiet.”

  Lena bent forward and took hold of Charlie’s little fist. “And how’s my little feller?” she asked. Charlie gazed up at her inquisitively. “Lena, Lena, Lena,” he said sing-song as if the sound pleased him. He started to climb her lap. The shawl pulled away and slipped to the ground. The child’s eye caught the gleam of shiny metal. “What you got on your leg?” he asked.

  There was a dreadful moment of silence. The girls stared at the bulky frame of metal and leather straps.

  Lena’s lips pressed tightly together. A flicker of pain seemed to cross her face, but when she spoke, her voice was steady. “It’s a brace, Charlie. My leg is sick. I can’t walk without the brace.” Quickly she picked up the shawl and covered her legs.

  The girls sent appealing glances in Mama’s direction. Mama came forward and took Charlie by the hand. “Raisins in your oatmeal this morning, Charlie. Just what you like.”

  The week that followed was a strain on everyone. Lena was learning to walk all over again, dragging the useless leg clumsily after her. It made the children sad. They could not help but remember the Lena who had been so keenly alive and gay. They soon realized that she hated to have anyone watch her limping along. So they would deliberately turn their backs and pretend to be busy elsewhere.

  She never ventured beyond the front porch. Sometimes the girls would come upon her sitting there. A book or a bit of crocheting would lie neglected in her lap as she stared off into space. Sometimes, too, in the middle of the day, she’d go off to the bedroom to “lie down a little.” But when she came out, her eyes would be red-rimmed and her nose all puffy.

  Mama gave every spare moment to Lena, diverting her with chitchat and with work she could share in. Often when the children would return from the beach, they would find the two in earnest conversation. They could tell Mama was trying her best to set Lena right.

  Time, the sunshine and fresh air, plus the loving care of the family, began slowly to work their miracles. One late afternoon the children found Mama and Lena sunning themselves in the backyard. “It’s really nice here,” Lena greeted them with a little laugh.

  “It was very hard for her,” Mama told them later. “Down all those porch steps! But she did it all by herself!”

  Over the weekend, with Papa there, the house echoed with bright talk and merriment. He was in one of his comical moods, and he h
ad them all in stitches. Once or twice even Lena couldn’t help joining in the fun. “It’s so good to hear her laugh again,” Ella said.

  A big event occurred in Ella’s life the day Jules came up from the city. They spent the entire afternoon together on the beach. At supper time, while Jules was washing up, Lena asked jokingly, “You and your boy friend had a good time?”

  “How could we?” Ella complained mildly. “With all my sisters butting in every minute!”

  Later, in the cool of the evening, they went off for a walk by themselves. Ella felt pleasantly excited. Hand in hand, they strolled along the tree-lined streets. As they passed by the temple, the sound of beautiful singing floated out on the soft summer breeze.

  “That’s the High Holy Day Services they’re practicing,” Jules exclaimed. “I recognize it. I used to sing in a choir when I was a little boy.”

  “You did?” Ella was enchanted. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

  “Uh-huh. I used to be a boy soprano.” He grinned. “Until my voice changed.”

  “Let’s go inside,” Ella suggested. “I’m sure they won’t mind.”

  They tiptoed in and sat down in the back row. Suddenly Ella gripped Jules’s arm and whispered excitedly. “I know that music! We learned it in Hebrew School.” Before they knew it, they were both singing right along with the choir.

  Stirred by the beauty of the music and the joy of singing together, they completely forgot themselves. The choir leader caught the sound of singing coming from another part of the temple. Who would dare to interrupt his rehearsal? He motioned the choir to be still, and in the great big hall, only two voices went on.

  Ella stopped right in the middle of a high note. She had suddenly realized that no one else was singing. “Come on, Jules!” she whispered in a panic. “Let’s get out of here fast!” They edged their way out of the aisle.

  “Stop!” the loud command halted them instantly. Embarrassed, Jules turned to apologize. But what was this he was hearing? “Come on down here to the piano! You have good voices, both of you. Come along!”

  Ella caught Jules’s hand and squeezed it hard. Together they ran forward.

  “That was very nice. Very nice, indeed,” the leader said smiling at them. “Can you sight read? You know—sing straight from a musical score?” he asked.

  “I can,” Ella said with a rush. “I’ve been taking singing lessons for quite a while.” She pointed to Jules. “And he used to sing in a choir.”

  “Good. How’d you like to join our choir and sing with us during the High Holy Days?”

  Ella’s heart gave a skip and a jump. “Oh, I’d love it! How about you, Jules?”

  “Sure. I’d like to get back to singing again.”

  “Well, then,” Ella said, “when can we start?”

  The director smiled at her eagerness. “How about right now, and we’ll see how you make out.” He showed them to their places in the choir.

  It was much later in the evening, and the younger children were already asleep. Mama, Henny, and Lena sat rocking on the front porch. “I wonder what can be keeping them?” Mama fretted. “They were just going for a walk.”

  “Young people like to take long walks,” Lena answered.

  “Here they come now,” Henny called out.

  Sure enough, there they were, racing headlong down the block. Up the porch steps they bounded. “The most marvelous thing—happened to us—tonight!” Ella panted. “You’ll never guess!” And before anyone had a chance to reply, she proclaimed, “Meet the two newest members of the temple choir!”

  “What’s this?” Mama asked.

  So Ella plunged into the story. When she had finished, Mama was bursting with pride. “Wait till Papa hears! Won’t he be pleased!”

  “You haven’t heard it all, Mama,” Ella went on. “We’re going to be paid! Ten dollars each! Imagine that!”

  “Wow!” gasped Henny.

  “Of course we’ll have to practice for the rest of the summer.”

  “We’re going home right after Labor Day,” Mama reminded her. “What’s going to happen then?”

  “I’ll just ride back and forth for Sunday rehearsal. He said they’d pay the train fare.”

  “I see.” Mama nodded. “It should be a wonderful experience. We’ll talk about it some more. Now I think you’d better let Jules go home. He has a long trip.”

  “Well,” Jules said as if he had just thought of it, “I’d better be going. Good-by. Thanks for everything.”

  “Come on, Jules. I’ll see you to the corner,” Ella said, linking her arm through his.

  “ ’Bye. And don’t take another walk!” Henny called after them.

  “That’s a nice feller,” Lena remarked as she watched them go. “So good-looking, too.”

  In a couple of minutes Ella came skipping back. She sat down on the porch steps. “It’s been just the most perfect day!” she exclaimed blissfully. She stretched her arms high over her head. “I’m so happy!”

  “Why shouldn’t you be happy?” Lena said wistfully. Her head turned away. “You got something to look forward to.”

  “And so have you!” Mama said very loudly. “A good life together with a good man who loves you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it any more,” Lena replied, pressing her lips together.

  “You don’t have to talk!” Mama shook her finger in Lena’s face. “Just listen! How much longer will you allow your stubborn pride to make a fool of you? Hyman fell in love with you because you were good and kind and understanding. All this has not changed. Now at the first sign of a little trouble, you chase him away. Suppose it was Hyman who got sick? Is that what you would do—drop him like a hot potato?”

  Never had Ella and Henny seen Mama so worked up before. She was awfully red in the face. They exchanged questioning glances. Should they go or stay? They sat still as mice, afraid to interrupt.

  Lena was answering Mama. She sounded all choked up. “No—I never would have left him—but don’t you understand? Like this—the way I am—Hyman is only sorry for me.”

  Mama slapped one hand against the other. “How can you be so selfish, Lena?”

  Lena was taken aback. “Me! Selfish!”

  “Yes! You’re thinking only of how you feel. Why don’t you stop for a minute and think about Hyman? Maybe he has feelings too. It nearly broke my heart to see how miserable he was the last time he was here.” Mama put her hand on Lena’s arm. She spoke almost pleadingly. “Don’t you know Hyman would rather have you with a bad leg than anyone else in the whole world?”

  Lena buried her face in her arms. Her wild sobbing cut into everyone’s heart.

  Mama let her cry for a while. Then she said softly, “Lena, you’ll make Hyman a fine wife. I know you’ll never be a burden. He’s dying to see you, Lena. Don’t you want to see him, too?”

  Lena raised her tear-stained face. “Yes, I want to! I wanted to all the time!” She wavered. “You’re sure it’s the right thing to do?”

  Mama kissed her wet cheek. “I’m sure.”

  SUMMER was drawing to an end. Every day the newspapers said that the number of paralysis cases was growing less and less.

  “I wish we didn’t have to go back,” Charlotte said. “It’s so beautiful out here—the garden and the beach, and especially a house with a porch!”

  “Yes,” Ella agreed. “After this, the East Side’s going to seem awfully crowded and noisy. Mama, why can’t we move to the Bronx, like Lena?”

  “Who can travel all the way down from the wilds of the Bronx?” remarked Papa. “As it is, I get up at five o’clock in the morning. There I’d have to get up in the middle of the night.”

  “Listen, Papa, maybe it’s about time you stopped opening the shop so early,” Mama told him. “It’s not necessary. You can open at seven or even eight and still manage to do the same amount of business.”

  Papa didn’t answer, but the girls could tell he was giving it some thought. A little while later he said,
“After all, we have so many relatives and friends and neighbors living on the East Side.”

  “The way they’re all moving away, we won’t have them much longer.”

  “And then there’s my synagogue—”

  “Plenty of other fine synagogues up in the Bronx,” Mama argued back. “Look at the children. Just see how healthy and strong they have grown over the summer. If you want them to go on being that way, we must have a better place to live.”

  Papa was listening intently. Could it be that he was agreeing with Mama, the children wondered? Mama kept on talking. “The children are growing up. We’ll be needing a larger apartment.”

  “Well,” Papa put her off, “we’ll think about it. Anyway, there’s plenty of time. The holidays are coming soon, and I want to pray in my own synagogue, at least this year. Then there’s the election. If we move away before, I lose my vote. And every citizen should vote. Afterwards, we’ll see.”

  So Mama and the girls had to be content with that.

  Charlotte threw open the closet door. “You lovely, lovely wedding dresses!” she exclaimed rapturously. “We’re going to wear you after all! Did you miss us while we were in Rockaway?” Breathlessly, she added, “I wonder, can you wait till tomorrow?”

  Henny laughed. “Do you expect the dresses to talk back?” And the laughter ran around the room.

  “Charlotte,” Mama called out, “get away from the closet and come over here right away. You’re next.”

  Mama poured some kerosene over Charlotte’s head and began to rub it briskly with her finger tips. “Ooh, Ma! It makes my scalp tingle,” Charlotte fretted.

  “I know, but kerosene keeps the scalp clean and healthy. Tomorrow morning when we wash it out, your hair will shine like satin.”

  One after the other, the girls received the same treatment. Then, their heads tightly swathed in a towel, and smelling to high heaven, they sat around chattering about the exciting event on the morrow.