With that, his father rose, took the bowl in hand, and not stopping to gauge his son’s reaction, went into his bedroom.
Jacob sat staring at the seat his papa had occupied only seconds earlier. So now he understood. But it was too late. His anger had already blinded him to any hint of a positive outcome. Late that night, soon after he heard the click of the key in the lock, and the tap of her heel on the kitchen linoleum, he had made up his mind. And so, as the first signs of light adorned the silent night sky, he wrapped what clothes he had in the gray-and-yellow afghan she had sewn for him. Jacob kneeled, pushed his treasures, the book of stamps and the large volume of fairy tales, securely underneath the bed and left. As he gently closed the apartment door, he remembered someone his parents had mentioned, a widow, an elderly Catholic woman who owned a farm on the outskirts of town. He would not see his mama that morning. He would not see his parents again. And it would be a year later, at war’s end, when he learned of Leon’s death in battle, his papa’s demise in the gas chambers of Auschwitz, and his mother’s hanging as a traitor and conspirator. Only then did Jacob realize that he was an orphan.
NINETEEN
Esther, 1968
She listened patiently, and after he was done, not quite knowing what to do with her hands, which remained clasped firmly on her lap the whole time, she lifted them and ran her fingers through the thick strands of her hair as if to massage the information into her brain. Jacob hadn’t noticed, though, hadn’t turned toward her as he continued the tale in a low, barely audible monotone. And now he was moving slowly, almost ponderously, away from the window where he had remained during the course of his monologue. She was at the window, she realized then, the window where she had once stood as a young bride, staring ahead, imagining her life as it changed with the seasons, each year bringing new mysteries, new pleasures. The same window she stared through one sunny day in April, her eyes unbelieving, on the afternoon that would put an end to all those dreams.
It took her a few minutes, her eyes simply staring ahead. If anyone were to ask her about the weather outside, she could not have responded, feeling it was all the same to her now. She ran Jacob’s words through her mind but could only come to the same conclusion. He had hated his mother for associating with the Nazis, but more for turning on his father, a betrayal of them both. Whether she had her reasons—whether her actions were patriotic, even noble, didn’t matter. For Jacob, the betrayal was a sin that was unforgivable. But Jacob was no longer that impetuous young man who condemned others perhaps too easily. There was something inside her that convinced her that Jacob, the man she knew and loved, could now find forgiveness. Even for Zalman.
A gentle breeze fluttered the first buds of the apple tree in the garden, and just as it did, Esther felt she understood it all. No matter that she had done nothing, that she had only looked upon Zalman as nothing more than a dear friend. Jacob had already banished the man who had been his best friend, more than a brother to him. She resolved then to meet with Zalman once, to offer an attempt at a reconciliation between the men. But if he rejected the idea, if he deemed it hopeless, then she would have to let it go. She would tear up the paper with his cousin’s phone number and address, and for Jacob’s sake, even though it pained her, she would have to erase Zalman from her thoughts. Whether he stayed in New York or went back to the farm in Minnesota, it would all be the same to her.
But as Esther stood quietly, choking down the tears, another fear edged its way inside her brain. What if Jacob’s feelings for her had also changed from love to merely tolerance? If he could relinquish the mother who had raised him so lovingly, then how might he treat her?
A new decade, the seventies, was fast approaching, and the culture was shifting at a rapid pace, especially for women. They were protesting war, burning their bras, demanding the right to be equal. And, in fact, Esther never considered herself an inferior, having worked as hard as any man to maintain her father’s business, and having even mentored Jacob in the tools of the trade when the times called for it. She could do it all again, become a female of the times, an emancipated woman. And yet, was that what she really wanted? A life without Jacob? But somehow with that notion in mind, she no longer cared if he mistrusted her, maybe loved her a little less. Esther resolved that she would put all her efforts into building a life with Jacob. And although it would be a shattered life, a childless life, she would try to regain his trust, and maybe he would love her a little bit more. She had heard his story, and at that moment, as she turned from the window, she made a promise to herself never to question him about his past, never to speak of it again, even if the ghosts of the past continued to haunt them both. Esther knew then that she would never have the life she had dreamed of, a good life. Being with Jacob would have to be enough.