LITMIR.BIZ

      When the rabbi had gone, Hanna asked, “What is a Hasid, Papa?” She had heard the term used occasionally, but only with an expression of depreciation. They were said to be ultra orthodox Jews.

      “I don’t really know,” he replied. “I’m not even sure whether there are any in Lithuania. I do know that most of them live in Poland and Byelorussia.”

      “Do you mean to say that you do not like them even though you don’t know anything about them?” she asked, indignantly.

      That was Hanna, thought Israel. You cannot make a comment without her punching holes in it. But she’s right, he had to agree. He did not like Hasids for any reason at all, good or bad. And that is being prejudiced. Like the goyim thinking we kill babies to use their blood for ceremonies. As stupid as that.

      “Well, it’s all hearsay. Their rabbis, they call them rebbes, tell them what they can do and can’t do. I don’t think they can even take a job without the rebbe’s permission.”

      “That can’t be right,” said Hanna, almost snapping.

      “Well, that’s what they say,” He was glad to hear the arrival of the first farmer. Coming under Hanna’s guns was most discomforting, especially when one was not sure of one’s ground. But they would learn about Hasids soon enough.

      The first man to come was one he had dealt with during the period he sailed his boat to Prussia and Poland, and they had remained on good terms over the years. He was accompanied by his wife and two teen-aged sons, and while the two men talked, the boys unhitched the horse, placed him in a stall, then gave him a measure of grain they had brought along. The sleek, well-groomed animal was a pleasure to behold. In the next stall was the family cow, swollen with calf, ready to give birth any day. The farmer gave Gitel a small coin for fetching water, lit his pipe, then discussed the crop situation until his wife’s impatient look prompted him to knock out the ash and lead his family to the local Catholic church.

      Soon the remainder of the Sunday traffic had arrived, said their hellos, and gone off also. The Mass usually lasted an hour and a half, then they trooped back together, old friends through over the years, and took their usual challah and tea. The Barlaks collected over a ruble, plus small tips to Gitel and Reba.

      Hanna felt a great relief. From out of the blue, the fortunes of the family had improved, with two boarders bringing in six rubles each week, and the farmers still coming. Yet Hanna’s thoughts regarding practical matters had begun to take second place to her sweet reveries of that afternoon on the river bank with Stephen.

      When all had gone, she happily helped Motlie prepare for the Sunday lunch. It was the main meal of the day, and they baked some of the fish that Stephen and she had caught. They waited a few extra minutes for Hershel, who had taken off directly after breakfast, and who came riding up just after noon on a horse he had rented from a nearby farmer.

      After eating and cleaning up the kitchen, Hanna said she was taking a walk, and made her way to the igloo shaped rock formation where Stephen was waiting with his rods and bait. Their faces flushed with eagerness, they got into the boat. This time he did not drop anchor at the fishing spot, but rowed directly to the woods they had visited yesterday. At the edge of the field, to their left, two boys were fishing from shore, so Stephen led Hanna further among the trees. There, they fell into each other’s arms, hungry for the other’s lips, their bodies pressed tightly together. He drew her down to the forest floor, and they kissed long and hard, stopping only to catch their breath. Full of desire, but knowing the dangers that could develop, they drew apart and lay on their backs, Hanna’s head resting on Stephen’s arm.

      “I’ve been thinking and thinking about us,” Stephen finally said, his chest rising and falling with his emotion.

      “I have been thinking also.”

      He turned his head towards her. “Do you still love me, Hanna?”

      She moved forward and kissed his cheek adoringly. “You know I do. I always will.” She placed her arm over his chest, thrilled by the muscles she felt there. “When will you be returning to the university?”

      “In about two months.”

      “Oh, Stephen,” she said happily. “That is a world of time. How long will you be away then?”

      “Until the Christmas vacation.”

      She gently pulled him down and kissed his lips, hard. His arms captured her tightly. When they drew away, she looked into his clear blue eyes, and they reminded her of a cloudless summer sky just after a fierce rain. “It will seem like forever.”

      “For me too,” He leaned over her. “Hanna, I must finish school. But when I do, we could marry in a civil ceremony. I spoke to a friend of mine who said they will not ask either of us to convert. But they will say, in the name of Jesus Christ, at the end. Would that be all right?”

      “I don’t know, Stephen. I must think about it. I’m not sure I would really feel married that way. And even if we went through a civil ceremony, how could we live together? You know what it would be like.”

      He kissed her tenderly on the lips and his hand shyly cupped one of her breasts. “I have the answer for that, too. We would move to a large city–Vilnius, or even to Russia itself. They don’t make as much of a fuss of mixed marriages as people do in villages.”

      “I could never leave the family. They are my life, like you.”

      “They could come with us, you know.”

      “Come with us! They may never forgive me for marrying out of the faith. Some parents even sit shiv’ah for a child who does that. You know, mourn her as dead.”

      But Hanna could barely think straight, with his hand caressing her breast, setting her afire. His hand slipped between the buttons of her shirt waist and under her camisole onto her bare flesh. Mind reeling, her lips went slack under his with desire. “Stephen, Stephen,” she moaned.

      He reached beneath her petticoat to her underpants, pulling them down and caressing the soft pubic hair.

      She abruptly pulled away, her eyes wild, her mouth gasping for air, suffused with love and want of him, yet knowing surely that they must go no further.

      Stephen was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, Hanna,” he said hoarsely. “Please forgive me. I don’t know what came over me.”

      She buried her face in his arm.

      “I wouldn’t do anything to harm you. Ever. You know that, don’t you?”

      “I know. It’s not easy for me, either.”