LITMIR.BIZ

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young man. Not the skeleton that had died in her arms …

      Frieda cried out to her and Rina was grateful for the distraction. Rina kissed her hand and smiled at the older woman. Frieda attempted a weak smile in return but failed.

      “It’s all right,” Rina said.

      Frieda shook her head no.

      “Yes, it is,” Rina said. “Emes, it’s all right.”

      Frieda sobbed harder. Rina’s voice had said it all. She looked at her and said, “You know.”

      Rina felt her eyes moisten. “I know.”

      “He knows, too,” Frieda said.

      Rina nodded.

      “His eyes …” Frieda said. “He hates me.”

      “No, he doesn’t—”

      “I never stopped thinking about him,” Frieda moaned. “Never. In my heart, I never stopped looking. Every time I saw someone his age, I wondered … I wondered …”

      “I understand—”

      “No,” Frieda cried out. “No, you couldn’t understand. Oh, such guilt, the pain … God is punishing me for my weakness. Rina, I was so young, so scared. My father was so frightening. I was weak—”

      Rina hushed her.

      Frieda was silent for a minute. When she finally spoke again, it was in a whisper. “Every time I gave birth to my babies, I thought of him. Of the baby I had and lost—No, of the baby I was forced to give up. I could never, ever not think of him. I wanted to keep him but my parents wouldn’t let me. Dear God, forgive me …”

      She started sobbing again.

      Rina said, “Peter … Akiva has a daughter. He understands how you must have felt—”

      “He hates me,” Frieda said. “I saw it. I deserve it—”

      Rina quieted her again.

      “Your Akiva …” Frieda sobbed out. “My little baby boy. Oh, my God, after all these years … As much pain as if it happened yesterday. He wasn’t sick at all, was he, Rina? He didn’t want to see me.”

      “He didn’t want to shock you.”

      “When you came to New York with him … he knew I’d be here?”

      “Of course not.”

      “Then how did he know, Rinalah?” Frieda exclaimed. “How did he know?”

      “I guess he found out your name a long time ago. But he knew you under your maiden name because that was on the birth certificate. I honestly don’t know how he recognized you. Maybe he had a picture of you. Maybe his biological father sent—”

      Again, Frieda broke into sobs. “He met Benjamin?”

      “Once, I think.” Rina’s head was throbbing. “I’m not sure exactly what happened except that Peter got this big box of articles from his biological father after he died—”

      “Benjamin is dead?” Frieda turned her face away. “Oh, my God! Too much has passed … when?”

      “A long time ago, Mrs. Levine,” Rina said. “Peter doesn’t talk too much about anything, let alone something as … as … Peter keeps things inside. That’s just the way he is.”

      “He’s my Benny all over again,” Frieda said. “I loved his father, Rinalah. Such love I’ve never known except with him. He worked for my father, did some carpentry … some bookshelves for him. I thought he was so handsome … I loved his hair, that beautiful thick red hair … ” Tears ran down her cheeks. “When my parents weren’t looking, we’d talk. I loved him so, so much.

      “When Papa found out … oooohh.” She shuddered. “He fired him. Hated him. Benjamin had no family, no yichus, no head for learning. He was not a serious student, told too many jokes. Too frivolous for my father. When he found out we were still meeting behind his back, he slapped my face and forbade me to ever see him again … ”

      There was a knock on the door, Miriam asking if everything was all right.

      Frieda shouted, “We’re fine. Go away.”

      “Mama, open up,” Miriam said.

      “I said go away.” Frieda sighed. “Darling, I’m resting. Take care of your father for me. Tell everyone I’m fine.”

      “If you’re sure—”

      “I’m sure,” Frieda said. “Rina is taking good care of me.”

      No one spoke. A few seconds later, they could hear Miriam sigh, then the sound of receding footsteps.

      Rina said, “They’re all terribly worried about you.”

      “I don’t deserve it.”

      “Stop it,” Rina said.

      “Oh, my little Rina,” Frieda said. “I have this empty hole in my heart since I gave him away. Nothing has ever filled it, nothing ever could. I wanted to find him. Yes, I wanted to do it. But I never had the courage.”

      “It’s very frightening.”

      “He looked up his birth certificate,” Frieda said. “He must have been curious. But he never contacted me.”

      “He said he put his name on this list—”

      “Aaah,” Frieda said. “I know about the list. So many times I reached for the phone … I was too ashamed, too afraid. Too embarrassed! But he knew who I was. He didn’t come to me.”

      “He knew you were married with five other children. He didn’t want to intrude on your privacy.”

      “He is a better person than I am.”

      Rina squeezed her hand. Frieda looked up at her, smiled. “He picked a beautiful bride. A young woman for his age.” She knitted her brow. “He just turned forty-one. You must be … what, ten, twelve years younger than him?”

      Rina nodded.

      Frieda shook her head. “I talk stupidity. Tell him I love him. He will not believe me, but tell him anyway. Tell him I will leave it up to him what he wants to do. But I would like to talk to him, ask his forgiveness.”

      “There’s no reason—”

      “Yes, there is, Rina. There is reason.”

      “I’ll tell him.” Rina paused. “I don’t think he wants to see your parents—”

      “My parents!” Frieda blurted out. “They’ll recognize him. Oh, dear God, my husband and children know nothing of my terrible shame.”

      “So we figured—”

      “I feel like dying.”

      “Rest, Mrs. Levine,” Rina said. “Let me talk to Peter. I’ll find out what he wants to do.”

      “Tell him my parents go to my sister’s house tomorrow for lunch,” Frieda said. “It will be only my family …” She started to cry. After a minute she asked, “Does he have any family?”

      “Of course!” Rina said. “Peter didn’t grow up in an orphanage or anything like that. He had a very nice childhood. His mother and father live in Florida, where he grew up. They were taken aback by his conversion—”

      “He doesn’t have to convert,” Frieda said.

      “I know that,” Rina said. “And you know that. But it was easier to tell everyone that he was a ger than to explain the circumstances. Besides, he feels like a convert. His mother is a religious Baptist. Peter speaks very fondly of his parents. And he’s close to his brother.”

      “Just the one brother?”

      “Yes,

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