LITMIR.BIZ

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Jake,” Decker said, forcing himself to breathe regularly. “Give your mama’s arms a rest.”

      As Decker reached out to take Jacob, the boy screamed, kicked, and buried his face in his mother’s neck.

      “He’s had another nightmare,” Rina explained. “I don’t think he’s fully awake. He woke up soaked with sweat, and everytime I try to put a shirt on him he screams. If I try putting him back to sleep, he screams. If someone tries to take him, he screams. I just don’t know what to do.”

      “Sit down with him, Ginny,” suggested her father. “You’ll sprain your back.”

      “I’ve tried that already, Papa,” Rina answered.

      “Remember what happened when you carried Sammy too much as a baby,” her mother warned.

      “So what do you want me to do?”

      “Give him to me,” her father said. As soon as he touched Jacob’s shoulders, the boy emitted a high-pitched wail.

      “Forget it, Papa,” Rina said. “He just won’t go to anyone else.”

      “Let him sleep with you, Ginny,” the mother suggested. “Just for the night.”

      “Oh, that would be wonderful,” Rina said, sarcastically.

      “For one night it won’t kill you. I did it with you,” her mother said. “You sleep on your own now, don’t you?”

      “Mother, I am not going to let him sleep with me. You know all the trouble I had with the boys doing that after Yitzchak, alav hashalom, died.”

      “He’s falling asleep,” her father announced. “Try putting him down.”

      “Everytime I try putting him to bed he screams,” Rina said, exasperatedly.

      “Try again,” her mother insisted.

      “At least let me wait until he’s deep asleep.”

      “And until your back breaks,” her mother muttered. “Just let him sleep with you.”

      “Rina, maybe I should come back at another time,” Decker said.

      “Well, that’s to be expected,” Mrs. Elias said acidly.

      “What was that supposed to mean?” Rina said, forcing control into her voice.

      “After all, we know the reason behind Yonkel’s nightmares—”

      “It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Rina defended.

      “Nothing like this ever happened when we had the children,” her mother insisted.

      “It was one of those unfortunate things, Mrs. Elias,” Decker answered, suppressing his anger. “He’ll survive.”

      “There is a big difference between survival and happiness, Detective,” Mrs. Elias shot back. “I survived the camps.”

      “Mother, that’s not fair!” Rina exclaimed.

      “I think I’d better leave, Rina,” Decker said.

      “As I was saying, that is to be expected,” her mother said.

      “Don’t pay any attention to her—”

      “That is what you call me, Ginny?” said her mother, with her eyes watering. “Her?”

      Decker balled his fingers into a fist and headed for the door. Jacob shouted out his name.

      Decker turned. “C’mere, fellah,” he said, holding out his arms.

      This time, Jacob leaped.

      “Let’s talk in bed, okay?”

      Jacob nodded. Decker carried him into the bedroom, relieved. As he cooed the youngster back into sleep, he heard hostile mutterings outside. Gently, he brushed black locks off Jacob’s forehead and tucked him into bed, the boy’s bony shoulders peeking out from the edge of the comforter. As soon as Jacob drifted off, Decker rose from the bed, acid pouring into his gut, his head throbbing in anticipation of the showdown.

      Rina and her mother were deep in battle. Her father tried unsuccessfully to arbitrate, attempting to comfort both women and managing to comfort neither. Mrs. Elias cried something to her daughter in Hungarian. Rina came back with a reply. Decker sighed inwardly. It wasn’t enough that he had to struggle with Hebrew, Yiddish, and Aramaic. Now he had to cope with Hungarian. He’d fallen in love with a walking UN.

      The discussion increased in volume, and the women began gesticulating wildly with their hands. Then Mrs. Elias spotted Decker, pointed to him, and shouted something to her daughter. Her tone was virulent. Turning crimson, Rina shot back at her and pointed to the door, sobbing. Her mother stalked away. Confused, Mr. Elias alternated between calling out to his wife and consoling his daughter. Spousal obligation won out over filial love. Mr. Elias kissed Rina a hurried goodbye and ran after his wife. Decker waited for Rina to calm down, then asked, “What’d she say to you?”

      “Nothing.”

      “C’mon. I’m a big boy. What’d she say?”

      Rina wiped her face with a Kleenex and looked up at him with puffy eyes.

      “She said—and I quote—‘I lived through the camps only to see the day that my daughter would marry a shaigetz and a Cossack as well!’”

      He broke into laughter.

      “Well, I’m glad you find her amusing because I don’t.”

      But the corners of her mouth had turned upward.

      “Here I am, Chmelnicki on a pogrom, killing the men, raping the women, and plundering the spoils.” His laughter turned bitter. “I’ve been called a lot of things, Rina, but Cossack is a first.”

      “It’s not funny.”

      “Let’s be charitable and assume your mother had an off night.”

      “She said some horrible things to you.”

      Decker shrugged. “I’m the big, bad goy who’s kidnapping her daughter. We’ll work it out in time.”

      “You’re not a goy, you’re a ger—a convert. Or at least you will be soon.”

      “But she sees me as a goy.”

      “I am not going to marry a goy!”

      “No,” Decker said. “You’re not. You’re going to marry a Jew. You’re going to sleep with a Jew. You’re going to have children with a Jew. But let’s face facts, honey. You fell in love with a Gentile.”

      She said nothing and stared vacantly out the living-room window. Shaking his head disgustedly, he swore to himself, knowing he’d just added a tributary to her already overflowing river of guilt.

      “Rina, I’m running off at the mouth. I’m very tired. Forget I said that.”

      Remaining motionless, she spoke without looking at him.

      “Every morning after I wake up, I take out my siddur and daven she moneh esreih. And afterwards, every single morning, I pray to Hashem for understanding and forgiveness of my transgressions … transgressions, I pray for the strength to do what I should have done a long time ago—send you away until you’ve become a Jew.”

      She turned to him.

      “But I must not have the proper kavanah—intent—when I pray, because I never have the fortitude to say goodbye.” She brushed a tear off her cheek. “Do you hate me for feeling that way?”

      “No.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “We both have misgivings.”

      “Do you not want to convert?” she asked.

      He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. But it isn’t easy to throw away nearly

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