The Matchmaker's Gift(38)



He was in the middle of describing the farm and the fields when Sara walked in. “Hoho!” he cheered. “The graduate is here! My congratulations to you!” Above his beard, his cheeks and forehead were glossy with perspiration.

Rabbi Sheinkopf spoke up next. “Mazel tov, Sara,” he said. “Tell me, have you heard any more from the shadchanim?”

“They haven’t spoken to me since Ida’s wedding, but one of Grossman’s sons is always lurking around the corner whenever I leave the apartment in the morning. And Shternberg is still spreading rumors. He told the ice man that I tricked my neighbor into calling off her engagement.”

Raskin frowned and stroked his beard. “Shternberg has always been the worst of them. He bakes lies like they are bagels.”

Sara’s mother’s eyes again filled with tears, but Sara tried to be reassuring. “Don’t worry, Mama. Now that high school is over, I’ve been thinking of a plan for what to do next. With Hindel pregnant, I need to work, but I don’t think I can make any matches for a while. I was hoping,” she said to Mr. Raskin, “that I could have my old job at your store.”

Moishe Raskin shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said.

His rebuff was a blow she had not been expecting. As foolish as it may have been, she had been counting on that job. What other position could she hope to get? She had no skill or patience for sewing. Watching the neighbors’ children didn’t pay enough. She supposed she could try for a cleaning job, but the thought of it made her stomach turn. “I understand,” she said to Mr. Raskin. “You’ve already been so generous.”

He loosened the tie around his neck. “Please, indulge me with a question. Why do you want to work at the store? Your mother told me that your father’s wish was for you to continue your education.”

Sara didn’t want to be rude, but wasn’t the answer obvious? “My father hoped I would go to Hunter College, but it isn’t possible.”

“Ah,” said Raskin. “An excellent school, and there is no cost to attend.”

“But just because the classes are free doesn’t mean I can afford to go.”

From beneath his bushy eyebrows, Moishe Raskin’s bright eyes gleamed. “I do not disagree,” he said. “You can’t afford to go to Hunter, not when you should be studying at Barnard College instead.”

Sara’s mouth fell open in shock as Moishe Raskin made his argument. “Ida has told me many times what an excellent student you are—even better than she was, she says. Rabbi Sheinkopf and I spoke to your teachers, and they said you earned high marks on your Regents exams. Barnard has agreed to accept you in the fall. You may live in the dormitory, as Ida chose to, though of course, you can go home whenever you wish. I will pay for your tuition and also for your room and board.” He stopped for a moment to pat his stomach. “Ida tells me the food is not so bad, though not as good as her mother’s.”

“I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand. I can’t go to college. I need to earn money.”

Sara’s mother interrupted. “The four of us have already discussed it. If Eli and George do a good job this summer, Mr. Raskin promised them after-school jobs in the fall.”

“But Mama,” Sara said. “That won’t be enough.”

“It will be enough,” Mr. Raskin insisted.

“Even if I do go to school, why can’t I go on living at home? That’s what plenty of the Barnard girls do—Ida told me so herself.”

It was then that her brother Joe chose to speak, in a voice that sounded almost like their father’s. In the eight months since he’d been working for Raskin, Joe’s puny arms had grown muscled and strong. When Sara looked at his burly frame, she saw the man he had become. “Don’t you see, Sara?” Joe pleaded with her. “It’s better for you to go. Shternberg and Grossman won’t leave you alone. They’ve already spoken about calling for a beis din and bringing you in front of the rabbinical court. If it weren’t for Rabbi Sheinkopf’s intervention, those pigs would have done it already.”

“Rabbi Sheinkopf, is this true?”

“I’m afraid so,” the rabbi said. “If they even suspect you of making a match, they will make sure there is nothing but aggravation for you and your family. They will try to take away Aaron’s job. They will sabotage Joe’s chances of finding a wife.”

“I don’t care about a wife,” Joe growled. “But I don’t want them making my family miserable. Listen to me, Sara. No one wants you to leave, but if you’re not living in the neighborhood, the shadchanim can’t make any accusations. Besides, think of what Papa would say about you going to a school like that. Think of how proud he would be. Please, Sara. Say you’ll go.”

Sara couldn’t remember ever hearing Joe say so much in one sitting.

“But what if you get sent overseas? Isn’t it better for me to live at home?”

“Just because I registered doesn’t mean that I’ll be drafted. And if I am, I’ll feel better knowing that you’re safe on the other side of the city, far away from those men.”

Sara’s mother bit her lip, but she managed to hold back her tears. She took Sara’s hand and squeezed it, hard. “Papa would have wanted this for you.”

Lynda Cohen Loigman's Books