The Matchmaker's Gift(80)
The wedding itself was an absolute blur—Rabbi Sheinkopf performed the service, and Rabbi Pearl offered a special blessing of his own. Sara’s mother danced with the women, clapping and shouting as she spun on her heels. The banquet table was heaped with platters of roasted chicken, five kinds of pickles, and, of course, knishes from Klein’s.
After years of miscarriages, Sara gave birth to Eddie when she was thirty-five years old. Beverly came along two years later—a second miracle for the couple. They moved to an apartment on the Upper West Side, and Sara devoted herself to caring for her young children. Though she stopped making matches, she retained her reputation; when the war finally ended, rabbis from all over the city visited her home to beg for assistance. Six million Jewish souls had been taken. Would she help to ensure that their people survived?
She agreed, of course, and began searching again—scouring the shadows for glimmers of light. Every match she made was a candle in the darkness, a beam of hope after an endless eclipse. For eight years, she was tireless in her efforts, but when Gabriel died, her intuition grew cloudy, and the edges of her vision blurred like wet paint. With Gabe gone, she was a dancer without music, a writer devoid of paper and ink. Her passion became an inaccessible thing; her senses dulled from technicolor to gray.
She began volunteering at her shul, filling her days with committees and meetings. When she was asked to staff a booth at the Purim carnival, she accepted the task without hesitation.
Because the holiday had come so early that year, it was decided that the carnival would be held indoors, inside the shul’s vast social hall. The teenagers were in charge of selecting the games—pin the tail on the donkey, tossing balls at tin cans, and popping balloons were among the most popular. Parents and other adult volunteers collected donations, handed out tickets, and generally curbed the overall chaos. The high-ceilinged room echoed with laughter and the squeals of overexcited young children. The floor was littered with popcorn kernels, candy wrappers, and hamantaschen crumbs.
When Sara arrived, she was assigned to the prize booth, where children traded in their winning tickets for flimsy toys, coloring books, shiny trinkets, and paper dolls. At first, she was charmed by the adorable faces and the way their brows furrowed as they made their selections. But after almost two hours, she grew tired, and her back turned stiff from standing in place.
Sara was coming to the end of her shift when an attractive young mother in a green floral dress approached with a boy around four or five years old. Perched atop his curls was a silver foil crown, and at his waist hung a homemade cardboard sword. After reaching the booth, he held out his chubby fist and deposited a small pile of tickets on the table.
“Hello!” said Sara. “What would you like for your prize?”
The boy pointed shyly to a small tin car, and Sara placed it gently in his open palm. His mother lifted him onto her hip. “What do you say, Steven?” she asked.
“Thank you,” he whispered, and Sara smiled.
Steven’s mother introduced herself. “I’m Marlene Fishman. And this is Steven. Thank you so much for helping with the carnival. It’s been such a lovely day for the children.”
“It’s a fun event,” Sara agreed. “It’s nice to see all of the little ones so happy.”
Just then, a handsome man in a sports jacket approached the table with his daughter. Like all the other girls, she was dressed as Queen Esther, adorned with a pile of shiny beaded necklaces. “Mommy!” she said. “I got so many tickets! Daddy showed me the best way to knock down all the cans!”
“Wonderful, Annie! Now, what will you choose?” Annie’s father complimented Steven’s car. “It looks like you picked out a fast one,” he said. “We’ll test it out when we get home.” He turned to Sara and flashed a smile. “Artie Fishman,” he said, extending his hand. “Great carnival, isn’t it? Terrific, really.”
“Sara Auerbach,” Sara said. “I’m so glad to meet all of you. It’s wonderful to see so many young families.”
With Sara’s help, Annie chose a butterfly coloring book. Afterward, Sara watched as the young family stopped for popcorn at the busy refreshment table. Steven fed his father a handful of kernels while his mother and sister looked on, giggling.
When the flash came, it was a total surprise.
It had been more than a year since the last time she’d felt it—the streak across her periphery, the tickle just outside her sight. It had always filled Sara with a sudden burst of warmth, a giddy rise in temperature and in spirit.
Only this time, the feeling was completely different. This time, the flash was sharp and searing, as ominous and jagged as a strike of lightning. Sara reached for the table to steady herself. She studied the couple from across the room, but their smiles revealed nothing out of the ordinary. On the outside, they seemed to be happy and loving. But Sara was certain something was wrong.
In bed that night, Sara reflected on what she had seen in the social hall. She pondered whether she had a duty to investigate the meaning of whatever it was she had felt. Both Gabe and Rabbi Sheinkopf were gone—she had run out of people to call upon for advice. She passed sleepless night after sleepless night for the next two weeks.
And then came the second hair-raising jolt, as she was walking through Central Park. The playground was crowded with parents and children, but Sara spotted Steven out of the corner of her eye. A further scan revealed his father behind him and Marlene to his left, pushing Annie on a swing. The same feeling of dread swept its way through her, so Sara found a seat on an empty bench nearby. What was the problem between Marlene and her husband? What was causing this sensation that rushed so ominously into Sara’s head?