Puppet (4 page)

THURSDAY, APRIL 27, 1882

Ma tossed and turned in her sleep all night, waking me repeatedly. I was grateful that Pa and Clara slept through her restlessness.

The next morning, after Pa had left for work, I helped Clara get dressed and gave her breakfast. I went to rouse Ma. I kissed her on her cheek and waited for her eyes to fly open.

“It's time to get up, Ma!”

She gave a sleepy moan. I shook her arm, but she didn't respond. “Ma, Ma! Wake up!” I remembered that when Clara was a baby, Ma would wake her up in order to nurse her by applying cold, wet rags to the bottoms of her feet. I dampened my apron and held it to Ma's feet, but she only groaned.

I stood by her bed wringing my hands. If I went to get Pa, he'd beat me for sure for bothering him at work. It was
clear I had to do something. Ma was moaning and wouldn't wake up. I would have to fetch Dr. Weltner. He had helped Ma before, and I prayed to the Good Lord he would help her again. I scooped Clara up into my arms and ran to the doctor's house.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked as I pulled her closer to me.

“Ma doesn't feel good. I'm going to fetch Dr. Weltner. He'll know what to do.”

“Pa'll be mad!” Clara said, a scared look on her face.

“I don't care! I just want Ma to be better. You mustn't tell Pa.”

“I won't!” she promised and hugged my neck so tightly I could barely breathe.

I loosened her fingers.

“Don't worry! Everything will be fine!”

My words didn't sound convincing even in my own ears. Although she was very thin, Clara was still heavy to carry, but I didn't put her down. The beating of her heart against mine made me feel a little less frightened.

Dr. Weltner's handsome house was near the synagogue. I rapped on the front door. An old woman opened it a crack and stuck her head out.

“What can I do for you?” she asked.

I had to catch my breath before speaking.

“Would you like a drink of water? Is the child sick?” She held out her arms to Clara.

I put Clara down. She burrowed her face in my skirt.

“No, missus. It's my ma! I can't wake her up!”

“The doctor is out now, but fortunately for you, he is close by.” She pointed to the shabby house next to the synagogue. “Mrs. Scharf is having her baby.” She shook her head sadly. “He's been over there for a long time,” she added. “You're welcome to wait for him inside.”

I looked at my bare feet. They were dusty. My skirt and blouse were covered in patches. Clara was in an old dress and her pinafore was stained from her breakfast.

“Thank you, missus, but we'll wait outside. We don't want to mess up your clean floors.”

“Nonsense! Come on in.”

She flung the door wide open.

“We'll stay outside. I am scared that we might miss the doctor when he is done at Mrs. Scharf's. He might go somewhere else without telling you.”

She chuckled. “I can see that you're a sharp young woman,” she said. “It's not likely that he would go anywhere else without letting me know, but suit yourself. Knock on the door if you change your mind about coming in.”

Clara and I settled down on the steps in front of the house. Jewish men in long black coats were hurrying into the synagogue. Across the street, old Mrs. Goldberg, in a shapeless dress, her head covered by a scarf, was sweeping her front steps. She was one of my egg customers. She always made a big fuss if they weren't large enough and argued about their price. When I called hello, she sniffed but did not reply.

A boy was playing with marbles in front of the Scharfs' house. It was Sam.

“Hey Sam, what are you doing?”

He looked up but didn't answer. I tried again.

“Can we play marbles with you?”

“My mama says not to play with strangers,” he mumbled.

“We're not strangers! Don't you remember that we spoke to your pa at the well?”

He thought for a moment, then held out a marble to me.

I kneeled down and began to play with him. Clara sat on the ground beside us, watching wide-eyed, her thumb in her mouth. We must have been at our game for close to a half-hour when a tap on my shoulder made me jump and the marble I was shooting rolled in the wrong direction.

“Why are you playing with the Jew boy?” It was Elizabeth Sos. Her mother was another of my customers. Elizabeth looked me over from head to toe. Even though she was two years younger than me, she always made me aware of my rumpled clothes and dirty feet. I stole a jealous glance at her frilly white dress and shiny black boots. She was accompanied by Miss Farkas, the village magistrate's sister, and two other women I did not recognize.

“What's your name, girl?” Miss Farkas barked.

“I am Julie Vamosi, missus, and this is my sister, Clara.”

Elizabeth gave Miss Farkas a meaningful glance.

“Should we?” she asked, nodding her head toward Sam.

“Of course,” Miss Farkas said. “These girls are peasants, of no importance at all!”

She turned her back on me and patted Sam on the head.

“Hello, Sam,” she said, her voice syrupy. “What are you doing?”

I wondered how she knew his name. Sam was mute, his head hanging. Finely dressed ladies did not chat with little Jewish boys.

“Don't be scared of us,” said Elizabeth. “We're your friends.”

She crouched down beside us, gingerly lifting her skirt out of the dust.

“I'll play with you,” she said.

She picked up one of the marbles from the dirt carefully.

“What should I do with this marble?” she asked.

“Why does the girl want to play with us?” Sam asked.

Clara reached out and touched Elizabeth's sleeve.

“You're pretty” she said.

Elizabeth pushed her hand away.

“Don't touch me with your filthy hands! You'll get me dirty!”

Clara began to cry.

“Silence!” Miss Farkas thundered.

Elizabeth was rubbing her sleeve sulkily but did not answer back.

Miss Farkas reached into her reticule, pulled out a pack age of sweets, and gave Sam a candy. She then offered the sweets to her friends, but not to Clara or me. Clara opened her mouth to ask for a piece, but I clamped my hand over her lips before she could say anything.

Sam held the candy in his palm and stared at it.

Miss Farkas laughed. “Why, the little savage doesn't know what to do with the candy!”

Her companions tittered.

“You have to suck on the sweet, little boy.” Sam finally popped it into his mouth. His eyes grew round with delight as the sugar dissolved on his tongue.

“The candy is good, isn't it?” she asked.

Sam nodded.

“How old are you?” Miss Farkas asked.

Sam didn't reply.

“How old are you?” she repeated more sharply.

“Tell her your age!” I whispered in his ear.

“I be five,” mumbled Sam.

“I want to talk to you, Sam,” Miss Farkas said. “I want to tell you a secret!”

Sam looked confused, on the verge of tears.

“Sam, do you know a servant girl by the name of Esther Solymosi?” Miss Farkas asked.

Sam shook his head.

“Esther's mother came to see my brother, the village magistrate,” Miss Farkas said in a self-important voice. I could see her chest puff out. “Mrs. Solymosi told my brother that her daughter disappeared. Nobody knows where she is!”

Sam just stared at her, bewildered.

Miss Farkas smiled. Her expression made me think of a cat toying with a mouse.

“Would you like to have another sweetie, Sam?”

She pushed another candy into his hand. He ate it greedily.

“I want to tell you a secret,” she said. “Do you want to know my secret? If you listen carefully to it, I'll give you more sweets.”

Sam nodded eagerly.

“A little bird told me that your papa called Esther Solymosi into the synagogue,” she said, pointing at the building next door. “Once she was inside, he tied her up with a rope and the new Jew butcher cut her!”

Sam began to cry. Miss Farkas pressed another sweet into his palm.

Elizabeth spoke up. “The same birdie told me that your papa forced Esther into a chair and held her head while your big brother, Morris, held down her hands. Then your butcher cut her leg,” she said breathlessly. “When they finished with her, all three of them carried her toward a tall tree!”

“I want Mama!” Sam said and cried even harder. “I want my mama!”

“Why are you saying such terrible things to him?” I pulled Sam to me. “He is just a little boy! Why are you trying to scare him?”

“Silence, you stupid girl!” said Miss Farkas.

Before I could reply, the front door to the Scharfs' house swung open and a grim-faced Dr. Weltner appeared on the threshold. Mr. Scharf, his eyes red-rimmed, was beside him.

“Come into the house immediately, Sam!” he said sternly
Sam gave a scared look in Miss Farkas's direction, gathered up his marbles, and ran into the house, followed by his father. The door clicked close behind them.

Dr. Weltner tipped his hat at Miss Farkas and her companions and set out for his home. I ran after him, dragging Clara behind me. I tugged on his sleeve. He stopped.

“What can I do for you?” he asked courteously. “You're Mrs. Vamosi's girl, aren't you?” he said, taking a closer look at me.

I told him that we'd been waiting for him because I couldn't wake up Ma.

“I'm surprised that this didn't happen much sooner.” He sighed. “What a horrible day! First, Mr. Scharf's poor baby boy and now this.” He wiped his face with his handkerchief. “Wait here. I'll get my buggy and we'll be on our way.”

We were home in a few minutes, but it didn't make a difference. We were too late. Our ma had gone to the angels.

MONDAY, MAY 8, 1882

Pa was walking, his hat in his hand, behind the horse-drawn cart that carried Ma's casket. Next to him was his sister, our stern-faced Aunt Irma. Clara and I followed them. Clara clung to my hand, her face grimy from her weeping. I was glad of the clop-clopping of the horse's hooves as it masked my sobs.

Several villagers joined the procession as we made our way to the Roman Catholic cemetery at the edge of town. Pa turned his head to look behind us, his face blank. When I had gone to fetch him at Mr. Rosenberg's farm, his face was expressionless as I told him Ma had gone to heaven. If I hadn't noticed the tremor that ran through his body, I would've thought he hadn't even heard me. He'd had the same blank look ever since.

Father Gabor was waiting for us beside the open grave. As he began to pray, I looked around. I was surprised by the number of people who had come to pay their last respects to my ma. Across from us, Sophie Solymosi was standing beside her mother and her brother, Janos. She smiled at me sadly. Five terrible weeks had passed since Esther had disappeared. She must have been wondering whether it would be her family's turn at a funeral next. I saw Dr. Weltner at the back of the crowd. He lifted his arm in my direction when our eyes met.

I pulled Clara closer to my side as the casket was lowered into the ground. As shovelfuls of dirt landed on top of it with loud thuds, I remembered the thudding noise the bread dough used to make when Ma kneaded it before it became a delicious loaf of dark bread under her skillful hands.

As the earth rained down on the casket, I remembered how thunder and lightning used to scare me when I was still a little girl and how Ma would swoop me into the safety of her arms and tell me stories about her childhood until I would forget the drum-drumming of the rain on the thatched roof.

As the priest's voice droned on in prayer, I remembered the times when Ma would hold my hands as we danced around the yard, scattering the chickens, singing silly songs out of the sheer joy of being alive.

The casket was finally covered by mounds of earth. I hoped that Ma's spirit would not mind the weight of the dirt on top of it. My ma never liked to be weighed down.

She even complained if she had to drape her heavy wool shawl over her slight shoulders in the winter.

We walked back to our house. Neighbors had brought us food for the funeral meal. There was goose liver from Mrs. Pasztar who lived down the street. Mrs. Solymosi had baked two loaves of bread. I was sure that she would go hungry because of it. Even Mrs. Huri brought along a pitcher of milk. The room buzzed with subdued conversation and a few bursts of quickly suppressed laughter. I was occupied with spreading the pork fat that Farmer Veres had brought on slices of black bread to hand around. I was glad that my hands were busy because they kept me from thinking about the funeral. That would come later.

“Do you need help?” asked Sophie.

I handed her the pitcher of milk and she poured it into tin cups. When we finished, we arranged the bread and the cups of milk on tin plates and we walked around the room offering the victuals to the mourners. Clara followed me, clutching at my skirt. She would not let go. After a while, I forgot she was there.

I could hear Mrs. Solymosi's voice.

“I have witnesses!” Mrs. Solymosi had said the words so often they sounded like a dreadful song. “The Jews hurt Esther. The Jews are responsible. They must pay for what they did to her!”

Her hands were balled into fists and her voice rose in a loud crescendo. All eyes were fixed on her.

I tapped her on the shoulder and held out my plate.

“Something to eat, ladies,” I suggested.

Greedy hands reached for the food, but Mrs. Solymosi was unstoppable.

“The Jews took away Esther. They consumed my daughter. They must be punished! I went to Vencsello and spoke to the district magistrate. He promised me that he will investigate the Jews.

“The little Scharf boy Sam, told Miss Farkas and Elizabeth Sos what the Jews did. He told Miss Farkas they lured my Esther into their temple and then his father and his brother held her down while their butcher cut her!” Her voice broke and she began to weep. “The Jews must be punished for killing my darling girl! They killed her for her virgin blood, to use it in their Easter bread!”

Her companions, who had heard this many times before, were nodding in a sympathetic chorus. I weighed my words carefully before speaking.

“I'm not saying the Jews didn't murder Esther, but that's not what Sam said. Clara and I were there when Miss Farkas and Elizabeth talked to him. They put words –”

A heavy hand squeezed my shoulder hard. It was Pa.

“Shut your mouth, you foolish girl!” he grunted.

I fell silent.

“The girl is young, please excuse her,” said Aunt Irma. “She doesn't know what she's saying.”

Clara burrowed her face in my skirt.

“Sam Scharf told me the same thing he told you, Mrs. Solymosi,” said Mrs. Pasztar. “I was driving my geese past
the Scharfs' house a few days ago when Sam ran into the street and scattered my geese. He must have been waiting for me in the window, the young hellion!”

“He is only five.”

A look from Pa stopped me.

Mrs. Pasztar's eyes traveled around the room. When she was certain she had everyone's attention, she began again.

“I was so angry! I knew how difficult it would be to find all my geese. I swished my stick at the boy. I only wished that I could have made it meet his behind, but he ran away from me, yelling, ‘Just for that, I won't tell you what my father did to that servant girl.’”

Stunned silence greeted her words until Mrs. Huri spoke.

“Poor, dear Esther,” she said. “The Jews must be responsible for her disappearance!”

“There is no question about that!” said a farmer.

How could they be so sure? I asked myself. I opened my mouth but thought better of it. I rubbed my shoulder gently. It was still tender.

The next hour seemed to last forever, but finally the last of the guests was gone. The cottage echoed of silence. It was as if Ma had never been with us, except in my heart.

I barely slept that night, my mind a jumble of grief and fear. I thought of my ma and how I would never see her again. I felt so alone. What would happen to Clara and me without her love and guidance? I didn't even have Esther to turn to. I wondered if Pa and our neighbors were right when they accused the Jews of murdering my dear friend.
Ma believed in the Jews' innocence. I didn't know what to believe myself.

The next morning, Aunt Irma's husband arrived in a donkey cart to take Clara to their home in Csonkafuzes.

“Pack up your sister's things,” Pa said to me. “Clara will be living with your Aunt Irma from now on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you deaf, girl?” Spittle flew from his mouth. “You'll do as you're told!”

Clara sensed that something was terribly wrong and screamed as loudly as she could.

She had to be carried kicking and crying into the donkey cart. I stood in the street waving until the buggy became a small dot in the landscape. My promises to visit wafted after her in the air.

Pa was waiting for me in the house.

“Now, pack up your own belongings,” he said. “Starting tomorrow, you'll be working at the town jail. Sergeant Toth's housekeeper is away. You'll be taking her place.”