And yet those efforts had never been enough. Not truly. Not that she would say it out loud to Tamar. After all, her sister was young enough to have witnessed only the community’s kindness, not the less charitablefeelings she and her parents had engendered before it had turned its back on the Moses family when they’d needed it most. When they’d rushed to denounce them and apologize for their “crimes” to any gentile who’d listen. She swallowed.
“I’m invisible, remember?” she told her sister, crumpling her napkin. “That’s why I’m going instead of you. Once you show up, people will talk. How can they not with your face? But with me, I can get us what we need. No trouble.”
“Except for the gossips last week.” Tamar sniffed. “And your tumble today.” She cocked her head at Hannah. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?” Hannah frowned.Oh, right.“I wouldn’t call it ‘help’ though he prevented me from hitting the ground.” She rolled her eyes once more, thinking back to the incident.
“‘He’?” Tamar’s lips twisted into a knowing smile. Leaning forward, she rested her hand on her chin and stared at Hannah expectantly.
Hannah, in turn, resisted sticking her tongue out at her sister and gave a dismissive sniff. “Solomon Weiss. Part of a banking family which was once very successful but lost it all through bad investments. They’ve been trying to rebuild for some time and have supposedly had limited success through gentile clientele. Which is probably why he helped me as he most likely doesn’t know who I…” She bit her lip, not able to say the words out loud. Or more, admit the truth. She rubbed her wrist. “Anyway, I have no idea what he was doing there.”
“Looking to get back in?” Her sister gave a shrug. As if it were so simple and easy.
“A waste of time and energy,” Hannah grumbled.
Tamar opened her mouth, presumably in protest.
“His, not yours,” Hannah said hastily. Especially as Tamar hadn’t quite left. Not by choice at least. She still heard the woman at the Jewish Orphan’s Home chastising her when she felt at her lowest:You’re making a mistake, robbing the child of her chances, her community, her people. Leave her with us, before you ruin her like your parents ruined you—
Hannah had cut off the atrociously overdressed woman, condemning them for how they’d done nothing for her parents—and likely would do nothing for Tamar—before hauling away her sister.
That night she’d vowed not just to care for Tamar, but to give her anything and everything she could ever want. And she would not fail now. Hannah reached across the table and squeezed her sister’s hand. “What you want won’t be a waste for you. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Right.” Tamar leaned back and stared at her, making Hannah squirm a little for once. Not a pleasant feeling at all.
“So this Solomon Weiss—he was kind to you?” Her sister squinted.
“I suppose so.” Hannah shrugged, before settling back and taking another bite of cholent.
“Was he handsome?”
Hannah near spit out her food. “I wasn’t paying attention,” she managed to say as she pounded a fist into her breastbone. “I got caught on his jacket and the dratted man just stood there chatting while I—”
“Chatting with you?” Tamar asked.
“At me? To me? With me? One of the three? It wasdamned distracting,” she grumbled, before gazing up at her sister’s rather odd expression. “What?”
“Nothing.” Tamar smoothed her skirts and took a long sip of water. Hannah grabbed another piece of bread and chewed on it for a moment, working to keep her mind in the present and not back at the synagogue, where her fingers had near grazed his chest. This time, she’d been close enough to learn that he smelled not just like wood, but of limes. And mint.
And had lashes so thick and black that—
Her sister cleared her throat. “So he spoke to you while you got yourself free and…”
“And nothing.” Hannah coughed again. “I left.”
“Without saying good-bye?” Tamar frowned at her.
“He was a stranger.” Hannah grabbed her own water.
“You didn’t introduce yourself to him?” her sister asked. As if such a thing were easy. Or advisable. Not that there was any use saying so out loud. Tamar would only argue, and Hannah wanted to spend one Shabbos without a headache.
“There was no reason to,” she said instead, rubbing her temples proactively. “Though Aaron Ellenberg rushed up to him at the end so I’m sure he knows better now.”
For the first time in years, a hard lump filled her chest, more pressure snaking its way behind her eyes. Which wouldn’t do. The past was done with and couldn’t be changed. She had learned to live with the consequences of her and her parents’ choices. And she’d survived.
Despite them and their opinions. And she would not be ashamed nor care nor—
“Hannah.” Her sister’s voice was achingly soft.
Hannah pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s all right, Tamar. I won’t let it affect your prospects.” She inhaled. “I’ll be careful. And with the money I’m gathering for your dowry, I’ll no longer be a liability to your future. You will have what you want.” She gritted her teeth. “This spring. At the latest.”
And before Tamar could argue, she rose and gathered her empty bowl and glass, moving them to the wash area for after Shabbos.
