Page 10 of Margins of Love
“We have discussed this over and over.It is simply too dangerous,maidale.”His term of endearment,sweet girl, was lost on her.
“And for Sammy, it is not dangerous?” She poked at the same dead horse again.
Her father’s eyes glistened with a no. He swallowed as if he could not quite find the right way to word his response. He stepped closer to her, and her stomach made an anxious flip at the look in his eyes—a mixture of pride and grief.
“I have another matter to discuss with you.” Ilan opened the door, stepped into the hallway, walked to Sammy’s room, and knocked.
“Stella, Stella, dear!” he called. Her mother came through their bedroom door with a warm but trembling smile pasted across her face. She was at odds with the sadness that her eyes had born ever sincethatnight.
“Has it come?” her mother asked, her eyes stuck on Rachel.
He nodded and shut the door as soon as the whole family was gathered in the bedroom. Rachel’seyes darted to the small writing desk, and she saw some papers in Yiddish. The Hebrew letters conveyed ancient German words that unified all Jews of Europe through a transnational language. She could not read it from this far away, especially not upside down.
Her mother came to her side and took her upper arm in a warm grip as if to steady her for the news to come. Rachel’s heart raced, and panic bubbled within her. She did not know what to expect. But when her parents appeared in unison as they did now, she knew something was wrong. The moment of silence seemed brutally long.
“I paid Rabbi Solomon theshadchanfee, and he found a match for you,” Rachel’s father declared, matter-of-factly.
The warmth drained from Rachel’s face. Her mother’s grasp tightened, and the realization sank to Rachel’s stomach, then her knees nearly gave way. She had to sit on her parents’ bed.
“You are going to marry a Jewish boy back in London,” her mother gushed in a wistful tone. “You will be close to us, and I will be by your side to help you settle into the marriage and look after your babes.” She beamed as if ignorant of the blow Rachel’s father had just delivered.
Rachel broke out in a fine sweat, the moisture causing a cold chill. She felt her heartbeat throbbing at her temples, but she was not sure because she felt paralyzed. Of course, she had known this moment might come. But not even her wildest dreams would she have played such a cruel joke and timed hershadchan, match, with her debut. It was too cruel. And yet, her parents did not seem to be jesting.
Rachel looked for guidance but found none from her parents. Her mother smiled at her warmly, suggesting support and anticipation. Ilan stood resolute, watching the emotions play across Rachel’s eyes and waiting for…what? What was he expecting? Her assent? Did she have a choice? The room seemed to shrink around her, and she fanned herself to no avail.
This was happening too fast. For three years, they had been on the road. For the past few months, she had been fitted for new dresses and drilled to speak like an English lady. After every missed season, the other debutantes had gone off with their new husbands. Rachel had attended so many weddings and seen her acquaintances turn into wives of the ton while she lingered on the margins. But this time, this season was supposed to be hers. She knew she could not marry a gentleman of London’s aristocracy, but there was no harm in dancing with one. Or two. Or three. Tears pricked in her eyes and blurred her vision. She had just met the most handsome stranger in the library. Her mind flashed back to the delicious way he had looked at her, the tingly kiss on her knuckle. She shot a glance at her hand as if to safeguard Fave’s kiss. She wanted to preserve its memory, for she saw a bleak future devoid of romance.
“You promised!” She heard her voice rasp in a suppressed cry, louder than she intended.
“I know I promised. And you will have your season.” Her father held the rustling paper in his hand. “There is no date set. We only know now how your season will end.”
The season had been so full of promise, and now this news brought her dreams to a dead end.
This threw her mind into high gear. She counted the months left of her freedom on her fingers to demonstrate how few there were.
“What are you mumbling now?” he asked.
“Well, what else could I be counting?” Rachel’s sarcasm coincided with the onset of a torrent of angry tears. “It is April now. If the season ends in June, I have less than two full months until the wedding!”
Rachel’s mother wrapped herself around her, as if to envelop her in a blanket of motherly support.
“I…I thought you would be happy.” Her father seemed stupefied.
“Ooufff.” Her mother deflated and pushed Rachel’s head onto her shoulder.
“The girl is wailing because I found her a match?” Her father’s voice climbed a few octaves higher than usual.
Her mother shook her head. “You gave her an ultimatum. What do you expect?”
Her father flapped his arms like a penguin in a black coat.
Rachel’s tears pooled on her mother’s ruched bodice. “It is April already,” she sobbed.
Her father looked at her mother as if to ask for help.
“The end of the season is not until late June,maidale.” Her mother’s soft voice was filled with womanly understanding.
“I do not follow.” Her father came closer and put his hand on Rachel’s shoulder.
