Thirty-Three

Papa, good news,” Sarah said, as she walked into the shop.

“Let’s tell Mama too,” he said.

Sarah was surprised to find Rifke lying on the couch.

“Don’t you feel well, Mama?”

“Sammy’s taking a late nap. I just thought I’d rest for a few minutes.” Rifke rose from the couch but not quickly enough to avoid Jacob’s anxious questions.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Rifke?”

“Jacob, can’t I rest without you thinking I’m going to die?” She walked into the kitchen and picked up a basket, its contents covered with a faded, but clean, dish towel. “Sarah and I are going to take soup and chicken to the woman who just had a baby. Sarah, you carry that bag of Sammy’s baby clothes.”

Jacob was in one of his blue moods. He lowered himself into his chair, took off his work shoes, and sat back with a heavy sigh. “Before you go, Sarahla has something to tell us, Rifke.”

Sarah wished she had kept the whole thing secret.

“Tell us, Sarahla.”

“I painted a picture of the Japanese Gardens at the World’s Fair. My teacher is going to enter it in a competition.”

“That is an honor, Sarahla.” Jacob sat up straighter and smiled. “I’m very proud. And so is your mother.”

“Is there a prize?” Rifke asked.

“I think so.”

“Sarahla, give your Papa a kiss. You cheered me up.”

Before she and Rifke left for the Petrakis flat, Sarah put one of Fanny’s hand-me-down dresses into the bag with Sammy’s baby clothes. Once outside, they set up a quick pace. Sarah was surprised when Rifke had to stop and catch her breath. She had always been a swift walker. By the time they reached the tenement, Rifke had to lean against the building and wait until her breath returned.

Melina opened the door to admit them. Her face brightened. “Mum, it’s Sarah and a lady.”

Mrs. Petrakis looked up. She had been doing piecework, sewing a sleeve onto a man’s shirt. The baby slept at her side in a cardboard carton lined with a blanket. A cutout picture of Mary and the Christ child was pinned to the wall above the makeshift crib.

“I hope it’s all right. We wanted to see the baby,” Sarah said. “And my mother brought some of my brother’s baby clothes. And some soup and chicken.”

Mrs. Petrakis was overwhelmed by the gifts. She put her sewing aside, stood up, and gave Rifke a shy hug. Melina pulled a diminutive blue kimono out of the bag. “Look, Mum! It matches ’is eyes.”

Mrs. Petrakis rubbed her cheek against the soft cloth.

“What name did you give your baby, Mrs. Petrakis?” asked Rifke.

“Xenofondas,” answered Melina. “But I call him Xeno.”

Rifke smiled. “Such a big name for such a little boy.”

“My pa, that was his name.”

Mrs. Petrakis’s housedress was stretched tightly over her full figure and she fidgeted with one of the loose buttons. “You kin pick ’em up if you want, ma’am. ’E’s a good sleeper.”

Rifke gently lifted the infant, held him against her chest, and cupped her hand over the small head. “He’s perfect, Mrs. Petrakis.”

“I thank God for bein’ so good to me.”

The baby stirred, puckered his lips, and made tiny sucking sounds. Rifke handed him to Mrs. Petrakis.

“Not much milk left in my bottles right now,” Mrs. Petrakis said with a laugh. “I think maybe ’e’s goin’ to suck me up so there be nothin’ left of me.” She nuzzled the baby and kissed him under the chin. “That’s where the sugar is,” she said. She slid the small head under her unbuttoned dress.

Melina was pulling the clothes out of the bag one at a time, lining them up on an ironing board and admiring them. When Xeno was finished nursing Mrs. Petrakis let her dress him in a blue kimono. He kicked and wriggled and his little face turned red.

“Just like a boy,” Rifke said. “They never want to get dressed up.”

But Melina was determined. She managed not only to put the kimono on Xeno but a tiny blue hat to match. Mrs. Petrakis lifted him to show him off. He squeezed his fists and let out an impressive burp. They all laughed.

“Melina, there’s something else in the bag,” Sarah said.

Melina reached in and pulled out the dress.

“It’s for you. It’s too small on me now. It was my sister Fanny’s.”

Melina held the dress against her.

Sarah nodded approval. “The color is good on you, but I think it just might be a little long.”

“My Melina does good with hems,” said Mrs. Petrakis.

“I’m gonna shorten it and wear it tomorrow!” Melina said. In a burst of gaiety, she took the little blue hat off Xeno, put it on her head, and twirled around, giggling.

Mrs. Petrakis and Melina didn’t want them to leave, but Rifke was anxious to get back home.

§

After dinner Jacob insisted Rifke rest. “Sarah and I will do the dishes and put Sammy to bed.” He led Rifke to the couch and eased off her shoes, but she refused to lie down. “I’m going to a meeting tonight, Jacob. Remember?”

“No.”

“You remember what you read in the newspaper two years ago, but you can’t remember when I have a suffrage meeting.”

“And where is this meeting?”

“At the empty store on Taylor.”

“Sarah, you read to Sammy while I walk with your Mama,” Jacob said.

“No!” Sammy picked up one of Rifke’s shoes, and ran through the door to the butcher shop. Sarah caught him and he flung the shoe into the sink.

“Sammy! Bring that shoe here and apologize,” Rifke demanded.

Sammy burst out crying and ran and hid his face in her lap. She lifted him up and felt his forehead. “He’s burning up.”

“He’ll be all right, Mama. You go.”

Sammy’s cries turned into gulping sobs and he wrapped his arms around Rifke.

“You can go, Mama,” Sarah insisted. “We’ll lie quietly on my bed and I’ll read to him.”

“And worry myself sick that he’ll have another coughing attack?”

There was nothing Sarah or Jacob could say to that.

§

Sarah was wakened by a sound she couldn’t identify. She lay very still, waiting to hear it again. Nothing. She climbed out of bed and felt her way through the blue curtains. In the pale moonlight she saw her mother lying on the floor.

“Mama!” she cried. She knelt next to the motionless figure, and ran her hand across the waxen face. “Papa!”

Jacob bolted out of the bedroom and fell to his knees at Rifke’s side. He laid his head on his wife’s chest. “She breathes,” he murmured. “Sarah, run to Hull House. Send an ambulance. Hurry!”

He had never before permitted her to go out by herself at night. “Be careful,” he called from the doorway. “Don’t stop for anyone.”

Sarah ran as she had never run before. Soon she felt a constriction in her chest and had to stop. Breathing in fast, shallow gasps, she started to run again. When she reached Hull House she fell against the door. Miss Lathrop opened it.

“My mother!” Sarah gasped. “Call an ambulance!”

Miss Lathrop snatched up the phone and Sarah told her the address, then ran out into the night again. But she had to stop for a few minutes to catch her breath, then slow to a walk, or she felt she’d crack in half. It seemed to take forever to get home.

The ambulance wagon was there already, in front of the shop’s lighted window. Two men in white were walking out carrying a stretcher. All Sarah could see of her mother was her loosened hair streaming over the white blanket.

“Sarah, stay with Sammy.” Her father, a coat thrown over his pajamas, scrambled into the ambulance. The door slammed and the horses galloped off, bells clanging. Sammy covered his ears with his hands. His face was swollen from crying. Sarah picked him up and held him tightly as she watched the ambulance disappear.