Chapter 56

Sam stood outside Dev’s apartment, not far from where Onkel and Yetta lived. The stoop was swept clean; flower boxes outside the windows anticipated the return of spring. Sam waited, hoping Dev would spot him through the lace curtains before he climbed the stairs. Although he could have called first, he’d decided their reunion should be face to face. Anything less was cowardly, and he had to practice courage before seeing his father. A woman on the first floor eyed him suspiciously. He couldn’t put off the meeting with his sister any longer.

Pulling his thin jacket close, Sam walked up the carpeted stairs. At Dev’s landing, a spicy aroma drifted into the hallway. Twice he raised a hand to the pewter doorknocker before rapping. His head was still bowed, listening for signs of life, when suddenly there stood Dev, pencil tucked into her hair. Oriental rugs, strewn on the floor behind her, had dampened the sound of her steps.

Sam froze. So did Dev. Her alarm turned into puzzlement, disbelief, then joy. She hurtled into his arms, nearly knocking him down, before yanking him inside and slamming the door. “God in heaven, is it really you?” Hands covering her mouth, Dev laughed and screamed. She leaped around him like a dog released from its pen after weeks of confinement. She touched his shoulders, tapped his knuckles, and encircled his waist as far as her arms would extend, in a long hug. Then she collapsed on the couch, patted the cushion beside her for Sam to sit, and bawled.

It was the most emotional reaction to Sam’s homecoming so far. That was a reflection of Dev’s personality, but also a sign he was getting closer to the people at his own emotional centre. A tide of feelings— love, guilt, panic— flooded Sam’s body until he was afraid he would drown. The ends of his nerves tingled as if on fire. He was navigating blind.

Sam didn’t know if Dev would buy the explanation he’d used with Ryan and Gershon, but he was too overwhelmed to try anything else. Navy discipline kicked in; he repeated what he’d already practiced. As Dev’s sobs diminished, Sam narrated his story, hoping her shock would keep her from asking questions he couldn’t answer. It seemed to work.

When Dev at last caught her breath, she looked at him in frank appraisal, curious to see how he’d changed. “You’re not an anaemic yeshiva boy anymore,” she said as she moved her hand along the muscles in his arm. “Brachioradialis, deltoid. You’ve grown at least a foot too.”

This acknowledgment that he’d become a full-blown man restored a bit of Sam’s confidence. But if he looked different, he couldn’t say the same about Dev. She was a twenty-year-old version of her twelve-year-old self, dark and built solid like their father. In fact, except for the curls they’d both inherited from Rivka, Sam could have been facing Avram. An acid foretaste filled his mouth. He tousled his sister’s wild hair, hoping the playful gesture would tamp down his anxiety and hide it from her. He wanted to reassert himself as the big brother.

Dev reached up and ran both hands through his hair too. Years of walking the beaches at Scapa Flow had bleached and coarsened it. Her forefinger stopped at the strawberry mark below his right ear. “I used to wonder why you wore payess, even though we weren’t that religious. It wasn’t until the boys in my eighth-grade class became self-conscious about their appearance that I realized you were trying to hide this. Is that why you wear your hair so long now?”

Sam removed her hand, but didn’t blush as he might have long ago. “No one paid attention to how I wore it in Scotland. I suppose I should trim it now that I’m home.”

“Will you grow payess again?”

“Goodness, no. I could never go back to what I was.”

“Then will you leave your hair long enough to hide the strawberry mark or let it show?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” Sam admitted, but maybe the time for honesty had come. Not to flaunt it with pride, but not to cover it with shame either. In the war, no one cared who had visible moles or scars. They were just men prepared to sacrifice their lives for one another.

“You need to eat if you don’t want those new muscles to atrophy.” Dev hoisted Sam off the couch and led him into the kitchen. Walking through her apartment, he was struck by its neatness, nothing like her messy corner in the front room when they were growing up. Books were stacked by subject on the shelves and the polished desk held notebooks and an enamelled pen. The kitchen was neat and well stocked too. A pot bubbling on the stove was responsible for the tangy aroma he’d smelled in the hallway. Dev served him tea and homemade honey nut cake.

“Mama’s recipe?” Sam hadn’t eaten it in years, but he could swear it tasted different.

“I add grated orange rind and candied nuts to the batter.”

“It’s good, better than Mama’s.”

Dev blushed with pleasure. “Wait until you try these.” She removed a cloth napkin from a hand-painted plate of chocolate-covered cookies.

Sam bit through the crust into a layer of spongy filling and a wafer of sweet dough. “You made these too?” He ate a second one.

“Mallomars!” Dev hooted, pulling the crinkly wrapper from the cupboard. “Store bought, but kosher, I promise. Even Bernie and Leah let their children eat them.”

Sam wondered whether he should confess to no longer keeping kosher, but decided there was time to deliver such smaller shocks after she’d adjusted to the big one of his turning up alive.

“Tell me about the war,” Dev said, leaning back in her chair.

“There’s not a lot to tell. I didn’t see much action.”

“What were the other men on your ship like?”

“Young and scared, like me. Boot camp hardened us. Later on, battling storms and sighting subs became routine.”

“Weren’t you afraid of the enemy? We heard awful things about the Germans.”

Sam swirled his tea leaves. “I was more afraid of a sadistic person in our own ranks.”

“What was he like?”

“Tough on the surface, but in his own way, as scared as the rest of us underneath.”

Dev sprang a curl near her temple and frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Were you ever afraid you wouldn’t get into college, that the one thing you wanted would be denied you?”

Dev nodded.

“He achieved his dream, but then it was taken away from him. Most likely forever, unless there’s another war.”

“Shmuel, don’t even think such a horrible thought.”

“Don’t worry. It’s the last thing I’d want, even to help a friend, let alone a man I dislike.”

“Did you make any friends in the war?”

“Two.” Sam pulled the shirt collar away from his throat. The kitchen felt warm, although the only nearby heat came from the low flame under the simmering pot.

Dev’s eyes sparkled. “Will you see them now that you’re back? Can I meet them?”

“I already saw one. He lives in Boston.”

“And the other?”

Sam shook his head.

Dev drew a sharp breath. “Is that why you didn’t come home when the war ended?”

“Enough questions for today. I’m back now. There’s time to tell you more later.” Sam held out his cup and plate, hoping to distract her.

“One more question that can’t wait,” Dev said, handing Sam more tea and another slice of cake. “Why did you leave without telling me? I thought we confided everything to each other.”

Sam wasn’t going to get off that easy after all. He tried teasing. “You were only twelve. A sixteen-year-old boy doesn’t tell his little sister everything.”

“Don’t treat me like a child.” Dev was accusatory, but not petulant. “I’m an adult now.”

After hearing others blame themselves, Sam was jolted when Dev blamed him. Fearing it foretold the reaction he’d get from Avram, Sam felt the burning sensation rise again in his throat.

“I was afraid of saying anything that might get back to Papa.”

“Were you worried that if you told me, I’d tip him off?” Dev’s nostrils flared. “Did you think I would spill the beans as a way to get on his good side? To win out over you?”

Nothing like that had crossed his mind. “How could you believe I’d think that of you?”

“Back then, maybe I would have. I wanted Papa’s love so badly and much as I loved you, I envied the attention you got.” Now Dev sounded more angry at herself than at Sam.

He swallowed hard. He’d never given much thought to the pain Avram caused Dev. “We both wanted his love, only I couldn’t face becoming a rabbi to earn it, so I ran.”

“I didn’t even have a way to earn it until Bernie proposed, and then I sacrificed it to go my own way. I had to leave home too, but I still worry that Papa will find a way to stop me.”

“He’s not an easy man to break away from. It would be easier if he were cruel, but he wants what he believes is best for us. What he never had himself. It’s like he’s the poor little child, and we’re the parents telling him ‘no.’ We pay for our freedom with our guilt.”

Dev’s face softened. She nodded sympathetically. “I think that’s why Mama has trouble saying ‘no’ to him too. Although sometimes she does. Like about my going to college.”

“Mama never made us earn her love.” Sam looked at Rivka’s photo beside the stove. “Still, I never understood her. She defended women’s rights but she never stood up to Papa.”

Dev spun the platter of Mallomars. “It used to make me angry too, but now I can see her side. I have a chance to go to school and support myself. What could Mama do if she left Papa or if he threw her out? Suppose making a good home for him is her dream, who are we to judge?”

Sam studied his sister. She hadn’t changed much on the outside, but inside she was a new person. Less self-centred, more thoughtful, kinder. He felt bad that he hadn’t been there to guide her. Yet he couldn’t deny that she’d done fine on her own. That hurt worse.

“You’ve grown up, Dev. When I left, you were always itching to pick a fight with Mama, or anyone and everything else.”

Dev smiled wryly “I still need to rebel now and then.”

Sam cocked his head.

“I eat trayf. Pork buns and shrimp egg rolls from Chinatown.”

Sam clapped a hand over his mouth and her face fell until he winked. “Me too,” he said, and told her about the unkosher food he ate during his time in the Navy.

“You had to eat that stuff or you would have starved.” Dev grimaced. “I eat it by choice.”

“I don’t have to eat trayf anymore either. Like you, I choose to eat it now.”

Dev looked up from under her thick, dark lashes. “It tastes good, doesn’t it?”

Sam agreed. Why pretend he’d eaten trayf for his health or to fit in? The truth was that he liked it. He and Dev absolved each other, swearing a pact not to tell Rivka, let alone Avram. They were children again, united in their opposition, not strangers after all. And yet, the knot that bound them was weaker. The frayed rope could never be repaired. Even if Sam wanted to, he knew Dev wouldn’t. All those years he’d been floundering, she’d moved full speed ahead. His little sister had out-raced him and Sam alone would mourn the seas they hadn’t sailed together.

“How will you let Papa know you’re back?” Dev rested her chin on her hand and frowned. “Do you want to practice what you’ll say to him with me?”

“No. I have to work this out on my own,” Sam said. And soon, he thought. Postponing it was a burden. Looking around Dev’s orderly apartment, he was struck by the reversal in their lives too. She’d craved their father’s love, but was now resolved to live without it. He’d chosen to live without it and was now hoping to win it back. Dev’s life had a purpose. His was uncertain.

“It will be easier if you begin with Mama,” Dev said. “Come to dinner Sunday night. I’ll tell her to get here before Onkel Gershon’s family.” When Sam hesitated, she added, “Don’t get the heebie jeebies. Papa never comes and I’ll stay close in case Mama screams or faints.”

This time Sam accepted Dev’s offer. Walking back to his room, he thought of this new sister, how she’d kept her exuberance and curiosity while maturing into a mediator who could see both sides of a conflict. She could play the part of the older sibling now. He trusted her to help him reconcile with his mother. Trust was the first step in repairing the rift with his father too, but to confront Avram, Sam had to trust in himself alone.