Chapter 9

Bern, December 1912

The icy winter wind propelled Rebecca down the street and bit her cheeks. She had studied late with her new friend, Lara, who had come to Bern from the city of Odessa, in Ukraine, and lived in a boardinghouse with poor lighting. Lara preferred to study at the library, with its excellent electricity, which suited Rebecca fine, as she could never concentrate at home with Hannah’s constant chatter about her outings to the theater or the symphony. Mother was busy searching for a proper match for Hannah, and it occupied them both well enough to leave Rebecca alone to spend as much time at the university as she needed.

This was from early morning until late night these days. She was taking Anatomy, Physiology, Pathology, and Chemistry. She wished she had time for X-Ray Interpretation, but it just wasn’t possible in her first semester of studies. It was not that her classes were particularly challenging. It was only that she found it difficult to accept that some of the professors seemed to ignore her presence and her questions but answered the male students often enough. Professor Beitke was especially gruff in his attitude toward women, although she was doing well enough in his Pathology class.

She slowed and sniffed the air around her—Snow!—and her excited glance went to the blue and silver clouds. Minutes later, large snowflakes began to drift from the sky, only just touching the orange roofs of the houses. Nothing could cheer her up more than a fresh snowfall! She had always drawn power from nature, but these days she needed it more than ever. Her body was often depleted by the stress of learning, and she had to find new ways to connect with natural elements and release the pressure building inside her.

Rebecca waited until the snowflakes fell gently on her face, like soft kisses.

More and more came now, and the whole world seemed to be turning silver and white. Her heart filled with joy, and she opened her arms and spun slowly, completely oblivious to the passersby on the busy street around her. There were a few moments of bliss, until she felt a rough shove, lost her balance, and found herself on her knees on the filthy pavement, with her books sliding out of sight.

There was no time to feel embarrassed—she cried out as a sharp pain shot through her left ankle. Rebecca bit her lip and tried to get up, her hands slipping in the cover of fresh snow. She fought back tears of frustration and pain but then felt herself lifted by a pair of strong arms and supported enough to be able to balance on her uninjured foot. She looked in gratitude for her savior and saw a handsome young man’s face with brown eyes and small, round glasses speckled with snow. He looked foreign but also kind. And then she remembered the man. He was the one who had blown a kiss to her that day in the synagogue a year ago! She would have blushed, if not for the pain and the cold.

“I lean you over?” the man asked, suddenly letting go. She almost lost her balance until she leaned back on the building near her. He rushed to pick up her books, which were lying in the muddy slush, in danger of being stepped on and ruined.

The sight of the books made her feel even more sorry for herself. Rebecca was nearly sitting back down on the ground, struggling to hold her balance. She shook some of the mud and wet snow off her coat. At least she hadn’t worn one of her best coats today. This black one could be easily cleaned once it dried. She took off her hat, as the pins were off anyway. She felt like a child who needed to be scolded. What was she doing spinning around in the snow in the middle of the street, and now sitting in wet slush, covered in dirt, and talking to a stranger? What would her mother say about this behavior?

The man picked up her books, took a handkerchief out of the pocket of a shabby-looking coat, and cleaned them up carefully. As he handed them back to her, he examined her intently and she wondered if it was from pity or kindness.

“My name is Mark Minchin,” he said. “I am also medicine student.” He opened his coat and showed her a textbook safely tucked in there.

“Rebecca Miller,” she whispered. She accepted his hand to allow him to pull her up. As she stood, a piercing pain shot through her ankle again, and she whimpered, struggling to hold back tears.

“Can I check your ankle?” Mark asked with concern in his voice.

“I’ve never seen you in my classes,” Rebecca said.

“I see you.” He smiled. “You sit in the front in Physiology. You stay late always, and you make pretty pictures in your notebook.” Mark looked up. “It’s getting to be more snow. Can I look at your ankle, please?” He bent down before she had a chance to protest, causing her cheeks to flush as he appeared to poke underneath her skirt. “It does not seem broken, but I see swelling. You can walk, yes?”

“It hurts too much to put pressure on it,” she admitted.

Did he not remember her at all from that day in the synagogue? Well, she would have to forget about solving that problem just now. She needed to figure out how to get home.

“Can I help you go home? Are you far from your home? Do you need me to get a carriage?”

There were no carriages or cars in sight; not on a windy, snowy night like this. Rebecca realized she had no choice but to accept Mark’s help.

“I live only a few minutes’ walk from here. Can I maybe lean on you while we walk?” Rebecca prayed silently that her mother did not look out the parlor window tonight.

“Of course. Here.” He offered his arm.

She tried to be comfortable without leaning too much on him, but it wasn’t possible. She had to tightly hold onto his arm or the pain was unbearable. She took a careful step and Mark gently followed, supporting her elbow. She stopped crying and concentrated on walking. The streets were dark now, and having this man so close was somehow very comforting on this cold, wet, and now very miserable night. He was strong and steady under her arm. His warmth radiated through his thin coat and seemed to float straight to her heart, making it beat much faster than normal.

“You’re very kind,” she said.

“I am used to helping my sisters.”

She thought she caught a note of sadness in his voice. “Where does your family live?” she asked gently.

“They are far away, in a country called Ukraine. Maybe you heard about it?” He supported her as she pointed to a street crossing.

“Yes, I have. I have a friend from Odessa. We study together. Maybe you know her? Her name is Lara Silber.”

“Of course. Lara and her fiancé, Vlad, are my close friends.”

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense. Lara said you’re all part of a small student community. Are you here because of Tsar Nicholas and the politics, like Lara?”

He appeared uncomfortable for a moment. “No, I am not political. I am here only to go to university. Tsar Nicholas made law that only seven percent of Jews can go to universities at home, and there was no more space for Jews like me. You don’t have such law in Switzerland. Anybody can come study here.”

“It’s a terrible law. Lara told me. But of course she is here because the Tsar won’t allow women to study at universities in your country at all.”

“It is how things are when you have the Tsar. He makes law and everybody follow the law. So I come and study here. People are kind here. It is easy here. There’s so much freedom.”

They reached Rebecca’s house in Monbijou, and she looked nervously for any sign of her parents’ activity inside.

What should she do to avoid her mother? Her father’s office!

It was next door to the house, and she knew just where Father kept the spare key. The windows looked dark—he was surely home for supper now. She’d be able to give Mark a hot drink and wrap a compress around her ankle before going home and causing her mother a headache.

“This way. Can you help me up a few steps, right to this door?” She pointed and limped to the door with Mark’s help. She searched around the door knocker and found a little slot that contained a key.

They walked in clumsily, with Rebecca struggling to get past the door frame. She was relieved that the hallway was indeed dark. There was sure to be a scolding about being late to supper, but that would not be as bad as the scolding for arriving with a poor Ukrainian student holding her up.

“I think I can get what I need to tend to my ankle in this room to the right,” she said, starting toward the main surgery office. “Come, let’s not take too long. I can’t tarry.”

But Mark was not moving. His body seemed frozen, so she looked in the same direction as he was and found her father standing at the end of the hallway by the open door of his private study. She froze as well.

“And what do we have here?” Father asked calmly, approaching them while wiping his glasses.

“She fell with the snow, and her ankle twisted.” Mark found his words after first making a polite bow to Father. “I check on it, and it is not broken. I am medical student at the university.”

“Of course you are,” Father remarked calmly, while taking Rebecca’s arm, putting it around his own shoulders, and leading her to the surgery. He propped her somewhat less gently than she wished on the examining table, then took off her boot and examined the ankle.

Rebecca stared at him, defiant, expecting a lecture. The ankle hurt terribly from the examination, and she bit on her lip a little to keep from crying out. Mark moved toward her slightly as she winced, but she shook her head, willing him to stay put.

“You are correct. It is not broken,” Father pronounced, with a glance at Mark. Then to Rebecca he said, “But you’ll need to keep off it for a few days, my dear,” giving her an examining look as if wondering if she’d be able to stay out of trouble for that long. “This seems to be the season for young ladies to injure their bones. Your friend Sarah was just here, with a fracture to her wrist.”

“What happened to Sarah?”

“She told me she had fallen on the ice by her front steps.”

“But we haven’t had any ice. Until tonight, I mean.”

“That’s what I said to her.” He cleared his throat. “So do you think you can be careful with your ankle for a few days?”

“Yes, Papi. I can study at home,” she said, looking down.

“I will go then.” Mark nodded and turned to leave.

“No, young man. Wait!” Father surprised them both by waving Mark back in. “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll get you a hot drink. You look half frozen.”

“Thank you. It’s much appreciated.”

Rebecca pointed at a chair near her, but Father quickly pointed at another, much farther away, in an adjoining room. He gave her a stern look, then walked out.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Mark. “It’s just that he’s my father, and he’s being protective, you understand? I’m not really supposed to be walking around alone at night and then showing up at home with a strange man.”

Father came back with a steaming cup of tea and handed it to Mark. Mark took a careful sip and closed his eyes in delight.

“I put a small amount of brandy in there to warm you through. Do you have any clothing warmer than this thin jacket?”

“Oh, this is very warm clothes,” Mark assured.

“It’s certainly not going to keep you warm through the winters here. Rebecca, we should really talk to your mother and her ladies about organizing a coat donation event for these students from Russia. You are from Russia, right?”

“I am from Ukraine.”

“Ukraine. Either way—I can’t allow you to leave on such an evening without a warm coat.” He walked away, then returned with a thick jacket. “This is my orderly’s spare jacket. It’s old and worn, but much warmer than what you have on.”

“You are very kind, but there’s no need,” Mark protested.

“Please take it, I—that is—we don’t want you to freeze while you’re here. Especially if you want to become a doctor.”

Rebecca smiled her best smile at him, hoping to convince him of her father’s best intentions. She felt genuine affection for him, and she desperately didn’t want him to go out in the cold without the jacket. Mark met her eyes. She blushed and looked down at her ankle, still throbbing but much less now.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I see you have Professor Kocher’s book on surgery,” Father remarked, while putting a compress on her ankle.

“Are you studying surgical techniques then?” Rebecca stretched her neck and saw a large text with the title, Chirurgische Operationslehre, lying on a chair next to Mark.

“Yes, he was kind enough to allow me to take his course this autumn. I hope to continue my studies in surgery. I like it very much!” The young man bubbled with excitement.

“Theodor and I are old friends. He is a demanding teacher, but he will make you a great surgeon, mark my words. You must work hard to advance in his courses.”

“I will, Doctor. I will always work hard. I have no other choice. I can’t go home until I’m a doctor.”

Father finished with her ankle, and the two men chatted about the state of politics in Ukraine and the Tsar’s Russia. Rebecca couldn’t hear over the sound of her heartbeat. She hoped his tea wouldn’t last too long and he would go soon. And then she also hoped his tea would last forever. But soon it was done. Mark got up and bowed his goodbye, and her entire being ached to see him go. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she felt him looking at her from the edge of the doorstep as he was leaving.

Father walked her home a few minutes later, supporting her on his arm. He hesitated on the steps. “Perhaps it would be best not to mention this to your mother.”

“Yes, Papi. Thank you.” She bent her head. She knew Mother wouldn’t approve of her bringing a Ukrainian student home. She had heard many hushed conversations between her mother’s society friends, discussing the Russenproblem of so many Jewish students coming to study at the University of Bern. She was grateful that Father would keep this secret for her.

Later that night, she stared at her window until the late hours, but it wasn’t from the discomfort of her ankle. She thought of Mark walking in the snow and feeling cold, and she hoped he would make it safely to wherever he was going.