CHAPTER 26
Max Makes His Escape

Sammy opened the door to an apartment filled with people. Max’s mother was sitting on the sofa with Malka on one side and Mrs. Baldani on the other. Papa was pacing the width of the living room. Aunt Tsippi was passing around glasses of tea, and Maria was sitting on the floor, an open book in her lap.

“I found him,” Sammy announced as Max followed him into the room. Max’s mother raced over, wrapped Max in her arms, and burst into tears.

“Sammy!” Maria jumped up and hugged Sammy around the waist. “We thought you were lost. We thought you had fallen in the East River, but Papa said that you and Max had crossed the Williamsburg Bridge and were hiding in Brooklyn.” She stopped and gasped for breath.

“Hey, Maria,” Sammy laughed. “It’s okay. We’re safe. No one is in the river.”

Everyone relaxed. Mrs. Blimsky hugged Max, pushed his hair off his forehead, and hugged him again. Malka urged everyone to drink more tea. Mrs. Baldani passed a plate of cookies that she assured them came from the kosher baker. Even Mr. Baldani—who was rarely seen because he worked the night shift and slept all day— popped a mustachioed head around the door to say he was on his way to work.

Only Papa remained silent. Standing by the window, arms folded, head bowed, he seemed to be praying. Sammy was disappointed. He had found Max and brought him back safely, yet his father didn’t have one word to say to him.

A commotion at the door made everyone turn around. Mr. Blimsky—bareheaded, black coat unbuttoned, his face a fireball of anger—burst into the room.

“I thought I would find you here!” he bellowed, shaking a fist at his wife and Max.

“This is why I bring you from Poland? To leave your home and your work, and run to strangers?” Shaking with anger, he grabbed Mrs. Blimsky by the shoulders and shook her so hard her hair tumbled over her shoulders. Then he turned to Max.

“And you, you ungrateful—” He raised his hand, but before he could connect with Max’s face, Sammy’s father came from behind and stopped his arm.

“No more hitting,” he commanded, twisting Mr. Blimsky’s arm so that the two men were facing each other.

Mr. Blimsky yanked his arm back and raised it, but Mr. Levin stopped the punch and backed the other man against the wall.

“What kind of man hits his wife?” he shouted. “What kind of man beats his son? It is not enough for you that they work night and day?” Papa roared.

Sammy stared at him in amazement. He had seen his father angry but never in such a rage. His heart swelled with pride.

“You do not tell me how to run my family,” Mr. Blimsky sputtered. He pushed Papa away. “Kati, Max, come with me.”

He walked toward the door and turned. “Did you not hear me? I said, ‘Come’!”

When they didn’t move, he stepped toward his wife and stepson.

Sammy’s father moved between them. “I think you had better leave now, sir,” he said in a commanding voice.

Mr. Blimsky opened his mouth as if to protest. Sammy stepped up beside his father.

“Max does not want to go back with you,” he said.

Max joined him. “My mother does not want to go back, either,” he said in a strong, if slightly shaky voice.

Mr. Blimsky looked from Papa’s clenched jaw to Max’s clenched fists. Then he glared at his wife, who turned away.

“So.” He shook his head. “This is my reward for rescuing you and bringing you to this country. Now you can rot here.”

With a swish of his coat, Mr. Blimsky stomped out and slammed the door.

Aunt Tsippi was the first to speak. “You and Max can stay with me until you find a place to live,” she said, slipping an arm around Mrs. Blimsky’s shoulders.

“Can Max sleep here tonight?” Sammy asked his father.

Papa looked at Malka. “Is it all right with you?”

“Of course,” said Malka. “The boys can have my room and I will sleep on the sofa. If,” she added, turning to Mrs. Blimsky, “it is all right with you.”

The woman nodded. Tears streamed down her face. “I do not know how we will live.”

“As before,” said Papa. “Only now, the money you earn will be for you and your son. Malka—they need seamstresses at your factory?”

“Always.” Malka nodded.

“Now,” said Papa, glancing out the window. “It is time for us to say Havdallah. It is the service that ends our Sabbath,” he explained to Mrs. Baldani. He picked up a braided candle and his prayer book from a shelf behind the sofa. He lit the candle and then began chanting the closing Sabbath prayer. Then he lifted a silver shaker and passed it around so that everyone could sniff the sweet spices inside, for a sweet new week. When he was finished, Papa poured three drops of grape juice in a saucer and put out the candle flame.

“Shavua tov,” he said, and everyone repeated his wish for a good week.

For a while, Sammy had forgotten about Kaufman’s, but he suddenly remembered that this was a special night.

“I have to go,” he announced to the room at large. “Can Max come with me?” he asked Mrs. Blimsky.

“Thanks!” he shouted, at her hint of a nod. Grabbing Max’s arm, he pulled his friend down the stairs. The gang was waiting for him at Klopchuck’s, and he was already late.