Page 83 of Dalliances & Devotion (The Truitts 2)

“Is that so? For someone who is very clever, you’re rather dense when it comes to looking at your own life.” He snorted a little. “You work so hard to avoid my mistakes but you make them anyway. Not because you’re actually like me, but because you’re afraid you are.” He shrugged. “A bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

David frowned. “What do you mean by that? I didn’t force my grandfather and cousins to banish me.”

“Did they?” His father inched closer and lowered his voice. “Or did you assume they did? Do you give people a chance to explain, or do you leave when you’re afraid they’ll tell you something you don’t want to hear? Do you reject people so they can’t reject you? Because of what I did to you and your mother.”

David started. What did he know? And how?

His father sighed. “I may not want to be married, but you do, no matter what you say and what arguments you make.”

“I don’t.” He huffed a little. Yes, it was a bit childish, but a lecture on commitment coming from a man who changed female companionship weekly was a bit much. “It conflicts with my values.”

A snort from his father. “Wearing those tzitzis and praying three times a day conflicts with the most logical extension of Mr. Marx’s theories, not to mention makes you a target, but you still do it.”

Ugh. Just like his father to criticize him that way. David stroked the strings. “I wear them because it’s who I am. And I think I can still fight for equality while being true to myself, whether I get called a ‘meddlesome, troublemaking Jew’ or not.”

“You are a meddlesome, troublemaking Jew. We both are. It’s part of our charm. And the world doesn’t change unless troublemakers meddle.” His father smirked a little. “And isn’t loving a certain woman part of who you are too? A certain, particular woman, who is a bit of a troublemaker herself?” He cocked his head. “What was her name again?”

No. He could never say it. Not even in his head. She had too much power.

“It doesn’t matter.” He whispered the words more to himself than to his father.

“Doesn’t it?” His father thrust a piece of paper into his hands. “How about this? Does this change your mind? Make you want to try listening instead of assuming?”

“What is this?” David blinked at the note.

“Just read it.” He indicated to the missive with an imperious gesture.

David glanced down. Was that Yiddish? He squinted as the familiar handwriting came into view.

Dear David,

I hope this letter really finds you, and finds you well. The family presumed you dead, though Grandfather never gave up hope after you were kidnapped. Traveled to dozens of army posts, always writing me, asking if I’d had news.

I didn’t, just guilt over the fact I had your place, had the life you should’ve because of one unlucky twist of fate. And then, by happenstance, I came to Berlin and saw your father. And we spoke and I realized you were alive. With his help, I traced your steps to America and eventually to a shul in Philadelphia, a rabbi named Einhorn.

And what news we had. We are all so proud of you and your success. Please, when you aren’t too busy, write us back and tell us how you are. We all miss you and your stories...

The rest of the paper was a blur. Shmuel. The rest of his family. They didn’t hate him. They’d just lost him. He had jumped to conclusions. He’d have to write, immediately.

David tipped his chin at his father, who grinned. “Here.” He slapped his thigh before handing David another sheet. “I’m not going to press you about the...er...other matter anymore. Even if it means a certain Lydia Nathan and Rachel Levy wil

l hound me forever and be rather vexed as they paid for my trip here. Nevertheless, I want you to consider the rest. It’s an offer to have you study to become a rabbi and teach some Hebrew school in exchange for room and board, at their rabbi, Sabato Morais’, home, which is slightly more comfortable than...”

His father inclined his head towards the curtain where Mrs. Weiss’s peeking eye was visible between the crack. “No offense, ma’am.”

She curtsied a little, not dropping the baby. “None taken, though if he could find me another tenant...or if you want to stay for a spell.”

David shook his head at the woman even while his father leered at her. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

“There is that saying about ‘old dogs.’” The older man threw his head back and laughed, patting his nonexistent stomach over his coat and turned back to Mrs. Weiss. “I’m sure we can find you a new immigrant to move in, a new family in need of a new life.”

“If I accept.” David rose, clutching the chair a little as he worked to keep his voice cool and calm, even as his insides quaked and jiggled.

“If you accept.” His father scoffed. “It’s what you were always meant to do. The journey just took a little bit of time. You understand the power of words and can harness it for good, if you try.”

“But you rejected Judaism.” David twisted his fingers.

“I rejected many things.” He reached out a hand. “You’re not me, David. And you don’t have to be me.”

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