Page 42 of Dalliances & Devotion (The Truitts 2)

Oh no. She bit her lips. Hard.

“Without giving his first wife a Get, without ending the marriage. So she was still bound to him. So she suffered while he lived the life he wanted.” David shook his head, his voice thick.

And if there were any doubts as to who the couple was, all were gone. “How old were you?” she asked.

“Twelve.” He blinked his big dark eyes at her.

“And he left her with nothing. No money.” Not a question, just confirmation.

“No. My uncles had a little for both my sisters’ dowries but not much else. My aunts were married off for intellect, not riches.” David sighed. “And all of them resented him and us. Especially me. They hated that my mother didn’t. Said she coddled me. I promised her, when she was dying, that I’d show them, that I’d prove I wasn’t him. I won a scholarship...but.” It was his turn to bite his lip. “You know the story of Joseph?”

“Someone sold you to a caravan?” She squinted. Could that actually happen in Russia?

David snickered. “Not quite that, but close. The tsar had a plan to control the Jewish population—forced conscription for young Jewish boys. Twenty-five years. They’d come to the towns and collect them. I was supposed to be long gone, to Poznan, but instead... It was clear who was behind it as my place at the gymnasium went to someone else.”

“Who?” Amalia had to grip the chair so not to leap to her feet and demand an answer. “Who would do that to you?”

“My cousin Shmuel.” David didn’t run his hand through his hair this time, he near ripped at it.

Oh god.

Everything inside Amalia deflated. “He went and let you get taken?” Her mind raced, willing a decent explanation, one that wasn’t painful, one that wasn’t a betrayal.

“Well, I did manage to escape. I’ve always had certain skills.” David fiddled with his spoon, eyes on the silver. “Anyway, I’m sure the entire family was behind it.” Without lifting his gaze, he moved his hand onward, fingering the edge of his glass. “Shmuel was slated to be the family leader and I, well, I was the son of a man who abandoned his wife, left her trapped by marriage instead of protected by it. The kind of man who damages the community. Not the kind of man anyone wants to be associated with.”

A million protests sat on the tip of her tongue, a million words of comfort at all the unfairness, except her guilt choked them back. She didn’t have the right. His family wronged him, but she had too.

All that hurt, the hurt born of the rejection from all of them sat right below the surface. And she’d done it too. That December, so many years ago. She’d rejected him and affirmed every insecurity he had.

Because she hadn’t seen him, had been so wrapped up in her own pain and sadness that she’d missed the depth of his. She’d underestimated her own power. Discounted it and crushed him with it. Oh, what a mess.

“I did find my father in Berlin and tried to be like him. Especially as the things he read, the ideas espoused by the circles in which he moved were true and significant. So I cut off my peyos.” He flicked the area over his ears. “They never grew back right. But it taught me a lesson—my new friends would never fully be my friends—that no matter how noble their ideals, I’d never shed enough of who I was for them. I’d never be German. And it had nothing to do with where I was born.

“But I could take what I’d learned and move on.” His gaze drifted and bile rose in her throat. “So I put my tzitzis back on and covered my head and jumped onto a ship west. My father wished me luck. Said I’d be back, that we were alike. Idealists. And I still embraced him before I left, still wanted his approval, his love. And I am like him. A lot.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “So you see, I can never marry. How can you trust someone like my father, someone like me not to abuse the arrangement?”

Her mind spun. What should she do? What could she do? She had to walk away. Somehow. Stop whatever this was before it crushed both of them. Before they damaged each other again and again.

Because they were the same, but they weren’t. Because, despite everything, a part of her still believed marriage could work. That if you tried hard enough, with the right person, and made it your own... A lump wound its way back up her throat. She was naïve, wasn’t she? As always. Like a child with fairy tales. That she couldn’t outgrow.

“We should retire,” she managed to say.

His head snapped back towards her and his eyes widened. “Amalia...”

She frowned for a moment, until her own words echoed in her ears. He thought she was propositioning him. Again. She whipped her head from side to side. “No, I mean to sleep. You must be tired. You’ve been working so hard and it’s getting late. We’ll find you your own room and call Meg to help me and—”

He held up his palm. “I haven’t ‘flattered’ you yet.”

Oh god, he really believed she’d force him to do that after what he said. “Please don’t. My asking was unfair. I didn’t understand. I’m sorry, I don’t want—”

David reached over and pressed a finger to her lips, halting her speech. “You make me laugh.” He grabbed her hand. “That first night, when you told that horrible joke—”

“It wasn’t horrible. Thad used to tell it to me and I laughed for hours.” She scooted back and placed her hands on her hips, despite herself.

“‘Why wouldn’t Moses let anyone use his staff?’” He raised an eyebrow.

“‘He couldn’t part with it.’ Funny. Very funny.” She wrinkled her nose at him.

“If you say so.” David tucked in his lips, hiding an obvious smile.

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