The Dressmaker's Son by Abbi Sherman Schaefer Read Free Book Online Page A

gone.  He knelt by her
side.
    “Let me take him,”
he said softly.
    She looked at
Jacob’s face.  “He’s dead, Jacob.”
    “I know, Rachael,”
he answered putting one arm around her and the other around Levi.
                “I thought he was
getting better.  His fever was even down.  But he couldn’t breathe, Jacob.  He
tried, but he couldn’t.  Then he just stopped.”  Her voice was even without
emotion. “David is making arrangements,” she continued in the same monotone. 
“We don’t need any clothes.  It’s an orthodox synagogue .   He’ll be in a
sheet.  David said there is a Jewish cemetery and he can get a plot.  He’ll pay
for it.”
                Jacob knew there was
nothing he could say to comfort her as the tears streamed down his own face. 
He brushed them away with his sleeve.
                “Let me take him,
Rachael,” he repeated quietly.
                Rachael released her
grip and let Jacob lift him from her lap.  He placed his little body on the
bed.  A nurse with broken English approached him.
                “They are here from the
funeral home to get Levi, Mr. Shearmon, and there are some papers you need to
sign.”
    Jacob nodded “Give
me a moment with my son, please.”
                She backed away as
Jacob leaned over Levi. “I’m so sorry, Levi.  Papa loved you.  I wanted to bring
you to a new country for a new life.” He bent down and kissed him.  “You will
always be in Papa’s heart.”
                Rachael stood.  “It’s
time to go, Jacob.  I have to tell the children.”
                But first there were
papers to sign.  And then Rachael had to finish the process of being admitted
to America.  Uncle David arrived to tend to Levi to be sure he was not left
alone.  He would ride with Levi to the funeral home. There, according to Jewish
law, a person would be assigned to keep a vigil over the body until the burial.

 
    CHAPTER 8
     
     
                It had been almost six
months since Levi’s funeral.  Jacob would never forget the sight of that little
coffin.  He was beside himself with grief.  Rachael was silent throughout it
all: getting ready for the funeral, the service at cemetery where David had managed
to get a plot, sitting Shiva , when friends of David and Ruth came to pay
their respects.  She sat like a stone.  The only time she had cried was when
they had returned home from the hospital. 
    David and Ruth had
met them at the door.  Embracing Rachael, Ruth had led her inside. She knew
there was nothing she could say to comfort her.
     “Can I get you
something to eat or drink?” she asked in an almost hushed voice. “The children
have already eaten.”
    “No, thank you,
Ruth,” Rachael answered in the same monotone she had used at the hospital with
Jacob.  “I need to be with the children to tell them.  Where is Solomon?”
    Ruth pointed to
the little sunroom off the living room.  As Rachael walked into the room,
Solomon was standing at the window.  No lights were on but the fading light
from outside seemed to envelop his body.  He was wearing a skullcap and the tallit he had been given by his Aunt Rebekah to wear at his Bar Mitzvah in America. 
By the rocking of his body Rachael could tell he was praying.  She approached
him quietly so as not to startle him.  “Sollie,” she whispered her voice
catching.  “It’s Mama.”  At first he did not move or acknowledge her. “Sollie?”
she repeated.
                Finally he turned to
her.  Rachael saw the intense pain in his eyes. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” he
asked, his eyes brimming with tears. “Why, Mama? I prayed and prayed.”
                “I know, Sollie,” she
answered reaching out for him and holding him to her.  “I know, but they
couldn’t make him well.”  She felt his hot tears on her shoulder and she
started to