“To make matters worse, he has also gotten a tattoo.” More than one, but she wouldn’t mention that. Her shame was too great already. If she could not undo what he had done, the stain on her must be removed. There were provisions, laws, that might give her a way out. “Rabbi, there is a law that states if a person is tattooed they can be pronounced dead?”
“Do not be ridiculous. He is your only son. We could not pronounce your only child dead. Who would carry on your family name?” Abraham spread his hands. The twist of his lips said what he had not, that he disliked the turn of events as much as she did.
But Samuel was not his son.
He was hers.
And she did not want the Zimmerman name given to whatever progeny that whore would have. Tamara dug her nails into her palms.
Always be a lady.
“I think Samuel is ill. Is there something Halakah can do for him? This needs to be fixed.”
Abraham shook his head. “We’ve been over this several times. I fear that the boy has chosen to abide by the decisions he’s made, and it is out of our hands now.”
Tamara pursed her lips.
We’ll see about that.
Chapter Thirteen
Eyeball tattoo—These tattoos date back to the 19th century. Modern techniques have made it safer, but the procedure is still risky. Ink can be injected into the sclera, changing the color of the white portion of the eye, and can even be injected into the cornea and retina.
Autumn laid out the stencil for her first appointment of the day, resolutely not glancing at Mary. The moment Autumn had stepped foot in the shop, Mary had snapped at her for slamming the door too hard, then Autumn had used all the paper in the printer doing her stencil and hadn’t restocked the gloves in the piercing room. The last two were technically not her job. Both fell to their shop manager Carly, but something had Mary’s skirts in a knot and the normally taciturn woman was spewing a stream of words.
The cell phone on her desk chimed and flashed Sammi’s name and Autumn couldn’t help but smile. He’d been concerned to the point of smothering her that morning, but she appreciated the heart behind it.
Thinking about my sunshine. How are you?
She missed him. Just a few hours apart and she was hungry for his touch, his smile, the sound of his laugh. God, she had it bad for him and he didn’t even know it.
Horrible. Your cock isn’t in me.
Autumn hit Send on that little gem and picked up her pencil.
“Andale.” Mary shooed Pandora out of her way as she marched back to the office.
Pandora crossed to Autumn’s station and rested her hip against the table hanging off the side wall. There was a large mirror running the length of the shop, and above it Autumn had pinned a collection of artwork and stencils she’d used recently.
“What’s up with Mary?” Pandora whispered.
Autumn shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’m just going to keep my mouth shut today.”
“Lucky you. You have appointments all day. All I’ve got is a two o’clock piercing.” Pandora blew out a breath. “Hey, Carly.”
Carly eased to a stop and peered at the design Autumn would be tattooing soon. “Man, that’s going to look sick.”
“Thanks.” The image was an overlay design consisting of several parts. A block of words. A partial portrait. A swath of color. Even a bit of a cartoon strip. It would be a little chaotic, but the outcome would be a nice addition to her portfolio. “Hey, where’s Kellie?” Their other boss, the voice of reason, was always early.
There was a beat of silence before Carly replied, “She’s at Jacob’s wedding.”
“Shit. Open mouth, insert foot.” Autumn groaned. She swiveled a little to face her friend. “How you feeling about it?”
Carly shrugged. “He’s marrying his fiancée. I guess I’m happy for him.”
“Come on, Carls, we know you’ve liked him.” Pandora crossed to sit on Autumn’s padded tattoo table.
Carly sighed and slumped back in her chair. “Yeah, so? He’s a nice guy, but why would he like me? I’m a cripple white girl who is moving into an over-the-garage apartment. His fiancée is a petite, hot Asian chick. No contest.”
Pandora was quick to step into the role of mother. “Don’t say that, Carly.”
“And how many times has Jacob come in here to hang out with you? His parents want him to marry Miss Snobby Pants. Kellie said he told her that.” Autumn couldn’t imagine an arranged marriage. Sure her marriage was a bargain, but she’d made it. Her parents hadn’t.
“Can we please talk about something else?” Carly grabbed her rims and pushed forward and back. “I’d really prefer to not think about that today.”
“Okay, that’s fine,” Autumn said.
Carly narrowed her gaze, studying Autumn. “You know, you never told us how you got engaged to Sammi.”
“Oh.” Autumn glanced between Pandora and Carly, who suddenly appeared very interested in her. What was she going to say? The truth wasn’t an option. “Um, well, we’ve been friends for a long time. We were hanging out and it just happened. It’s not like we were hiding anything, because there wasn’t anything to hide, I mean.” She shrugged. “So we flew to St. Maarten and got married on the beach.”
“That’s it?” Carly asked.
“Well, yeah,” Autumn replied, praying they didn’t press her for more.
Pandora shook her head. “Only you. I can’t even imagine what that looked like.”
“I have pictures.” Autumn seized on the opportunity to show off the album. She hadn’t wanted to steal any more of Pandora’s spotlight.
“What?” Carly shrieked.
“You’ve been holding out on us?” Pandora thumped her in the shoulder.
“Come on already, you hooker.” Carly grinned.
Autumn dug in her bag under the table and pulled out the album Sammi had picked up that morning. Inside were almost one hundred shots of the whole day. Some of them were of the beach, objects, neat stuff, but the ones that made her heart melt were the ones of the ceremony.
“Oh my gosh.” Carly gasped and pulled the book toward her as they flipped straight to the wedding ones.
“Oh Autumn, look at the way he looks at you.” Pandora tapped a shot of Sammi caught smiling at her. “He loves you.”
Autumn blinked at her friend. Sammi? In love with her? It was a painful twist to her heart, but she didn’t correct her friend.
“Look at this one. You two always looked good together. I approve.” Carly flipped the page.
Footsteps from the hall heralded their irate boss. The three turned as one, hiding the album behind them.
“I have to go,” Mary announced.
“Why? What’s up?” Pandora asked.
“Sam never came home last night. His friends don’t know where he is.” Mary shrugged, suddenly looking younger and very lost.
“Oh no,” Carly said.
“Is there anything we can do?” Autumn ventured to ask.
Mary shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Okay, we’ll be here if you need anything. Don’t worry about a thing.” Pandora stood and crossed to give Mary a hug.
Autumn wanted to throw her arms around the both of them, but doubted Mary would allow her.
God, their little family was being torn all to pieces.
* * * * *
Sammi pulled into his parents’, no, his mother’s house, dread sitting in the pit of his stomach.
“You’re grinding your teeth and it’s freaking me out,” Autumn muttered.
“Sorry.” He glanced at her and did yet another double take. She looked so un-Autumn in the skirt suit set they’d purchased that morning. It wasn’t how he’d wanted to spend his Sunday, but after the disaster Friday, together they’d decided this was the safest solution to putting the best foot forward.
There was no changing what his mother thought of Autumn. In hindsight, he’d lost the upper hand in introducing them under the best of c
ircumstances when he chose to do nothing.
“Sammi, this house is huge.” Autumn ducked her head to stare up at the massive brick house.
“That’s the way my father wanted it.” He’d like to think that were his father still alive, he’d come around to liking Autumn.
They got out of his Escalade and made their way toward the front doors hand in hand. Whatever happened, they had each other.
“Do we knock or go in?” Autumn asked.
“Just go in. She’s expecting us.” He pushed the door open and ushered Autumn into the cool foyer that was about half the size of their home.
“You have a rotunda in here, and a double staircase?” Autumn whispered.
He glanced around, trying to see the house through her eyes. White and gray marble was blocked in by a line of black marble marking the perimeter. Two staircases curled around either side to an open second level that was kept for the family’s private use. At least in theory. There was a library and billiards room up there where his father had regularly entertained friends.
Ahead of them were a hall to the right and left, and beyond that the formal living room, a gargantuan room with a piano and view of the backyard. He led Autumn through this room and into the sunroom with its riot of flowers and plants.
In the middle of all the color, his mother stood next to the wicker table in a somber gray pantsuit, and sitting to her right was Rabbi Ginzberg.
“Shit,” he muttered. Sweat broke out along his spine and his heart rate kicked up.
This was beyond bad.
His mother turned her head and spied them. Her frown deepened the lines around her mouth. “Samuel, you should have knocked.”
Knocked? When had he ever knocked?
“Sorry, Mom.” He kissed her cheek and offered the rabbi his hand. “Hello, Rabbi.”
“Hello, Samuel,” Abraham replied, accepting his hand.
Both his mother and Abraham turned their gazes on Autumn, who’d waited quietly behind him. She looked so different with her hair pulled back and her makeup kept light and dewy. Beautiful, but not herself.
“Mom, Rabbi, this is my new wife Autumn. Autumn, meet my mother and Rabbi Abraham Ginzberg. He’s been a close family friend for as long as I remember.”
Abraham snorted. “Son, I remember when you were a baby.”
“You were there for Samuel’s brit milah,” his mother said as casually as if they were talking about trimming hair, not cutting off bits of his infant penis.
“I was, wasn’t I?” Abraham chuckled. “I skip those these days.”
Sammi glanced between the two, who’d neatly ignored Autumn in favor of rehashing his childhood.
“So, how about lunch?” Sammi interjected.
His mother slanted him a disapproving glance, but he ignored it. Instead, he guided Autumn to sit next to Abraham, who stood to be the more forgiving of the two if at all possible. It was a mark of how nervous Autumn was that she didn’t utter a word.
“We weren’t done speaking, Samuel. Interrupting is rude,” his mother chastised.
“I’m sorry. Have a seat?” Sammi held his mother’s chair out for her before seating himself.
Abraham turned to Autumn, studying her. His gaze lingered on the multiple hoops through her ears and the color streaked through her hair. Autumn nervously glanced at him and back down to the table.
“What is it you do?” Abraham asked without preamble.
“Autumn is—”
“I asked her, not you, son.” Abraham’s gaze flicked to him and it felt as if he’d been sliced with razors. What was going on here? What had they walked into?
Autumn glanced at him then to Abraham. “I’m an artist, sir.”
“What kind of artist?” he pressed.
“I work on canvas sometimes, but mostly people. I specialize in modern movements, a lot of color.” They’d talked about how to spin her job to make it sound as least offensive as possible.
“A tattoo artist,” his mother spat with disgust.
“Yes ma’am.” Autumn kept her chin up, but her inner light was muted.
“The Torah tells us not to tattoo our bodies.” Abraham steepled his fingers, looking less like the kindly old man and more like a judge by the moment.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about that,” Autumn replied, shifting in her chair.
Shit.
Both his mother and Abraham’s brows rose.
Sammi had to put a stop to this. Autumn did not deserve this kind of scrutiny. They were comparing her to rubies when she was a sapphire. “Rabbi, respectfully, Autumn doesn’t know our traditions. I have not asked her to convert and I don’t expect it.”
“What? Samuel, what is the meaning of this?” Tamara glanced between Sammi and Autumn, her expression growing more alarmed.
“But why not?” Abraham asked, spreading his hands.
“Because how can I expect her to suddenly believe something I’ve introduced her to without believing in it? I was raised Jewish, it’s what I am, but Autumn shouldn’t have to claim she believes what she doesn’t.”
He could feel Autumn’s gaze on him. They hadn’t had more than a short conversation about Judaism. She’d offered to convert, but that felt wrong to him, so they’d agreed it wasn’t needed. It was a decision few to none of the Jewish community would understand, but Sammi was sticking to it.
“Samuel, I cannot abide by this. The eloping, the tattoos, the secrets. It ends now. This,” she waved at Autumn, “ends now.”
“Mother—”
“No.” She shook her head and held her hands up, unwilling to listen. She stared across the table at Autumn. “What will it take for you to leave my son in peace? I don’t know what you have on him or have done to him, but I will not allow you to ruin him with the fighting and the parties. I’ve heard about you. I spoke with good girls about what my son does with you and I will not allow it.”
“I-I’m sorry, I—” Autumn stammered, her eyes large.
“Mother, who have you been talking to?” He pounded the table with his fist.
“Good girls.”
Abraham leaned forward, speaking around Autumn. “What your mother is concerned about, Samuel, is that you are acting rashly. We’ve never met this woman and yesterday I hear about her picking a fight with Dalya of all people.”
“No, Dalya started it,” Sammi said quickly.
“Did she? From the sound of it she didn’t.” Abraham spread his hands.
“Tell me who you’ve been talking to and I’ll tell you if they’re telling you the truth.” Sammi leaned forward. He’d expected an awkward lunch, not an all-out attack on himself and Autumn, who didn’t deserve this treatment at all.
Autumn glanced from Abraham to him. “I didn’t start a fight with that chick. She yelled at me and threw wine.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Abraham’s tone clearly said he didn’t believe either of them.
“Whatever you’re holding over my son to get him to marry you, believe me, I’ll find it out.” His mother stared daggers at Autumn.
“Excuse me?” Autumn tilted her head and her brow wrinkled.
His mother’s gaze narrowed. “Let me make myself perfectly clear. My son is a good man, and no matter how you dress, I’ve seen pictures of you on the computer and I know you are no lady.”
“Mom, stop being ridiculous.”
“No.” She sliced her hand through the air. “You stop being taken in by this Jezebel. I will not have you make this kind of mistake, Son.”
“So this was a mistake.” Sammi pushed back from the table. “Autumn and I clearly should not have come here if this was what you had planned.”
“Stay where you are, Samuel,” his mother ordered.
“Come on, Autumn.” Sammi wasn’t subjecting her to this. Neither Autumn nor he deserved this kind of treatment and after Friday, he wasn’t going to allow her to be a victim again.
They stood and he ushered Autumn from the sunroom.
; “Samuel. Samuel!” His mother’s footsteps followed them into the foyer.
How had things gone so wrong so fast?
Sammi’s head whirled. He knew his mother was old school and she wouldn’t like any of his choices, but he’d never expected this. Her intervention was the wrong path to take. He wasn’t going to be strong-armed into doing what she wanted him to do.
However, he knew if he walked out the front doors now, things would be changed forever.
“Samuel.” His mother’s voice echoed in the foyer, resounding off the marble.
Autumn turned to him when he paused.
“Give me a minute with her, okay?” he pleaded. Maybe he could fix this. He’d known bringing together the two halves of his life wouldn’t be easy. They were oil and water. But in time maybe they could come to recognize something good in each other. The goodness he saw.
“Fine. I’ll wait in the car. Give me your keys.”
“I’ll be out in a minute.” He handed her the keys and turned to his mother.
Abraham was there as well and had his head bent, whispering with his mother. Sammi watched them for a moment, neither glancing at him. Finally the rabbi straightened.
“I’ll speak with you later,” he said as he passed Sammi on his way to the door.
His mother wrung her hands.
“Mom.” Sammi sighed. What did he say? He knew marrying Autumn wasn’t something that would go over well with the more conservative people in his life. He’d just been hoping for some measure of civility.
“I need tea.” She pivoted and marched back into the sunroom, leaving him no choice but to follow her or leave.
She went straight to the tea trolley, glancing over her shoulder to see if he’d followed. He lowered into one of the armchairs instead of sitting at the table.
“Mom, staging an intervention isn’t going to work. Autumn has nothing on me. I asked her to marry me. End of story. You accept that she is part of my life, or you lose me a little at a time as I have to choose which of you to spend time with. She’s my wife—”
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