Yousep laughed, and it cooled his anger. He looked sadly to his Caraliza on the divan and prayed she would strengthen quickly. They would be neither safe, nor happy, until she could be removed from the shop. Her tormentor was only paces away.
The brute would sit on the stoop, vacated by the street urchins a month before, after the loss of their lad. The police were still suspicious and were on the street, seemingly every hour. For a monster who may have killed once, and nearly did kill Caraliza, Yousep thought the man possessed some sort of demon spirit, to sit so calmly, as though he were enjoying the pleasant air. She was made to understand; she could be seen if she ever approached the door, or the shop window. She must also not tarry in front of the new studio windows in the afternoon. They were too brightly lit, the room too easily seen from the garden.
She did understand his caution, and was the next day timidly walking and smiling about with his arm; she would not be parted from him, taking the care they desired. She surprised Yousep that she could make a single boiled egg last to her lips as long as a large meal.
“Ik hou van eieren!” I love eggs! She would smile. The two eggs would barely be consumed before lunchtime arrived.
Papa could not tempt her to talk; she seemed shy of him, the only form of self-awareness or modesty she could show. She dearly loved the dress Yousep gave to her.
“Dank je, Dank je!”
It made her weep to put it on the first time, but she would cause it to fall to the floor with her giggles, seemingly at his slightest touch, when they were alone. She would follow him into every corner of the shop, save the ones in the front. He found her troublesome the most when he was at need of the toilet closet, and the very few times she needed it, she loved to pull him inside and kiss his hands while she wet the basin.
“Mag ik je kussen?” May I kiss you? She would whisper. He tried in vain to get her to understand, he should not be so near at that time, and when it must have finally driven him to some shame Papa took his shoulder, and spoke gently in his ear.
“She has all modesty beaten from her. To survive, she has become a child. Her life was simple, obey or be beaten. She is not at fault, be gentle with her and remain a gentleman. Modesty will return in its time.”
Yousep smiled a weary smile. He no longer was certain when he was doing the wrong things, for just reasons, and it confused him, and made him shy to admit it to Mr. Reisman.
“Have you seen the chain she wears?” Yousep whispered.
“I have seen it. Is it precious to her?
“It is but my name on a tin pendant. I would that I could have one with her name, but cannot go get it now.”
“Would you like me to get one for you, Yousep?” the old man smiled at him and put his arm around Yousep’s shoulders.
“Yes, she would be so pleased. It is a promise between us, made solid to hold. Here is her name written. I found it, in the shop two doors from the grocer who ordered the perfect rose bushes.”
“I will bring it tomorrow and you can have it for her.” Papa smiled.
In the darkroom closet, she was his shadow, but for her arms around him and her cheek against his back, she seemed merely a spirit, that he barely felt. He might be in there an hour at his tasks, and she would be gently behind him, holding him, closely as she could and still let him move.
“Houd me vast. Bescherm me.” Hold me. Protect me.
Those were cherished moments for her, when they were alone in the darkness and she could hold him, until his heartbeat felt to be inside with her own. That evening, when they were at last alone again, she brought the basin of warm water and lay on the divan, asking him to wash her.
“Wil je me nog een keertje wassen? Het is zo fijn.” Wash me again please? It is so nice.
If she desired him for other than safety, and warmth at night, she could never tempt it from him, for soon as they were embraced under the blankets she would be fast asleep. The second night, Yousep was urgently aware - she aroused him. He lay awake for most of the night enjoying the sensation of having her against his skin.
She grew in strength each time she could hold him as much as she desired. Otherwise, in the shop she was a joy. Still too shy to speak to Papa Reisman, she chattered in ceaseless whispers to Yousep.
“Wat houd je daar vast?” You are holding what?
Always touching him in some small way or holding his hands so he could barely work, she was every moment a pleasure to have near. Her speech was Dutch, Papa was sure of it. He knew none himself other than some borrowed German. None of it applied to conversations that needed to take place, as in, ‘were you always beaten by that man?’
Yousep was cautioned the next day, the story must be learned from her, and it must be translated from the book. They could not let any more time pass before they were ready to seek her release from the man’s claim. They would be given time alone, in the storeroom upstairs, to work as long as they needed.
The next morning, he gave her another present, which sent shivers and gooseflesh over her body, Yousep washed her hair with a fragrant soap, and combed it dry as she kissed his shoulder. Papa could not enter the studio, she refused the dress, afraid to get it wet; she giggled as Yousep tried repeatedly to cover her with the towel. At their appointed task that morning, she lay with her head in his lap, and they sat in the single storeroom window, high up in the building, facing only a brick wall. The redness of the bricks in the morning sun made the room glow warmly.
She played with his buttons as he wrote each question in their little notebook, and looked up each word in her Dutch. She would read what he wrote, and give her answer underneath. Then he would look up her speech. It took them several hours, more than a few tears, but they wrote enough, it seemed to him, to tell her story well for the authorities.
When she realized he was not writing another question, but just gazing at her, she pulled his lips down to hers and they spent the rest of the time fighting a desire of hers he did not understand at all. She was amused, but she was then cross and frustrated at him. He was baffled by all but the kisses. Those he urged her to repeat many times.
“This much I have learned from her, and written it so we may be counted true to our tale and our efforts. She is from Amsterdam, and was sold to this man; she does not know his name.”
Papa was listening with growing astonishment as Yousep continued.
“He paid her parents money, so they might not starve. She was fifteen when she last was home, and does not know her age, It was April 1917 when she left. She does not know if her parents are alive, she does not know where she is. She wept to hear it was New York, she thought perhaps she was still in the Netherlands. She was never taught our speech. She would get food, once or twice a week…she was his beaten slave -” Yousep read the list to the last and tears clouded his eyes. “- he forced his lust often.”
“If he claims her as wife, Yousep, we will be undone. I pray to God this angel is not married in the sight of the Lord, it would be an unjust marriage, but a holy one,”
Papa threw up his hand to soothe Yousep, and calm him, because he was so distressed. The thought of his Caraliza in a union they could not break, his heart was torn in his breast. When she heard his anger she rushed to hold him close and wipe his tears.
“Mijn aller ,aller liefste Yousep!” My love, Yousep, Dearest!
“They are not married.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes!”
“But there is common law. He can claim her by her submission to him; it is two years Yousep! She consented to him-,” he threw up his hands again as if to shield his face from Yousep’s reaction, “she submitted to him, for two years! My son, we have only the compassion of the authorities and her innocence to help us. They must be brought tomorrow. You cannot protect longer than tonight. It rents my very heart. She is an angel truly, malekh. I would give all the help possible to give, but please understand, Yousep, our good help is spent, polne. We cannot free her! The authorities must be brought!”
Caraliza was distressed now, she understood in her heart, they were at a loss for the better care of her.
“Mijn lieve Yousep, ik vertrouw je.” My dear Yousep, I trust you.
She tried to calm him and smile. Papa stroked her hair as she held her Yousep.
A surprise was planned for the morning, she had not been told, but after the discovery of Caraliza’s torments, the mood was saddened, and the surprise was needed now, to restore their smiles. Yousep was desperate to see the plate they made with his camera, in the garden, weeks before. It was waiting in the darkroom closet, still inside the Waterbury, lest it be ruined by some clumsiness or accident. He had time, and desire, to carry her now into the closet with him, so they might soothe their hearts, and they would see the plate developed.
The memory of the moment was vivid and wonderful, his dreams kept it close to his heart; the image surely was able to capture something they would treasure together. She happily joined him in the darkened room, and stood behind him as she loved to do, with her arms holding him as closely as she dared and still let him take his breaths; she but melted to him in those moments. They would not be moved for any reason, until his work be done, lest the plates or films be ruined.
She imagined she could hold him forever in such a way, in safe darkness, hearing his breath inside him. He began to whisper her name, knowing she would hear the sound of it in his breast, circling his heart with every beat. He sang her name to her with the sound of his heart, and the plate was secure and developed, waiting only for fixer and the wash. By the filtered candle he could see, it was indeed a good plate. It held a form as he wished. And when it was dried and forever safe to hold, he removed the lens from the candle box, and held the glass so his love could see.
The glow of the image was soft and warm in the candlelight, and he was moved to tears at the sight of his Caraliza in the sunbeam. A paper printed with this plate would be something to behold. But it could not be done without some other tools in the closet. They would let it be their gift for the next morning.
The afternoon shop window was covered again, by a wagon loading on the street. It was a blessing. Yousep was not tempted to see if the man sat yet on the stoop, watching the street. Knowing he might be there, seemed as terrible as having the man at his elbow.
Caraliza sat on the divan, with his head in her lap, and she played with his buttons again; their small noon meal was shared, and he was trying to coax her to nap for a bit - she had been complaining with gestures, she had a terrible headache. It must have been the result of the sudden activity; she was only seven, perhaps eight days now from the horrible fall. He had pointed to her ears and her bruised brow with the question, that morning, up the stair.
She answered, “ik viel hard op de grond…” I fell hard to the ground, “…met zijn lichaam boven op me.” beneath his body.
She refused to sleep, and loved the game he played, he snored gently at her and she would laugh. Still, she yawned at last and he spied her at it, and put his finger to her nose to be stern. She pouted, nipped his finger and lay down for him, beckoning him to lie with her. He smiled and kissed her eyes, and her cheeks, and told her he could not stay, then returned to his work.
When he looked, just moments later, into the studio again, she was asleep and he was relieved.
His mother and father soon appeared in the door, they brought a simple dinner, more good things for the girl, and some sweets, fresh made that morning; a treat she surely missed. He was compelled with longing to embrace them both. It was good that she rested; a sleeping girl looked more the desperate waif than the amorous girl who could not be but a breath away from her Yousep.
Begging them to forgive what he had done, he explained the work of the morning, and told them the tale of words. They were moved, as Papa suspected, to great compassion. His father was moved also to anger that such a kidnap could be done, with only the darkness of the stair to keep prying eyes away. Had the authorities not searched the hole, after the absence of the urchin? Why she was not discovered then? His questions were not answered.
Yousep’s mother slipped quietly into the studio, and sat appraising the girl on the divan. It was warm and there was no blanket needed, the bruised flesh and the delicate face brought tears to his mother’s eyes. She sat near Caraliza while the men talked and planned.
Yousep would remain this one night more only. The authorities would be called and under their protection, she would be moved to the Kogen home. Yousep would be satisfied; she would be protected. The brute would not know where she was taken. They still feared some reprisal at the shop; the police would be at hand if needed.
She awoke but an hour after they arrived, the vision before her took her breath.
“Mama?”
Yousep’s mother was unknown to her, but for a simple daydream, that his mother must be kind. Caraliza tried to move, to reach out, but her breath escaped in a small sob that grew until she was in shudders. The men heard the small cry and found the mother and the child in each other’s arms; the child wracked with a longing and grief that was wide as the ocean she had been pulled across. It was more than Yousep could bear, he could not watch, but he heard as his Caraliza poured her anguish from her tortured heart. His heart would make that sound, at the thought he might lose her somehow.
This embrace did not console her; it could never be so long as needed. She had not been held in motherly arms for too long, and she wept bitterly for the loss. Yousep’s mother could not release Caraliza from the embrace either, and was in love as well, her heart broken the child might have perished, if not for her son.
“In which shop did you find this book that brought her speech to life?” his father asked him after reading their work in the notebook. Yousep explained where it could be found, and his father vowed to take the price to the seller and thank him for the loan of it. He would only tell the man it indeed saved a life, but would not venture further to say how, until Yousep could safely take his Caraliza there. They said their promises, she would be rescued to their home, and her tears dried at last.
His parents were gone and the afternoon was following them; the sunlight would be leaving the studio. Yousep helped Papa close the shop and make the doors locked for the night, and thanked him with a warm handshake. The visit stirred such a burden of fear, Yousep secretly vowed to keep watch the entire night. He returned to Caraliza and they set their meal on the floor, in a golden glow of evening light, and they were alone again.
Yousep fed her tender bites, she fed him barely enough to put to his lips, and she would laugh at his frown. His angel spoke to him constantly through the meal, in a soft musical voice that tugged at his breast. It seemed she did not mind he could not understand, or else she wanted so much to say she could not stop. The music in her voice was beautiful to hear, and no question, or reply was necessary. Yousep supposed the visit from his mother had stirred the longings in her hungry heart, and she was simply pouring them out to him, as they fed each other small bites.
How lonely she must have been, no warmth or soft touch, from anyone for two years; it broke his heart anew, and she softly chattered, on and on through the meal. She caught his gaze for just a brief moment; noticed he was not eating, only watching her face and smiling. Caraliza paused to lean very close, brushed his mouth with hers, very lightly, and said his name several times as their lips touched. The sensation was unlike any he ever felt. She held her lips so close they nearly kissed, but she instead shared his breath and passed his name to his mouth in soft whispers.
She awakened from her noon sleep, into a shock of emotion that seemed to have taken all of the strength from her again. As they ate their meal and drank the cool water, she grew quieter; she was falling asleep, and could not stop it. She was cross she could not keep wakeful to play with him, and hear him laugh. He helped her to the divan they would share as their bed, and before he put away the cloth from the floor, she was undressed and reaching for him. He asked if she desired the bath, questioning wi
th his eyes and soft strokes of his fingers to her legs. She shook her head and held her arms open to him again; she only wanted sleep, and him to lie warm against her.
He removed his clothes and lay down, more aware of her softness than before. As he moved gently beside her, she kissed him and tasted his mouth with her tongue. She raised herself just enough that he could move his arm around behind her back to cradle her more intimately. She buried her cheek against his shoulder and pulled him as close as she might with her leg and seemed instantly asleep.
Yousep lay listening to every sound in the street, until there were no sounds to be heard but her breathing upon his skin. She did not sleep restlessly, but was not still either. After a bit she would move until her hands found a hold that comforted them. Twice she spoke his name. It was quite dark in the studio and the shop was very still when she stirred beside him, and kissed his neck. He stroked her hair, to tell her she was safe in his arms, when she moved with more purpose against him. Her hands were playing the game they played in the storeroom that morning, only there was nothing to prevent them finding the part of him they sought. He was her prisoner, and his own; he would yield this time because he simply could not resist. As she moved and spoke his name, he learned what desire she had of him, and how strongly it could possess him as well.
CHAPTER FOUR
Yousep awoke hours before dawn. There was a sound in the alley that was not intended to be heard. Someone was testing the windows, one by one, as they came further to the back of the building. Rousing his Caraliza, with first a kiss, then his movement, he urged her to be very quiet, and to follow him quickly as she could. He was completely awake; his fear drove the clouds of sleep instantly out of his head. She was slower to become alert, and they took longer than he wished to get to the stairs that would take them up to the storeroom.
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