Miriam nodded. She didn’t want to upset Bubby, so she didn’t tell her the truth, that Passover was her favorite holiday because having such a big family gathered together made the seder festive and fun. She had trouble believing that a seder at the farm would be festive at all.
“Why are you buying so much matzah?” she asked as Bubby put another box into her basket.
“Is this too heavy for you?” Bubby removed a couple of boxes.
“It’s not that,” Miriam said. “This seems like a lot of matzah for just you and me and Zayde. We couldn’t possibly eat all this in one week.”
Nobody ate matzah after Passover. By the end of the one-week festival, everyone was so tired of it that they didn’t want to look at it for another year. “Why do we need so much?” Miriam asked.
“What makes you think it’s only for us?” Bubby asked.
“It’s only you and me and Zayde at the seder,” Miriam reminded her. “We’re the only ones who celebrate Passover.”
Bubby looked amused. “Where did that idea come from?” she asked.
“Who else could come?” There is nobody else, Miriam thought, but she couldn’t think of how to say that without sounding unpleasant.
“The hired men, of course,” Bubby said. “Where are they going to eat, if not with us?”
She gestured to Miriam to follow her to the next aisle.
“But they aren’t Jewish,” Miriam said. To keep up, she had to take two steps to Bubby’s one. For an old lady, Bubby moved quickly.
“You don’t have to be Jewish to come to a seder,” Bubby said, now loading their baskets with walnuts for the charoses.
“But isn’t it strange, having people who don’t know anything about the holiday or why we do what we do? Won’t they be bored?”
Bubby thought for a moment. “You’d have to ask them if they’re bored,” she said with a smile. “It’s been so many years that we’ve had hired men around our seder table, I’m used to it.” She paused again, longer this time. “I wouldn’t say it’s strange. But it does make me look at Passover differently. Sometimes, seeing things through other people’s eyes helps you to understand things in a new way.”
Miriam thought back to the conversations she’d had with Cissy about hamantaschen and Elijah’s visit. She knew Bubby was right. But she didn’t say so, for fear she’d let something slip. Instead, she nodded and followed her grandmother to the front of the store, where the clerk was waiting to ring up their purchases.
TWENTY
Dinner on the farm that night was lively, with the men talking about what they had done all day. Joe generally remained quiet, but he was actively joining in on the conversation. All of the men seemed determined to talk about what they had done, because Zayde had not been there to see for himself.
A new worker, Franklin, had arrived the previous week. He came from a dairy farm in Ohio. Nobody knew why he had moved on. The men weren’t in the habit of talking about such things. Instead, he and Bart were discussing an underground railroad.
“We have underground railroads in New York,” Miriam said, eager to join in the conversation. “We call them subways.”
Franklin chuckled gently. “Ain’t the same thing, miss,” he said. “The Underground Railroad wasn’t actually underground, and it stopped running before I was born.” He paused. “Must have been around the 1870s. But Joe here was saying he had a great-great-uncle who traveled up north that way, and I had some relatives who told me there were stops around this part of New York. Right, Joe?” Franklin looked at Joe, who nodded.
“Why was it called underground if it wasn’t underground?” Miriam asked.
“Not entirely sure,” Franklin said. Miriam noticed that everyone had stopped talking to pay attention to him. “Some people say it’s because it was hidden. It wasn’t even an actual railroad. But we do know it was a way for slaves to escape from the south to the free states—Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York—and Canada. They escaped on foot, or sometimes on carts, and they had good people like you folk”—he looked over at Zayde—“helping them along the way. They called the stops ‘stations.’ ”
Cissy hadn’t said anything about what kind of train her uncle had taken to New York. However, Miriam knew enough to understand that if it was this underground one, a railroad that wasn’t even a railroad and hadn’t been in service for more than sixty years, it was going to be very hard to find out where he was. He might not even be alive.
Joe said as much. “I don’t know where he went,” he told Franklin. “It’s almost like a legend, something we all talked about. Nobody heard from Uncle Olen after he left. My mama and daddy always said everyone wanted to believe he got free.”
Miriam was so confused. Was Joe filling Cissy’s head with a bunch of falsehoods? And if he was, should Miriam tell her?
Two days before Passover, Miriam was working on her lessons while Bubby unpacked the boxes of supplies that Bart had brought up from the storage room to the kitchen. Concentrating on arithmetic was a challenge with the steady stream of dishes, pots, pans and linens piling up around her. It was hard not to feel a bit of excitement.
Finally, Miriam put down her pencil and looked at her grandmother. “Bubby, I was thinking about what you said when we were in Utica, about how you don’t have to be Jewish to go to a seder. Do you suppose Tante Malka knows that?”
Bubby was examining a lace tablecloth. It was nicer than anything Miriam had seen since arriving at the farm. “Those New York apartments are awfully small. I don’t imagine Malka has much room for more than her relatives,” she said, flicking away a loose thread. “But I’m sure she knows that everyone is welcome at a seder. It says so in the Haggadah. ‘Let all who are hungry come and eat. Let all who are needy come and celebrate Passover.’ It’s traditional to have strangers join us.”
Bubby handed Miriam a rag and pointed at a cabinet in the corner of the kitchen. “If you’re not going to work on your lessons, take this and dust the shelves. They need to be clean for the Pesach dishes,” she said, using the Hebrew word for the holiday.
“The hired men aren’t really strangers,” Miriam said as she dragged the rag over the middle shelf. “You know them.”
“That’s true,” Bubby agreed. “But you never know when a stranger might appear.” She handed Miriam a box of silver polish. “When you’re done with the shelf, you can start shining the seder plate and the silver.”
“There’s so much,” Miriam said. Once she started, she might never get out of the house.
“You’ll still have time to visit the kittens,” Bubby said. “Have you decided which one to keep?”
“Star, I think,” Miriam said.
“Not Moses? It would be fitting to have a Moses at our seder.”
“Star is friendlier,” Miriam said, which was true. Moses was so devoted to Cissy that Miriam couldn’t even lure him away to play with a piece of yarn.
Miriam had been thinking a lot about the conversation the previous week. She really wanted to tell Cissy what Franklin and Joe had said about the Underground Railroad. It felt dishonest to keep the story from her. She deserved to know that the uncle she and Joe were looking for hadn’t come to New York on a real train and had likely passed away many years ago. But she could not think of how to put a happy ending on it. If she told Cissy, either she would make her angry or, worse, cause her to lose hope.
Still, it troubled Miriam that Joe had not told Cissy the truth. If only Cissy weren’t so determined to remain hidden! Miriam wished all the secrets could be out in the open. Later that afternoon, when Bubby said she had done enough for now, she raced to the barn. Cissy heard the door opening and poked her head out of the stall with the kittens, greeting her with an enthusiastic, “Down here!”
Suddenly Miriam had an idea. By the time she was face-to-face with Cissy, she was convinced she had come up with the perfect solution. She felt sure Cissy would feel the same way.
“You can come to our seder!” she announced.
&
nbsp; Cissy gave her a chilly look.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“The seder—remember, the holiday? Passover?”
“’Course I remember that,” Cissy said, her eyes narrowing. “But I ain’t coming to your dinner. I’m a secret. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Bubby just told me that we’re supposed to invite a stranger to the seder. We don’t have any strangers, just the hired men, and they’re not strangers because we know them. So you can be the stranger! You can come! You have to!”
Cissy shook her head. “I told you, I can’t go into the house.”
“But you can!” Miriam insisted. “You can knock on the door and say you’re lost. I’ll pretend I don’t know you.”
Cissy was still shaking her head. “Joe will know me.”
Miriam was beginning to doubt her brilliant idea. She had forgotten about Joe and his threats of the orphanage. She kept talking, though, hoping she could change Cissy’s mind.
“You are crazy,” Cissy said. She sounded as unfriendly as she had the first time she spoke to Miriam.
How quickly a good idea could turn into a bad one. All you needed was to lose faith. Sometimes thinking something’s as powerful as doing something. That’s what Cissy had said.
But Cissy was so afraid, she would hear no talk about coming into Bubby and Zayde’s house.
“You’re as much a scaredy-cat as I am,” Miriam blurted out.
Cissy looked as if Miriam had struck her. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded.
“You’re afraid to come to the seder because you think you’re going to be sent to an orphanage. Bubby and Zayde wouldn’t let that happen.”
Cissy was about to reply when the barn door groaned open.
The girls heard Zayde’s booming voice. “Where’s my Miri?” he called out cheerfully. “C’mon, my shayna maydel! Let’s choose your kitten and get back into the house!”
TWENTY-ONE
When Zayde’s voice filled the barn, Miriam forgot that Cissy was beside her. She turned toward the door to call out, “I’m here, in the stall.” But Cissy, now standing behind her, reached out and covered her mouth. Miriam couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe.
“Miri?” Zayde called again.
Miriam wanted to respond—she did not want her grandfather to worry. She pulled at Cissy’s hand, but Cissy’s grip was too strong.
You’re hurting me, she thought.
“Miri?” Zayde called out again. “Where’s my Miri? Bubby said you were in here.” His voice grew louder as he neared the stall.
It occurred to Miriam that there was a way to free herself. She opened her mouth, preparing to chomp on the soft part of Cissy’s palm. Maybe Cissy sensed it, because she suddenly yanked her hand away and pushed Miriam toward the door.
“Go!” she said.
Miriam planted her feet firmly on the ground and refused to move.
Cissy whispered more insistently. “I said go! Get out of here!” Her hands were on Miriam’s shoulders when the stall door opened and Zayde rushed in. Cissy immediately dropped her hands to her sides. Zayde had started to speak, but when he saw Cissy behind Miriam, his sentence ended at “What?” His mouth hung open as he looked from Miriam to Cissy and back again. When he found his voice, it was louder than anything Miriam had ever heard from him.
“What is this? Who are you? And what are you doing to my granddaughter?”
Miriam backed up so she was standing next to Cissy. She reached for Cissy’s hand to show her grandfather that she was safe, even though only moments ago she had been very scared. But she knew Cissy had been just as scared. She was certain Cissy still was.
“This is Cissy,” Miriam said. “She’s my stranger.”
Zayde’s tone softened, but only slightly. “Your what?”
“Bubby said we’re supposed to welcome strangers to the seder. Cissy is my stranger.”
Zayde sank down onto a hay bale and cradled his head in his hands. Cissy looked at Miriam and put her hand over her heart. That’s when Miriam noticed that she was shivering.
I’m sorry, Cissy mouthed.
Miriam shook her head. “You don’t have to worry,” she whispered. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”
They walked back to the house quickly, Cissy wearing Zayde’s warm overcoat. Miriam wanted to tell Zayde everything right away, but he shushed her. “Tell it once, to your bubby and me at the same time. Then we hear the same story.”
Bubby was in the kitchen, polishing the rest of the silverware, her back to the door. “Did you bring the kitten?” she asked, turning around as they entered the room. When she saw Cissy, she leaned backward against the kitchen counter to steady herself. “Who is this?” she asked, making no effort to hide her surprise.
“This is Miriam’s stranger,” Zayde said. “Apparently, you told her we invite a stranger to the seder. So she has found a stranger. This is all I know. We will hear the rest of the story now. Sit, everyone.”
Miriam took her usual seat at the kitchen table. She motioned for Cissy to sit next to her. Despite the many times she had imagined presenting Cissy to her grandparents, she was momentarily tongue-tied. She didn’t know where to begin, so she looked to Cissy for guidance. Cissy shook her head.
“It’s your story,” she said quietly.
“If no one is going to speak, then I will ask a question,” Zayde said, turning to Cissy. “Where did you come from?” he asked gently. “And how did you find our barn?”
“She’s Joe’s sister,” Miriam explained.
“You mean—you mean you’ve been living in the barn since the harvest?” Zayde was flabbergasted.
Cissy nodded. “In the loft. Joe said we were just going to stay until we could find our uncle. He lives somewhere in New York.”
Miriam thought about what Franklin had said and hoped her grandparents wouldn’t ask Cissy too many questions about this uncle. She was grateful when Zayde put a hasty end to the conversation.
“Eva, get the girl something warm to eat and drink,” he said to Bubby. “I’ll go find Joe.”
As soon as Zayde left the house, Bubby went to the stove and began heating milk for cocoa. Cissy began shivering again. Miriam moved her chair closer and rubbed her shoulders. Bubby placed a plate of cookies and the hot cocoa in front of her.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Bubby assured her.
“She thinks you’re going to send her to an orphanage,” Miriam said.
Cissy shook her head. “Joe’s going to be so mad at me.” She looked at Miriam. “I promised him I didn’t talk to you. That first day in the barn, when you tried climbing into the loft—” A hint of a smile brightened her eyes for just a second, and then her face went dark again.
Miriam stole a look at her grandmother, but Bubby didn’t seem the least bit surprised, or even angry, to hear that she had attempted the ladder. Bubby was completely focused on Cissy.
“I told him I didn’t know you,” Cissy continued. “I lied to him, and you lied to your granny and grandpa.” Tears began rolling down her cheeks. “I am so sorry.”
Bubby motioned for Miriam to move to the next chair, to make room for her to sit next to Cissy. When she sat down, she pulled Cissy close, wrapping her in a gentle hug. “There’s no need to worry, bubeleh. Your brother just wanted to keep you safe. But you will be safer here than you were in the barn. And warmer too. Now come, shhhh. Stop your tears.”
TWENTY-TWO
Bubby and Zayde didn’t want anyone knowing that Cissy had been living in the loft. “We can’t have people thinking that is acceptable,” Zayde said, which was as close as he came to scolding Joe in front of Cissy and Miriam. “At dinner, we will introduce Cissy as your sister who’s staying with us until you find your relatives. If they ask when she arrived, we will say she rode the train. That is true. They need know nothing more.”
“Do you have any information at all about this uncle?” Zayde asked Joe. “A name? A
n idea of what year he came north?” He paused. “One night at dinner you talked about the Underground Railroad. Is that how this relative you’re planning to find traveled up north?”
Cissy, who had been looking sleepy through most of the conversation, suddenly sat at attention, her eyes sharpened on her brother. “Are you talking about Uncle Olen? The one that escaped back in 1850-something? That’s the uncle we come up here to find? How are we going to find some uncle that’s been dead longer than we been alive? Are you crazy or something?”
Joe put his fingers to his lips. “Get a hold of yourself, Cissy,” he said. “I ain’t crazy. There is some kin of Mama’s up here, Willis or Williams or some such. I was only a boy when I met him. He was moving to New York to be a musician. He came by the house on his way up north. You don’t remember. You were too young. But he could play trumpet like nobody’s business.”
Cissy’s eyes burned into Joe. “You’re telling me the uncle we’re looking for you met only one time? And that he ain’t even our uncle! Why’d you tell me we had an uncle up here anyhow?”
“We did,” Joe said. “Uncle Olen.” He paused and looked at her, guilty. “I’m sorry. I didn’t lie to you. I ain’t never going to lie to you. But I wasn’t straight with you neither. It was the only way I could get you to leave Auntie May and Uncle Hesh. And we had to get out of there. You know that.”
Cissy nodded, seeming to understand. But then she turned angry again. “How in blazes are we going to find some man you only met one time? And when you were so little you don’t even remember his name proper?”
Joe hung his head. When he faced his sister again, he looked as scared as Cissy had when Zayde had burst into the stall. “I don’t rightly know,” he admitted. “I still haven’t figured that part out.”
He turned to Bubby and Zayde. “I’m sorry for all the trouble.” Then he looked at Cissy. “We can’t stay here anymore,” he said, head hanging down again. “We’ll have to move on.”
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