Miriam's Secret

by Debby Waldman

  Cissy and Miriam began to protest at the same time, but they were drowned out by the sound of Bubby’s sensible, measured voice. “You will do nothing of the sort.” She was still sitting between the girls, and she laid her arm protectively over Cissy’s shoulders. “There’s no reason for you to leave. You’re a good worker. There’s plenty for you to do here. Cissy can stay with us until you have found a proper home.”

  And so it was settled. Bubby and Zayde even offered to give Cissy her own room. But Miriam and Cissy agreed they would rather share. Zayde and Joe moved a bed in from the spare room. They placed it against the wall opposite Miriam’s bed.

  “Anything is better than sleeping with cows,” Cissy admitted late that night, after lights-out. “But this is really nice.”

  Miriam squinted, trying to bring her into focus, but the room was too dark. “Wait a minute,” she said. She pushed open the curtains, letting the moon light up the room.

  Cissy had rolled onto her side and was propped on her elbow, facing Miriam. “I told you it wasn’t so bad, sleeping in the loft, but sometimes at night when it was especially windy, I’d feel like the roof was going to blow right down on my head. And there were critters up there.”

  “Critters?” Miriam said.

  “Mice. Rats. I don’t know. Little four-legged crawly things with fur. I only saw them once or twice. Mostly I’d hear all this pitter-pattering in the hay. It was creepy. That’s why I started bringing Moses up there, ’cause he’d chase them away. Or eat them.”

  Miriam cringed. “They were there when I was there with you?”

  “Yeah,” Cissy said. “Remember that time you heard something scratching and you thought maybe it was Anna and Ida and I said yes? But they were down in the stall with the rest of the kitties. I just didn’t want to tell you.”

  “That was critters?” Miriam made a face and shuddered. “Ewww.”

  Cissy laughed. “What are you ewwwing about? You sleep in this nice room in a real bed, and you didn’t even know there was anything to be scared of until I just told you.”

  “What a good friend you are!” Miriam teased her.

  Cissy turned serious. “So are you.”

  Miriam woke the next morning to a strange, growly sound. At first she thought it was a kitten, but they were all in the barn. Then she rolled over and saw the lump under the covers on the other bed. That’s when she remembered the events of the day before, and a big grin spread over her face. She really wanted to wake Cissy. But Cissy was sleeping so peacefully, under warm covers, in a bed, for the first time in who knew how long. Miriam quietly climbed out of her bed and tiptoed across the floor toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Cissy was sitting up, rubbing her eyes. Her hair was sticking out at odder angles than usual.

  “I didn’t want to wake you,” Miriam said.

  “I don’t sleep too soundly,” Cissy said. “Couldn’t in the barn, can’t here.”

  Miriam didn’t want to tell her how loud she’d been snoring. She was just happy her friend had slept well. “Let’s get dressed so we can go downstairs. Passover starts tomorrow. I’m sure Bubby has lots for us to do.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  After breakfast Bubby put the girls to work cracking walnuts while she peeled apples.

  “Is that charoses you’re making, ma’am?” Cissy asked.

  “Now how do you know about charoses?” Bubby replied with a big smile.

  “Miriam told me all about the seder, ma’am,” Cissy said. “I know about the mortar and the salt water and the horseradish sandwich. I ain’t so sure I want to eat any horseradish though.”

  “It’s just a taste, Cissy,” Miriam reminded her. “You have to. It’s part of the seder.”

  Cissy shrugged. “I suppose. If I have to.”

  There was only one nutcracker, so Miriam and Cissy divided the work. Cissy cracked the nuts, and Miriam fished out the meat. She placed the shells in one bowl and the nuts in another.

  “You missed some there,” Cissy said, pointing at the shell Miriam had just dropped into the bowl. “See?”

  Miriam retrieved the shell and inspected it more closely. Sure enough, there was a hunk of nut left inside. “You’re better at this than I am,” she said.

  “My mama made the best pecan pie in Whiskey Corner,” Cissy said. “I cracked the nuts while she made the crust.” She took a deep breath, then let out a sigh. “You know how people say ‘that crust is so good it melts in your mouth’?”

  Miriam nodded.

  “Mama’s crust really did melt in your mouth,” Cissy said.

  Miriam reached for the nutcracker. “Let’s trade jobs,” she said.

  When the girls finished with the nuts, they worked on putting the rest of the Passover dishes and cookware in the cabinet. It took ages, because Cissy insisted on inspecting each item.

  “I don’t understand,” she said as she ran her fingers over the gold rim of an ivory-colored dinner plate. “These are so pretty, and you only use them for one week of the year, not every day?” She shook her head. “If that ain’t crazy, I don’t know what is.”

  “We use different dishes and silverware and pots and pans for Passover because we eat different foods for that one week,” Bubby explained. “During the rest of the year we eat food that can rise, like bread, but on Passover—”

  Cissy broke in. “I know. You can’t. Because the Israelites had to skedaddle out of Egypt in a hurry, so you have to eat flat, crunchy stuff all week. Miriam told me everything.”

  Miriam beamed.

  “It’s part of what makes the holiday special,” Bubby went on. “The food we eat is special, and so we use special pots and pans and dishes and silverware too.”

  Cissy nodded thoughtfully. “I understand,” she said. “At my granny’s house when I was little, at Christmas and Easter she always served up the ham on a special plate. She never used it except for holidays. And sometimes birthdays.” She paused. Miriam thought she looked a little sad. “I’d forgot about that until just now.”

  “So it’s not so crazy after all?” Miriam said, giving her a light punch on the shoulder.

  “No, it’s nice,” Cissy agreed.

  Bubby handed the girls aprons. “Cissy, now we’re going to teach you how to make matzah balls,” she said. “You’ll both need to wash your hands.”

  “They’re just going to get messy all over again though,” Miriam informed her. “Matzah balls are messy.”

  Bubby set a basket of eggs and a large blue bowl in front of the girls. “All right. First I need you to crack twelve eggs into the bowl,” she said. “Can you do that without getting any shells in the mix, Cissy?”

  “Oh yes, ma’am,” Cissy replied. “But I need to use a knife to do it right.”

  Bubby raised her eyebrows but handed her a paring knife. Cissy brought the knife down onto the center of the eggshell, splitting it perfectly in two. Miriam picked up a knife and tried to do the same, but her egg splintered, and she had to pick bits of shell out of the bowl.

  “You need to hit it more clean,” Cissy said. “Don’t be afraid. Watch me.” Miriam mimicked Cissy’s sure movements and soon got the hang of it. In a minute the bowl was filled with eggs—without their shells. Bubby added cooking oil and chicken stock, and Miriam mixed it together with a wooden spoon. Then Bubby added a box of matzah meal to the liquid, and Cissy stirred the thick mixture one last time.

  “So we make the balls now?” she asked.

  “First it has to chill,” Bubby said, sliding the bowl into the icebox. “Otherwise it’s impossible to work with.”

  Bubby and the girls then got to work peeling carrots and potatoes for the tzimmes. By the time they had finished chopping the vegetables and emptying them into a cast-iron pot with prunes and apricots, the matzah-ball mix was firm enough to work with. Bubby took it out of the icebox and placed it back on the table.

  “First you have to coat your hands with cooking oil,” Miriam advised Cissy.

&nb
sp; Cissy looked skeptical.

  “Trust me,” Miriam said. “Otherwise it will be like having glue on your hands all day. You can wash the oil off afterward.”

  Miriam spooned up a blob of matzah meal about the size of a silver dollar and shaped it into a ball with her hands. Then she carefully dropped it into the pot of boiling water on the stove. Cissy did the same. “You’re right,” Cissy said as she formed another ball. “It feels like sand. Kind of reminds me of that hamen hat you gave me that time.”

  “Matzah balls are nothing like hamantaschen,” Miriam promised her.

  On the way to the barn after lunch, the wind stung Miriam’s face. She covered her nose and mouth with one mittened hand to keep warm.

  “When did it get so cold?” she asked, but the mitten muffled her voice. Even if it hadn’t, Cissy probably wouldn’t have heard. She was too busy chattering away. She was excited because Bubby had told the girls that they could each pick a kitten to come live in the house.

  “You are so lucky you got that granny,” Cissy said. “She is so kind to everyone. Joe said she was, but I don’t think I expected her to be quite the way she is.”

  “I tried to tell you too,” Miriam reminded her.

  Cissy didn’t respond right away. Miriam worried that she had hurt her friend’s feelings.

  “Because I didn’t want you to keep living out here,” she added. “I was worried about you.”

  Cissy put her hand on Miriam’s shoulder. “I know,” she said. “I believe you now. You said they wouldn’t send me away, and you were right. But sometimes a person has to see for themselves. Everybody’s got their own way of doing things.”

  “I know,” Miriam said.

  When they reached the barn, Miriam suggested one last trip up to the loft.

  “Why?” Cissy asked.

  “Isn’t there anything you want from up there? The blanket, maybe? Or, I don’t know, Joe’s shirt?”

  Cissy shook her head. “That shirt’s been eaten to death. It’s got more holes than the colander your granny was using to wash her apples this morning. And the blanket was rougher than twine and about as useful. The critters can have at ’em. Let’s see the cats and then go back to the house where it’s warm.”

  Cissy stopped when they reached the stall door. She turned to Miriam. “I’m sorry I hurt you yesterday.”

  Miriam almost said, “You didn’t,” but she stopped herself. The truth was, Cissy had hurt her.

  “I was going to bite your hand if you didn’t stop covering my mouth,” Miriam admitted.

  Cissy looked disbelieving. “You were not!”

  “I was,” Miriam said, pushing open the stall door.

  Cissy looked down at her hands. “I guess I saved myself just in time,” she said.

  Moses was perched on top of the pile of hay bales, inspecting his paws. Anna and Ida were bickering nearby. The girls found Bandit and Socks lounging in the trough with MC, but they had to flatten themselves on the floor to locate Pirate and Star. The kittens were hiding under the trough, almost in the next stall.

  “Come on, kitty,” Miriam said, trying to lure Star with a piece of twine. “Come on out so I can take you to your new home!”

  Star took the twine in her paws, and Miriam began slowly pulling it toward her, until she was able to reach the kitten and scoop her up.

  “You sure you don’t want Anna or Ida?” Cissy asked.

  “No,” Miriam said. “I want Star.”

  “’Cause she’s pretty as a star?” Cissy teased.

  Miriam smiled. “That is precisely why.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Miriam thought there had been enough surprises on the farm to last a lifetime, but she and Cissy were greeted with another when they left the barn. In the short time they’d been inside, the temperature had dropped even more. And snow was falling so fast and hard they could barely find the path to the house.

  “Jiminy!” Cissy said, tucking Moses into her jacket as she whirled in a circle, her face turned toward the sky. “It’s like the world’s disappeared!” She held out her free hand and watched the flakes pile up on the mittens Bubby had given her.

  “Is this the first time you’ve seen snow?” Miriam asked, cuddling Star close.

  “I saw it yesterday and today, what little there was out here when we were going back and forth to the house. But I ain’t never seen it coming down like this.”

  Miriam wished she was as excited as Cissy, but the snow made her homesick all over again. Even if it wasn’t warm at this time of the year, there was still the promise of spring back home. “It’s not supposed to snow on Passover,” she said, not caring how glum she sounded. “Snow happens in the winter.”

  “Tell that to the snow!” Cissy said. She sounded as happy as Miriam had ever heard her, and her mood was catching. “Come on, cheer up!” Cissy stuck out her tongue, waited for the snow to land on it and pulled it back in with a satisfied smile. “It tastes good! Stop bellyaching and try some!”

  “We get meshugganah weather here upstate,” Zayde said, sitting in the front room after dinner that night with Bubby, Miriam and Cissy. They had invited Joe to stay with them, but he had declined. He clearly did not feel as comfortable in the house as his sister did. He stayed slightly longer than the rest of the hired men, but after promising to see Cissy at breakfast, he returned to the bunkhouse.

  The snow was still coming down. “Sometimes on Passover it’s hot as summertime, and every once in a while it snows,” Zayde continued. “It’s a special treat for Miriam, for her first Passover with her bubby and zayde. And for you, Cissy. I bet you’ve never seen snow on Passover.”

  “I ain’t never seen Passover, sir,” Cissy said with a giggle. “So it’s all new to me.”

  Miriam was about to suggest that they build a snow fort the next day. But there was a knock at the door, and Mazel started barking. Usually the dog slept outside, but it was so cold that Zayde had brought him into the house. Now he ran toward the door, his ears perked up, his tail wagging.

  “Who could that be?” Bubby wondered as she and Zayde made their way down the hall.

  Ordinarily, people only showed up at the house after a train passed. But the last train had sped by during supper. The next wasn’t due until the middle of the night.

  Miriam followed her grandparents through the kitchen. Between the snow and the darkness, she wondered how anyone could have found the front door at all.

  She was about to say so when she realized that Cissy was no longer with her. She went back into the front room. She saw Cissy on the sofa, frozen like a statue. A scared statue.

  “They’re coming for me,” she whispered in a voice so soft Miriam had to lean in to hear her. “From the orphanage. You said your granny and grandpa wouldn’t tell. I believed you. But they did. And now someone’s coming to get me. You have to hide me! Now!”

  She clamped onto Miriam’s hand with the same powerful grip she’d used to cover her mouth the day before. This time, though, Miriam wasn’t afraid.

  “Nobody told anyone anything, Cissy,” she said, taking her place on the sofa beside her friend. “There are no orphanages here.” She did her best to sound firm, the way Mama did when she was saying something important. Even as she spoke, though, Miriam realized she didn’t know if what she was saying was true. All she knew was that she had never seen or heard of an orphanage in Sangerfield or Waterville.

  Instead of admitting as much, she told Cissy the one thing she was sure of. “Bubby and Zayde haven’t left the farm since yesterday.”

  “The hired men then. Somebody told!” Cissy bolted off the sofa. “I have to get out of here.” She looked toward the windows, then back at Miriam, her eyes pleading. “Ain’t you going to come with me?”

  “Don’t even think of going outside,” Miriam warned. “You’ll freeze. You’ll never find the barn in this snow. Just go upstairs. Hide under the bed if that makes you feel safe. I’ll stay here, and if whoever is at the door really is someone who�
�s going to take you away, I’ll come up and we’ll figure something out.”

  She wanted to add, “You don’t have to worry,” but Cissy was gone.

  Miriam couldn’t see who Zayde and Bubby had let in, but it sounded like there was more than one person. Perhaps it was hobos after all—it wasn’t unusual for them to arrive in groups.

  But when the new visitors emerged from the hallway, behind Bubby and Zayde, Miriam knew right away that they weren’t hobos. They were dressed in fancy city clothes, pressed slacks and button-down shirts with thin ties. Three of them were so tall and broad they filled the doorway. Two were barely taller than Bubby. All of them were black.

  Miriam, remembering what her mama said about it not being polite to stare, quickly turned her attention to the stiff-looking cases the men were carrying. Most of the cases were shaped like rectangles. Some were nearly as long as a piano keyboard. The largest was bigger than Mazel’s doghouse and taller than Miriam.

  The men set the cases in a corner of the kitchen and stood quietly as Zayde introduced them.

  “This is the Johnstown Jazz Band,” he said. “They were on their way to Utica, but the snowstorm is too dangerous for driving, so they’re going to stay here for the night.”

  “Here?” Miriam asked. In the house? She wondered how they would fit. Their cases alone took up most of the space in the kitchen. She wondered what instruments they played.

  “In the bunkhouse with the hired men,” Bubby explained. “But we’re going to have a proper visit first.”

  “Are you going to play a concert?” Miriam asked.

  The men laughed so loudly that Miriam was sure Cissy must have heard, even if she was hiding under the bed. One of them said, “Well, that is something we can do, if you like, miss.”

  “I’m going to go get Cissy,” she announced.

  “Where did she go?” Bubby asked.

  “She—she just went upstairs,” Miriam replied. She didn’t want to tell her grandparents what Cissy was so scared of, especially not in front of strangers.