AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes.” Amalia giggled, her eyes twinkling a bit in the sunlight peeking through the portico above them. “Judah and I are just so excited to be here and try your cures, aren’t we, darling?”
“Yes, yes, we are.” David coughed to cover his sputter and adjusted his spectacles. Thad went by his grandfather’s name? The man was a consultant for the United States government and that was the best alias he had? To be fair, he used it only to assist his sister with her “research,” but still, a little creativity might be nice.
“Splendid.” The man clapped his hands together. “I’ll show you around so you can get settled. Your luggage will be brought to your room. You have more, don’t you?”
“Oh yes.” Amalia nodded. “Porters, from the railway. I was told you had quite a staff of your own, but obviously we couldn’t carry everything ourselves.”
David fought the urge to roll his eyes. The entire scene was ridiculous, especially given how he was dressed. Threadbare trousers and worn coat, with patches near the cuffs, playing rich husband to little-miss-silks-and-satins-and-lace. Laughable. He’d not even make the “poor relation” category next to Amalia.
And those long-ago insults were back again, flitting through his brain. Especially regarding his cleanliness. He slapped his thigh and a cloud of dust billowed.
Fuck.
Because Yiddish curses weren’t enough for the mortification.
The man in charge didn’t give him or his silence a second glance and continued to chat with Amalia, taking her arm, as they followed him through the well-appointed rooms. David shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked his head as a rather snooty desk clerk gave him a sideways glance. Fine. He removed his hands and placed them at his sides. Just fine. He scampered a bit to keep up with his “wife.”
Wife.
Something he’d never have. Something he couldn’t have. Something he shouldn’t have nor want.
And yet Amalia and an entire staff would be throwing it around for a day. At least there was no specific policy against drinking on the job.
Chapter Thirteen
The hotel’s dining room was in the oldest portion of the building, a stone tavern dating back from George Washington’s time. Lanterns hung from the ceiling and candlelight illuminated each setting. The two were shown to a table in a dark corner, near a fireplace where a light flame warmed the chilly night air.
“The food here is supposed to be quite delicious.” Amalia turned the menu over in her hands, scanning.
“Well, there’s trout and salmon, or do you eat other things?” David coughed, his head down, focused on his own reading.
Ah. He was going to tread into that territory—into observance, the topic they’d avoided even that first Passover, whispering together through the Seder. Funny, she’d described her undergarments to this man, but never once spoke about what she ate outside her parents’ home, or more accurately, what she didn’t. And how long she waited before having cream puffs after roast chicken, or her family’s opinion on dozens of other Talmudic laws.
“We trained our own butcher, so we have meat at home, as you saw. Obviously, our family in Philadelphia has multiple sources, but when we’re with non-Jews...” Amalia toyed with a curl. “We don’t insult people when we’re their guests, but provided a dairy option, we choose not to tread into forbidden territory. If there’s fish, we eat the fish.”
David nodded before laying down his menu, so she had a view of his entire face, his skin golden in the candlelight, his thick fan of black lashes near glittering.
“You make it easy to be liked, or at least accepted. Don’t cause too much trouble?” He pulled out one of his tzitzis and fingered it. “Make them comfortable with us by emphasizing the parts that are like them.”
And there was no good response to that. Because there was truth there. Even if she didn’t divide things neatly in her head with regards to “us” and “them,” the way her great-uncle and grandfather had.
Her family, and many others, behaved in just that way for years. And thrived because of it. It assured their survival and the survival of Judaism while allowing them to rise, to gain rights, but when David put it that way... She tugged at her fingers.
“Well, the parts of us that are like your father’s family.” His lips quirked.
And now she wasn’t hungry at all. Not in the slightest. The guilt gnawed. How did she go so many years never questioning anything, just accepting? No wonder she’d been so miserable. “That’s a bit unfair. My father’s family are good people.”
“I don’t doubt that.” David shrugged. “I’m just wondering why they are the center, the standard.”
“I—” Amalia’s mind whirled. “But aren’t we ‘the chosen people’ or what have you? We’re separated by definition?”
David leaned back and smirked a little. “Interesting argument. So if we take that a step further, we should live separately from them, like in the east, shouldn’t we? Not care about intermingling. Like my relatives?”
“No, because then we’d always be vulnerable. And we’d lack rights. And we’d relinquish the benefits of being a part of the larger community. And we couldn’t be truly American.” She leaned forward. “I like being American. We’re the country of liberty.” She balled her hands.
“How can everyone be free if you enslaved people for years?” His arms were on the table, his eyes fiery.
“We fixed that.” Her cheeks grew hot.
