Rabbi Warnitski said a prayer, then signaled for the interment to begin. One of the men dropped down into the grave, placed a cement block at each end of the hole, then helped the others lower Motlie between them by the blanket enfolding her. Once she was in position, a wide board was placed on top of the two blocks to cover her. This was the moment of the most profound grief as the family performed the keri’ah. The rabbi made a small cut in their clothing, on the left side for Hanna and the children, and on the right for Israel, and they tore it open to a hand’s-breadth, cries of anguish bursting from their lips.
Blinded by tears, they were led to the grave and poured on the first shovels of earth, and then stood back broken-hearted as relatives and friends filled the hole and shaped the mound. Rabbi Warnitski led them in reciting the kaddish, the prayer for the dead, and then the gathering formed two rows for the family to pass out of the cemetery. Outside, a basin of water and towels were waiting for all to wash their hands. The mourners returned home, where avelut, the period of mourning, began.
The women of the village had brought baskets of food, for it was forbidden that family members eat their own at the first meal after the funeral. The baskets had to be of wicker instead of the more ostentatious types in deference to the poor.
The funeral ended the first period of mourning, that of weeping. Now came shiv’ah, seven days of lamenting, sitting on stools, receiving consolation from friends. It was a mitzvah for others to visit, for now was the time to take the minds of the family off the one they had lost.
It was on the second day of shiv’ah that Stephen stopped by Hanna’s house to express his sympathies more fully. She led him out to the bench in the yard, and they sat down. Her face was pale, and her mood subdued.
“Are you well, my dearest?” he asked quietly.
She smiled wanly. “I will be all right soon. It is just that the house seems so empty. But everyone has been trying hard to make things easier for everyone else.”
“How is your father?”
A line of concern crossed her forehead. “I can’t tell yet, Stephen. On the surface, he appears to be bearing up well, and he discusses things that he would not bother with a month ago. But every now and then, in the midst of a sentence sometimes, he just…well, fades away. As if the world he was in a moment ago was full of play acting and he has suddenly gone back to his real world.” She shook her head sadly. “He is thinking of Mama. But each time he drifts away, he seems to come back with a piece of himself missing. I try not to show it, but it worries me.”
“It will take time.”
“I know.”
He kicked at a turf of grass, his eyes fixed to the ground. “Is there any news about…you know, your period?”
She shook her head again and looked away, and it occurred to her that she had been shaking her head all day and not facing up squarely to the situation. She would have to stop that at once.
“Hanna,” said Stephen softly. “Please don’t turn your head away from me.”
She looked at him, and he was so obviously sad for her that she was tempted to kiss him directly on the spot. “All right. I am sorry.”
“We must always talk things out. I don’t have a crush on you, like a schoolboy. I love you with all my heart, and I will never love another woman. To me, you are already my wife. I want you to know that and to lean on me. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“Of course I do, my dear. And I could never love you more than this very minute.”
His shy grin returned. “That makes me feel better. When will your mourning be over?”
“Shiv’ah ends in five days. Then we will have sheloshim for about three weeks. We will say kaddish for eleven months.”
Stephen opened his mouth in astonishment. “I cannot kiss you until then?”
Hanna finally smiled. “Certainly you can. As far as you and I are concerned, we can be together again after shiv’ah. I will also be starting back to work after then.”
Stephen got up and held out his hand. She rose and placed hers in his. It felt so comforting just to touch him. “I’ll be off now,” he said. “I have work to do at the house. But don’t forget–call on me whenever you need anything.”
He started down the street, his mind full of love and longing for her. But there was a deep apprehension inside, for he had still not found a solution for the two of them. He walked slowly towards his large house on the knoll with a clear view of the river. He had no one to speak with about Hanna and himself. Now and then he considered taking Larisa into his confidence, but she was not a worldly person and might inadvertently blurt out a hint to his parents. He had casually mentioned to his mother that one of his schoolmates at the university had fallen in love with an Oriental girl, and his mother’s reaction was immediate and biting, that he was an absolute idiot who would get exactly what he deserved. Furthermore, she went on, he should avoid that fool like the plague.
There were still six more weeks remaining before returning to the university, and he decided that if Hanna was still pregnant, he would begin seeking a job. In Kiev, or perhaps even in St. Petersburg. Obtaining a position as an engineer was out of the question, since he did not have a degree, but he was qualified to be an assistant to one, and there were jobs as foreman of building projects. Once he had an offer of work, he would have her join him and they would be married. If they lived frugally, they would be able to send money to her family. It would not be an easy life, but having Hanna would be worth any hardship. It was just impossible to consider living without her.
On the third day after Motlie’s funeral, Jakob and Hershel took a walk to discuss the situation in the house. Jakob was a continuing curiosity to the village folk, especially to the Jews, who had been raised to believe that Hasidim were a “bisel meshugge”, a little crazy, and so rabid that merely being in their presence would be tantamount to walking through an infectious ward of a hospital. Rabbi Warnitski, though, had kept his promise to his cousin by passing the word that Jakob must be protected from any snide remarks, and he had also informed all of them that Jakob was learned in Talmud far beyond his years. So it was with a mixture of novelty, bias, and respect that the village Jews treated him. The gentiles, however, were less generous. They stopped in their tracks to stare rudely at him or to begin laughing. It was his peiyes, of course, his long cheek curls that tickled them. Brushed behind his ears, he would be little different than many of the older Jews, who wore essentially the same attire.
“What do you plan to do now?” asked Hershel, lighting up a cigarette without missing a step.
“Do you mean whether I will stay in the house?”
“Yes.”
Jakob walked on a few more paces before replying. He had considered the ramifications of Motlie’s death from the moment he knew that her ailment was terminal. Under normal circumstances, he would have left the moment Motlie died. Residing in a house with a marriageable woman, watched over by a disabled parent, could create a dangerous moral predicament. It was only because Hanna was Hanna that he had made his decision.
“I plan to stay, if Mr. Barlak has no objection.”
“I feel the same way. But it will place a heavier work load on Hanna.”
“They will need the money as much as before.”
“I’m sure of that. He drew in a lung full of smoke and let it curl out of his nose. “She is an unusual girl, that Hanna. Look at the way she is holding that family together.” Jakob said nothing, and after a few more steps, Hershel continued, “I am glad you decided to stay.” He broke into a crooked grin as he glanced at his companion. “We have all become fond of you.” When Jakob looked at him in surprise, Hershel laughed. “Even when you recite the treatise, page,