When the rabbi spoke again it was softly and with compassion. “You cannot determine what other men will do with their lives. You can only decide what you will do with yours. So, keep talking.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“You will. Another time. We’ll talk again. Need I remind you a medicine rarely cures with one dose?”
“I don’t understand what’s happening, but already I feel better. You’ve been very kind and patient.”
“See how simple? You talk, I listen.”
Buck shook his head in wonder. “I’ve talked about things I’ve never said to anyone in my life, things I’ve never thought of before.”
The rabbi arched an eyebrow. “Do you have any questions?”
Buck smiled, a little embarrassed. “Only one. When can we talk again?”
“You are always welcome, and I am always here. Now we drink tea.”
Buck rose, rubbed his wet cheeks with the back of is hand, went to the side of the fireplace and pulled the cord. A moment later there was a knock on the door. The rabbi called out and the maid entered the room, followed closely behind by Molly.
“Sophie,” she ordered, before her husband could get a word in, “We need tea. And bring the fresh kugel, and some of the strawberry preserves.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The servant had turned back to the door when Asa came bounding in.
“Buck, I just found out you’re here again.”
The two embraced in a spontaneous show of affection.
Molly was still making room on the round table under the chandelier when the maid reappeared pushing a tea cart. Clearly it had been prepared in advance. While Molly played mother, the rabbi looked on affectionately. He smiled at Buck. “Talking and listening make a man thirsty.”
Asa glanced at Buck and grinned knowingly.
#
“There is no way I’ll allow the Drexels to get one penny of my father’s money or his business,” Sarah told the attorney behind the imposing desk. “My father’s dead and they’re trying to take advantage of my mother’s and my grief. I will not have it. I don’t care what you have to do or how much it costs. I will not have my father’s lifelong work pillaged by a family of jackals.”
“Calm down, my dear,” Simon Weinberg told her. “They don’t have a legal leg to stand on. It’s simply a matter of time and all of this will be settled in your favor. Leave it to me.”
“Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?”
“Your father was one of my closest friends. Remember, God punishes, but men take revenge. I have never liked the Drexels and will take great pleasure in trouncing them in court.”
“How long will this vengeance take?” Sarah asked.
“I would say within a month.”
“Don’t take too long, Simon. I’m tired of wearing black.”
#
Buck continued to feel at loose ends. He felt calmer and less inclined to losses of temper as he idly walked the busy streets, perplexed about what direction his life should take. He wanted desperately to stop by Sarah’s home, but knew doing so would not be wise. He obeyed his conscience in action, but his thoughts were less disciplined. The world he’d taken so for granted had changed immeasurably. South Carolina had lost its sovereignty and become occupied territory. Soldiers on the street wore Union blue, not Confederate gray. More than once he’d been forced into the street so a Yankee could stroll the sidewalk. It was difficult for him to adjust to the sight of former slaves walking unaccompanied by a white overseer. They were still no better clothed than they had previously been, nor did they seem any better nourished. In fact they appeared lost in their new-found freedom.
Yet there was music in the air. As he passed by the many saloons that had sprung up during his absence, he saw and heard Negroes singing and playing instruments for the entertainment of raucous and drunken Yankee soldiers. More mortifying was the sight of young Southern women in the arms of those occupying troops.
The following Tuesday, as prearranged, Buck once more called at the home of Rabbi Cohen and his wife Molly. This time Asa greeted him at the door. Before ushering him into the drawing room, Asa commented, “You look like a new man, Buck. Charleston seems to agree with you.”
“It’s not the place, but the people.”
“Sarah?”
“She’s in mourning and involved in legal matters.” Buck smiled. “But I can wait.”
Asa chuckled. “As the rabbi says, Lord, give me patience and give it to me right now.”
“He’s quite a man, isn’t he?”
“There’s someone else too, Buck. I told you once that I didn’t think a woman—” He stopped, even now unwilling to bring up his shame.
“Who?” Buck asked with a friendly grin, suspecting he was about to meet Rebecca.
For a moment Asa bowed his head, then looked up, his face almost radiant. He turned to the doorway at the end of the foyer and made a waving motion. Out stepped a woman who couldn’t have been more than about twenty-one. Her brown hair was tucked under a chambermaid’s cap. She had tiny freckles on her nose and cheeks and soft brown eyes.
Asa and the girl . . . woman made no moves to touch each other, yet Buck could easily imagine them holding hands when no one was looking.
“Buck, er . . . Dr. Thomson, this is Rebecca Cunningham.”
She curtsied nervously before he had a chance to extend his hand. “Rebecca, I’m very glad to meet you.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir. Asa’s told me so much about you.”
Buck glanced at his friend. “If it was anything good, I hope he exaggerated.”
“Oh, he did, sir. He said you were his best friend, the salt of the earth—” she paused for a heartbeat “—with a little pepper added.”
Buck laughed out loud. “He’s got me pegged.”
“I hope to see you again, sir,” she told him, then turned to Asa. “You’d best take him in. The rabbi’s waiting.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
Buck didn’t miss the love he saw in Asa’s eyes as the pretty young woman fled down the hall and disappeared through a side door.
“Congratulations. What was it I heard the rabbi say the other day? Mazel something?”
“Mazel tov.” He showed Buck into the rabbi’s study.
“Shalom,” the old man greeted him.
“That means peace, right? Shalom to you.”
“You’re a quick learner. You are well? Sit. Sit.” To Asa he said, “Please tell Sophie we’ll want tea later.”
“Yes, rabbi.” Asa left the room and closed the door behind him.
“So,” the old man said, “what do you have to tell me today? I’ll listen.”
“The only position I can find here is as a surgeon. I don’t want to do that anymore. I’ve sent out letters but it’s too soon to hear anything back. My life’s rather quiet now. I thought during the war I’d give anything for quiet, but too much seems as difficult as too little.”
“Don’t grumble. There’ll be time for that later. Now, I’m listening.”
“We talked about so much last time, I think I’ve run out of things to say.”
“So, tell me what you dream.”
#
She breezed through the door of the Weinberg legal firm. “You have news?”
“Didn’t I tell you I’d take care of things? The Drexels dropped their suit and have signed papers giving up all future claims to Greenwald Enterprises.”
“How did you do it?” Sarah seated herself on the edge of an upholstered chair. “You said a month and it’s only been two weeks.”
Simon laughed. “And during those two weeks you’ve been hounding me, wanting to know why it’s taking so long.”
“You’re not answering my questions.”