shuddered. “The tsar and his soldiers,” she said. “Always stirring up trouble for the Jews.”
“This is why we leave Russia and come to America,” said Grandpa, placing his hand over Bubbie’s.
Now, as if talk of kidnapped babies had triggered it, the wail of an unhappy baby filled the air. Rebecca could hear voices coming up the stairwell outside their apartment door. There were thuds and a scraping sound, followed by more voices.
“That must be the new neighbors moving in downstairs,” Mama said. “I heard they were coming soon.”
“Oh, let’s go meet them!” Rebecca said eagerly.
Papa turned to Victor. “You will stay here. We need to have a talk.”
Uh-oh, Rebecca thought. Did Papa know that Victor had sneaked out?
2
New Neighbors
“You go meet new neighbors,” Bubbie said. “Me, I am rushing back upstairs. Bread is baking in my oven!” She and Grandpa headed for the door. “When is ready, we take fresh loaf to the new family.”
Rebecca hurriedly tied on an apron and went to the sink to help her sisters wash the breakfast dishes. Mama smoothed her long skirts, tidied her thick dark hair, and then wrapped jars of homemade pickled onions and jam in brown paper. After Rebecca dried the last bowl, they all went downstairs to welcome the new neighbors. The cries of the baby they had heard earlier grew louder.
“Will there be someone for me to play with?” asked Benny hopefully.
“Well, someone is certainly making a racket,” teased Sadie. “He could be your age.”
A well-used wicker baby buggy stood in the hall outside one of the two small ground-floor apartments. The door had been left ajar, and it swung open as Mama knocked, revealing a parlor considerably smaller than the Rubins’, with only one window. A morning breeze wafted into the room, where half a dozen people were opening boxes, arranging furniture, and sweeping the corners with a broom. Oh my goodness, Rebecca thought. How could such a large family live here comfortably?
A man with a drooping mustache came over to greet Rebecca’s family. He was as tall as Papa but younger, rail thin, and rather pale—what Mama called “peaked.” Still, his smile was warm as he accepted Mama’s gifts and introduced himself as Morris Brodsky. He told them he and his wife, Naomi, would be living here with their four-month-old baby, Nora. The tall woman holding the baby was his cousin, Miriam. The other people were more cousins and friends, helping with the move.
Rebecca, standing in the doorway, was relieved that not all these people would be living in this small apartment after all. But oh, how she wished someone would quiet that poor baby! Little dark-haired Nora writhed in the arms of Cousin Miriam, who murmured soothing words, trying to calm her. The baby’s squalls filled the room, and Benny clapped his hands over his ears. Rebecca wanted to put her hands over her own ears but worried it might be rude.
As if on an island apart from the hustle and bustle, a young woman sat in a rocking chair by the open window. She was small and thin, with a cloud of curly dark hair piled up in a haphazard bun. Her head was bowed.
Mr. Brodsky spoke to her. “My dear, we have our first visitors. This is Mrs. Rubin and her children—young Benjamin, then Rebecca, and twins Sadie and Sophie.” His smile was wry. “I’m sure in time I’ll know which twin is which!”
The woman raised her head and smiled at them. She got to her feet. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said in a soft voice as Mr. Brodsky took her hand and led her over to Mama. “I’m afraid I’m not able to tell which of you are twins and which aren’t, but I hope to soon know you by your voices.”
Rebecca saw that Mrs. Brodsky’s eyes were clouded. The skin around them was red and swollen. She had heard of something called trachoma, an eye infection that people seemed to get when they lived too crowded together. Over in the East Side tenements, where her cousin Ana used to live, many people suffered from trachoma. Some went blind.
“Morris is very worried about my eyesight,” Mrs. Brodsky told them in her soft voice. Rebecca had to lean close to hear her over the howling baby. “But I am worrying about him—working two jobs so that we can afford this new apartment and pay the doctor for my treatment. He’s always so tired after a day in the factory, and now he is also helping to tutor English at the settlement house in the evening.”
“It’s worth it,” Mr. Brodsky said. “That tenement room was so…well, squalid is the only word for it. I think that’s where you caught this infection in the first place. You’ll be healthier living here. We can open the window to air the room. And with running water at the sink, it will be easier to keep clean.”
“But it’s going to be hard for you, working so much.” Mrs. Brodsky had to raise her voice to be heard over the baby. “I’m afraid we won’t see much of you.”
“You won’t see me at all if you go blind,” her husband replied grimly, pulling on his coat. “At least this way you have a chance to recover.” He turned to his cousin Miriam, who was holding Nora to her shoulder, patting the small back in an attempt to quiet her. “Goodness, such a racket!” he clucked distractedly.
“And when I do recover, I’ll take in sewing again,” Mrs. Brodsky vowed. “That will help pay our rent, too.” She turned to the Rubins. “I used to be a dressmaker,” she explained.
“And a fine one,” Mr. Brodsky said warmly. Then he sighed and nodded to the Rubins. “Now, please excuse me, but I need to leave for work. I have a new tutoring appointment.”
Two more men came through the door as Mr. Brodsky went out. They were carrying a table. Another entered behind them, lugging a chair. The woman holding Nora turned to Mama. “I’ve been helping Naomi and Morris out as best I can this morning,” she said. “Would you mind holding Nora while I prepare a tonic for Naomi’s eyes?”
“Not at all,” said Mama as she took the baby. Little Nora squirmed in her blankets. “My children can help carry in the boxes.”
The twins and Benny hurried to bring in straight-backed chairs, a coat stand, and a box of dishes. The baby in Mama’s arms fretted. Rebecca stroked her soft hair.
“I don’t know why she’s so unhappy this morning,” Mrs. Brodsky said apologetically. “She’s usually such a quiet baby.” She shut her eyes for a moment, then opened them to peer at her daughter. “Oh, dear. Do her eyes look all right? I’m so worried she’ll catch my affliction. It’s very contagious, I’m afraid.”
Rebecca’s eyes suddenly felt itchy. She took a step away from the baby.
“Little Nora’s eyes look fine,” Mama said.
“As long as we all wash our hands often with carbolic soap, no one else will contract the disease,” Cousin Miriam added reassuringly. “Nora is just upset by the move. Now, you lie down, Naomi dear, and let me dose your eyes.”
Rebecca watched Cousin Miriam drip a solution from a bottle into Mrs. Brodsky’s eyes. Some of the solution dribbled onto the woman’s cheeks, and Cousin Miriam tenderly wiped it away with cotton.
While Nora continued to wail, Rebecca longed to comfort her,
