Mila 18 - Leon Uris [90]
“Our kids have been pent up so long, they are about to explode with tension,” Rosy said. “This party is doing everybody good.”
“So!” roared Andrei. “How does the new father feel now?”
“At my age, to have a son is an unexpected bonus.”
Then he looked up glumly from Andrei to Ervin. They could hear the hilarity outside, but they were never a second away from the times. Even in the middle of the celebration it lurked in Alex’s mind. “Have you seen the new set of German directives?”
They nodded.
“So, they may as well celebrate tonight.”
“Why don’t you forget it for a night too, Alex?” Andrei said.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I am at the headquarters at Mila 19 most of the time now, day and night. As soon as Sylvia is on her feet she’ll be working at the orphanage again. I think we will give up our apartment and move to Mila 19. Susan Geller has indicated she’ll move over too. I think it will be encouraging for our youngsters to have us living there. We are only using the first floor for offices and the dispensary. We could divide the place into dormitories for boys and girls and bring in another sixty or seventy people.”
“I’ll move in if I can bring Momma,” Ervin Rosenblum said.
“No. So long as you are able to work on the outside, it would be better not to be too closely identified.”
Alex looked slyly at Andrei. Andrei Androfski at Mila 19 would be a great boost to everyone’s morale.
“What are you doing with the basement?” Andrei asked.
“Storage.”
“Have you thought about an underground press?”
Andrei had behaved very well for the past weeks. He had shown great restraint, but he was going to be a problem as things grew worse, Alex thought Ana Grinspan had started publication of a weekly sheet in Krakow. Alex didn’t want to face the situation. Discovery of an underground printing plant could destroy the entire Orphans and Self-Help organization.
“I’ll help you with your press, Andrei, but not at Mila 19.”
“Then you really don't need me there, do you?”
“We had better get out to the dance floor,” Ervin said quickly.
The forgotten man—or the forgotten boy—at the bris of Moses Brandel was his sixteen-year-old brother, Wolf. He seemed bewildered by everything. When everyone said “Mozeltoff” to him, he wondered why he was being congratulated. He was a bit forlorn over the attention the new baby was getting and more confused at suddenly becoming a brother. Wolf was rather shy, anyhow, and leaned against a wall and watched the others dance. Rachael watched him while she played the piano.
Poor Wolf, she thought. He is like a lost soul. When her mother relieved her at the piano she drifted over to him.
“Would you like to dance?” she asked.
“Uh-uh.”
“Come on.”
“No, I don’t care to. Besides, I get all tangled up with my feet.”
There was an electrifying moment as the evening reached its highlight when Emanuel Goldman entered the room and it was announced that he would perform at the piano.
He had been in retirement for several years, and his hands and reflexes had become slowed and his technique rusty, but there was still that great personal charm of a real virtuoso. Tonight he had made an exception and was going to perform. The hall became breathless with anticipation as he seated himself at the upright and burst into a thundering polonaise.
Rachael Bronski went out to the balcony where Wolf Brandel stood alone, looking at the Tlomatskie Synagogue down the street. His hands were shoved forlornly into his pockets.
“Don’t you want to hear Emanuel Goldman play?” she said.
“I can hear him fine from out here.”
She walked up behind him, and that made him uncomfortable. He moved a few feet away, still keeping his back to her.
“What’s the matter, Wolf! I’ve never seen you so unhappy.”
He turned and shrugged. “Everything, I guess. Mostly the way things are today. Wearing this,” he said, touching the Star of David on his arm. “Not being able to go to school. Are you still taking piano lessons?”
“Momma teaches me now. I have a lot of time to practice when I’m not