Mila 18 - Leon Uris [91]
“No. I never liked it, anyhow.”
“I thought you did.”
“No, I just said that.”
“Why?”
“To make Momma happy. It wasn’t really too bad. I kind of used to look forward to Tuesdays. Sitting in the park with you after lessons.”
“I miss that too,” she said softly.
“Well, you’ll get over that. I’m not much.”
“Why do you always pull yourself down?”
“Look at me. I get more stupid-looking every day.”
“It’s not so, Wolf. You’re turning into a man and you will be very, very handsome.”
He shrugged. His voice alternated from high to low, and now he had much trouble holding it steady. He cleared his throat formally. “I should like to visit your brother Stephan,” he said. “I realize that you and your mother are schooling him, but he needs older masculine company. Someone he can look up to. I could teach him chess and many other things.”
“That would be very nice. Stephan does need an older ... man. Uncle Andrei is not around much, and Father works very late.”
“Good. I will come to see him. Rachael ...”
“Yes?”
“Do you think—I mean—with all the joy around here now—What I mean to say is that everyone is kissing everyone. Do you think it would be proper if we expressed our joy too? I mean, properly. For little Moses.”
“I don’t know. Seeing how happy everyone is, it might be all right, don’t you think?”
He pecked at her cheek and pulled back abruptly. “That was stupid,” he said. “It wasn’t a real kiss. Have you ever had a real kiss, Rachael?”
“Once,” she answered.
“Did you like it?”
“Not too much. I really didn’t like him. I only wanted to see what a kiss was like. It was sort of mushy. Have you ever had a real kiss?”
“Lots of them,” he threw off nonchalantly.
“Did you like it?”
“You know how it is. I can take it or leave it.”
Rachael and Wolf looked at each other for ever so long, and their breathing became irregular. There was a burst of applause inside and spontaneous calls for the master to play more. Then the shouts died down. Goldman played a soft Beethoven sonata.
Rachael was becoming frightened at the strange feeling she had all over her body. “We had better get inside,” she said.
“Could I—for real?”
She was too scared to talk. She nodded her head and closed her eyes and lifted her chin and parted her lips. Wolf braced himself and leaned over slightly and touched his lips to hers.
He lowered his eyes and jammed his hands in his pockets.
“That was very good,” Rachael said, “nothing at all like the other time.”
“Could we do it again?” he asked.
“Maybe we shouldn’t ... Well, just once more.”
This time Wolf pulled her gently to him and they felt each other and it was even more wonderful. Her arms reached around him and held him against her and it was so good. “Oh, Wolf,” she whispered.
She tugged away from him and walked toward the door. “Rachael.”
“Yes?”
“Shall I see you soon?”
“Yes,” she said, and ran inside.
Chapter Thirteen
PAUL BRONSKI GENERALLY BROUGHT his work home from the Civil Authority after hours. The census had been a demanding task. There had been a wild scramble for “Aryan” Kennkarten not stamped with the demanding J. Many of the Jewish population were trying to buy their way out of the country or otherwise make the census count very difficult. Three hundred and sixty thousand Jews had registered with the Civil Authority.
It was the new directives and continual organizational work that kept Paul busy until late each night.
Deborah, who spent the days at the orphanage and the evenings schooling her children, took time out from their studies to make tea for Paul.
When she entered the study he was slumped over the desk, his eyes red from reading, and he was pale with fatigue. As he sipped the tea she stood behind him and massaged his neck. It always felt so good when Deborah did that.
“Anything bad?” she asked.
“Just weary,” he answered. “This stump aches. Acts up in the damp weather.”
“Can’t you take anything?”
“Don’t want to get into the habit of too much pain killer.”
“Paul, you’ve been working too hard. Why don’t