Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [118]
The Sabbath became particularly oppressive during the dog days. On a Sabbath in August, wet heat steamed off the river and the trees went limp and the grass browned and one could hear the cornfields crackling in agony. Rock the rocker and fan and dunk your head under the water pump. The house of Moses Balaban was shut tight, trapping the soggy stagnant air. Shades drawn ... a dingy gray light ... Moses at prayer.
Movement around the house. Every step ended with a long, whiny creak of the floorboards and steps. Hannah grunted torturously from her night of being plundered.
The children were locked in. They could neither sew, nor cook, nor read for pleasure, nor play loudly. A whispered game of checkers. Drowsiness and sweat. Oh God, where is thy blessed sunset?
Sore from sitting in one position, Moses emerged from the shop and trudged through the house, a martinet with his prayer book held before him in one hand and his other hand behind his back. Through the kitchen, he climbed the rear stairs, through each bedroom, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see that everyone was accounted for. He returned to the kitchen, where Hannah sat listlessly fanning herself.
“Where is Saul?” he demanded.
“Maybe he broke his chains and escaped. How should I know?”
“He’s not here!”
His voice drew the other children into the kitchen, fearful as they entered.
“Where is he? Lazar, you are covering up for him.”‘
Lazar shook his head.
“I will not tolerate the Sabbath to be desecrated under my roof!” He seized his cane from the coatrack and held it up like a bat, threateningly. “Saul will get the lesson of his life!”
Hannah came from her chair, slowly, wiping the perspiration from her face and neck. “You, Moses Balaban, desecrate the Sabbath every day of your life with your vile, rotten ways. You will not put a finger on that boy.”
“Momma, please,” Lazar said.
“Not a finger,” she repeated.
Moses’ eyes widened with shock at this sudden defiance. He made a gesture of anger toward her, which brought the girls around her to form a protective cordon. Then Lazar stepped between his father and Hannah. Moses shook the stick at them. Lazar jerked it from his hand and threw it into a corner.
“Go back to your praying,” Hannah said. “You look like a mad dog. And what is more, this is the last Sabbath you lock us in like caged animals. There is nothing that says we cannot walk in the streets and the children cannot take a swim in the river.”
Moses grasped his chest and staggered to a chair and slumped into it, glaring wildly at nothing. The sweat dripped off his beard and his black Sabbath coat became sticky with it.
A pounding at the shop door stabbed into the scene.
“Tell them to go away,” Moses grunted. “It’s the Sabbath.”
The knocking persisted until Leah ran from the kitchen. In a moment she returned, screaming incoherently. Hannah knew at once when she saw them. The mayor, the chief of police, and a number of others stood before them and took off their hats.
“Saul!” she cried.
“It was an accident, Mrs. Balaban.”
THE WHOLE TRUTH was never known, only suspected. A bunch of boys got up a baseball team and hopped a freight train to go over to the Eastern Shore for a pickup game. Saul, always the daredevil, climbed on top of the car. They said he fell. The family never ceased to believe he was pushed. His body dropped between two cars and was dragged over the tracks for over a mile before it shook loose.
Hannah Balaban’s hair turned white overnight. A few days later, she left Havre de Grace with her daughters. She had known of Moses’ secret hiding place for years and she departed with his money.
Moses went berserk when he found it missing and turned on Lazar. But Lazar was too big and too strong. Lazar also left for Baltimore, where he joined his sisters and his stepmother.
Moses remained. This time he had a new companion: a hideous nightmare of death and disfiguration that was to recur for the rest of his life.
BALTIMORE
1902–1913
“SO, THANK your lucky stars, it’s better starving here than