Print ISBN 978-1-63409-941-7

eBook Editions:

Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-68322-150-0

Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-68322-151-7

All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

Published by Barbour Books, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P. O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, OH 44683, www.barbourbooks.com

Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

Printed in the United States of America.

Table of Contents

My Valentine

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Little Shoes and Mistletoe

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Chapter 1

January, 1835

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is one LORD.

DEUTERONOMY 6:4

Darlene Lewy hurried to pull on warm woolen petticoats.

It was a frosty January morning and living so close to the harbor waters of New York City, the Lewy house always seemed to be in a state of perpetual cold. Shivering and slipping a dark blue work dress over her head, Darlene could hear her father in his ritual of morning prayers.

“Shema Israel, Adonai eloheinu Adonai echad,” he recited the Hebrew in his heavy German accent.

Darlene embraced the words to her heart. “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord.” She smiled. For all of her years on earth she had awakened each morning to the sound of her father’s faithful prayers.

Humming to herself, Darlene sat down at her dressing table. Taking up a hairbrush she gave her thick, curly tresses a much-needed brushing, then quickly braided and pinned it into a snug, neat bun on the top of her head. She eyed herself critically in the mirror for any escaping hairs. Dark brown eyes stared back at her from beneath shapely black brows. She was no great beauty, at least not in the eyes of New York’s very snobbish social circle. But then again, she wouldn’t have been welcomed in that circle, even if she had been ravishingly beautiful and wealthy to boot. No, the upper crust of New York would never have taken Darlene Lewy into its numbers, because Darlene was a Jewess.

Deciding she made a presentable picture, Darlene hurriedly made her bed and went to the kitchen to stoke up the fire and prepare breakfast. Her kitchen was a sorry little affair, but it served them well. Had her mother lived, perhaps they would have had a nicer house, instead of sharing the three-story building with her father’s tailoring shop and sewing rooms. But, had her mother and little brother survived childbirth, fifteen years earlier, Darlene had little doubt they’d still be living in Germany instead of America.

“Neshomeleh,” Abraham Lewy said, coming into the room.

Darlene could not remember a time when he had not greeted her with the precious endearment, “my little soul.” “Good morning, Tateh, did you sleep well?” She gave him a kiss on his leathery cheek and pulled out a chair for him to sit on.

“It is well with me, and you?”

Darlene laughed. “I’m chilled to the bone, but not to worry. I’ve stoked up the fire and no doubt by the time we get downstairs to the shop, Hayyim will have the stove fires blazing and ready for the day.” Hayyim, her father’s assistant, was a local boy of seventeen who had pleaded to learn the tailoring business. And, since Abraham had no sons to carry on his tradition of exquisitely crafted suits, he had quickly taken Hayyim under his wing. Darlene knew that the fact Hayyim’s father and mother had died in a recent cholera epidemic had much to do with her father’s decision, but in truth, she saw it as an answer to prayer. Her father wasn’t getting any younger, and of late he seemed quite frail and sickly.

Darlene brought porridge and bread to the table and waited while her father recited the blessing for bread before dishing up their portions.

“Baruch ata Adonai eloheinu melech ha-olem ha-motzi lechem min ha-Aretz.” “Praise be Thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth.” Abraham pulled off a chunk of bread while Darlene spooned cereal into their bowls.

“There will be little time for rest today. Our appointments are many and the work most extensive,” he told her.

“I’ll take care of all of the bookwork,” she answered as if he didn’t already know this. “I’ve also got Mr. Mitchell’s waistcoat buttons to finish putting on. Is he coming today?”

“No, he’ll come tomorrow. I told him we must have a week to finish and a week we will have.”

Darlene smiled. “Eat, Tateh.” The Yiddish word had never been replaced by Papa as she heard many of her neighboring friends call their fathers.

Abraham gave his attention to the food, while Darlene watched him for any telltale signs of sickness. The winter had been hard on her father and even though he’d stayed indoors except for trips to the synagogue on Shabbes, “Sabbath” as her American friends would say, Darlene worried that the grippe or cholera or some other hideous disease would take him from her.

“You should hire another boy to help you with the work. There’s no reason why you should work yourself into the ground,” Darlene chided. She had taken on the role of worrier since her mother’s death and even though she was only five at the time, Abraham said she filled the role quite adequately.

“Oyb Gott vilt—if God wills,” Abraham answered and continued eating. It was his standard response to subjects he didn’t wish to continue discussing.

Darlene gave the hint of an unsatisfied snort before clearing her dishes to the sink and returning for her father’s. He was a stubborn man, but she loved him more dearly than life itself. She tried not to notice that his hair was now completely white, as was his beard and eyebrows. She tried, too, not to see that his coat hung a little looser around his shoulders and that his complexion had grown sallow. Time was taking its toll on Abraham Lewy.

With breakfast behind them, Darlene hurried to tidy the kitchen. Her father had already gone downstairs to begin his workday and she didn’t wish to lag behind and leave him alone. For reasons entirely beyond her understanding, Darlene felt compelled to watch over her father with a jealous regard. Maybe it was just concern over his winter illnesses. Maybe it was the tiniest flicker of fear down deep inside which made her question what might happen if her father died. She had no one else. Even Bubbe, her father’s mother, had passed on years ago. If Abraham were to die as well, there would be no one for Darlene to turn to.

Changing her kitchen apron for the one she wore in the shop, Darlene made her way down the rickety wooden stairs. She would not allow her mind to wander into areas of morbidity. She would also say nothing to her father. He would only begin suggesting the names of local men who might make good husbands and Darlene refused to hear anything about such nonsense. She would never leave her beloved Tateh.

“Good morning,” Hayyim said with a nod as Darlene passed by.

“Good morning.” Her words were rather curt given the fact that her mind was still on the distasteful idea of marriage. Hayyim, three years her junior, was very much taken with her, and looked at her with such longing that it made Darlene uncomfortable. He was a child as far as she was concerned and his feelings were nothing more than a crush. She could only pray that God would forbid such a union.

She was nearly to the front counter when the door bells jingled merrily and two men entered the shop. Their warm breath puffed out against the accompanying cold air and Darlene couldn’t help but shiver from the draft.

Dennison Blackwell, followed by his son, Pierce, entered Lewy & Company, stomping their feet at the door. A light snow had started to fall and the evidence left itself on the doormat.

Abraham stepped forward to greet them. “Welcome,” he said, his w’s sounding like v’s. “It is fit only for sitting by the fire, no?”

“Indeed you are right,” Dennison Blackwell said, shaking off little flakes of snow from his coat lapel. “It’s only just now begun to snow, but the air is cold enough to freeze you to the carriage seats.”

“And your driver?” Abraham said, looking past Pierce and out the window. “Would he not want to sit in the kitchen and warm up by the stove?”

“That’s kind of you, but we won’t be terribly long and Jimson doesn’t mind the cold. He’s from the north and actually embraces this weather.”

Abraham smiled. “Then God did have a purpose for such things.”

Dennison laughed. “Yes, I suppose He did at that.”

Darlene watched the exchange with little interest. What had captured her attention, however, was the tall, broad-shouldered form of the younger Mr. Blackwell. She stole glances at him from over the ledger counter and nearly blushed to her toes when he looked up and met her stare with a wink and a smile.

“Oy,” she muttered under her breath and hurried to lower her eyes back to her work.

“It seems,” Dennison was saying, “that both Pierce and I will be required to attend the annual Valentine’s ball.”

“Ah, this is the auction where bachelors are sold to their dates, no?” Abraham said in a lowered voice that suggested the entire affair was a bit risque. “Such doings!”

“True enough. Pierce has been abroad for some time and now finds that his wardrobe could use a bit of updating. We’ll start with a suit for the ball and he can come back later to arrange for other things.”

Pierce smiled. “My father highly praises your work. I was going to journey to London and have my suits made there, but perhaps I won’t have to travel so far after all.”

“Certainly you won’t,” Abraham said with complete confidence. “We do much better work here. You will be more than happy, I think.”

Taking their outer coats, Abraham motioned them into the back room where he and Hayyim would take measurements and suggest materials. Darlene couldn’t help but watch the trio as they passed through the curtained doorway. Pierce Blackwell’s dark eyes had penetrated her strong facade of indifference and it shook her to the very core of her existence. How could one man affect her in that way? Especially one Gentile man.

She busied herself with the ledger, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. Not knowing what they were talking about was most maddening. If she dusted the shelves near the back room entrance, perhaps she would be able to overhear their conversation. Taking up a dusting rag, she moved methodically through the small room.

“I suppose the easiest way to explain it,” Dennison Blackwell said, “is that we, too, serve one God, but one God with three very distinctive portions.”

Darlene’s hand stopped dusting. What in the world is going on?

Dennison continued. “We Christians believe in one God, just as you of the Jewish faith believe. However, we believe from scripture that God has made Himself available to His children in three different ways. He is God our judge, God our Savior, and God our spiritual leader and consolation. Thus we say, God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. It’s like an apple. You have the core of the fruit where the seeds lay in wait. Next you have the sweet meat of the fruit itself and finally the tough, durable skin which covers over all. One apple, yet three parts.”

Darlene nearly dropped her cloth. What kind of meshugge “crazy” talk was this? God and apples? Did the Gentiles worship fruit or was that all that existed between their ears for brains? The very idea of comparing God to an apple outraged her. She dusted furiously at the door’s edge without seeing her work. Instead, she concentrated on the curtain which separated her from the men.

“Hold up your arm, Mr. Blackwell,” her father said authoritatively.

“Please, call me Pierce. My father says you two have become good friends. I’d be honored to consider you the same.”

“The honor is mine. Your father is a good man.”

Silence seemed to hold the room captive for several minutes and Darlene found herself breathing a sigh of relief. Good, she thought, Tateh won’t allow for such blasphemy to continue in his shop. She was about to turn away when her father’s voice caused her to stop.

“So the misunderstanding is that we Jews believe you have taken other gods, while you are telling this old man that there is but one God and you serve Him alone?”

“Correct,” Dennison answered and Darlene felt a strange sinking in her heart.

“I remember when I came to America, Reb Lemuel, our rabbi in the old country admonished me to remember the Word of God in Deuteronomy.” Abraham began to recite, “‘And it shall be, when the Lord thy God shall have brought thee into the land which he sware unto thy fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give thee great and goodly cities, which thou buildedst not, and houses full of all good things, which thou filledst not, and wells digged, which though diggedst not, vineyards and olive trees, which though plantedst not; when thou shalt have eaten and be full; then beware lest thou forget the Lord, which brought thee forth out of the land of Egypt, from the house of bondage. Thou shalt fear the Lord thy God, and serve him, and shalt swear by his name. Ye shall not go after other gods, the gods of the people which are round about you.’”

Good for Tateh, Darlene thought as Abraham’s recitation ended. He would never fail to tell the truth before man and God.

“There. That should do for you,” Abraham said. Darlene could hear the rattling of items and longed to know what was happening. Her father continued, “Perhaps the scriptures speak not of New York City, but the heart of the matter is still intact, no?”

“I agree,” Dennison replied. “And were our God a different one from yours, I would be inclined to agree. But honestly, Abraham, we serve the same God.”

Darlene was nearly knocked to the ground by Pierce Blackwell’s solid frame coming through the curtain. Gasping, she was stunned by his firm hold on her arm and the look of amusement in his eyes.

“Weren’t we talking loud enough for you?” He grinned broadly and released her to stand on her own.

“Shhh,” she insisted with a finger to her lips. She moved quickly from the curtain, irritated with both herself for getting caught, and Mr. Pierce Blackwell for doing the catching.

Pierce followed her back to the ledger counter. “I’m certain they would include you in the conversation if you but asked. Would you like to know more about what they were discussing?”

“Leave me be,” she said and turned her attention to a column of numbers. She would try for the fourth time to figure out why the column didn’t add up to match the one on the opposite page.

Pierce would not leave her be however. In fact, he made it his particular duty to keep at her for an answer. “I’m serious. My father and your father have been discussing the Christian faith for some time now. They contrast the differences between Jews and Christians and reason together the similarities. I’d be happy to enlighten you …”

“I won’t hear such blasphemy!” Darlene interrupted. “I won’t be meshummad to my people.”

“Meshummad?”

“A traitor,” she replied harshly. “Now, please leave me alone. I have work to do and you mustn’t interrupt me again or I shall never find my mistake.”

Pierce glanced down at the column of figures. “It’s there in the third column. You have a six and it should be an eight.”

She looked up at him with wonder written in her expression. His stern expression was softened by a gentle smile. “I don’t believe you.” She quickly added the numbers and realized he was right. “How did you do that? There are more than fifteen numbers there. How can you just look down at my paper and instantly see that?”

Pierce shrugged. “I’ve always been able to do that. I guess I’m just good with figures.”

“I suppose that would be an understatement,” she said, still not allowing herself to really believe him. She tore a piece of brown paper from its roll and jotted down a row of numbers. “Do it again.”

Pierce looked at the paper for only a moment. “Three hundred twenty-four.”

Darlene turned the paper back around and used a stubby pencil to add up the column. “Three hundred twenty-four,” she muttered. She looked up at him with real admiration, momentarily forgetting that she disagreed with his theology. “I must say, that is most impressive.”

Pierce gave a tight, brief bow. “So does that mean you aren’t mad at me anymore?”

Darlene slammed the book shut. “I’m not mad. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She hurried across the room and made a pretense of rerolling a bolt of discarded remnant cloth.

“Well, if we can’t discuss religion,” Pierce said, following her doggedly across the shop, “perhaps we could speak of something else.”

“There is nothing to discuss.” She finished with the bolt and took up her sewing basket. “I have work to do.”

“That’s the third time you’ve said that,” he mused.

She glared at him. “It’s true.”

“I suppose it is, but does it preclude us having a simple conversation?”

He was so totally insistent that Darlene knew there’d be no dealing with him other than to stop running and allow the discussion. She sat down to her worktable and took up needle and thread. “So talk.”

Pierce leaned against the wall and crossed his arms casually. He watched her for several moments, making Darlene stick herself twice with the needle. When he said nothing, she finally began the conversation the only way she could think of. “So you are going to the annual Valentine’s Ball?”

Pierce grinned. “Yes. My aunt Eugenia insists I attend. It’s for charity and she always manages to purchase my ticket, so I end up with the young woman she desires I keep company with.”

Darlene shook her head. “Why not just skip the dance and invite the woman to dinner at your house?”

“My reaction exactly.” Pierce laughed. “I told my aunt that fancy dress balls were of no interest to me, but she insists I owe society a debt and that this is one way to repay it.”

“Sounds like a lot of nonsense to me.”

“Valentine’s Day or the dance?”

“Both.” Darlene’s reply was short and to the point. She picked up a black waistcoat and placed a button against the chalk mark her father had made.

“Have you no interest in dancing or in receiving valentines from your many admirers?”

“I suppose I don’t. I’m not very familiar with either one.” She stitched the button to the coat and deliberately refused to look up. She was afraid of what Pierce’s expression might say. Would he disbelieve her, or worse, pity her?

“Valentine’s Day can be a great deal of fun. You can set up amusing limericks and post them to a friend, or you can pen something more intimate and romantic and send it to your true love.”

“Oy!” At Pierce’s mention of true love, Darlene had managed to ram the needle beneath her fingernail. Instantly, she put her finger in her mouth and sucked hard to dispel the pain. Tears welled in her eyes, but still she refused to lift her face.

“Are you all right?” Pierce asked.

“Yes. Yes. I’m fine.” She prayed he’d drop the subject or that his father would conclude his business in the back room and both Mr. Blackwells would leave the premises. She studied her finger for a moment then took up her sewing again.

“So, do you have a true love?” he asked.

Darlene barely avoided pricking her finger again. Resigning herself to the path of least pain, she put her sewing down and shook her head. “No. I have no suitors and I’ve never sent valentines. I don’t find myself in the circle of those who dance at fancy parties either for charity or reasons of romantic inclinations.”

“Have you never received a valentine?”

Pierce asked the question in such a serious tone that Darlene had to look up. He seemed very concerned by this matter, almost as though he’d asked if she’d never had decent food to eat.

“No, we don’t celebrate such nonsense. Now, if you’ll please excuse me …” She fell silent at the sound of her father’s voice.

Dennison and Abraham came through the curtain. “I can have both suits ready in time for the ball. You will be pleased, I think, Pierce.” Her father beamed a smile first at Pierce and then at her.

“I’m certain I will be, sir.” He turned to Darlene once again. “It was a pleasure, Miss Lewy. I’ve enjoyed our conversation.”

Darlene nodded and feeling her face grow flushed, she hurried to lower her gaze back to her work. Oy, but this day has been a trying one already!

Chapter 2

For there is no difference between the Jew and the Greek: for the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon him.

ROMANS 10:12

Pierce finished doing up the buttons of his satin waistcoat and went to the mirror. He studied the reverse reflection of his cravat as he tied it neatly into place, then gave himself a quick once-over to make certain nothing was left undone. His gleaming dark eyes only served to remind him of another pair of eyes. Just as dark and far more beautiful behind ebony lashes, Darlene Lewy’s eyes were burned into his mind. She had stimulated his thoughts all day, and now as the hearth fires burned brightly for dinner, Pierce had still been unable to put the feisty woman from his mind.

He took up a fine blue frock coat and pulled it on. He adjusted the sleeves and collar, all the while wondering if Darlene would help to sew his new Valentine’s suit. It was silly, he knew, to ponder such useless matters, but the lovely girl would not leave his mind, and for the first time in his twenty-six years, Pierce was rather besotted.

Hearing the chimes announce the hour, Pierce made his way to the drawing room where he knew he’d find the rest of his family. Constance, his fifteen-year-old sister, sat rigidly proper in her powder blue silk, while Aunt Eugenia’s ever-critical gaze roamed over her from head to toe in order to point out some flaw. Dennison stood bored and indifferent at the window.

“Good evening,” Pierce said, coming into the room. He walked to his aunt Eugenia and placed an expected kiss upon each of her heavily powdered cheeks. Then turning to his sister, he winked and stroked her cheek with his hand. “I see we’re all very much gathered together.”

Dennison turned and nodded with a smile. “There must be a foot of snow out there already.”

Pierce shrugged and took a seat on the couch opposite Eugenia. “It’s a part of winters in New York. I suppose by now we should just expect it, eh?”

“It makes paying one’s obligatory visits very difficult,” Eugenia declared. At forty-four she was a woman of proper elegance and grace. Her dark brown hair showed only a hint of gray and was swept up into a high arrangement that made her appear a bit taller than her petite frame could actually boast.

“Perhaps New York society will endure your absence for one day,” Pierce suggested with a smile. This made Constance suppress a giggle, but not before Eugenia delivered a scowl of displeasure at her niece.

“Young people today do not understand the obligations of being in the privileged classes. There are rules, both written and unwritten, which simply must be adhered to. It is the responsibility of your elders,” she said, looking directly at Constance, “to ensure that your behavior is acceptable and proper.”

Pierce rolled his eyes. Aunt Eugenia was stuffy enough for them all. Let her adhere to society’s demands and leave the rest of them alone. Changing the subject, Pierce beamed a smile at his sister and asked, “And how did you fill your afternoon, Miss Constance?”

“I wrote thank-you letters,” she said with a hint of boredom.

Constance was a delicate young woman. She was just starting to bloom into womanhood with her tiny figure taking on some more girlish curves. Her dark brown curls had been childishly tied up with a bow, but nevertheless, Pierce saw the makings of great beauty.

“Well, if the lake freezes over properly, we’ll go ice skating tomorrow, how about that?” Pierce offered.

Constance’s face lit up with excitement, but it was quickly squelched by Eugenia’s overbearing declaration. “Certainly not! Constance has been a bit pale of late. I won’t have her out there in the elements, only to catch her death.”

Pierce looked to his father, the only one really capable of overriding Eugenia. Dennison smiled tolerantly at his sister. “Eugenia, the girl cannot live locked away behind these walls. If she is pale, perhaps it is because her face never sees the light of day. I say let her go and have a good time. Pierce will take proper care of her.”

Constance jumped up and threw her arms around her father’s neck. “Oh, thank you, Papa!”

“Well, that’s settled then,” Pierce said with a nod to his aunt. He was growing ever weary of her mettlesome ways and the only reason he continued to endure them was that she hadn’t actually caused any real harm. Not yet.

“Dinner is served,” remarked a stately butler from the entry door.

“Thank you, Marcus,” Eugenia declared.

Dennison came to her side and offered his arm. With a look of cool reserve, Eugenia allowed him to assist her, leaving Pierce to bring Constance.

“Oh, thank you ever so much, Pierce,” Constance said, squeezing his arm. “You are a lifesaver. I should have completely perished if I’d had to spend even one more day in this house.”

Pierce chuckled. “Well, we couldn’t have that.”

“What did you do today?” Constance asked innocently. “Did you meet anyone new? Did you have a great argument with anyone?”

“How curious you sound.” He led her to her chair at the dining table. “But the answer is no, I did not argue with anyone and yes, I did meet someone new.”

“Oh, do tell me everything!”

“Prayers first.” Constance’s enthusiasm was halted by her father’s declaration.

Grace was said over the meal with a special offer of thanksgiving for their health and safety. With that put aside, dinner was served and a fine, succulent pork roast drew the attention of the Blackwell family.

“So, who did you meet?” Constance questioned, while Pierce cut into a piece of meat.

“I met Father’s tailor, Abraham Lewy, and his daughter, Darlene. She’s very pretty with black hair and dark eyes like yours. Oh, and they have a man who works for them, but I can’t remember his name. He’s only a little older than you and quite dashing.”

Constance blushed. “Is Darlene my age?”

“No,” Pierce replied with a glint in his eye that was not missed by his aunt. “No, she’s definitely older. Probably eighteen or so.”

“She’s twenty,” his father declared. “And quite a beauty.”

“She’s a Jewess,” Eugenia said as though it should put an end to the entire discussion.

“That’s true enough,” Pierce replied, “but Father is correct. She’s quite beautiful.”

“What’s a Jewess?” asked Constance.

“It’s a woman of the Jewish faith.” Dennison replied.

Eugenia sniffed indignantly. “It means she’s not one of us and therefore need not be further discussed at this table.”

“Will she go to the Valentine’s Ball?” Constance refused to let the matter drop.

Pierce shook his head. “She’s never even had a valentine sent to her. Much less danced at a party for such a celebration.”

“I should very much like to go to such a dance.” Constance’s voice was wistful.

“You’ve not yet come of age,” Eugenia declared. “There are the proprieties to consider and if no one else in this family holds regard for such traditions, then I must be the overseer for all.” She sounded as though it might be a tremendous burden, but Pierce knew full well how much Eugenia enjoyed her dramatic role.

“You should ask Miss Lewy to the dance,” Constance told her brother. “If she’s especially pretty and likeable, you could probably teach her all of the right steps.”

Pierce nodded and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Or, I could just have you teach her. You dance divinely.”

Dennison laughed. “Perhaps our Constance could open her own dance school right here.”

“Perish the thought!” Eugenia exclaimed. “I have enough trouble trying to manage the child without you putting improper ideas in her head.”

Dennison smiled at his children and waved Eugenia off. “It was nothing more than good fun, sister. Do still your anxious mind or you’ll have a fit of the vapors.”

Dinner passed in relative silence after that. Eugenia’s nose was clearly out of joint and Pierce had little desire to pick up the conversation again if it meant listening to some cold disdain towards Darlene and her kind.

Finally, Eugenia and Constance dismissed themselves to the music room while Pierce and Dennison remained at the table to linger over coffee.

“You seem to have a great deal on your mind.”

Pierce looked at his father and nodded. “I keep thinking about the Lewys.”

“One Lewy in particular, eh?”

“Perhaps Darlene did capture my attention more than Abraham, but you seemed to have him engrossed with the topic of Christianity.”

Dennison pushed back a bit and sighed. “Abraham and I have been having regular talks about our religious differences.”

“How did that get started?”

Dennison looked thoughtful. “His wife died in childbirth fifteen years ago.”

“Just like mother?”

“Yes, it was a strange similarity. They were still in Germany and Darlene was only five. Abraham lost both his wife and their new son.”

“When did they come to America?”

“Only about five years ago. Tensions seem to follow the Jewish people and for a number of reasons Abraham considered the move a wise one. I believe his choice was God-directed. He worked hard to save enough money to make the move and to set up his shop here in New York. I happened upon his work through a good friend of mine and I’ve taken my business to him ever since.”

“How is it I’ve never heard you talk about them?”

Dennison smiled. “You’ve been a very busy man, for one thing. I can’t tell you how good it is to have you back from Europe.”

Pierce finished his coffee and stared thoughtfully at the cup for a moment. “I’ve never been at home in New York. I can’t explain it. I wasn’t at home in London or Paris either. I guess I know that somewhere out there, there’s a place where I will be happy, but stuck in the middle of Aunt Eugenia’s social calendar isn’t the place for me.” Dennison chuckled. “Nor for me, although my dear sister would believe it so. After your mother died, God rest her soul, Eugenia hounded me to death to remarry. Of course, there was Constance to consider. Such a tiny infant and hardly able to find nourishment in that weak canned milk cook gave her. Hiring a wet nurse was the only thing that saved that girl’s life.”

“It is a strange connection between us and the Lewys. Both mothers perished and they lost their baby as well. It must have been very hard on Darlene as well. A five-year-old would have a difficult time understanding the loss. I was eleven and struggled to understand it myself.”

“Yes, but you had faith in the resurrection. You knew that your mother loved Christ as her Savior. I think the death of his wife caused Abraham to question his faith rather than find strength in it. When I first met him we discussed things of insignificant value. Darlene was much like Constance, gangly and awkward. A little girl running straight into womanhood. Oh, and very shy. She would scarcely peek her head out to see what her father was doing.”

Pierce smiled, trying to imagine Darlene in the form of Constance. “I’ll bet she was just as pretty as she is now.”

Dennison looked at his son for a moment. “Don’t buy yourself a heartache.”

This sobered Pierce instantly. “What are you saying? Surely you don’t follow Aunt Eugenia’s snobbery because the Lewys are not of our social standing?”

“No, not at all. Social standing means very little if you have no one to love or be loved by. Money has never been something to offer comfort for long.” Dennison leaned forward. “No, I’m speaking of the theological difference. You are a Christian, Pierce. You accepted Christ as your Savior at an early age and you’ve accepted the Bible as God’s Holy Word. Darlene doesn’t believe like you do, nor will she turn away from the faith of her fathers easily. Marrying a woman who is not of your faith is clearly a mistake. The Bible says to not be unequally yoked with nonbelievers.”

“But I wasn’t talking marriage,” Pierce protested and looked again to his coffee cup.

“Weren’t you?” Dennison looked hard at his son and finally Pierce had to meet his father’s gaze. “Be reasonable, Pierce. You found yourself attracted to this young woman. Where would you take it from this point? Friendship? I find it hard to believe it would stop there, but there it must stop.”

“You’ve worked to change Abraham’s mind. Why can I not work to change Darlene’s?”

“I have no problem with you desiring to share your faith with others. But, I think you should seek your heart for the motivation. If this is a personal and selfish thing, you may well cause more harm than good. However, if you truly feel called of God to speak to Darlene, then by all means do so, but leave your emotions out of it.”

Pierce tried to shrug off his father’s concerns. “You worry too much about me. I know what’s right and wrong. I won’t throw off my faith or be turned away from God.” He got to his feet. “I believe I’ll retire for the evening. I have a good book upstairs and I’d like to spend a bit of time in it before I go to bed.”

Dennison nodded. “Sleep well, and Pierce, it is good to have you home again.”

Pierce smiled. “It’s good to be home.”

Upstairs, comfortably planted in his favorite chair, Pierce picked up his book and opened to the marked page. He was just about to begin the fifth chapter when a knock sounded on his door. By the heavy-handed sound of it, Pierce was certain he’d find Eugenia on the opposite side.

“Come in,” he called, sitting up to straighten his robe.

“It’s a bit early for bed, isn’t it?” Eugenia asked rather haughtily.

“I thought I’d like to read for a while.”

“I see. Nevertheless, I’ve come to express my deep concern about our dinner conversation.”

“Concern?” Pierce closed the book and shook his head. “What possible concern could our dinner conversation have given you?”

Eugenia drew back her shoulders and set her expression of disdain as though it were in granite. “I simply cannot have the scandal of you being indiscreet with that Jewess.”

“I beg your pardon?” Pierce felt his ire rise and struggled to keep his temper under control.

“I could clearly read your mind and the interest you held for the Lewy girl. I must forbid it however. I cannot imagine anything more sordid than you taking up with that … that woman.”

“Her name is Darlene and she is very pleasant to be around. And whether or not I hold any interest in her is none of your concern.” Pierce got to his feet and crossed the room. “Aunt Eugenia, I love you and care a great deal about your comfort, but I am a grown man and I will no longer tolerate your interference in my life. I left this house three years ago because of such discomfort and I will not be driven from it again.”

“Well! I’ve never heard such disrespect in all of my life. I’ve done nothing but see to your welfare. When my dear husband departed this earthly life, I knew it was my duty to help poor Dennison raise you children properly. If I instill culture and social awareness in your life, then you will find yourself the better for it and not the worse.”

Pierce felt the heat of her stare and refused to back down. “Since you came to me with this matter, I am going to speak freely to you. I am certain Father appreciated the companionship and assistance you offered him with Constance. As you will recall, however, I was already a grown man of twenty-three when you came into this house. I need neither your care nor grooming to make my mark upon society, because I have no such plans for myself or society. These are things of importance to you, but certainly they do not concern me.”

“They concern the well-being of this family. Would you see your father’s reputation ruined because you chose to marry a Jewess?”

“Why must everyone assume I mean to marry the girl? I’ve only just met her and I thought she was a lovely creature with a fiery spirit.”

“So I’m not the only one to broach this subject, eh? Perhaps I’m not the lunatic you make me out to be.” Eugenia’s face held a smug regard for her nephew.

“I’ve never thought you to be a lunatic, Aunt Eugenia. Mettlesome and snobbish, yes, but never a lunatic.”

“Well!” It seemed the only thing she could say.

Pierce continued, “I will go to your charity balls and I will allow you to parade me before your society friends. I will use the proper silver and talk the proper talk. I will dance with impeccable skill and dress strictly in fashion, but I will not be dictated to in regards to the woman I will choose as my wife. Is that clear?”

“You have to marry a woman of your standing. To marry beneath your station will do this family a discredit. Then, too, imagine the complications of marrying a pauper. You must marry a woman of means and increase the empire your father has already begun.”

Pierce could take no more. He walked to the door and opened it as a signal to his aunt that the conversation was at an end. “I will marry for love, respect, admiration, and attraction, be that woman of Jewish heritage or not. I seem to recall the Word of God saying we are all the same in the eyes of the Lord, and that whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord will be saved. I realize the importance of marrying a woman who loves God as I do, and if that woman should turn out to be a Jewess who embraces Christianity and recognizes Christ as the true Messiah, I shan’t give her social standing or bank account a single thought.”

Eugenia stepped into the hall, clearly disturbed by Pierce’s strong stand. “You’d do well to remember the things of importance in this world.”

“I might say the same for you, Aunt. My father admonishes me to marry a woman of Christian faith, and that is clearly set in scripture. By what means do you base your beliefs?” He closed the door without allowing her to reply and drew a deep breath. “I’ve only just met the girl,” he muttered to himself, “yet everyone has me married to her already.”

Chapter 3

And it shall be, if thou do at all forget the LORD thy God, and walk after other gods, and serve them, and worship them, I testify against you this day that ye shall surely perish.

DEUTERONOMY 8:19

Nearly a week after her encounter with Pierce Blackwell, Darlene felt herself getting back into the routine of her life. She could almost ignore the image of the handsome man when he appeared in her daydreams, but it was at night when he haunted her the most. And in those dreams, Darlene found that she couldn’t ignore the feelings he elicited inside her. Never in her life had she given men much thought. Her father urged her to seek her heart on the matter and to find a decent man and settle down. He spoke of wanting grandchildren and such, but Darlene knew that down deep inside he was really worried about her, should something happen to him.

“Tateh,” she called, gathering on her coat and warm woolen bonnet. “I’m leaving to go to Esther’s.”

Abraham peered up from his cutting board. “You should not go out on such a cold day.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s just down the street. You worry too much.” She smiled and held up a bundle. “We’re making baby clothes for Rachel Bronstein.” Her father nodded and gave her a little wave. “I’ll be back in time to dish up supper. Don’t work too hard.”

She hurried out of the building, firmly closing the door which stated LEWY & Co. behind her. It was a brisk February morning and the skies were a clear, pale blue overhead. The color reminded Darlene of watered silk. Not that she ever had occasion to own anything made from such material, but once she’d seen a gown made of such cloth in a store window.

The sky was a sharp contrast to the muddy mess of the streets below. Gingerly, Darlene picked her way down the street, trying her best to avoid the larger mud holes. The hem of her petticoats and skirt quickly soaked up the muck and mud, but she tried not to fret. No one at Esther’s would care because their skirts would be just as messy as hers.

The noises of the street were like music to her ears. Bells ringing in the distance signaled the coming of the charcoal vendor. She’d not be needing him to stop today, and so she only gave him a brief nod when he passed by.

“Fresh milk! Freeeesh milk!” another man called from his wagon. Cans of milk rattled in the wagonbed behind him and Darlene grimaced. She had never gotten used to what she deemed “city milk.” It wasn’t anywhere near as rich as what she’d been used to in Germany. Rumor had it that dairymen in the city were highly abusive with their animals, and that not only were the conditions unsanitary and unsavory, but the cows were fed on a hideous variety of waste products. Vegetable peelings, whiskey distillery mash, and ground fish bones were among the things she’d heard were used to feed New York’s dairy cows. Even thinking of such a thing made her shudder.

A young boy struggled by with bundles of wood over each shoulder. “Wood, here! Wood!” Behind him another boy labored to entice a mule to bring up the wood-ladened cart.

All around her, the smells of the city and of the working class made Darlene feel a warmth and security that she couldn’t explain. She thought of the people who lived in their fine brick houses on Broadway and wondered if they could possibly be as happy as she was. Did fine laces and silks make a home as full of love as she had with her father? Certainly not, she mused and jumped back just in time to avoid being run over by a herd of pigs as they were driven down the street.

Let the rich have their silks and laces. Her life with Tateh was sweet and they had all that they needed—the Holy One, blessed be He! But in the back of her mind Darlene remembered her father’s conversation with Dennison Blackwell and then her own with Pierce. It was as though another world had suddenly collided with hers. Pierce knew what it was to live in fine luxury. He could work figures in his head with complete ease, and he was more than a little bit handsome.

Esther’s tiny house came into view. It was there, tucked between a leather goods shop and a cabinetmaker, and although it was small, it served the old widow well. Trying to scrape the greater portion of mud from her boots, Darlene gave a little knock at the door.

A tiny old woman opened the door. She was dressed in black from head to toe, with nothing but a well-worn white apron to break the severity. Her gray hair was tightly wound into a bun at the back of her neck, leaving her wrinkled face to stand out in stark abandonment. “Ah Darlene, you have come. Good. Good. I told Rachel and Dvorah you would be here.”

“The streets are a mess. If you take my things, I’ll leave my boots here at the door.”

“Nonsense!” Esther declared. “The floor will sweep. Come inside and sit by the fire. You are nearly frozen.” The old woman led her into the sitting room. “See Rachel, our Hava has come.” Hava was Darlene’s Hebrew name.

Rachel, looking as though she were in her eleventh month of pregnancy, struggled up from her chair and waddled over to Darlene. Bending as far over as she could to avoid her enormous stomach, Rachel kissed Darlene on each cheek and smiled.

“I was afraid you would be too busy. Hayyim told my husband the shop is near to bursting with customers.”

“Yes, the rich goyim have come to extend their social season wardrobes. They won’t have us at their parties, but they wear our suits!” Darlene said with much sarcasm.

“Who would want to go to a Gentile party, anyway,” Esther said, taking Darlene’s coat. “You couldn’t eat the food.”

“Feh! Kashruth is such a bother anyway! We’d just as well be rid of it, if you ask me,” a dark-headed woman said, entering behind Esther.

“Ah, but what does God say about it, Dvorah?”

Dvorah was much more worldly than the rest of the women Darlene knew. Her father was a wealthy merchant and could trace back a family history in New York nearly one hundred years. Nevertheless, they were Jewish and no matter how liberally they acted among the Gentiles, they would never be accepted as one of them.

“I leave God’s words to my father’s mouth,” Dvorah replied, swishing her lavender gown with great emphasis. “I’m much busier with other things.” She smiled sweetly over her shoulder before picking up her sewing.

“We all know what Dvorah is busy with,” Esther said in a disapproving tone. “And I tell you, it is an honest shame to watch a young woman of your upbringing chase after the men the way you do. You need to refrain yourself from acting so forward, Dvorah. Your mother, oy vey! What she must go through.”

Dvorah shrugged, indifferent to Esther’s interfering ways. Darlene saw this as a good opportunity to change the subject. “So, Rachel, how are you feeling?”

By this time Rachel had waddled back to her chair and was even now trying to get comfortable. “I’m fine. Just fine. The baby should come any day and since you’ve been so good to help me sew, he will have a fine assortment of clothes to wear.”

“What ‘he’?” Esther questioned. “So sure you are that the child is a male?”

Rachel blushed and Darlene thought she looked perfectly charming. “Shemuel says it will be a boy.”

Esther grunted. “Your husband doesn’t know everything.”

“May God make it so,” Darlene proclaimed.

The women worked companionably for several hours and when the hall clock chimed noon, Esther offered them something to eat and drink. They were gathered around the table enjoying a fine stew when Esther brought up the one subject Darlene had hoped to avoid.

“So how is it with your father?”

“He’s well, thank you.” She slathered fresh butter on bread still warm from Esther’s oven and took a bite.

Esther narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “I’ve heard it said that he’s talking matters of God with the goyim.”

How Esther managed to know every private detail of everyone’s life was beyond Darlene, but she always managed to be right on top of everything. She swallowed hard. “My father has many customers and, of course, they speak on many matters.”

Esther looked at Darlene with an expression of pity. “Hayyim said that there are talks of why the Christians believe we are wrong in not accepting their Messiah.”

“Hayyim should honor my father’s goodness to him and remain silent on matters of gossip.” Darlene knew her defense was weak, but what could she say? To admit that her father’s conversations concerned her would only fuel Esther’s inquisitive nature.

“So has Avrom betrayed the faith of his fathers?” Esther questioned, calling Abraham by his Yiddish name.

“Never!” Darlene declared, overturning her teacup. It was like all of her worst fears were realized in that statement. Without warning, tears welled in her eyes.

Rachel reached out a hand to pat Darlene lovingly. “There, there,” she comforted, “Of course Avrom would not betray our faith.”

At this Darlene choked back a sob. “He talks with Mr. Blackwell.” It was all she could manage to say, and for some reason it seemed to her that it should be enough.

“It will not bode well, I tell you,” Esther commented, refilling Darlene’s cup.

Rachel ignored Esther. “Why are you so upset? Has your father said something that causes you to worry?”

Darlene shook her head. “No, but … well,” she paused, taking time to dry her eyes. “I can’t explain it. I just have this feeling that something is changing. I try to tell myself that I’m just imagining it, but I feel so frightened.”

“And well you should. If Avrom turns from his faith he will perish,” Esther declared.

“Oh, hush with that,” Dvorah replied. “Darlene does not need to hear such talk.”

“There will be plenty to hear about once word gets around,” Esther said rather smugly.