Read Online The Dressmaker's Son by Abbi Sherman Schaefer - Free Book Online

his
appearance.  He had blond hair and sharp features softened only by his large
gray eyes.  He stood very tall, almost six-foot-three, and looked exceptionally
handsome in his gray uniform with its shiny buttons.
                He relaxed his face and,
flashing a smile that revealed beautiful even white teeth, he joked back, “You
could have him under the bed.”
                “I don’t think so,” she
laughed. “The bed is on a platform.”
                He knew she was telling
the truth, but suddenly he didn’t want to leave this beautiful woman who,
unlike so many of the other Jews whose homes he had canvassed, showed no fear
of him. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight knot accentuating her high
cheekbones and delicately-shaped face.  A smooth, olive complexion served as
the backdrop for her unique, almost turquoise eyes with their thick black
lashes.  And her sensuous mouth made a statement of its own.  She had the full
bosom and tiny waist most women envied.
    “I’d better check
that for myself,” he said and stepped inside.
                After a cursory search
of the small house, Rebekah offered him some tea.  She surprised herself when
she did this, but suddenly, she didn’t want this cheerful, handsome soldier to
leave.  She was so lonely.  Not long after her father had died, her sister
Rachael, her husband Jacob and their children had gone to America and deserted
her.  The five nieces and nephews she cherished, gone.  Suddenly here was this
handsome soldier who obviously was enjoying her company.  He stayed almost two
hours. 
                By the time he left,
Rebekah knew all about him.  He was originally from Kiev where his father had
been a music teacher.  Although he loved music, he had gone into the military
willingly because that was the only place he could have some kind of career. 
Before too long, he had married the daughter of a high-ranking government
official, which hadn’t hurt his advancement. Now they lived in St. Petersburg
where they hoped to raise a family, but the children never came.
    It was easy
talking to him. They shared their love of music.  Rebekah told him of the music
boxes her father had gotten for her and brought out the one that played Brahms.
“That’s one of my favorites,” he told her.
                “There are musicians in
the village who put on little concerts from time to time,” she continued. “And
once my father took me to Kiev to hear the symphony.”  When he left, she was
sorry to see him go.
    Two weeks later he
showed up again at her door.
                “We haven’t found him
yet,” he declared sheepishly. “And I thought you might have gotten a different
bed to hide him under.”
                Rebekah giggled. “Oh
no!” she exclaimed. “Someone has told on me.”
                “Yes,” he replied in
mock-seriousness, staring at her.  She looked beautiful.  Her dark black hair
hung in waves almost to the middle of her back.  The simple blue dress she wore
made her eyes stand out even more. “And, if you don’t give me some of your
delicious tea and cakes, I’ll have to turn you in.  Siberia is an awful place. 
There your beautiful hair will be shaved from your head.  And,” he added
solemnly, “There is no music.”
                “Come in then.  I can
do without my hair, but not without music.”
                He continued to come
about once a month for the next three months.  They would talk about
everything: music, the revolt, even the treatment of the Jews.  Rebekah found
herself waiting for his visits.  One afternoon he told her, “You are so
beautiful.  Other soldiers would have raped you the minute you opened the
door.  I want to make love to you, Rebekah.” She
    rose and led him by the hand back
to the little bedroom where she and Michael had slept for fifteen years.  They
made love all