Letters Across the Sea by Genevieve Graham (best short novels of all time txt) 📗

five MOLLY

I stood back from the mirror, checking to see how I looked, but my view was distorted by a diagonal crack cutting through the glass. Keeping that in mind, I examined my reflection sideways, trying to decide if wearing curlers had been worth the sleepless night I’d had. Normally I wouldn’t have bothered, but today I was paying special attention to my appearance.

“Today I get a new job,” I informed my warped reflection as I gently brushed the curls out. From between my lips, I took a bobby pin and pinned a lock of hair, then added another one to keep it in place. I leaned in a little, noting the definition of the bones in my face. We were all getting thinner these days.

At least I didn’t have to worry about what to wear. Hannah had seen to that. When I’d listed my limited options, she’d frowned at me.

“No, no. Those won’t work,” she said, kind but firm. “I’m sorry, but that pink cardigan reeks of mothballs. You need to air it out before you wear it again. My father always says in order to be successful, you need to look like you already are. Lucky for you, I have the perfect dress. I wore it the other night when I went out with Abe, and he couldn’t take his eyes off me.”

Her infectious attitude lifted my mood as it always did. “You could have worn a paper bag and he would have acted the same way.”

Hannah’s eyes twinkled. “I know. I was almost afraid he was going to propose over dinner.”

That led us deep into a conversation about whether Abe was the right kind of boy for her—we agreed that he wasn’t—and whether she thought she was ready to become a homemaker—she said she definitely was.

“What else am I going to do with myself?” she asked.

“And what about children?”

“Lots,” she said, looking pleased. “All I want is a home of my own and a family to take care of.”

I envied how sure Hannah was about her future. All I knew was that I wasn’t ready for the exact thing she wanted.

Before I left, she ran inside then returned with a smart navy dress draped over her arm and an almost new pair of Oxfords in her other hand, which I promised to keep clean and unmarked. Even with my cracked mirror, I could see the dress was perfect, though a little loose. Cut in the latest fashion, the waistline hung around mine, and the short sleeves ballooned out slightly. The shoes were a vast improvement over my own.

The trouble was, no matter how well I dressed and how hard I tried to convince myself, I knew my chances of finding a job were bleak.

Three weeks ago, when I’d started searching, I had scoured newspapers for ads, but found nothing that applied. A lot of the jobs were for men, but far too many families were like mine, in dire need of more than one income. Not yet discouraged, I’d set out door-to-door, looking for hiring signs in the shops lining the streets, but within the first block it had become apparent that I couldn’t depend on those. They hung in a couple of windows, but not many. Most signs simply said, OUT OF BUSINESS. Others said, JEWS NEED NOT APPLY, but I dismissed those shops, holding on to hope that something better would be up ahead. So far it hadn’t appeared.

As I turned to leave my room, I stopped by the tattered armchair that had once belonged to my seanmháthair. For years, it had sat by the window in the living room, but after she passed, my father had brought it up to my room.

“You remind me of her,” he’d said after her funeral. As much as I was hurting, I’ll never forget the depth of pain I saw in his eyes that night. “You’re just as strong as she was. I hope you’ll use her chair and keep telling stories.”

Now, I rested my hand on the worn upholstery and closed my eyes, summoning her dear old face. “Send me some magic, Seanmháthair,” I whispered, then I headed downstairs.

“You look nice,” Mum said, glancing up from her mending.

“Hannah lent me the dress and shoes,” I confessed.

She nodded, and I could tell she wanted to say something. Maybe comment about my Jewish friends, like Dad had.

“Good luck” was all she said. I took that as a good omen.

Something in the air felt different today, or at least that’s what I told myself. I stepped outside and smiled at the sight of Max walking by. His gaze swept up from my shiny Oxfords, over Hannah’s svelte navy dress and my fancy hair, then stopped at my face. Admiration shone in his eyes, and an unexpected wave of pleasure rolled through my chest. I’d never felt that way around him before, but I liked it.

“Where are you off to?”

I slowed, nearing him. “Job hunting still. I’m not having much luck.”

“I would hire you in a second,” he said. “You look fantastic.”

My cheeks flushed, but only partially at the compliment. The other part was embarrassment. He had inadvertently reminded me of what Dad said after I’d told the family I was unemployed.

“It’s all right,” I had assured them. “I can work for Mr. Dreyfus. Hannah said so. It’s not as bad as the other factories. He’s good to his workers, and—”

“No,” Dad said flatly.

“No?”

“It’s too dangerous. With everything going on right now, Jewish businesses aren’t safe.” He scowled at the table. “I’ll ask around. See who’s hiring.”

“You’ll find something else,” Richie offered helpfully.

“Yeah?” Dad jabbed a thumb in Jimmy’s direction. “This one’s been looking for a job for three months now, and he ain’t brought home a penny.”

Beside me, Jimmy seethed, but for once he didn’t say anything in response. I took a breath for courage then threw out the next pitch.

“I would be all right working there, Dad.”

“I said no. It isn’t safe.”

It annoyed me that he