Portraits Read Free Page B

answering.
    “God will punish you for bringing so much worry to your parents.”
    Jacob answered, “I have no parents. They’re dead.”
    There was no compassion in the voice that replied, “So, you’re an orphan. You found this house vacant and you moved in. You could go to jail for that.”
    Jacob swallowed his fear. “This is my house. It belonged to my grandparents.”
    The man narrowed his eyes. “To your grandparents? You have papers to show they gave it to you? You little liar, I just bought it. I’m going to take you to the—”
    Before the man could say more, Jacob ran from the house down the streets, into the alleys, as fast as his sturdy legs could take him.
    For the rest of the day he hid in a deserted basement. They had taken his house away from him. It was his legacy. He loved that house because it held the memories of his bubeleh and zayde . One day, he promised himself, if he did nothing else, he would come back and redeem what belonged to him. His house. Yes, at least that…

CHAPTER FOUR
    T HE NEXT FEW YEARS found Jacob sleeping in alleys and doorways and supporting himself at odd jobs. He delivered meat for a butcher and always managed to cut a chunk of salami and hide it in his shirt. For the tailor, he delivered a suit minus the vest—and by the time the customer had a chance to complain, Jacob was miles away, working in a fish store.
    His first real job came to him miraculously when he was thirteen. If there were anything to be grateful for in this world, it was the day he saw a sign in Mendlebaum’s window, advertising for an apprentice.
    Mr. Mendlebaum was a small man with a sparse head of gray hair upon which he wore a skull cap. On his wire-rimmed eyeglasses were specks of ivory from the umbrella handles he carved. The decorations of Mr. Mendlebaum’s masterpieces fascinated Jacob.
    At first Jacob worked in wood. Carefully and slowly, Jacob began to copy Mr. Mendlebaum’s designs. He worked far into the night, trying to master the technique of his mentor, whom Jacob thought was the only kind human being in the world. Jacob was afraid to like him too much, because liking and loving always seemed to end in disappointment, disillusion and pain. But in spite of himself, he found he was unable to hold back the flood of affection for both Mr. Mendlebaum and his wife. In turn, they soon came to regard him as a favored grandchild. He was frequently invited to dinner.
    The best days was Shabbes . His mouth watered on Fridays as he whittled away contentedly. The aroma of gefilte fish , chicken soup and fresh baked challah found its way from the back of the store where the Mendlebaums had their rooms.
    At three o’clock, the blinds were drawn and Mr. Mendlebaum would rest and prepare for the Sabbath. Jacob would go to the boarding house where he lived in an attic room, take his weekly bath, and change into the one decent suit he owned. At sundown, he and Mr. Mendlebaum would go to shul . How proud he was to stand beside Mr. Mendlebaum, who had bought him a tallis and yarmulkah . As Jacob touched the fringes of the tallis with reverence, he would glance from time to time at the man beside him. He was the z ayde returned to him. Jacob willed himself to believe that Mr. Mendlebaum was in fact his grandfather.
    When the service was over, Jacob’s new zayde would put his arm around the boy and wish him Shabbat shalom . It was difficult for Jacob to hold back the tears. Then the two would return to Shabbes dinner. Life had become good for Jacob.
    One morning, Jacob arrived to find Mr. Mendlebaum was not at his worktable. For a moment he was filled with apprehension, but his fears were quickly dispelled when he heard Mrs. Mendlebaum calling from the back of the store.
    “Jacob, I want you to meet someone.”
    Quickly, he went to the sittingroom.
    “Jacob, I want you should meet Lotte.” With pride she continued, looking at the young girl, “This is our granddaughter. She came last night from