Free A Pocket Full of Seeds by Marilyn Sachs

if I was being watched. I had never been so close to that door before, and I could feel my heart beating high up in my throat, and behind my ears.
    I put my hand on the doorknob, and turned. But it was locked. Lucie was gone, and now there was no chance that her door would ever open for me.
    It was me screaming that night, not Jacqueline. Me, who Maman was rocking in her arms, chanting, “Shh, shh, ma poupée, shh, shh, what is it?”
    “Oh, Maman,” I wept, “she’s gone now and she’ll never be back.”
    “Who, chérie? Who is gone?”
    “Lucie Fiori. I’ll never see her again. Never, never, Maman. How can I bear it?”
    “Shh, perhaps you will, Nicole. We must hope that the war will end soon.”
    “Maman,  why  did  she  hate  me  so  much?   I  always liked her, and tried to be her friend. And now, there will never be a chance for us to be friends, will there, Maman?”
    Maman kissed my forehead and held me tighter in her arms. “Of course there is a chance. There is always a chance. Once the war is over, no doubt the Fioris will return. And we will plan a big party for them.”
    “But Lucie will not want to come.”
    “Yes, yes, she will come. I myself will invite her, and you know, Nicole, I won’t let her say no to me.”
    “That’s right, Maman, and once she comes here, and sits awhile with me on the veranda, and we talk and maybe play Aux Dames or Belote, she will see that I’m not so bad as she thinks.”
    “Yes, I’m sure she will become your friend once she gets to know you.”
    “Do you really think so, Maman ?”
    “Yes, I really do, Nicole. And now do you think you can sleep again? Look how Jacqueline has slept through everything.”
    “I think I can sleep now, Maman, but come and sit here for just a few minutes more, and talk to me about the party. What kind of food will we serve?”
     
    That April we celebrated Passover. I had never been to a seder before, and neither had Françoise. It was to be at her house because there would be thirty-two guests, but my father would conduct the seder.
    There were two tables in the dining room with thirty-two chairs, and still there was room to walk around. Each table had bowls of fresh flowers, tall silver candlesticks, gleaming wine glasses, and gold-rimmed china plates that all matched. Even the children had wine glasses and gold-rimmed china plates.
    On each table was a platter containing the symbols of Passover—matzoh (unleavened bread), marror (bitter herbs), haroseth (a paste made of chopped apples, nuts, cinnamon, and wine), the shank bone of a lamb, a roasted egg, and parsley. Next to the platter was a dish of salted water.
    Papa explained that Passover is a holiday which celebrates freedom. It is a very ancient holiday, going back to the time when the Jews were the slaves of the Egyptians. Moses was the leader who led the Jews out of Egypt to freedom. Each of the foods on the platter had a meaning, Papa said. The matzoh is the flat bread which the Jews ate after they fled in the night from Egypt. There had been no time for them to wait for their bread to rise. The bitter herbs symbolize the bitterness of slavery. Haroseth represents the mortar that the Jews used in making bricks for their Egyptian masters. The shank bone stands for God’s mighty arm, and the egg is an allusion to his love and kindness. The parsley symbolizes the rebirth of all things, including hope, and the salt water represents the Red Sea which our ancestors crossed over in their flight out of Egypt.
    Each of the men wore yarmulkas on their heads. Dr. Rosten had a new white one, and he laughed and said he had never worn one in his entire life. He had never been inside a synagogue, he said, and of course had never been to a seder. He had read over the Haggadah my father had given him, and would do the best he could to follow along during the ceremony.
    Papa’s yarmulka was an old one which he said had belonged to his grandfather. It was made of blue velvet