Free Far Away Home by Susan Denning

employer, gave it to her. It’s eight place settings
of sterling and a genuine silver tea service, tray and all.”
    “So you vant to
sell? But your mother?” he shook his head.
    “They’re the
only things I own that are worth anything. I’m nearly destitute. I need money
very badly.”
    “Your father, he
loved you, but he vas not one to look to tomorrow. It vas not his fault, some
do, some don’t.”
    “I know; he
lived day by day. But now I have to live.” She bit her lip and twisted her
hands. “Help me?”
    “Of course, but
know you may never get these back.”
    Aislynn looked
away from the old man and took a few deep breaths, calming her wavering
resolve. “I know.”
    She wrapped the
silver in soft towels. Together, they carried it to Orchard Street, a
thoroughfare teeming with people, horses, pushcarts and noise. A hundred
languages mingled into one loud roar. Strange, tantalizing smells floated in
the air alongside wisps of gray smoke from stoves set up on steps and sidewalks
for cooking and warmth. The atmosphere buoyed her spirits and made the
impending separation more of a celebration.
    They walked into
a narrow, dark building displaying the sign “Freilischer’s Pawn Shop.” Bells
rang as the door swung open. Behind the counter, a small, big-nosed man with
graying hair peered over tiny glasses with his tiny eyes. He rose and extended
his hand to Mr. Rattawitz.
    “Louis, if this
is your new vife, I drop dead right here.”
    “Al, if she vere
my vife, I’d drop dead.”
    Mr. Rattawitz
introduced Aislynn to the pawnbroker and explained her situation.
    “Och! Such
troubles for such a young girl.” He examined the goods and declared, “I could
not sell such things here. My customers don’t buy silver, but I know another
Jew, uptown, his name is Golden, vas Goldstein. I ask you, who is he trying to
fool? In any case, silver is selling at a good rate. You leave it to me, I get
you a good price.”
    “I’m sorry to
rush you, Mr. Freilischer, but I have to be out of my apartment in three days.”
    “Lou, you vatch
the store, and I vill make the trip uptown today.”
    While Aislynn
cleaned away the remnants of dinner and Johnny sat reading at the kitchen
table, a soft knock came to the door. Johnny volunteered to answer it, but she
overrode his offer. Mr. Rattawitz stood in the hall clasping a wrinkled
envelope. She stepped out and closed the door behind her with a snap.
    “You’re rich.
Six hundred dollars rich.”
    Aislynn could
not contain a squeal of delight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You are the
best neighbor in the whole world. Please thank Mr. Freilischer, or I’ll go and
thank him myself.”
    “You’re a good
girl. I’m going to miss you.” The old man’s cloudy eyes were damp.
    Aislynn threw
her arms around him and said, “I’ll miss you, too, but I won’t ever forget
you.”
    As the old man
struggled up the stairs, she pulled up her skirt, stuffed the money in her
pantalets and returned to Johnny. He asked several general questions about her
visitor. Aislynn tried to be honest in her answers but the money, leaning
against her leg, stole her focus. Pleading fatigue, she managed to convince
Johnny to go home early.
    Alone, she ran
into her bedroom and extracted the bulging parcel. Loving the feel of the
dollars in her hand, she counted them over and over. She knew she held enough
money to live in New York for a full year, maybe two if she were exceptionally
frugal. By then, I might be able to find a job. Aislynn placed the money
back in the envelope and slipped it under her mattress. But what if I can’t?
    With uncertainty
grating on her, Aislynn opened her dresser drawer and removed a box papered in
a flowered print. A small stack of letters from Tim rested inside. Reverently,
she opened each one and read them in chronological order.
    The morning sun
gave Aislynn clarity and strength. She walked into the office of Ben Holladay
at 84 Broadway and caught the eye of a