Free Days of Winter by Cynthia Freeman Page B

love you so.”
    He stroked her hair, honestly wishing he could feel the same, hating himself because he couldn’t.
    The days would not be held back. Nor the hours or minutes. It was his wedding day.
    That morning he re-read his most recent letter from Magda—they’d finally begun to arrive after the wait he had thought meant she no longer cared. His eyes sped down to the very last sentence. …“And I can only wish you the greatest happiness with your Jocelyn …Love as always, Magda.”
    Oh, Magda, I want you … I need you …
    And as Rubin sat alone reading her letter, Magda lay crying on Emile’s bed in Paris. Solange tried to comfort her, but nothing could. “He doesn’t love me, Solange. I was so sure … so sure he’d never be able to live without me—”
    “That was a mistake …Your strategy … those lapses between letters to draw him back to you …But there are ties that can go beyond love, Magda … Rubin is being sacrificed, not you.”
    “But don’t I count for anything?”
    “Stop being ungrateful Look at all Rubin has done for you—”
    “But what have I got ? Nothing but things … things …”
    Solange shook her, then held her close, wiped away her tears. “Yes … things which make it possible for you to live like a princess. You should get down on your knees and pray that man finds some peace. He’s the one who’s going to have to spend the rest of his life in hell …Ask me. I know what it’s like living with someone you feel nothing for …”
    Magda turned over and buried her face in the pillow.
    Jocelyn and her entourage were sequestered in the bridal room. The temple was filled with flowers. As the organ played softly, the guests were ushered into pews. The bride’s mother was escorted down the aisle. The seat beside her was vacant, but soon it would be occupied by her husband, after he had led his daughter to the altar and relinquished her to Rubin Hack. Sara and Nathan Hack were next. What a handsome couple they made, Sara, so sedate, in a rose lace gown, and Nathan in his cutaway jacket and gray-striped trousers.
    Sara glanced at the bride’s mother, Annette Sassoon, who smiled with perfect decorum. The altar was breathtaking—the white satin canopy festooned with white roses, lilies of the valley, satin streamers and green maidenhair fern. The glowing candles in the candelabra made the sanctuary look ethereal. This was one of the most important weddings of the year. The Sassoons had outdone themselves.
    Sara reached for Nathan’s hand and held it tightly. The years had rushed by so rapidly …We never notice them slipping away. …Only yesterday Rubin was tugging at my skirts …And now he’s a man, ready to take his place as husband and father …She sighed and looked at Nathan. Life had been good to them. They had brought four sons into the world. Soon there would be four daughters-in-law … daughters, really … and six grandchildren so far. No one could wish for more. …
    The bridesmaids walked down the aisle dressed in soft tea-rose-yellow chiffon, carrying matching bouquets of roses. The ushers took their places. Rubin and Leon entered from a side door to wait for the bride.
    Rubin literally felt as though he wasn’t there. This was not happening to him … only to some stranger he didn’t know. Leon, apprehensive, watched his brother’s expression. He showed no signs of nervousness.
    The temple became completely silent. Jocelyn, on the arm of her father, started slowly down the aisle. Yards and yards of tulle trimmed with heirloom lace trailed behind her, as she walked closer and closer to take her place next to Rubin.
    The moment had closed in on him. Rubin felt like a spectator watching a young woman being kissed on the cheek by her father. Then the older man took his leave and seated himself beside his wife.
    The play had begun, the actors were all onstage. The rabbi stood before them, preparing them for the solemn vows of union. Rubin scarcely heard. The