�She can�t find someone around here? Pretty girl. You know, Susale,� I said using the Yiddish diminutive for her name, �Menachem Levy is her age. Maybe we should have them over for Shabbos lunch?�

Susan shrugged. �Bubbe! Rachel...uh...Ms. Fink, doesn�t want to go out with Menachem.�

�Why not? He�s a doctor. An anesthesiologist no less. Hardly any call.�

�Bub..be, please. Rachel does not want to be fixed up. I think she went out with Menachem anyway.�

�Well, then, there is��

�Bubbe. Rachel Fink just finished that horrid divorce. She doesn�t want to get married again yet�maybe not ever. But her hourglass is draining of sand. She told me that if she wanted to find someone again it wouldn�t be soon enough for her to get to know him and�.and get...uh�something going,� Susan waved her hand to and fro, �you know what I mean, before the last bit of sand ran out.�

I sighed. My trademark you should know, at least that is what my family tells me. �Susale, raising a child alone is��

�An awesome thing. But how else is she going to become a mother?�

It was my turn to shrug. �She could always marry someone with kids.�

Susan gave me the look. �I don�t think that would pass. Anyway, Bubbe I told her that we�d be happy to go with her and give moral support.�

I could only stare. Surely my ears had aged. My hearing not always as good as it was twenty, even ten, better yet five years ago. �Susan...?�

�Bubbe...she didn�t have anyone to accompany her. You wouldn�t want her going alone. After all, you knew her mother. Didn�t you guys go to school together?� Already only out of her teens and my granddaughter was an expert in Jewish guilt.

�Oy vey. I should be so young. The Finks actually lived in my old neighborhood. I used to baby-sit for her mother.� Such a thought can make you age ten years at least. �Anyway,� Susan rushed on ignoring my correction, �aren�t you always telling me about Grandma Vera escaping the pogroms and fleeing across the river by seducing a Romanian soldier.�

My face turned redder than horseradish at Passover. �Susale, I don�t remember�� I swallowed hard. � Besides, what do you know...�

Susan gave me a sly smile and shrugged. �Anyway, I want to see where my great-grandmother was born. And,� she added hastily, �I can do a paper for my Jewish studies on the plight of the Romanian Jews.�

�There�s Jews there yet?�

�Sure.� Susan smiled and produced an article from the Daily Forward English edition taking about the Chief Rabbi of Bucharest and the old synagogue.

Tsk. Tsk. My tongue made the clucking noises as it had a life it�s own. �Barely 10,000 left in a country that used to have over 2 million.� Most of them, the paper said, were centered in the main city, Bucharest, but there were in a few outlying communites.

�So, tell me, Susale. Just why were we volunteered? Besides my knowing Mrs. Fink, I mean?� I gave my granddaughter the eye.

Susan shrugged. It was her turn to cook in the sun. �I told the Rabbi that I would bring over a few religious items for the families there. And�being that it is Eastern Europe, well, I mean�.� Her hands were doing their dance again.

My sigh again. �When do we leave?�

My granddaughter hugged me and ran for the phone.

**

Little did I know what we were getting ourselves into. Oy veh. A �Buffy the

vampire slayer� I wasn�t, but my wooden knitting needles I took, just in case. Not that I believed in vampires, but one never knew. Remembering my adventure with Sergi in Tiberias, Israel, a few metal ones too.

My parents, may their names and memories be blessed, had left the shtetel, a small ghetto-like town, on the Russian-Romanian border far away...from them. Mildly curious, Romania wasn�t high on my shopping list. Still, my learning the recipe for mamaleka, the corn-meal sour- cream staple used by the Romanians in a variety of ways would please the palate of my old uncle Yaakov. Nursing home material he wasn�t yet, but who knew how much longer he had? A few pictures I had also promised him. Since I was going, why not?

Before we left Uncle Yaakov warned me to take plenty of garlic with �to keep the vampires away,� he had laughed.

Not until we reached the airport at one a.m. for our connecting fight to NY, did I finally meet Rachel Fink in person. Pleasant, but plain and perhaps a bit zoftig, though I should talk. It was easy to see why she had decided to adopt rather than waiting for her prince charming.

Eighteen plus hours of non-stop talk. Enough it was to know anyone but especially Rachel Fink. Like a teapot she was pouring sometimes steam and sometimes hot water. Such a family. Easy to see how she might chollish for a child of her own just as I had a deep hunger right now for a few hours shut eye. Lucky for Susan she could sleep anywhere.

Barely awake I was when we landed at half past eleven, several hours later than we had expected, due to some gusting winds near Vienna. I had said tefilath ha-derech, the traveler�s prayer, only once, but the Shema several times.

As we landed I wanted to kiss the Delta pilot but I took one look at the guard�s punim customizing our line. Such a face not even a mother could love. A fuss I didn�t need to make.

I thought about Susa-le�s buried treasures: a few high holiday matchzors, for the special annual prayers; two shofars, ram�s horns for blowing; havdalah sets for concluding the end of the Sabbath; menorahs for the Hanukkah holiday: Shabbat candlabras; some tallaysim, prayer shawls for covering during the Davening; tzitzit, which the men wore to remind them of the 613 commandments; tefillin and prayer books. One of each maybe she could claim but four or five...but how did she get away with the things only the men would need...she was looking for a husband maybe? My mind started to create the recipe we would need for an eatable cake. I only hoped none of the guards had nibbled at Judaism before or else we would all be in a stew.

At least there would be two less suitcases coming home. Such a shlep but thanks I gave to HaShem for my granddaughter�s passion for Judaism and our traditions.

The few minutes we had before reaching customs I observed the others in line with us. Harry and Belinda Barr, a nicely dressed couple whom I had shared a coffee and chatted with while we waited in the washroom line. Some business they planned to set up in Romania but what business I didn�t know.

Now they stood two ahead of us. Her, I liked. Him, I wasn�t so sure. A bit too confident and boisterous he seemed. He strutted toward the line like a turkey about to be plucked.

I could see they were having an argument of some kind.

Rather he argued, she tried to talk but was a slow simmer next to his boil. He pinched her quiet. I saw the fire in her die down immediately. Like the boiling water, his voice raised a moment, �Glump! Stupid, he�s talking to me.� He was coming up to full steam.

I winced for me and for her. From such Jews, the Romanians didn�t need to know.

Beside me, Rachel Fink inhaled sharply. �Something ought to be done about men like him.�

Shrinking into my coat, I heard him �discussing� with the guards about his status as a lawyer and how important his work was here in Romania. Already, I had seen how he treated his wife. A client of his I didn�t want to be.

Harry was becoming angrier and more irate as the customs officers were intent on examining his luggage. Just when it looked like they were about to haul him off to who knew where a pale blonde young man in a black coat and black fur hat appeared.

Total silence. Next to me, Rachel Fink and my granddaughter had stopped talking. Rachel starred at him. He, too, was looking at her a slight smile on his lips.

�You know him, Rachel?�

�I...uh...no.� She glanced away and down, modestly averting her gaze.

A second glance I had to take at the fellow. From the past he looked like a Chassidic yeshiva student of old complete with a fur hat and garter.

No older than twenty, to be sure. But an air he carried, one of worldly authority. All the customs guards stopped when he appeared. He nodded toward the lawyer. The big hand on the scruff of Barr�s neck was dropped.

Irritated and angry the attorney straightened his jacket. Apparently he didn�t see the interaction. He assumed his own power had broken the spell.

�Har��

�Shut up, Glump. When I want your input I will ask for it.� He brushed his wife away and then turned.

The young man, slight like a toothpick, tapped the beast. �I believe you owe your wife an apology.� The English rolled off his tongue like Yorkshire beef. Oxford? Now I was doubly confused.

�Who the hell�?� Harry Barr, the turkey, spun around ready to fly off without his wings again. �Maybe you want to mind your own business.�

�The Torah�s honoring of our brethren, especially our spouses, is my business.�

The young man stared into the eyes of the lawyer. As if the fire had suddenly been shut off under the boiling water, Mr. Barr lost his voice. What flavor had he seen that I had not detected?

�I suggest you watch yourself while in this country, Sir. The consequences can be quite deadly.�

What could his business be? A marriage counselor I didn�t think he was. Hardly old enough to be a groom, himself. Intriguing, like a recipe with ingredients I couldn�t quite label.

�You�ll find cabs just outside.� The young man pointed to the exit.

�Come on, Belinda.� He grabbed his wife�s arm. �Let�s get done what we need in this primitive country and leave.�

From being a prime roast, she had become a piece of hamburger. She gave me a glance and then a shrug. Pressing her lips together to keep the tears at bay, she hurried after him. Her I didn�t envy. Money they obviously had, but love and consideration, she didn�t. Maybe later I could give her the name of the hotline who helped women like her get away.

�I believe you are next, Madam.� The young man reminded me. For a moment our eyes met. Brooding and oh so sad. I almost reached out to touch and comfort him but then I realized that if he was a yeshiva boucher, a touch from a lady he wouldn�t want.

He glanced away quickly as if there was something he didn�t want me to see. What I didn�t know, but it was just beyond my taste buds. The flavor was�.something dark and painful.

�Oh, yes. Right. Susa-la, here� I motioned to my granddaughter and to Rachel Fink who had moved off to the side. Despite the laws of tznis, modesty,Rachel seemed unable to stop watching our new companion.

�Allow me,� he said, in a voice so soothing it was almost seductive. Mature not pipsqueak as one might imagine for a face so youthful. Strong, he was too, as he lifted Susan�s suitcase filled with contraband.

I inhaled sharply for fear that one of the latches might pop open and we would all be exposed. What did they do to black marketers here? Nothing good I was sure. It wasn�t even as if we were selling the items but�they were illegal here, I thought.

�It�s yours?� The young man asked. He had lifted the two-ton suitcase as if it were lighter than my grandsons�s cloth Torah toy. X-ray vision he didn�t have. Yet somehow I had the feeling he knew what the suitcases contained.

�No, I�it�s my�� I glanced around for the girls.

�Aceasta e valiza mea,� Rachel Fink stepped up. �It�s mine, clothes and other items for the baby I am about to adopt.� She said quickly and smiled her thanks while putting her hand on the handle to make sure it didn�t snap open. �Thank you for your help.�

�You�re welcome,� he said, moving his fingers quickly so that they would not touch. Religious, I thought? Had to be. But here in post-Communist Romania? Anything was possible and yet� �Baruch, is my name. You�re Romanian?� A regular Valentino, this one was. He smiled so brilliantly and such perfect teeth. My son-in-law the dentist would be jealous.

�And you�re Jewish?� I countered.

He smiled.

Rachel flushed like a school-girl. �My grandmother was. I learned from her. Fanny,� she turned to me. �Maybe you can finish the details with our passports?�

The customs guard moved to take documents from Rachel, Susan and myself. I caught a quick look pass between him and our new protector. Without even looking, the guards handed us back our documents. Maybe some secret code? Could the guard also be a Jew? Was letting the young man�s assessment of us guide him?

So who was this fellow? Son of one of the government people, maybe? Whoever he was, he wielded some power. I was grateful that we did not have to go through a search of our luggage or a long drawn out interrogation as I feared we might. From airport police, I had had my fill and then some.

�If you ladies will come with me, I would be most happy to see you to your accommodations.�

�I�� Rachel was speechless. �The adoption attorney was supposed to��

�It is fine.� Now I heard the foreign twinge in his voice but it was ever so slight. �I often help Vivian Ileausu with her meetings.�

�So you knew we were coming?� I asked. More ingredients in this secret recipe.

He merely smiled. �I knew.�

Perhaps it was the colder night air, or the lack of sleep but the shivers that ran up my spine were not ones I could easily ignore.

****

Midnight had nearly arrived. November in Romania was almost as cold as November in Chicago. The Barr�s were outside still waiting for the car Harry had rented. �Allow me, I believe you both are staying on Calle Victoria.�

�What are you? Some kind of government spy? Whom do you work with?� Harry asked. I could see he was looking for some chink in the armor.

Baruch shrugged. �Will you join us?� He asked again without answering.

�Sorry garlic peasant. I do my own driving.�

�As you wish.�

That was the last time we saw Harry Barr alive.

The apartment in the heart of the city near several of the major boulevards was a cozy furnished one bedroom. Baruch handed over the keys to us and showed us where the necessary things were.

He seemed pleased that Rachel, because of the kashrut laws, had insisted we bring our own cheap pots, paper plates and utensils.

�So. You have no husband?� Baruch asked Rachel.

�Uh, no.� Even in the dark I could see her blush. �I am doing this alone because I want to help a child and I want very much to be a mother.� Rachel paused. �Are you Vivian�s assistant?�

From romance, I knew plenty. An interesting situation. Maybe before we left here Ms. Fink might be considering another title.

He shrugged. �Not exactly. But I will see you anon.� He paused. �Take care to get proper rest. Vivian will be calling to situate you in the morning. The Rav will be most pleased to meet with you tomorrow. If you�ll excuse me, I must now settle up my own accounts.�

With that he disappeared like a whiff of steam into the dimly lit corridor leaving us to wonder. It only occurred to me later that we had said nothing about going to the synagogue.

With the time change, it was hard to sleep. My body told me it was night, my mind told me it was day. Outside our window the marketplace was already busy. Shopping was something I knew how to do. So when I want to think I shop.

The Romanian market square was an experience but not unlike shopping the Arab market in Tel Aviv. I busied myself with buying us some fruit, vegetables, and eggs. I couldn�t resist the string of garlic to hang in the kitchen.

Our apartment was near Mendelev Street, obviously once the heart of Jewish Bucharest. The synagogue building at the end of the block, still standing, bore the name of a government agency now. A silent reminder of the past.

I had just turned the key to our apartment when I heard the sound of crying from inside.

�What happened?� I threw the door open and hurried into the living area where Rachel had set up for her and the baby.

Brenda Barr sat on our sofa sobbing. When she saw me she glanced up for just a moment. �Har..Harry�s dead.�

It seemed that her husband hadn�t been able to settle down. From the looks of her right eye, he had done more than talk. Still angry after the airport he had taken a walk, she said. The body had been found in the hotel parking lot. A heart attack was the official cause of death.

�I hope you don�t mind,� Belinda Barr sobbed. �I just didn�t know where to turn. The police suggested I come here rather than be alone.�

The phone shrilled at 9 am. Our agency contact, Vivian profusely apologized for not meeting us at the airport but she hoped we had gotten the message.

�Oh, yes,� I told her. �Your assistant Baruch was very helpful. We didn�t even have to check through customs. He did something or said something, I don�t know what, but they let us through without even looking at our luggage.�

Through the pause I could hear crackling and distant voices on the line. Like a bad connection it was, but even though I wanted to doubt my hearing, I still heard Vivian�s word echoing. She knew no one named Baruch. She had called the airport and asked them to arrange for a cab for us. Yet she would not answer any of the questions I asked about the fellow who had met us.

Too quickly she dismissed the subject. A fool I wasn�t but there was a lot not being said. I briefly told her about our new friend and her predicament and suggested that maybe Belinda could stay with us while we were here...unless of course the police needed her at the hotel.

Vivian agreed that Belinda shouldn�t be alone and said she would be over shortly to take care of Rachel�s account. Then we would be free until tomorrow when we would drive to Brasov, the mountain area, where the orphanage was. Rachel would, for the first time, see the child she was adopting.

Susan was insistent that we call the shul and speak to the rabbi about bringing over the items she had brought with.

�All in good time, faygele,� I said, using my pet name for her. �We came here to help Rachel and I would think we need to get her straightened away first.�

I had expected Rachel to be pleased but instead she seemed distant and preoccupied. She hadn�t even finished all her unpacking.

It was then I noticed the fresh mud on her shoes. �Didn�t you sleep well either?�

She glanced at me and shrugged. A guilty look I knew from. �I�m going to make some coffee.� She took out the can of instant that she had brought with unsure if they would have kosher coffee here. �Vivian will be here soon.�

�Good idea.� I pulled out the creamer packets we had brought with from the plane. These we knew were kosher. �Still on jet lag?� I asked her as we sipped our coffees waiting for Vivian�s arrival.

�I guess.� She kept looking at the sofa where we had tucked the covers around a now sleeping Belinda. �She reminds me of my past.�

�Oh?� I looked at her now with different glasses. I had been right. Pretty she was but hiding it.

�Your husband, he was like Harry Barr?�

Rachel shrugged. �Hard to say. I only saw the Barr�s for a bit on the plane and at the airport but yes, there were similarities.�

�And that is why you gained weight? Didn�t want to date again?�

�You�re very insightful Fanny. Susan is lucky to have a grandmother like you.�

�So you should know, Rachel, not all men are Harry Barr�s. Some are like my Morris, kind, considerate�or even like Nathan.� I said, thinking of my Mossad friend whom I had not heard from in some time.

She didn�t get a chance to answer because the bell rang.

Our morning business with the adoption agency concluded, we all four decided to visit the synagogue. The Chief Rabbi of Romania, Rabbi Dr. David Rosen, was not in but his associate would be happy to speak with us and give Susan the facts she needed for her paper.

Finding a taxi driver who claimed he knew where the synagogue was another treat in of itself.

�Maybe we shouldn�t be making such a point of our being Jewish here,� I said, a bit concerned from the history of Romania. Pogroms had been plenty in Romania as well as Russia. �Anti-Semitism was the policy of the country, wasn�t it?�

�Not any more. At least, not officially. I think we�re okay, Fanny,� Rachel said. �Baruch told me��

�You talked to him about us?� When, I wondered had they conversed?

�Well sure. He�s a student at the Yeshiva He told me as long as we are not obnoxious about who we are,� she glanced back at Belinda talking with Susan as they looked in one of the store windows, �we should be all right.�

So I had been right about something. �You didn�t by any chance ask him how he happened to be helping Vivian last night.� I paused for effect. �She says she never sent him. Doesn�t know who he is.�

Rachel just looked at me and shrugged.

The two-story yellow brick synagogue was on a small side street, 9-11 Sfantul Vineri St. There was no mistaking the huge menorah in the front. I knew from reading the history that the wall was decorated with names of those who had died during the holocaust and with righteous gentiles who had helped the Romanian Jews.

Despite it being so close to a main square on Unirii Bukevardul the synagogue had been quite an effort to find. The taxi driver, who professed to know all of Bucharest drove up one street and then another. Several dead ended or became one way after only a few blocks. I had been told that Bucharest was called the Paris of the east and having already been lost in Paris once, I could certainly understand it.

With relief we finally found it.

Greeting us warmly the assistant rabbi told us how pleased he was that we had come as promised.

�Promised?� Susan asked. �I didn�t even write you.�

The rabbi looked askance. �You are sure? I could swear it was listed on my calendar. Well, never mind. Come. I will show you the Jewish museum and then you will be my guests for dinner at the community center. Yes?�

�Yes.� Susan said excitedly.

If the synagogue had been hard to find, the community center or cantina was even harder. This way and that way we turned. Finally a road block we came to. At one end of the street was manned by uniformed guards.

�Oh, it�s you, Rabbi.� The guard ushered us through.

�It�s necessary to have security?� I asked.

�Unfortunately, yes.� The rabbi told us. �We always have to be shomers. If we guard against problems they are less likely to occur.�

Rachel tried to take a photo of the nondescript brick building �for memory�. But the guard put his hand in front of her camera. �I am sorry. We cannot allow that. Too much has happened lately.�

�Like what?� I asked, ever curious.

The guard leaned closer and whispered. I could smell the garlic on his breath �Two deaths. Just last week. Their bodies drained of blood.�

�Samuel, please.� The rabbi pulled me away. �You will make Mrs. Zindel think we are crazy superstitious.� He shook his head. �Please pay Samuel no mind. For all our educating, some of the old tales still surface. Both men who died, although they were part of our community, did little to enhance it. But the deaths were natural� He pointed to a table near the kitchen. �The waiters are starting to serve. Come. You will have some soup, some stew and some mamalega.�

�Oh, yes.� I said and proceeded to ask for the recipe.

Mostly older people had come, those on pension and those seeking the company of their fellow Jews. Such a fuss they made over Rachel and Susan. Even more of a fuss when they found out that Rachel was adopting.

Just as we were leaving, a gust of wind blew the door open.

For all the chill, Baruch strolled in wearing only his fur shtriemel and long black becksher coat with gartel tying it off. His cheeks were rosy from the cold and he sat down next to us, nodding at the Rabbi who acknowledged the greeting.

I couldn�t help but hear the undercurrent whisper. A shame I didn�t understand Romanian.

�You had a productive day?� He asked us but directed his attention to Rachel.

She flushed but not from the fire.

�Mr. Barr is dead,� Susan piped up.

�Barr?� Baruch acted as if he did not recall who that was. �Ah, yes, the lawyer. A shame. You are all right, Mrs. Barr?� He addressed Belinda.

She nodded but was obviously still in a daze. �Shouldn�t I be sitting shiva or something, shouldn�t I?�

The Rabbi said. �His death is still being investigated, isn�t it?�

She nodded.

�Then you must wait until the burial.�

�Oh.�

Rachel was looking uncomfortable. Could she have had something to do with the lawyer�s death?

Baruch offered to drive us back to the apartment. He and Rachel were deep in conversation and oblivious to all of us in the back seat. Me, I could only think about the murder and mud on Rachel�s shoes.

A message from Vivian on the door told us that we would be traveling to Brasov tomorrow to pick up the baby.

Rachel turned to Baruch. �Will you join us?�

He shook his head. �Sadly, my business prevents me from accompanying you for such a simcha but I will be here tomorrow evening to welcome you and your son home.�

�Son? No, Vivian said it was a girl.�

He smiled. �You are mistaken my dear one. The child destined for you is a boy.�

Before I could ask how he knew this and what his business was, he disappeared much in the same vein he had the night before.

**

There was no question in my mind that Rachel fancied herself in love with this Baruch character. He seemed to be the only thing she could think of. Not even the baby occupied her mind as much. I only hoped that he wouldn�t hurt her too deeply.

Shortly after he left the police came to again question Belinda and to ask what we knew of Mr. Barr.

�Not much,� I had to say. It was then that I learned his body had been drained of blood.

�We think this a prank,� the police said. Yes, I suppose they would what with the vampire legend and all. I wanted to ask them about the two men the guard had mentioned earlier but I didn�t dare. No sense in bringing more notice to the Jews than necessary.

**

The countryside was beautiful, even in the starkness of winter. Outside the modern city, very little was built up. Though I think I would have hated to be a gypsy or a peasant having to eke a living out of the woods. Into the Carpathian mountains we drove. Easily I could envision the scenes from �Dracula.�

The orphanage was a cold and unforgiving place. Only the director�s room had heat. I wandered through one of the rooms on my way to the bathroom and saw crib after crib after crib. Like sardines they were, crammed two, three to a bed, lying there, not moving, not blinking. Had I been younger, I would have scooped up every one of those babies. How many got kissed and tucked into bed at night? How many even got enough food?

�I could swear that we had arranged for you to adopt a little girl. But the paper work says this baby is yours.� Vivian handed Rachel a small blue bundle wrapped in six layers of clothing.

�If you keep his name, Jonathan, you will not have to readopt him when you return to the Untied States.� She told us.

Rachel starred at Vivian and then at the baby lying silently in her arms. �My father�s name was Jonathan. How odd.�

Odd indeed, I thought.

The baby smiled up at her as if knowing that this was his new mother, his rescuer from a life of cold poverty.

On the drive back to Bucharest, the baby slept soundly in Rachel�s arms. �I can hardly believe this. My son.� Her face glowed. �Fanny, thank you for coming with me. I can�t tell you how happy I am.�

I nodded. �I only hope that you will be able to take care of him and guide him into a good Torah life.�

She nodded and pushed the nipple toward him as he rooted toward the bottle.

The next days were a haze of activity. To the hospital to check the baby�s health. A palace this must have once been. So grand. And so many stairs.

Luckily, other than being a bit underweight, the baby passed his physical.

Baruch was a constant visitor but strangely enough only in the evenings. To such restaurants and museums he took us.

I thought it odd when he asked me to remove the garlic string from the kitchen. He said he had an allergy. People have allergies all the time. Still, garlic was�garlic.

The time for our trip was coming to a close.

Only left was the baby�s American visa at the consulate. At bit concerned since the Senate had not yet approved the next year�s budget and some of the overseas agencies had closed their doors earlier.

�Vivian told me that the American Consulate is opening just for today,� Rachel came home excitedly. �Isn�t that a miracle?�

I nodded. �HaShem be praised.� I wondered what Belinda would do now that everything was accomplished for us three. Would she come with us or stay here for the investigation to finish? We had heard nothing from the police.

It was almost as if they were watching. No sooner had we closed the apartment door and started to settle the baby in and begin packing than we hard the knocking.

�It�s the police,� Belinda said, wide-eyed.

�So?� Susan asked. �You have nothing to fear. Do you?�

Belinda began to wring her hands Lady Macbeth-style. �I wanted him dead. I wanted him dead.�

�But you didn�t do anything.� Rachel said.

�I wanted him dead,� Belinda repeated.

�Oy Vey.� I shook my head. �So nobody�s going to answer the door? Fine. I�ll do it.� Thus saying I walked over.

�So officer.� I said, opening the door. �You�d like a cup of tea, maybe? Some schnapps?�

�Madam, you can not bribe an officer of the law.� He turned to Rachel Fink still holding little Jonathan. �You are under the arrest for the murder of Harry Barr.�

A good thing I was only inches from her. Now it was Rachel�s turn to be wide-eyed.

�What are you talking about? I hardly knew the man.�

�Madam, you were seen at the scene. Please come with us.�

Rachel looked helplessly at Susan and me. Then she looked at the now mute Belinda. �Call the American Consulate. Deborah King in the State Dept. � Rachel said as she stood.

It was five hours later that much to our surprise Rachel returned. With her was our now constant companion.�

Baruch talked to them.� �And what of the murder charge?� I asked. �How do we get Rachel and the baby out of the country with that.�

�There is no more murder charge. Harry Barr has ceased to exist. His passports and documents have disappeared. There is no indication that he was ever in this country. When Belinda wakes from the wine she has drunk, she will recall nothing of the events from the past two days. She will know only that she is free.

�As you have seen, the police and people here are superstitious. As well they should be. A few bribes, a bit of American goods goes a long way here to erase memories and if there are questions, they would rather not ask. You will be leaving on Delta Airlines tomorrow at dawn. I cannot be there with you.�

�But Baruch, I thought you said�� her voice cracked slightly. �I am sorry. I am being silly. Of course you can�t leave your country and I have no passport for you, no way to get you into the United States with us. I mean you have ways of dealing with this so that you can come, can�t you?�

�I shall be with you but only in spirit. The child you have here, Jonathan. He will be your memory of me. He is of my blood and his mother is dead. He is an orphan.�

�Jonathan is yours?� Now it was my turn to be astounded. Some intrigue I expected but not this.

�Jonathan means gift of God.� Susan said.

He nodded. To both questions.

�But how can that be. INS and the Adoption Committee here insist that there be no link to the parents.

Baruch shrugged. �You may have guessed that something was strange about me.�

�An Ugly Duckling you aren�t. But yes,� I said, �you have an explanation to tell us maybe?�

�Maybe you had better clean the plates,� I said as I sat down and indicated for him to have a seat.

�I am not the person you think I am.� He turned quickly around.

The face we saw not even a mother could love. But within moments he had resumed his handsome look. �You see, I am a vampire.�

Rachel screamed and fainted.

�Don�t you dare touch her, you cad!� I cried as I intercepted him going over to her.

�She will be fine. And no, I will not harm her. I would not harm any of you. I prey only on those who do averiohs of the most heinous kind.�

Rachel began to stir.

Baruch brought water to her and held her hand. �My love. I am sorry to have shocked you.�

�It�s true then?�

The vampire nodded. �Come. The hour is late and I have much to tell you before you leave tomorrow.�

�I�ll go make the coffee,� Susan said.

�My ancestors were of the Khazars, who ruled southern Russian from the 7th and 10th centuries. My family were from Satu Mare, in what is now northern Romania.�

�The seat of the Satmarer Chassidic dynasty?� I asked. That explained his white stockings and the pants just above the ankles, the traditional dress of the Satmarer Chassid.

�You know of them. Good.� Baruch nodded. �Only at that time there were no Chassids. Not until much later. I dress like the sect only because of my homeland ties. But it is the Marhal whom I will always follow.

�I grew up during the time of the Marshal of Prague.� He saw the look of surprise on our faces. �You think I jest. I wish I did.� He paced the floor holding the crying baby in his arms as good Tate would do, hushing it until it feel asleep on his shoulder. Then he proceeded to tell us his story.

�My father, a prosperous wine merchant, was known through out the land for his good wines and for his learning. I, his son, hoped to follow and take on our family business. I was but nineteen years of age. I had come home for the holidays to help my father with his work and wait on the many customers who flocked to us during this time especially.

�A match was to be made for me. You can imagine I was quite excited at the prospect of having a kallah, a bride. I trusted whomever my father would choose for me would be the best.

�The day I was to meet the woman my family had determined that I would marry one of our major clients the Bishop of Prague, Anton Salarz, had come for his order. It was a known fact that His Holiness was a Jew-hater. Despite this, he said he would have only the wines of my father�s vineyards for his tables.

�In a hurry to be ready for my bride�s family visiting, I had rushed about preparing the orders. I had forgotten to mix the berries in the proper portion as he always required. When he came to complain the following day, my father was in town preparing for my wedding so I was left alone to deal with this great and terrible man. The Bishop was learned in the Hebrew tongue, in Kabballah and in the Talmud but only so much as he could use it against us. A master of the Black Arts.�

�Yes, I have heard that name.�

�The man today is a descendant.�

�I argued with him about the necessary ingredients for a good wine and told him that I did not think a half pint of berries would be missed in his wine this one time. What we did not also know was that he dabbled in the black arts. I did not know that he used our wines to mix with his poison. I merely thought he was being rude and obnoxious merely because I was my father�s son and a Jew. I told him that if he did not like our wines, he was more than welcome to go elsewhere.

�When he left that day, he was still in a state of anger and vowed his vengeance upon me.

�Away from my yeshiva, I was vulnerable if I did not learn on a daily basis. A Talmud Hachum is only one so long as he is learning Torah. But with the coming of my wedding, I was in no mood to learn.

It was two days later. The night before I was to purify myself in the mikva, ritual bath, in preparation for our wedding the following the day. Just two short doors away from the synagogue and mikva I was set upon by ruffians who belonged to the house of the Bishop. They were his lackeys. Their plan was to leave me for dead but knowing the Jewish dictate against the use of blood in our foods, the Bishop set upon a crueler fate for me. He would curse me and turned me into a vampire.

At first seeing that I had survived their attack I was pleased. I thought I had fought them off until the first of the hungers came upon me.

I begged my father to postpone the wedding and in the dark of the night I hurried to the Inn in Bacau where the Marhal who had come to town specifically for my hassina, my wedding, stayed.

It was all I could do to keep myself from laying attack to my beloved teacher. And yet I managed to keep my wits about me as we talked. He told me that in an effort to protect my family, my bride to be, and the town I would have to be sent to Harem, the hell of limbo where I would await the day of the cure.�

For seven generations I have been forbidden to have contact with our people yet I have kept up with my learning such as I can do on my own and occasionally have found sparing partners in the nearby towns. I have followed our history-tragedies and happiness with mixed emotions waiting for the time when I too can go into Olam HaBa. Only recently did I realize what the Marhal wanted of me.

I was to search the land doing mitzvahs and protecting our people whenever and wherever I could.�

�Like the Golem?� Susan asked.

�Somewhat. The only ones I permitted myself to feed upon were those who broke the commandments. Those with aveiros, sins or crimes, that were so terrible that they could never be redeemed.�

�You mean like Harry who was a wife abuser? �

He nodded. �Wife abuser and user of the poor. And others like the man at the community center who pretended his righteousness and then was in league with Harry to sell the children for profit.�

�Belinda was not the first whom Harry had dragged into his purgatory. I had come to the airport for you. I had been haunting the airport for weeks now like a man consumed. You were coming but I did not know when.

�When I saw the Barrs I knew I had to perform one last mitzvah for Belinda. Now finally I am sure a cure is near.�

�What type of cure?� Rachel asked gripping the glass of wine in her hand.

�My teacher, my mentor, the Marhal was not content to have me in the limbo. He read, researched and he prayed to the Almighty to release my soul from this bondage. As he lay on his death bed, he gave me the key to my future. Seven generations I would have to wait in limbo until I realized my mission. Now that I have, and my time is here, I need you to help me. With the coming of the Moshiach, I will be set free forever.�

He closed his hand over Rachel�s and met her eyes. �My bride to be, my kallah, her name was Rachel bas Tzipporah.�

�That�s my name,� Rachel�s voice a mere whisper. The blood had drained from my face as I could see it did from Rachel�s and Susan�s too. �What are you saying?� Rachel asked.

�You are, were, my bride. The Marhal told me that when I found you, you would release my soul. Together we will dance to our wedding music with the coming of the Moshiach.�

�Baruch, what of the baby? Is he�?

�100% human. He will grow up like any normal child.�

�And what do I tell him of his father?�

�Whatever you would have told the child you adopted. But come. The hour grows late. You must release my soul from this torment.�

�But how am I do that? I know nothing of black magic. I don�t even understand Kabballah.� He took her hand in his and kissed so tenderly, I wanted to cry.

�Fanny,� he said, �you know what has to be done?�

I sighed. �My knitting needles you want, I suppose.�

He nodded. �A rebbitzen you should have been,� he told me. �A rebitizen you will be,� he told Rachel.

I brought out my everything bag with the wooden needles and the metal ones just in case.

�No. I can�t.� Rachel backed away.

�You must. It is the only way. I promise, my love, we will dance with the coming of the Messiah. Only He Who Blesses Us can tear us apart again. You will care for my son, our son, and raise him as a true Torah scholar.

The deed was no harder than checking the temperature on a turkey, I told myself. But in the end I could not do it. It was Rachel who performed the deed.

�When the Moshiach comes.� They were the last words we heard from Baruch�s lips. Like a dust he had come from, he disappeared.

As he said, the cab came to drive us to the airport just at the crowing of the cock. Not once did the guards glance at our passports. They waved us through the line as if not seeing us. From the plane, I looked down at the receding ground.

It was almost as if we had never been to Romania.

But we had and only the three of us knew we had been some place else as well.

It was decided that Belinda would stay with Rachel for a while, help her with the baby and get her life together.

The baby started to cry. Rachel rocked him and sang, �Moshiach, Moshiach, we want the Moshiach now.�

Jonathan quieted. Somehow I had the feeling that this child would be instrumental in leading us all to the Moshiach.
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