A Bundle of Trouble. Jacqueline Dembar Greene
not our little one, thank goodness,” said Sadie.
Mama was quick to explain. “We’re just looking after Nora while our neighbors unpack, Mrs.—?”
“Oh,” the woman said, appearing flustered. “Henks. I’m Mrs. Henks.”
“This baby doesn’t like moving,” announced Benny, raising his voice over the crying.
“Well, I have little ones myself at home,” Mrs. Henks said. “I know how they are. If I can ever be of help…”
“Two offers of help!” Cousin Miriam spoke from the doorway. “You’re very kind.”
“I don’t mind in the least,” said Mrs. Henks. “We must all help our neighbors as we can.” She turned away and headed back down the front steps. “Good-bye for now,” she called over her shoulder. “Lovely to meet you.”
“Such wonderful neighbors,” murmured Mrs. Brodsky, coming to stand behind her cousin. “I think we shall be very happy here.”
As Mama started upstairs with the baby, Cousin Miriam called Rebecca back. “Don’t forget her rattle. It might soothe her if she’s teething.” She handed Rebecca a small tin rattle tied with a frayed pink ribbon. “And here is her bonnet and an extra blanket, should you take her for a walk.”
Carrying these things, Rebecca followed Mama, the twins, and Benny up to their apartment. As soon as Rebecca closed the door, Mama turned to look at her girls with a smile. “So, who wants to play with a real live doll today?” The baby in her arms screwed up her face and howled.
“I have math homework!” cried Sadie.
“Geography, too!” added Sophie. “A mountain of it.”
“Such dedication to their studies my children have,” said Mama wryly.
Sadie eyed the red-faced baby dubiously. “Besides, I don’t want to catch that eye disease.”
“The baby seems healthy enough, and Mrs. Brodsky is receiving medical treatment,” Mama said comfortingly. “In the meantime, we can help out.”
“But I don’t know a thing about babies,” objected Sadie, “and I need to go to Lucy’s to study for our test tomorrow.”
“Me too,” Sophie said quickly. “Beckie, you can look after the baby.”
“I don’t know how to look after a baby either,” Rebecca said nervously. Then, as the baby’s wailing intensified, she gazed innocently at her sisters. “Besides, I’m not old enough.” Her sisters were always saying she was too young to do this or that. For once, she was happy to agree.
Mama carried the baby into the parlor. “I’ll need help from at least one of you,” she said. “You’re all old enough. It would be a kindness to a neighbor, Beckie,” she added gently. “A mitzvah.”
“Well,” Rebecca said slowly, eyeing the baby. “I’ll do it—but Sadie and Sophie have to do my chores today.”
“Agreed!” shouted her sisters in relief, and they shook Rebecca’s hand to seal the deal.
3
Who Is That Boy?
Mama laid the baby on the couch. She showed Rebecca how to change her diaper. Nora was soaking wet and had a terrible rash. “Dear little one,” crooned Mama. “No wonder you’re yelling. I would yell, too.”
“Maybe Mrs. Brodsky’s poor eyesight keeps her from noticing the rash,” said Rebecca, and Mrs. Rubin nodded.
“And of course the baby’s father is seldom home—working two jobs to make ends meet,” Mama added. “There’s nobody to notice such things.”
Unwrapped from her blankets, baby Nora kicked and fussed. Her little arms thrashed up and down, and one hand grazed Rebecca’s cheek. “Ow!” exclaimed Rebecca.
“Goodness,” said Mrs. Rubin. “Let’s trim those nails before she scratches her own little face. Please hand me the nail scissors, Beckie.”
Rebecca took the little scissors out of the drawer and helped hold the baby while Mama trimmed the nails on her fingers and toes.
“It must be hard for Mrs. Brodsky to take care of this little one with her sight failing,” Mama said. “We must be good neighbors and help out as much as we can.” She went to the kitchen for some cornstarch to sprinkle on the baby’s rash, and then she suggested that Rebecca go to the corner drugstore for some ointment. “Take Nora along. She might enjoy the fresh air.” Mama gave Rebecca a little money for the salve.
Rebecca carefully wrapped Nora in her faded pink blankets and carried her downstairs with Mama following. She settled Nora into the wicker buggy, and wheeled the buggy out to the front stoop. Mama helped lift it down to the sidewalk, and then Rebecca set off for the pharmacy.
For the first time that morning, Nora was quiet. The movement of the wheels jostling over the cracks in the sidewalk seemed to soothe her. Outside the shop, Rebecca hesitated. She remembered the article Papa had read about the kidnapping. Although that baby was now safely home, the kidnapper had not been caught. She decided to take the buggy inside.
A lanky, dark-eyed boy about Victor’s age approached the shop and gallantly held the door open so that Rebecca could maneuver the buggy over the threshold. Then he followed her in and stood looking at the jars of candies while Rebecca walked to the counter.
Morton’s Pharmacy was a busy place. Its shelves were stocked with jars of pills in many colors, bottles of cough remedies and medicinal syrups, soaps and tooth powders, perfumes and ointments. Glass cases held candles and a selection of bath salts, tonics, and creams. Jars displayed mint lozenges, boiled sweets, and licorice. At the soda fountain along one wall, customers ordered hot and cold drinks and slices of seasonal fruit pie.
Mr. Morton, the pharmacist, was stationed on a stool behind the counter at the shiny cash register. He was a slow-moving man who liked to chat with everyone. Rebecca waited now while he measured out a bottle of cod liver oil for a woman with two small children hanging on her skirts. He handed each child a licorice whip and then smiled at Rebecca.
“Now, how can I help you, young lady?”
She explained about the diaper rash, and he clucked his tongue sympathetically. “I’ve got just the thing,” he said, selecting a small jar of white cream from the shelf. “This will fix the little one in no time.”
Rebecca thanked him and handed him the money. While she waited for her change, Nora began crying again. Rebecca turned to her and found the tall, dark-eyed boy leaning over the baby, making faces.
He straightened. “She is nice baby, no?” he asked. He had a mop of black hair, a brusque voice, and a foreign accent. Rebecca wasn’t sure what sort of accent it was; there were people from so many countries living in her neighborhood—Jews from Russia, like her own family, and Irish, Italians, Germans…
“She is prettiest baby, I think,” he said, leaning over the buggy again.
Rebecca didn’t really think so, because crying, red-faced babies weren’t much to look at, but she nodded.
The baby quieted again as the boy grinned down at her. “You go for a walk?” he asked. “Maybe in the park? Babies, they like walk in the park.”
“Maybe,” Rebecca replied. She wished the boy would not stand so close to Nora.
“Is getting cold.” He reached into the buggy and pulled the pink blankets up to Nora’s chin. “And maybe she is hungry.”
“She’s fine,” said Rebecca coolly, tightening her hold on the buggy handle. He didn’t look old enough to be a kidnapper, but who could tell? It was unusual, surely, for a boy his age to be interested in a baby. Victor never looked twice at babies.
The boy gave her a piercing