Chapter Twenty-Nine
Roger was exhausted. He’d not slept a wink since returning from David’s home.
He’d hoped that Rebecca would be awake, as he wanted to…
Well, he wasn’t sure what he wanted. No, that was a lie.
He’d wanted to be with her, talk with her, tell her what happened, what he’d realized about what he wanted his life to be.
Funny that. He was six and thirty, and one would’ve thought he’d have figured such out a great deal earlier, especially considering how quick a learner he was supposed to be.
But he was the youngest child in the family and had been considered a “late bloomer,” as a child, not shooting up in height until well after he’d been called to the Torah for the first time, so here he was.
And for the first time in a long time, he was truly excited about his future, despite the fact it no longer included everything he’d thought he wanted. He had wanted to share that with someone.
With her.
Except he hadn’t. He hadn’t spoken with anyone, not even Lopez, who dressed him for minyan just prior to sunrise.
The service had been agreeable and the greetings warm and the sun was finally out, which improved his mood.
At least until he passed Rebecca’s finished house and recalled that she’d be returning that day, and he couldn’t rejoice, notwithstanding the knowledge that such was the right and natural occurrence.
Perhaps he could feel better if he somehow found the right words to tell her how much he appreciated her and how she’d played no small part in well, changing—no, transforming—him. Perhaps if she could understand that, if he could explain correctly…
Which he could do. He was still clever. He certainly knew a great deal of words and had never had trouble communicating in the past. Perhaps it’d come to him at breakfast, he thought as he climbed his front steps.
Lopez opened the door, taking his hat and coat. Dusting off his trousers, Roger stepped into the front hall and halted as he spied his brother leaning against the wall, waiting for him.
“Good morning,” David greeted him, though without a smile.
Roger grimaced.
“Good morning,” he returned. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Not that he couldn’t guess.
David was almost certainly going to scold him regarding his behavior the night prior.
After all, while his brother had his doubts about the marriage, the ending of the negotiations had consequences for the entire family.
Something he’d mitigate. That his brother could not trust him to behave responsibly was irritating to say the least. Had he not proven himself time and time again?
“We have matters to discuss,” David said.
“We do,” Roger returned. “Shall we retire to the burgundy parlor,” he stated more than asked, leading the way.
They each sat for a moment, neither speaking.
Roger raised a palm. “Before you say anything, I want you to know, I already sent gifts to the Teres household as an apology. I’ve also begun to set the groundwork in the community for a story about how the match was considered but abandoned over the fact I decided that I didn’t want to produce more children,” he explained to his brother, reciting the plan he’d come up with sometime in the middle of the night.
David blinked at him, clearly surprised. “That’s… generous of you,” he said.
“I don’t want my actions negatively affecting you or Nina or your children or the rest of the family,” Roger reassured him. “I’m not like Louis,” he couldn’t help but add.
His brother frowned. “Naturally. Why would I ever… ?” The wrinkles on his brow deepened.
“His actions—his rebellion even, or whatever you want to call it—hurt Mother and Father,” Roger reminded him, bitterness coming into his voice at the memories of the aftermath of Louis’s deeds—the sneaking out, the brawling, the dangerous company, the blasted stupidity. The fracturing of his family.
Yes, he understood rationally that his father was already dying when they sent him and Louis off to school and that his mother would’ve probably retired to the countryside with their older sister for her final years anyway, but Louis’s actions had made it all so much worse.
Furthermore, he had never been able to, well, compensate.
And never would, it seemed.
“He did,” David conceded. “But they… Louis’s situation is complicated,” he said finally.
“I hope you didn’t believe that you needed to recompense for his deeds?
That such was your responsibility?” He peered at Roger and his eyes grew wide.
“You did, didn’t you?” his brother stated, wonder nearly overtaking his voice.
“My god,” he gasped. “That’s why you’ve always managed to make yourself so unhappy. ”
“I wasn’t unhappy,” Roger protested.
David raised a brow.
“Not most of the time,” he amended. “Besides, the idea of not being what I…” He shook his head.
“Of not being what the community, what Lucy, what the family wanted. I couldn’t do that to you.
I owed you. I needed to protect—” And he gasped.
“I was protecting myself,” Roger admitted, the truth of the situation washing over him. “I was afraid.”
“Afraid?” His brother repeated the word.
“Of what people would say. That they would presume I was incapable of achieving what our father achieved despite the money, status, and privilege.” He took a deep breath. “That I was another disappointment.”
There was a pause as David leaned forward in his seat.
“You’ve never disappointed me,” his brother told him.
“Even if I disagreed with your choices at times, that never changed the fact that I love you and it’s a great privilege to be your brother.
” His voice was thick. “Isn’t that how you feel about me? ”
“Yes,” Roger affirmed, his own throat tight.
“So why wouldn’t I feel the same way?” his brother pressed.
Roger turned the information over in his head. “Perhaps it wasn’t completely you or the rest of the family. It was also me,” he mused. “That I’d disappoint myself.”
“And that’s changed?” David asked.
“Yes.” Roger nodded. “Or at least it’s changing. I’m changing,” he amended.
“For the better, it seems,” his brother declared. With a small smile, he leaned back in his chair. “That’s quite amazing at your age. Though perhaps you’ve had some influence?”
Roger frowned.
His brother barked a laugh. “Mercy, for someone so well educated, you’re rather oblivious. I was referring to Miss Adler.”
“Ah” was all Roger could say, as yes, that was most certainly true, in more ways than David could ever know.
Though it was rather peculiar that his brother had deduced anything of the sort in the first place.
David was interested in business first and foremost, and after that, maintaining the status quo for the community and the family—Uncle Naphtali’s role, which he’d stepped into at barely nineteen but which had seemed to fit him so perfectly.
Not uncaring about the finer points of social and political matters, but they were not his focus or interest and perhaps he was a touch oblivious to them.
Or at least that’s what he’d believed.
Perhaps he’d misjudged his brother in multiple ways. There was another long pause.
“You know she isn’t married,” David continued, eyeing him.
Roger nearly fell out of his chair. His brother couldn’t be possibly suggesting… It was, well, out of the question. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be amenable to it, but Rebecca couldn’t possibly want the same, could she?
Yes, he enjoyed her presence. And yes, they’d become not merely lovers but nearly friends.
Or something deeper than friends. Something he could not quite find a word for, despite his supposedly impressive vocabulary.
Still, it would never work. Their lives weren’t compatible. Not in the long run. Yes, his was changing, but she’d not—there was just too much.
“I do know that,” Roger affirmed, shifting in his seat.
“I don’t believe she’s completely opposed to it as a concept,” David continued, not relinquishing his gaze.
“No,” Roger said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Though she’s made it clear that she’d require a very particular husband and very few of us could ever live up to such.”
“You do enjoy challenges,” his brother commented, his tone seemingly mild, but there was also an odd gleam in his eye.
“She’s a person, not a challenge, and this is marriage,” Roger returned, suddenly quite irritated with his brother.
David cocked his head. “Are you opposed to the concept for yourself now?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I just require the correct person.”
“Ah.” His brother nodded. “Like her.” He tented his fingers. “Interesting,” he murmured, aggravating Roger even more.
“Not interesting,” he snapped. “She’d not say yes.”
“Well, not if you don’t ask,” David had the nerve to respond.
“You don’t understand,” he murmured, shaking his head.
“That you’ve potentially said and done things that could make this quite difficult back when you were attempting to be the person you thought you were supposed to be, I can only imagine.” His brother raised his brow yet again.
Roger blinked at him. Was this how it felt when he gave others the same knowing gesture? It was more than irritating. As was his brother’s latent ability to read minds.
Almost as irritating as the expectant gaze his brother was now leveling at him.
“So…” Roger raised an eyebrow of his own.
“While I will never be disappointed in you, I’d prefer you to have a little courage,” David said.
“I have courage,” Roger argued back. “But I also have sense,” he reminded him. And approaching the woman with this, especially now, was not a good idea, was it?
Even if he wanted it. Quite badly, it seemed.
Mercy, he was a coward, wasn’t he?
“Perhaps you should have a little less of the second,” his brother said, breaking into his thoughts. He smiled.
Roger turned to him to respond but was interrupted by the door of the parlor creaking open a touch.
“Ah, David, here you are,” a voice said. Quickly rising to his feet, Roger turned toward the sound to find Aaron Ellenberg of all people, standing in the threshold, still wearing his coat and hat, snow-dusted boots dripping on the floor. The man turned to David. “Are you ready?”
“Almost,” David told him, his hands on the side of his chair, though he remained in his seat.
Ellenberg gazed between the two of them and frowned. “You still haven’t told him,”
“Told me what?” Roger asked his brother. What was going on?
“That the Teres family had an additional motive for the marriage,” Ellenberg stated, his lips twitching.
David inhaled. “Judah’s business has been soft as of late, and he’s made some poor decisions in attempting to right his circumstances.”
“He’s been embezzling from several community charities to keep himself afloat,” Ellenberg explained, folding his arms across his chest.
“Beg pardon?” Roger managed to say out loud.
“We did an audit over the last few months and now have incontrovertible proof,” David added.
Roger stared at them. They had to be joking. Except neither man was laughing.
“You didn’t think to tell me before?” he sputtered.
“I didn’t see the need.” Rising to his feet, David joined Ellenberg at the door. “I never believed you were going to marry Miss Teres in the first place. You have far too much sense for that.”
Roger gaped at the two men.
“Your brother and I are going to the house to let him know and make a plan for him repay everything he’s taken with interest, as well as relieve him of his duties on the Commission,” Ellenberg explained.
The three men stared at each other for a long moment.
“So there will be another open seat?” Roger couldn’t help but ask.
“Yes,” Ellenberg responded. “Are you interested?”
David raised a brow.
Smiling, Roger shook his head. “Not in the slightest.” Which was the truth because truly, he just… No. Not in a hundred and twenty years would he transform back into what he’d need to be—or worse, jeopardize what he’d already gained and what he hoped to gain once he spoke to Miss Adler—for a seat.
“Good to know,” Ellenberg said. “Say, how does twice a week sound?”
“Beg pardon?” he asked. What was the man about?
“For Talmud study,” Ellenberg told him. “My wife said you might be looking for one, and I’d like to study with someone at my own home. On Monday and Wednesday afternoons?”
A month ago, or even yesterday, he’d have said no, that such would never work, but why couldn’t it, if he made an effort and used the skills he’d once only deployed upon the ton? He stared at Ellenberg for a moment, at the proverbial olive branch he was extending.
“I’d like that very much,” Roger told him, suddenly realizing that, wonder of wonders, it was the truth.
“Excellent,” Ellenberg returned. “I’ll see you next week, then, if not earlier, as there’s a group that meets Thursdays at the Great Synagogue after morning minyan that’s useful as well. We always enjoy additional perspectives.”
“Good day, Roger,” David called as he and Ellenberg exited.
“Good day,” he called after them, resolved to find the courage to truly get what the real him, or at least the him that he had become, wanted.