At first she just couldn’t believe it—looked over at John—saw his joyous grin—then back at the marvel standing right there before her in her very own living room. Running, she threw her arms around her grinning husband giving him a fast kiss before returning to her breathtaking surprise—a high-arm, five-drawer, walnut woodwork, model No. 5 Singer sewing machine just as she had seen it illustrated in Hannah’s mail order catalog of the Montgomery Ward Company of Chicago.
“Ninnie, it’s only a secondhand—but I checked out all the parts, they work fine. The foot pedal needed a little readjustment but otherwise everything works as it should.”
“Oh—John—it is the most beautiful machine I have ever seen! All I have ever wished for. Now I can make your shirts in a day—even suits and all the children’s clothes in only half the time. Does Hannah know? I must tell her!” At the door she turned—rushed back, kissed him again—murmured a shy “Thank you” before grabbing her hat and running down the street with her exciting news.
Laughing, John began tidying up the wrapping paper, his sons watching still astounded by so much affection—such enthusiastic kissing on display between such usually self-contained people puzzled them as much as the weird-looking contraption that had caused the fuss.
That Singer magnificence must have been the most pampered machine in all of Michigan. It was stroked, touched ever with reverence, oiled, polished, every screw promptly adjusted with care, at night covered against possible cold, in the daytime when not in use, which was rare indeed, covered against possible dust. Although her loyalty to Lizzie demanded she be foremost in her regard, in private Jane’s devotion to her sewing machine even eclipsed the Model T.
Before Thanksgiving Jane received yet another luxury. A real crib. Though used, it was like new with its iron rungs painted glossy white without a single chip. A generous gift from young Mrs. Ziewacz, once a fellow Watcher, whose husband having fallen at the Battle of the Somme had no more need of it. When first put inside this new enclosure—Jane’s baby looked about him, assessing its restricted boundaries. After a while, as if a conclusion reached, fell sound asleep. Jane had the feeling that cages did not trouble Billy.
This year Michael got his wish to be a Model T. Jane sewed him one out of black felt to go trick-or-treating in. His brother John got the ghostly sheet, which he rather liked for it hid him from the world.
By Thanksgiving mail from Europe was once again arriving regularly. Finally having received a long account from his family, John was full of plans.
“For the New Year, I shall have the means for Celestina to make the journey, bring her to America. Now that Gina has stolen her rich beau right from under her nose—of course who can blame him. Once my pretty sister made her mind up to get him he was lost anyway—so, much better to get Celestina away from there before she cries herself into a decline and pines away—driving my parents crazy.” John chuckled visualizing his so inseparable sisters now at loggerheads over a mere suitor. “And Ninnie, once you have taught her English—I’ll find her a good reliable husband to take care of her.”
Having known her sister-in-law since their childhood, Jane thought it far more likely that Celestina would find her own, but said nothing.
Motoring down Prospect Avenue, Ebbely saw it first. A working-class house, like all the others in Highland Park, this one exceptional by a dormer window tucked beneath its gabled roof signaling the possibility of an extra room.
“John, I found you a house! Couldn’t resist investigating, rang the bell and lo and behold find a Dalmatian returning to a country that doesn’t even exist anymore, but still wants to sell!”
“What house? What are you talking about?” Parking his bicycle on the back porch, John motioned Ebbely to follow him into the kitchen. At the sink—Jane moved aside to allow her husband to wash his hands.
“Good evening, Tall Lady of multitudinous brood,” Ebbely acknowledged her smiled welcome, “and that is exactly why I am here, John. Ask your Lady. Ask her where your latest offspring resides. Well—go on.”
“In my sewing alcove,” Jane answered for her husband, who appeared utterly confused.
“Aha! Just what I surmised. Your wife whose dressmaking skills are known far and wide and duly admired has sacrificed her very own sanctum for the sole benefit of your latest without a murmur of dissent. A jewel, your wife—a precious jewel!”
“And?” John dried his hands.
“Well, my friend, what you need is a house that will not only accommodate your growing family, but offer the mother of your children a space of her very own in which to practice her admirable profession of superlative seamstress. For heaven’s sake, man, you gave her that magnificent sewing machine—now give her a room to use it in!” Receiving no answering enthusiasm, exasperated Ebbely stamped his foot, exclaimed, “Well? Are you coming? I told the owner I would bring you around this evening.” And pulling John out of his kitchen—Ebbely got his way.
Far into the night they talked, by morning having agreed that Ebbely, as was his want, had been as sensible as always, John began the necessary preparations to sell one home in order to acquire another.
With everyone pitching in during the resumed layoffs, John’s family was moved and settled, in time for the holidays, and for a while that little room tucked under the eaves became Jane’s very own luxury.
Like a proud teacher taking perfect attendance, Hannah looked about her crowded living room and beamed. Over there was Peter and his Dora, Zoltan and his nice Agnes, by the tree Carl’s little Violet in a new party dress holding her father’s hand. John with his Ninnie, the little one cradled by her heart, their handsome sons in their brand-new, just-finished-in-time sailor suits, Rudy returned, a new man full of life, all sadness gone, even Stan with Serafina, their Angelo intrigued by the menorah wondering what it was for, Morgana explaining it to him. By the punch bowl Mr. Henry ten pounds heavier, looking fit, her Ebbely in his Christmas vest of scarlet perched, ready on his piano stool. Looking up at Fritz, she whispered, “Everybody! Dey all came, Fritzchen. All our children and dere children dey came. If only Jimmy and Johann and …”
“Now, don’t start, I know.” Giving her a reassuring squeeze Fritz went to light the candles on the tree. They sang, they ate, they drank, they even danced. What a Hanukah-Christmas this was! Better even than all the ones that had gone before. A celebration of so many things; a war won, an epidemic survived, the glorious dream of citizenship realized, a healthy baby born, yet beyond even such milestones, there stood what mattered even more, had always mattered most, their friendship, their love for each other that had brought them back together, memories of those now absent, making them a part of theirs.