Across So Many Seas: Chapters 14-19

Our ship finally anchors in Naples and only four of us disembark.

It is a spacious house, but what I like best is the scent of ink and paper and books filling the air with hopefulness.

“Cholera is spreading through the region,” Tía Mazal adds.

Tío Yehuda replies, “We have heard that the Turkish sultan has promised to accept Jews and treat them well. We want to leave for Constantinople as soon as we can.”

“Do not worry, hermanica. You will have plenty of time to rest and recover your strength. We are not leaving for a while!”

Early every morning, Grandfather, Tío Yehuda, and Isaac and Jacob don their prayer shawls and pray in memory of Father.

“That is why the Haggadah will be printed in two languages—Hebrew and Spanish—with commentaries by the rabbis. Even though the king and queen expelled us, they cannot take our language from us.”

Isaac and Jacob are constantly at Tío Yehuda’s side, learning every detail of how the printing press works and becoming perfect apprentices to our uncle and grandfather.

Isaac reviews the texts with care, letter by letter, while Jacob is fast and agile with his hands and binds the books with strength and ease.

She is teaching me how to sew, and we are making pretty nightgowns and robes that she will sell to the families of new brides for their trousseaux.

Tía Mazal is astounded.

Today we are hoping to buy eggplants because I’ve been missing Father and feeling nostalgic for the eggplant-and-honey dish we enjoyed in Toledo.

Preciada wraps her chubby arms around my neck as I perch her on my hip.

But everyone worries as we hear stories of cruelties inflicted upon Jews trying to find homes in new lands.

“Hijica, I promise you that you will not suffer on this voyage. We have heard of others who have gone to Constantinople, and they have not been mistreated. They will receive us warmly when we arrive. The sultan has issued a royal decree stating that Jews can settle wherever they wish and must be welcomed.”

“I have received word from friends there who will help us establish our new printing press,” Tío Yehuda announces.

Constantinople is even grander than Naples and is totally breathtaking with its gold domes shimmering in the sun.

The sound from its strings, sweet and haunting and melodic, touches my soul.

Mima says I love sad songs because I have a melancholy soul.

Hüzün is the Turkish word she uses to describe my temperament.

Then he chuckles.

I thank God that Papa was too old to be conscripted into the army.

To bury him in the cemetery and at least be able to visit his grave would have been a comfort, but she’d been denied that too.

After the parade ends, the street peddlers appear, selling honey-and-fig and rosewater-and-pistachio flavors of ice cream, so refreshing in the unusually warm weather.

I cut up chunks of watermelon, sweet karpuz, removing the seeds and mixing it with pungent kashkaval cheese.