The Jazz Palace Read Online Free PDF Page B

released just before they tumbled down Niagara Falls, as they bounced through white water, rescued at the edge of a precipice, delivered from poverty, from grief, from having to sell their bodies, from having to sell their souls. In ten finger crescendos women swooned in the hands of an evil man. The boy next door rescued them. Every man wanted to save a beautiful woman. Everybody wanted to save someone.

Four

    The gem sisters slept in the order in which they were born. Pearl lay in the middle, with Opal and Ruby on either side. Ruby slept against the wall while Opal teetered on the edge. Though this should have been reversed, Ruby, who was almost ten when their youngest sister was born, refused to give up her place against the wall and, as a toddler, Opal seemed to prefer the outside. It was Pearl’s task to keep her from falling.
    Anna wanted her children named after tangible things. In the old country she had spoken only
mamaloshen
, the mother tongue. In the Yiddish of the shtetl there were only two words for flowers—violet and rose. No words existed for the varieties of wild birds or trees. But in English, Anna learned, everything had a name. Before, all trees were simply “tree.” Now there was oak, maple, elm. She found hawk, peacock, cockatoo. Lily of the valley, Rose of Sharon, jack-in-the-pulpit. In the end she named her oldest boys Robin, Wren, and Jay after birds—except for Jonah, her firstborn, because she liked the story of the whale. She called her middle children, Moss and Fern, after woodland plants. And the final three became her precious stones.
    While the others came from air or the soil, the gem sisters emerged from the depths. Anna told Pearl that she came from water, from the grain of sand that disturbs the oyster, and that her gemsisters came from the deepest of mines. In Burma and Australia, dark men dug into the earth to find them. “But you, Pearly, you’re lucky. You come from the sea.” And Pearl trembled, thinking how her mother had tried to return her there.
    Of all the children Opal and Pearl looked the most alike. They bore no resemblance to Ruby, with her fire-engine-red hair and tiny pinched features, who looked like an Irish girl. Opal and Pearl shared the round Slavic cheeks and broad smiles. They were identical, except that Opal had piercing blue eyes and hair the color and texture of corn silk, and Pearl was opaque, a chocolate brown. When they stood together, it seemed as if Pearl was her sister’s shadow.
    Since Opal was born, Pearl had taken care of her little sister. In winter she made sure she ate hot broths. In summer she bathed her every evening. As an infant Opal had wheezy breath. She shivered when it wasn’t cold and burrowed deep into her sister’s arms. On the hottest nights Pearl swaddled her in an extra blanket. At times, confused about whom her mother was, Opal tried to nurse on Pearl’s tiny breasts, which made Pearl laugh even as she pushed the baby away.
    But now, as Opal slept, Pearl tasted the sand between her teeth and felt a hunger she could not name. As she tried to sleep, she saw a darkening sky and felt as if she could not breathe. The night sounds came together like water, rising over her head.
    Though it was a warm, breezeless night, Pearl lay awake. There was a chill, locked in her bones. She listened to the noises of the house as an animal does for danger. She could hear a creak on the stairs, the clang of trash cans in the alley. A sob reached her ears. No one else could have heard it except Pearl. Downstairs in the saloon someone wept. Since the
Eastland
went down, Pearl had been afraid to close her eyes. She was wedged as always between Ruby’s bony hip and Opal’s warm breath.
    She nudged Ruby. “Ruby,” she whispered, “wake up. Someone’s crying.” But her sister just groaned and pressed herself closer to the wall. Pearl turned and wrapped her arms around Opal’s waist, and even Opal pushed her away.
    Her mind raced as she