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  Carrie had already decided that not only was she going to share the money with Garvey, but that when it arrived, she would ask her parents if she could give part of it to Dvora, as well. She hoped they would say yes.

  In the weeks following Christmas, Miss Tilden had been asking Carrie a few questions about God and about Jesus, but they were strange, adult-sounding questions. How do you really know if the Bible is true? If God is good, where did sin come from in the first place? These were questions Carrie had never thought of before.

  “I don’t know if I can tell you the answer,” Carrie said at one point, “but I’m sure Mr. Clausen would know. Why don’t you talk to him?”

  Miss Tilden smiled. “I have been talking to him.”

  Carrie nearly fell off the piano bench. “You have?”

  Miss Tilden nodded.

  “Then why are you asking me?”

  “Because I feel so childish asking him all these things.”

  Carrie fought hard not to let the excitement she was feeling bubble up and show on the outside. “Miss Tilden, God Himself can answer your questions. The Bible says the Holy Spirit is the best teacher. Do you have a Bible?”

  Miss Tilden blushed. “I just bought one.”

  “That’s good,” Carrie said. “That’s the best place to begin. Before you read, pray and ask God to show you the truths that are there. After all, He should know. He’s the Author.”

  “Thanks, Carrie.”

  It was Friday, February 15, 1924, the day after Valentine’s Day. The Ruhles were just about ready to sit down to supper when there came a knock on the door.

  Mother went to answer it. Carrie heard her say, “Why, Mr. Clausen, Miss Tilden. Welcome. Won’t you please come in?”

  Carrie went running into the front hall. She could hardly believe her eyes. There stood her teachers, and both of them were smiling. And they were holding hands!

  Mother was bustling about, taking their coats and hanging them in the front closet. Meanwhile, Father had come into the foyer. Mother made the introductions and then ushered them all into the living room.

  “We were just about ready to eat,” Mother said. “Won’t you join us? We can easily set two more places.”

  “Thank you, no.” Mr. Clausen looked at Miss Tilden. His electric eyes were lit up. “I’m taking Suzette out to dinner. We’re going to celebrate.”

  “And what is the occasion for celebration?” Mother asked. “I asked Suzette to marry me yesterday. On Valentine’s Day,” Mr. Clausen told them. “And she accepted.”

  Now Miss Tilden shyly held out her left hand. There was a small ruby ring on her fourth finger. Carrie could no longer contain her excitement. She ran to Miss Tilden, threw her arms around her neck, and gave her a giant hug. Her piano teacher hugged her right back.

  “Your daughter is a dear girl,” Miss Tilden said to Carrie’s parents. “But my engagement to Nolan, happy as it is, isn’t the best news. The best news is that because of Carrie here, I’ve asked Jesus into my heart.”

  “Oh, Miss Tilden,” Carrie said. “That is the best news.”

  “You were right, Carrie. The Holy Spirit is the best teacher.” Looking over at Mr. Clausen, she added, “But Nolan here doesn’t do too badly.”

  “When will this special occasion take place?” Father asked.

  “In the summer, after I graduate,” Mr. Clausen said. “I’ve accepted a pastorate at a small church on the outskirts of St. Paul.”

  Father sat forward in his easy chair and pressed his fingers to his mouth as though he were thinking.

  “What is it, dear?” Mother asked him.

  “I just had an idea,” Father said. “Mr. Clausen, the Tribune is starting up a new radio station in the city. My editor is allowing me to set it up and get it rolling. I would very much like our station to include the preaching of God’s Word.”

  “That sounds like a wise decision,” Mr. Clausen said. “But why are you telling me?”

  “Because I want you to be the one who does it.”

  “Me?” Mr. Clausen laughed.

  Miss Tilden squeezed his hand. “Why, Nolan, that would be perfect. You’re always saying how you want to tell everyone about the Lord. Now you can!”

  “But on the radio? I don’t know anything about—”

  Father interrupted him. “None of us knows a thing about what we’re doing,” he said with a smile. “We’re all learning together. I’d like to begin with a short sermon,” Father continued. “Say about fifteen minutes, once a week. We’ll see how that works, then we can grow from there. What do you say?”

  “I’d be a fool to turn down that kind of offer, Mr. Ruhle. And I so appreciate the opportunity. Using the radio to spread the Gospel is a smart idea.”

  “My husband is a smart man,” Mother added.

  “We really must be going,” Mr. Clausen said as he stood up. “But we felt we had to come by and say thank you. If it weren’t for Carrie, none of this would have happened. Thank you, Carrie.”

  Carrie felt her face growing warm. “I just wanted Miss Tilden to know that God loves her,” she said. “And for God to drive the dark of doubt away.”

  Miss Tilden stood beside her fiancé. She reached down to cradle Carrie’s face in her hands and kissed her forehead. “God did do just that, Carrie. And it’s wonderful. Just like you said!”

  Father gave Mr. Clausen the telephone number at his office. “Call me, and we’ll set up a time for you to come in and air the show!”

  After their guests left, the family moved to the dining room. Mother was unusually quiet as they ate their supper. At length she said, “Glendon, it seems to me our daughter has showed us up.”

  “I agree with you, Ida.”

  “We’ve been guilty of neglecting the Lord in our own home.”

  “And in our lives,” Father added.

  “I think we should set about to change things. Do you agree?” Mother asked.

  “I certainly do,” Father said.

  Just then, Carrie jumped up and ran to the living room. Grabbing the family Bible from the table, she brought it back and put it by Father’s place.

  “Let’s begin tonight. Right after supper,” she said. Garvey, Carrie, and Violet had just returned to the Simmonses’ house from a Saturday matinee and were playing up in the attic. They’d seen Rosita, starring Mary Pickford, so they were all set to play Spanish dancers.

  “I wish Nate were here to play with us,” Garvey said as he draped a large black cape over his shoulders. “It’s never as much fun without him.”

  “He and Sonny have been coming in later and later at night,” Vi said. “Opal’s terribly worried about him.”

  “He’s been spending more time with Sonny?” Garvey asked.

  Vi nodded. “It’s as though he finally found a way to get Sonny’s attention.”

  “Shh,” Carrie said. “It sounds like the door downstairs.”

  Sure enough, the door at the second-floor entrance opened and closed again.

  “Nate?” Vi called out. “Is that you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.” His voice sounded strange.

  When his head appeared at the stairwell, Carrie, Vi, and Garvey stared at him in disbelief. Nate’s eyes were red as though he’d been crying. Carrie couldn’t imagine Nathaniel Bickerson crying. What would ever make him cry?

  “Nate, old pal,” Garvey said, acting as though nothing were amiss. “You’re here at last. Just in time, too. We have a great game started. We just got back from seeing Rosita, and now we’re ready to play—”

  “I can’t play with you, Garvey,” Nate said, his tone gruff. “There’s something I gotta do.”

  “Then why …?” Garvey started. But Vi waved him quiet.

  She walked over to her brother. “Nate, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve been crying. Are you all right?”

  “I don’t guess I’ll ever be all right again,” he said. He pressed at his eyes with his fingers, but the tears came anyway.

  �
�Does it have to do with Sonny?” Vi asked.

  Nate nodded.

  “And the Klan?” Carrie put in.

  He nodded again. “I felt real special when Sonny first asked me to go to a meeting with him. He’d never paid the least bit of attention to me before. I wanted him to like me. I wanted him to be proud of me.”

  “Oh, Nate,” Vi said, her voice full of compassion.

  “But after I went one time, then he wanted me to go again. And again. Then he paid my dues for me to join the Klan.”

  “You went and joined the Ku Klux Klan?” Garvey asked in disbelief.

  Carrie could hardly believe it herself.

  “I had no choice,” Nate told them. “Sonny said I’d seen too much and heard too much not to join up.”

  “That can’t be true,” Carrie said. But she didn’t really know if it were true or not.

  “Anyway, now I’m in. The meetings are real scary. They talk about doing all kinds of awful things to people. Tonight I gotta do an awful thing. Like an initiation.”

  They were all quiet. Then Vi asked, “What awful thing, Nate?”

  “I have to take a live chicken, cut its throat, and lay it on the Levinskys’ doorstep.”

  Carrie swallowed hard to keep from gagging at the thought.

  “But that’s not all,” Nate added.

  “There’s more than that?” Vi asked.

  “I have to paint the words Death to All Jews on their door with black paint.”

  “You can’t do that,” Vi said. “That’s not the Levinskys’ garage. It belongs to Jonathan Carruthers, and he’s our neighbor.”

  “That’s what I said to Sonny. He just said they should have known better than to hire a Jew in the first place.” Nate heaved a sigh, and his shoulders sagged. “Anyway, if I don’t do it, they say they’ll beat me up. And if I don’t do it, someone else will. Someone who’s not afraid to do it.”

  Garvey stepped closer to his friend. “We need to tell someone, Nate,” he said. “We need help in this.”

  “No one can help me. I’m in too deep.” In his frustration, Nate reached out and gave Garvey a hard shove. As he did, they both got off balance and tumbled down. Nate fell hard against the flat-topped trunk.

  “Clumsy oaf,” he said as he pulled himself up. Then he stopped cold. “Oh my. Look here.”

  They looked at the old trunk. The stubborn, rusty lock had fallen to the floor.

  CHAPTER 17

  Foiled Plan

  Nate reached down to lift the trunk lid, which was finally free. Looking at Carrie, he said, “Here you go, Carrie. You always wondered what was in this thing.”

  He gently lifted out three silk dresses in bright blues and greens. “Just more clothes,” he said in a disappointed tone.

  Vi peered over his shoulder. “No, look. There’s more. I see a candlestick.” She knelt beside him and lifted up the tarnished silver candlestick to show the others.

  “Why, that’s a menorah,” Carrie told them.

  “A what?” Nate asked.

  “I remember,” Vi said. “Dvora told about it when she gave her talk….” Then she stopped and looked at Carrie.

  Carrie came to the trunk and looked inside, as well. “There’s a dreidel,” she said. “The top that Jewish children play with during Hanukkah. And here’s a leather phylactery, which they call a tefillin. It contains verses from scripture, and the men wear it when they pray.”

  Nate’s eyes were wide. “You mean this is a Jew’s stuff? What would a Jew’s stuff be doing in Aunt Oriel’s attic?”

  “I have no idea,” Carrie said. She reached down and took out a small book. “This is the Haggadah, the book for the home Passover service. Dvora has one like this.”

  She opened the cover and saw the inscription written in old-fashioned, flowing penmanship. She read it out loud: “To my little jewel, my delight, my little lioness of Yahweh, my Ariel. Love from Papa Yusef.”

  “Papa Yusef?” Nate was shaking his head. “What is all this?”

  “Look,” said Vi. “Something fell out of the book.” From the floor beside Carrie’s feet, she picked up an old photograph. It was an unmistakable photo of a very young—and very lovely—Oriel Simmons.

  Vi drew in a deep breath. “Why, this is Aunt Oriel. And look how beautiful she was.” Turning it over, she said, “Aunt Oriel’s real name is Ariel, and she’s Jewish!”

  “Then that means …,” Garvey said.

  “That Sonny is Jewish, as well,” Nate finished for him.

  “Why didn’t she ever tell anyone?” Vi asked.

  “It’s getting late,” Carrie said, grabbing the Haggadah and the photo. “Come on.” She headed for the stairway.

  “Where are we going?” Nate demanded.

  “To talk to your Aunt Oriel!”

  “What if she doesn’t want to talk to us?” Vi said as the four of them tramped down the narrow stairs.

  “We’re not asking,” Carrie said. “There’s not enough time to ask.”

  They made a stop in the kitchen to grab Opal then hurried down the hallway to the east wing and knocked on the drawing-room door.

  “What’s this all about?” Opal asked.

  “You’ll see soon,” Nate said.

  When they heard Mrs. Simmons’s answer to the knock, Nate pushed open the sliding mahogany doors. Opal stayed by the doorway as the four friends walked over to where the older woman was sitting in a rocking chair by the window.

  Carrie had no idea how Mrs. Simmons would react to their discovery, but to her surprise, the woman seemed greatly relieved. Her slender hands relaxed into the lap of her black dress.

  “Well, well, at long last,” she said. “After all these years of waiting and hiding. After all these years of shame and regret, it’s finally out.”

  “You mean you really, truly are a Jewish lady?” Nate said with a note of wonderment in his voice.

  “Yes, Nathaniel, I most certainly am. Years ago, when I met your uncle James Simmons back East, even though he was a Gentile, I fell in love with him. Back in those days, there were prejudices against Jews.” Then she added sadly, “There have always been prejudices against the Jews.”

  She gazed out the window as though to collect her thoughts. “When I married a Gentile, my family acted as though I no longer existed. James asked me to come to Minneapolis with him and not tell anyone of my heritage.”

  She cradled the Haggadah and the photo lovingly in her hands. “I even changed my name from Ariel, which is Hebrew for lioness of God.

  “Every Sabbath and every Holy Day,” she continued sadly, “I had to deny myself and my heritage. Although I loved James very much and I loved my children very much, I felt as though I were only half a person.”

  She paused, so Nate explained to her how the lock had been accidentally knocked off the trunk.

  “No, Nathaniel,” his aunt said. “It was no accident. The Lord used this so I could at last be honest about my past.”

  Carrie realized it was getting darker outside. Nate had said if he didn’t do the awful deed to the Levinskys, someone else would. Carrie could barely imagine what kind of shock a bloody chicken on the doorstep would be to poor Dvora.

  “Mrs. Simmons,” Carrie said, “your Jewish neighbors who live next door in the garage apartment are in a great deal of danger tonight.”

  Mrs. Simmons immediately straightened. “The Levinskys? What kind of danger?”

  They left it to Nate to explain the whole mess to his aunt. When he was finished, she gave him a long, hard look. “You are mixed up in all this Klan business?”

  Nate nodded. “I’m so sorry now. I wish I’d never gone to even one meeting with Sonny.”

  His aunt put her hand gently on his shoulder. “My child, you have been so neglected, and it’s all my fault. But things are going to be different now.”

  Looking at Carrie, she said, “Your father is with the newspaper, is he not?”

  Carrie nodded. “Yes, ma’am, he is.”

&n
bsp; “Telephone him immediately and get him over here with a team of reporters.”

  “Right away.” As Carrie ran out the door of the drawing room, she noticed Opal standing there with her eyes wide and her mouth gaping open.

  “Well, I never in all my born days …,” Opal said.

  Just after midnight, a handful of Klan members came to the Levinskys’. They were halfway up the stairs of the apartment, when suddenly a searchlight flooded the place and flashbulbs went off like giant lightning bugs.

  Carrie’s father had rigged up a radio set that amplified his voice. Over the microphone, his voice boomed out: “Klansmen, this is your only warning. Leave these premises now and never set foot on this property ever again, or you will face immediate arrest.”

  At that same moment, Mr. Carruthers stepped out from behind his garage. Beside him stood Dr. Kenneth Constable and Hans Maurer. A dead chicken and a bucket of paint went flying as the startled would-be raiders turned and fled.

  The children had a ringside seat in the turret, where they watched every detail. And Dvora was right with them! They laughed as they saw the white-robed Klansmen running away like frightened white rabbits.

  After things had calmed down some, Dvora said, “I am not surprised by the cruelty of men. I have seen much of that in my life. But never have I seen people come to my aid to stop the cruelty.” Her eyes were filled with tears. “It is too amazing for words.”

  Carrie put her arm about her friend. “It’s all right to cry,” Carrie told her. “We’re all your friends here.”

  Nate couldn’t stop looking at the scene below them. “They’re not so tough, are they?” he said.

  “Not at all,” Garvey said. “But,” he added, “I’m still glad I was up here and not down there.”

  “Me, too,” Nate agreed. “Me, too.”

  CHAPTER 18

  A Time to Part

  What did Sonny say when he learned he was Jewish?” Father asked Carrie at the breakfast table a couple days later.

  “Vi said he was pretty shocked at first.”

  “I would think so,” Mother put in. “Especially after he’d been taught by the Klan to hate them so.”