The maid brought in bread, berry marmalade, and tea. Batya ate it slowly, trying to fill her time. The marmalade’s sweetness reminded her of the chocolate Moskowitz had given her, and she regretted having gobbled it down immediately. The next time he gave her chocolate, she would savor it slowly, in small measures.

She looked at the ring on her finger, and her heart sang at the promise of a sparkling future for her family. Betrothed. I am betrothed.

She picked up her doll, imagining that one day she would care for a baby, or many more. Hopefully, five or six babies would be healthy enough to live to adulthood in the magical city of Buenos Aires.

“The first thing I’ll do in Buenos Aires is plant a tree,” she whispered to the doll. “A tree that will have a strong trunk and grow high and bear all the fruits of the Garden of Eden for my family and my children.” Carrying the doll around the cabin, Batya showed it the beauty of the molding and the furniture, and pretended to feed it the good food she’d been served. “In our new home, in Buenos Aires,” she told it, “the streets are laid with gold, and the sun shines so bright that it turns fruit orange.”

Batya caught sight of herself in the mirror. What was she doing playing with a doll? She was a betrothed woman. She dropped the tied pillowcase on the bed and faced the mirror. There had been a small mirror in Miriam’s home, and the two of them used to make faces into it, pulling their eyes wide, flattening their noses, and sticking out their tongues. If only Miriam were here with her now to idle the many hours away. But Miriam was dead. Dead.

Batya hoisted herself on the bed again and watched through the porthole until darkness fell.

At the sound of a knock on the door, she opened it, and a uniformed steward came in to turn a knob on a light fixture that didn’t smell of kerosene. After he left, Batya pulled the chair to sit underneath the light and twisted her ring so the diamond sparkled in the yellow glow. What had her sisters felt before marriage? Neither had time for a ring or to prepare for a proper wedding. Each courtship had been secretive, and if one sister had confided in another, Batya was out of their whispering circle. Both Keyla and Hedi had fallen in love and, unlike her, had been eager to spend time with the man she had chosen.

She wished her mother and sisters were here to assure her, to guide her in the secrets of marriage. Her mother couldn’t have loved her father before they had met for the first time under their chuppah. Their mutual fondness had surely happened later. Batya hoped that she, too, would learn to feel that fondness for her husband.