A Defining Moment For Lennie's Parents

"So you like working with the fellas, huh?!" the red-faced, burly young man sneered as he forced young Sara into the alley, her arm twisted painfully behind her back. "Well, you're gonna work with me now!"

Oh, Lord God, please don't let this man hurt me!

But her ordeal commenced. Turning her around, the man pushed her hard and fast with both hands. She landed on the damp and littered pavement and began screaming wildly. Then her captor pounced on her savagely, pinning her down with his knees. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a small knife and touched the point to her throat.

"Yeah, it's sharp," he smirked as her screams abrupt ceased. "One more yell an' you won't be able t' say nothin' t' nobody."

"P-please, Sully," she begged, "I just want to help my mother---she's sick and---"

"So you should have gone to the stinkin' sweatshop where a girl belongs and not takin' a man's wages away from him!" he screamed so close to her face she could smell the whisky.

"But-but I'm making less than a man does," she said timidly. "I even agreed to work for free the first week as a trial."

"And you've been stealing thunder ever since, you whore!"

"But I'm not a---"

"Oh, but you will be after I'm done," he interrupted with a sinister smirk. "Whores got no maidenhead." He undid his trousers.

Sara began to weep. "Holy Mother, please protect me now!"

"Shut up! Even the Virgin Mary knew her place, an' I'm gonna put you in yours real good." Sully tore her shirt open and forced up her bra.

As his hands kneaded her breasts painfully, she sobbed in anguish. All she wanted to do was earn enough money to pay for Mama's medical bills. Her only desire was to allow her brother to marry his fiancé before he would be drafted. Her simple goal was to provide the household with the necessary second income. It was an act of love and duty as a daughter, a sister and a good Catholic. Why did this man so hate her for it?

"Whoops!" Sully laughed sarcastically as wet, sticky liquid jetted onto her exposed belly. "Look what you made me do!" He waited until the outpouring stopped, and then he rose to his feet.

"Get up!" he commanded. "Go to the back of the ally."

"Why, Sully?" she asked brokenly. She looked down at her exposed and soiled torso in shame and moral agony. "Haven't you done enough to me?!"

"No, you job-stealin' hussy!" He pointed to wall at the end of the alley. "You're gonna go down there, and let me get myself inside of ya'!" He grabbed her arm and put the knife against her throat. "Go!"

Crying loudly, Sara turned and walked dejectedly. Her feet felt heavier with each step. She could barely keep her body upright. If it weren't for Sully's unyielding grip, she would have fallen out of sheer defeat.

"Now," he said coldly when they reached the wall, "take off you pants! Should have stayed in a skirt like a good girl."

But I can't commit a mortal sin.

"Take off your pants!" Sully repeated sharply.

Dear Lord, give me courage.

"No." Her voice was almost a whisper, but it held conviction.

"What did you say?!" He spoke through clenched teeth.

"No, Sully, no! I won't commit a sin! You can sin against God and me, but I won't commit a mortal siiinnn!" She closed her eyes and leaned forward against the brick, expecting the blade against her throat again.

"Hey Sully."

"Jew Boy---?!"

Hearing sounds of scuffling and punches, Sara turned around and gasped. He was there. He had been the only helpful coworker at the meat packing plant during her first week. He had given her a seat beside him at lunchtime and during breaks. He had silenced the hecklers whenever she had made a mistake. He had advised her how to improve her performance. He had encouraged her to stay on. He had congratulated her when she had earned a permanent paying position. And now he was saving her from the worse abject humiliation that a girl could face.

"And for the last time, my name is not 'Jew-Boy,' or 'Christ-Killer,' it's Jacob Briscoe!! Do---you---understand?! Huh?!" He punctuated the last four words with kicks to the ribs of his fallen foe.

After receiving a nod from the groaning coward, he turned his attention to Sara's needs. He rushed to her, and seeing that she was clutching her shirt closed, offered his own garment. A few minutes later, they exited the alley together, his arms protectively around her.

"I'm going to get you to the Sisters of Mercy Convent," he declared, "so you can get fixed up. They'll see that you get home safe."

"But, Jake, can't you stay and wait for me? I don't mind you walking me home." She looked up at his deep-set eyes.

He gave a lopsided smirk and raised a brushy eyebrow. "Sara, do you know how many people have guessed that I'm Jewish? I don't wanna cause any problems…"

"But, Jake, it won't be a problem because you saved me." She stopped to lock her blue-grey eyes with his brown ones. "Jacob, you're my hero."

Kenny Briscoe blinked, trying to digest what his grandmother had just told him. Someone had attacked her??? Back in the "good old days"??? And Grandpa had rescued her by kicking the crap out of the perp??? Well, actually, that he could believe. When he was little he had overheard bits about the old man's younger days during the Depression and World War II. Furthermore, one expected no less from a man who was secretly in love with his coworker. But, the rest…

"M-man, Grandma, I, I don't know what to say," he managed finally.

"Neither did your Uncle Lennie," she said, smiling.

"He knows? When did you tell him?"

"When he told me about the first rape suspect he caught," she said, pride still in her voice. "And when your father told me about you joining this Special Victims Unit, I decided it was time for you to know, Kenny."

"Does Dad know?"

"No. This is something between you, your uncle, your grandfather, and the priest who counseled me when I asked him about marrying a Jewish man." Then she sobered and took his hand, moving closer to him on the couch.

"Your grandfather was not always an easy man to live with," she told him solemnly, "but that day he showed a part of him that I will love long past my death. That part of him is in your Uncle Lennie. And I know now that it's in you. I'm so proud of you, Kenny." She kissed him, misty-eyed.

"Hey!"

They both looked up as Lennie walked in, his grandniece on his back. "Both picnic tables are loaded, and the places are all set. The only stuffs that's missing is you."

"Yeah, Grandy-Ma! Come on, Uncle Kenny!" squealed the girl.

Laughing, grandmother and grandson rose and followed the duo to the backyard banquet.