With thanks to my good friend Rebecca.
While the others were mildly interested, only Faith seemed truly intrigued by Marilla's letters. Every day as they cleaned, she took herself back up to the bedroom to read another snippet. One in particular took her aback, Shalom Marilla. Faith leant back against the chair when she read those words. Was it possible? Could this man be?
What's the first thing you noticed about me?" He asked her one morning.
Marilla shifted slightly to avoid the light streaming through the crack in the curtain. "Your boots," she replied sleepily.
They were nice boots. Rich chestnut leather, highly polished with neat stitching at the side, a spray of dust offsetting their lustre. Marilla had occasion to study them intently since they were located mere inches from her face.
They had an inauspicious start, to be sure. She'd been to town to pick up a few groceries kidding herself that she ought to check the mail also. Not that anyone ever wrote. Still, just in case she'd come in, perhaps feeling the constraints of the farm. Their solitude did creep up on her from time to time and though she pretended she abhorred crowds; it was good to get out occasionally.
It wasn't that she was unused to walking in town as such, but something, the uneven pavement or another impediment conspired to send her sprawling. Her shopping flew out of her basket and her skirts wound up around her waist. She lay there winded for a long moment and finally noticed a pair of boots on the ground inches from her face. In her dazed state they were all she could take in for a moment. Not too shabby, she thought, despite the dust. Not surprising she thought inconsequentially, considering how dry it's been.
A voice came to her then, deep she thought, kindly. A slight accent she couldn't place. I wonder who's been hurt. He sounds very concerned. A gentle tap on her shoulder startled her and she jumped. "… alright Madam? Are you quite well? Let me help you there." It took a few goes but eventually Marilla came to understand that it was she this nice voice was addressing. She blinked a few times getting her bearings; feeling the light was too bright. "Here let me give you a hand." Strong arms lifted Marilla to sitting. "You stay there for a moment; I'll just gather your things. You took quite a tumble. No wonder you're stunned," he chattered on for a moment letting her get her bearings. She was too dazed to feel much embarrassment. That would come later.
When he got her to standing, she swayed a little and reached out to regain her balance. "Here I have you," he said. "Now, I think it's time we were introduced. Gideon Hoffer at your service," he announced with a little bow.
"Marilla Cuthbert," she replied taking his proffered hand but hanging on it more tightly that she meant.
"Do you live far?" he asked.
"A little ride away, I am sure I shall be fine," she replied unwilling to show how shaken she still felt.
"In that case I think a restorative drink is in order. Let me." He led her along the pavement, supporting her by the elbow and carrying her basket in his other hand.
Still somewhat shaky Marilla let herself be led along, gratefully sitting down at a table in one of the finer establishments, one she rarely frequented. "Do you mind?" Mr Hoffer asked before he ordered afternoon tea for them both. Marilla was still so disoriented she could barely offer any hesitation. Mr Hoffer was quiet once he had ordered for which Marilla gave thanks. She was embarrassed, feeling unable to think of anything to say to her saviour. Instead, she spent a few moments studying his appearance. Tall and handsome with long dark hair tending to silver at the temples and a luxurious moustache.
"Do you come to town often?" Mr Hoffer enquired to break the ice as much as anything.
"Not as often as I ought, I suppose. I live a little way out of town. I'm not much for crowds. Are you?"
Mr Hoffer smiled, "Have to be in my line of work. I'm a travelling salesman. Must give speeches to sell my wares." Marilla grimaced. "I suppose it's not the sort of thing most people are comfortable with, but I like to make a bit of a show of it." The tea arrived and he offered to play mother sensing that his companion might still be a bit shaky. He took the liberty of liberally sugaring her tea, saying, "might help steady you."
Marilla nodded still feeling rather out of sorts. "I must apologise," she started.
"What? For tripping over? Goodness me no. I've seen plenty of people come a cropper in just that very spot. It's a public disgrace, that's what it is. I've half a mind to write to the city fathers. Ought to be fixed. You did nothing wrong Mrs Cuthbert."
"Miss."
He stopped mid flow, "I beg your pardon?"
"It's Miss Cuthbert, not Mrs."
"I do beg your pardon Miss Cuthbert, I assumed…"
"Yes, people always do. And I know some women my age would let it go, but I like to give things their proper names. Since I never married, I don't deserve to be called Mrs. I live with my brother, not my husband," she said somewhat haughtily as if defying him to judge her.
Mr Hoffer sipped his tea gingerly before replying, "to my mind it's not a matter of deserving. So what if you never married, doesn't make you less of a person."
Marilla found herself warming to this Mr Hoffer. She looked around nervously, but thankfully the café was full of strangers.
Mr Hoffer noticed, "are you feeling more yourself?"
"It's just I don't often take tea with strange gentlemen; my neighbours would talk. I'd never hear the end of it."
Mr Hoffer laughed, "well we ought to give them something to really talk about. Cake?"
Marilla took one from the plate and nibbled on it, not wanting to seem gluttonous, though in truth she was quite hungry and found the pastry helpful in settling her nerves. She listened to him talk noticing as he did so that his eyes never diverted from her face. Ordinarily folks' eyes would roam around as though there might be a better conversation on offer elsewhere, but this Mr Hoffer did not, she felt she had his rapt attention.
Her tea finished and what was left in the pot quite cool, she started to gather her things. "Going already?" Mr Hoffer asked.
"Yes, well I should be getting back." Marilla got to her feet and swayed once more. Upset that her body was betraying her she sat back down suddenly.
"Hm, well I do agree that you had better get on home, but I don't think you should go on your own. How about I escort you? Did you drive here?"
"The buggy is down the road a ways," Marilla said, wondering how she would ever get to it in her current state.
"Mine is not far. I propose we travel together. I'll hitch your horse to my carriage and drive you home."
"Oh no, it's far too far away. I'll be fine."
"All the more reason to rescue this fine damsel. I would never rest not knowing what happened to you if I did not provide assistance. Put me out of my future misery, Miss Cuthbert."
They shared the bill, and he took her arm to lead her out of the café. His carriage was parked a little way down the road. She stared at it curiously for the sides were made of a succession of drawers. Once on the seat they drove to find her own buggy and she waited until he tied her horse to the back of his carriage. "Now, which way?" he enquired.
As they drove, he told her about his life. As it turned out he was a travelling salesman. "I have come here from the Netherlands," he explained. "My people have been persecuted in Europe, so we come here to seek our fortune. I can't say it's been easy, but at least there are no pogroms." Marilla listened curiously, having little idea of what he spoke but enjoying the way he said it all the same. He told her that he was a travelling salesman. "I sell trinkets, homewares, bolts of material, clothing, that sort of thing. It takes me up and down the island in a ceaseless dance. Ach it's not a bad life. I meet all sorts." It sounded lonely to Marilla who liked her creature comforts.
They chatted as the country passed and eventually, they found themselves at the Green Gables gate. "I cannot express my gratitude Mr Hoffer," Marilla said as he unhitched her horse. And then on the spur of the moment she added, "it's getting late, do you need a room for the night?"
His smile lit up his face. "That would be marvellous Miss Cuthbert. I never pass up the opportunity for a comfortable bed."
"You have a lovely home," he said when he entered.
"Oh, it's not much, but it does for us."
"You and your brother?"
"Matthew, yes. He'll be in directly. He'll be surprised to have a guest. We don't get too many as a rule."
Mr Hoffer smiled and followed her to his room, noticing that it smelt fresh despite its lack of use. His new friend was a consummate housekeeper and he felt immediately that she was trustworthy.
When he returned to the kitchen, he paused unsure of where to be. "Come in," Marilla said. "Make yourself at home, we usually sit here in the kitchen until we go into dinner. Can I fetch you some water?"
"My thanks, Miss Cuthbert. I really wanted to know what I could do to help, after all I am imposing on your good will by staying."
"It's not an imposition, after all you did save me up at town. If you'll just keep me company while I work that's plenty." Gideon nodded, understanding that every woman had her way of moving around her kitchen and that his assistance might not be welcome. He sat down and gazed around the room. It may not have been the most palatial that he had been in, but it had a warmth that was unmistakable.
Marilla turned when she heard the door open. "Matthew," she said. "You'll have seen that we have a visitor." Between them they explained the method of their meeting and Matthew stepped forward to shake Mr Hoffer's hand and thank him for rescuing his sister.
Marilla placed down the dinner she had prepared, announcing that it was "salt pork." At that Mr Hoffer blanched.
"My most profuse apologies," he said. "I cannot eat pork." Marilla was momentarily put out. Most guests would at least try her meat, if only out of politeness. "I am sorry," Mr Hoffer explained. "But pig is not kosher."
Marilla was hearing many new words today and here was yet another one. "Kosher?"
"I mean it is against my religion to eat of the pig. Don't mind me. I'll just eat your fine-looking vegetables. Is that potato? I do like a good potato."
'No, no," Marilla was dismayed by her initial reaction, it was unconscionable that a guest of hers would have no meat with his dinner. "I do believe I have a small piece of beef left over, though I warn you it won't be warm. Would that suffice?"
"That sounds delightful, though in truth I am perfectly happy with these delicious looking vegetables. It's a feast as far as I'm concerned." But Marilla was already on her feet set to rummage around in the cellar.
Over dinner he explained the importance of keeping kosher. My people are persecuted so it is important to keep up our traditions. The Cuthberts nodded, it had never occurred to them that their way of keeping faith might be maligned.
When they had finished the meal Mr Hoffer got to his feet saying, "let me," as he leant over to pick up the empty plates.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly; you're a guest."
"I insist. Consider it payment for a delicious dinner and board."
Marilla laughed, "you must wash a lot of dishes. How about you dry while I wash?"
"That sounds perfect."
Afterwards, they joined Matthew in the parlour. He offered Mr Hoffer some pipe tobacco and together the men puffed away creating quite a smoke haze. Though Marilla always said she hated it, even she had to admit she rather enjoyed the spicy aroma. After yet another massive yawn Gideon announced that he had better go to bed. "I must say a night in a proper bed is a real treat for me Miss Cuthbert."
"Sleep well then, Mr Hoffer."
Walking down the stairs that first morning, straightening his tie as he went Gideon was struck by an absence. How many times had he explained his position regarding pig meat only to have the housewife prepare him bacon for breakfast? Then he had to explain the problem with it as well, leading to awkward moments as she prevaricated over what else to serve him. But none of that now, for he could smell bread toasting and porridge. Could it be, was it possible that Miss Cuthbert understood?
After a hearty breakfast Gideon wandered down to the barn where he found Matthew bent over a cow. He nodded and grunted in a friendly manner unsure of what to say.
"Do you mind if I spread my wares out?" Mr Hoffer asked. "Got caught out in that storm the other day. Just want to check my stock. Some items might need an airing."
Matthew grunting his affirmation and pretended to bust himself with the milking keeping a watchful eye on his guest as he methodically unpacked his cart. Amazing he thought after some time, as item after item was recently brought out, just how much stuff could be packed away. In the end he approached and offered to help.
Most of it was fine, thankfully but there was the odd compartment where the water had infiltrated and where the items were as a result damp. Mr Hoffer tsked over a few. But Matthew reassured him that Marilla would be more than willing to help. "Just give them to her, she'll wash them for ya."
"Most kind of her, but I don't want to impose."
"It's not an imposition, really she'll be happy to do it."
"Might keep me here a little longer, if you're agreeable."
"Nice to have a visitor. Bit isolated up here. Think Marilla enjoyed the company." Matthew had done too, of course, but it wasn't in his nature to admit to it.
As Matthew expected Marilla was perfectly happy to wash Mr Hoffer's things and even happier when he offered to help her hang out the washing on the line.
"Do you mind?" he said when he came back down after freshening up that evening. "If I say my prayers before dinner?"
Marilla was delighted, "you're welcome to say grace with us."
Mr Hoffer smiled, "thank you, but these are different prayers. It's Saturday so it's my Shabbat."
"Shab-bat?" replied Marilla, never having heard the word before.
"Yes, the Jewish holy day," Mr Hoffer replied. "I like to say my thanks to God when I get a chance. It's not always easy when I'm camped by the road, so I try to do it when I can."
"By all means," replied Marilla, quite confused and curious.
Mr Hoffer is just about to say his prayers," Marilla explained when Matthew came in. "Go and wash up."
Never had Matthew completed his toilette so promptly, but he was curious to see how a man prayed and to hear what he had to say about the world. When he returned their guest was lighting a candle. Marilla motioned to him to sit down, and they watched spellbound as Mr Hoffer now wearing a small hat on the very back of his head, lit some candles and sang in a foreign language for some time. It was quite mesmerising. When he was done, he smiled and thanked them for allowing him to complete the process. "It means a great deal to me," he said.
"Our pleasure," said Marilla. "Religion is important to us as well."
Mr Hoffer cleared his things, setting the candles at the end of the table. True to form Marilla placed a bowl of beef stew before him and he sniffed in the aroma of the fine food before taking up his spoon. Over dinner he explained what he had said in his prayers and the Cuthberts listened raptly mentioning how their different religions overlapped or differed. They found out that they had more in common with Judaism than they had expected.
Marilla was almost sorry to say farewell when Mr Hoffer climbed back into his carriage the following day. She waved goodbye and watched as he drove out of the gate and down the road. The house seemed quieter than usual without his gentle presence in it.
That Friday she found herself with an idle moment. Walking to the parlour desk she opened it and took out a piece of paper. Mr Hoffer had explained that his family wrote when they could. He often went to local post offices to see if he had received any mail. Taking out her pen she dipped it in the ink, paused for a moment then wrote, Shabbat shalom…
