Edison had the final word.
“Jacob, this is not the time to look a gift horse in the mouth. We know things have been rough for you, but now you need to get off your ass, leave the self-pity behind, and develop a plan of action. Listen, young man, the three of us have been where you are. Now we have our own demons.
“I’ll wire the funds first thing in the morning. You should be able to access them by noon. You can catch a train from the city to Philly. Let us know what the schedule is. Got that?”
Jacob’s voice was a mixture of hope and confusion as he answered yes.
Edison punched off the speaker button and looked at Nancy and Galen.
“Maybe this is our way of exorcizing our demons.”
Nancy looked back at her husband. He really did understand—Galen, too.
They turned out the lights and retired. Tomorrow would be very busy.
As he turned off the bedside table lamp, Edison turned to Nancy.
“Dear, what the hell are shabbos, kasruth, niddah and mikva?”
She grinned. “I’ll tell you in the morning … but only if you’re a good boy. Now, go to sleep.”
The excitement of anticipation, of being needed, of being alive, brought restful sleep to the three.
They drove to Philadelphia to meet Jacob’s train. It was scheduled to arrive at the 30th Street Station at 4:45 p.m. The city’s afternoon rush-hour traffic delayed their arrival until 5:20, so Edison began circling the old station on the west bank of the Schuylkill River, while Nancy and Galen kept watching the departing crowds. As they made a third circuit of the 1930s-style, Greco-Roman building, she called out, “There he is!”
A clean-shaven, short-haired young man dressed in blue jeans and spring-green, flannel shirt stood near the taxi bays tightly holding two suitcases. One was standard traveler’s fabric. The other appeared to be wood, heavily grained and well polished. Jacob’s eyes lit up, as he saw the three in the Subaru four-wheel-drive wagon that had replaced Edison’s minivan.
Galen quickly opened the rear door, and Jacob almost jumped into the vehicle, as Edison sped off, before the local police could ticket him for illegal standing.
“We didn’t recognize you, boy,” Nancy said.
Actually, she was startled by what she saw: fading bruises and facial puffiness that capped more extensive bruising on his arms.
“What happened, Jacob?”
“It’s what I am, what I’m going to be, Tia Nancy.”
“Tell us what happened. Were you in a fight?”
Galen spotted the telltale marks of fist-bruised skin.
“I ran into some skinheads. They didn’t like my long hair and beard. I decided not to fight. You ought to see what their boots did to my back.”
“Have you noticed any blood in…“ Galen started to ask.
Jacob cut him short.
“The emergency room didn’t find any kidney damage, Tio Galen.”
Edison put a classical recording in the CD player, and they drove home to the music of Mozart’s “Nozzi del Figaro.”
The four grew livelier, as they approached the turnoff to the mountain home. Jacob kept moving his head, looking out both sides of the car, his mind reliving those last, fun-filled days with his friends and the old people he now chose to call Tio and Tia.
A spring storm had darkened the skies by the time the car crunched the gravel in front of the house. Light spatters of rain dotted the windshield, as Jacob climbed out, grabbed his two suitcases, and walked toward the familiar, handmade wooden sign. He ran his fingers over the letters, tracing out each of the nine that made up the word SAFEHAVEN.
He remembered how lovingly Faisal would do the same thing each time he visited here. The wetness on Jacob’s cheeks was not from the rain.
“Come on in, boy, don’t let yourself get too wet,” Galen said.
“We’ve fixed up Tonio’s room. It’s yours for the duration,” Edison added.
“Everyone go wash up. I’ll start dinner.”
Nancy seemed more buoyant and interested in life than she had been for days.
Jacob shyly spoke up.
“Tia Nancy, you don’t need to use the special kosher dishes for me. I’m normal now.”
She shot him a look but said nothing.
The old men loosened their belts and stretched in satisfaction at the conclusion of the meal. Jacob ate well, too, but he seemed listless, almost apathetic. Galen knew that feeling. So did Nancy and Edison. How do you play the game of life when it deals you Jokers?
“Jacob, tell us what you’ve been doing. We know you haven’t been in school. Do you still have the DVDs you made of us the last time you were here?”
Nancy watched him, trying to be both observant yet unobtrusive.
“I … I had to sell most of what I had, but I kept my recordings, and your gifts, Tia, before the fit hit the shan…” and here he paused to make sure no one took offense, “I had a special wood case made up for your father’s phylacteries—and the dredels. There are some things I’ll never part with.”
He lowered his watering eyes and barely avoided crying.
“Tomorrow we’ll go into town and get you some clothes and, if the price is right, some new tools of the trade.”
Edison smiled at his own perceived bon mot. The old electronics expert felt rejuvenated by what the friends had begun calling their “Project Jacob.”
Galen piped up.
“What the geezer means is, if you’re meant to be a cinematographer, you need to have a camera. Drawing on your arm won’t work.”
He watched the young man and wasn’t surprised, when Jacob lowered his head to conceal his face.
“Come on, now, I think you need to rest. The four of us will make our battle plans later.”
The friends sat in the living room, the radio set on low as Borodin’s “Polovtsian Dances” played in the background. Galen broke the silence.
“What complicates this whole thing is the religious aspect. It was bad enough when I had to deal with the difference between old- and new-world cultures with my parents—but religion? How many people have died in the name of religious beliefs? Once that enters the picture, there’s no reasoning.”
“It may be the only weapon we have,” Nancy interjected. “I still can’t believe his parents—most likely his father—told him he didn’t belong. I don’t doubt the man’s sincerity, but nowhere in the Jewish faith does it promote what he’s saying or doing to his son. It’s just plain pigheaded!”
Simultaneously Edison and Galen burst out laughing at the incongruity of her last remark.
“Cut it out, you two!”
But even she couldn’t stop joining in, and the men felt glad to see the old Nancy once more.
“We need to question Jacob about everything that led up to this. I think we may have to visit his parents, so we’d better be well prepared.”
Edison said nothing, but he couldn’t help what crossed his mind.
She’s going to try to set another baby bird back on its perch, and this bird’s parents are even more dangerous.
Jacob lay in troubled sleep, twisting and turning, until finally he fell out of bed. The impact on his bruised skin made him yell out in pain. He picked himself off the floor and pulled his shirt over his head. He answered the knock on the door and saw the two old men standing in the doorway.
“Are you okay, boy?”
Edison flinched at the massive purple bruises, outlines of work-boot soles on Jacob’s back, a giant monochrome tattoo of violence.
“I’ll be right back,” Galen said.
Edison sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the victim of bigotry.
“Where’s he going, Tio Edison?”
“Probably went to get his magic little black bag. No doubt the old quack will bring back some concoction made of gopher guts and claim that it has healing powers—though I have to admit that what he prescribes usually works.”
They both laughed quietly, just as Galen return
ed with his cherished, worn, black-leather bag.
“I’m sure Edison has told you that my medical skills stop at leeches and bloodletting, right? Well, see how this feels.”
He pulled out an unlabeled jar, opened it, scooped a gob of off-white cream into his hand, and slopped it on Jacob’s back.
“Yeow!”
The young man shivered, as the icy cream hit his skin. Almost immediately, though, the pain disappeared. He grinned at Galen.
“What is that stuff? How come they didn’t give that to me at the hospital?”
“Didn’t Edison tell you? From the look on your face he probably said it was skunk extract or something just as delectable. Just for that…” and the old doctor turned to Edison, “I’m not going to tell you the secret of this rare and soothing balm devised by the ancients and passed down to their successors.”
“Just like I said, kid, he’s peddling snake oil again.”
Edison got up, opened the dresser drawer, and took out one of Tonio’s tee-shirts.
“Here, put this on. It’ll keep the quack’s goop from getting on Nancy’s clean bed sheets.
“You feel well enough to come to the living room and let us give you the third degree about what happened?”
Jacob sighed—he did feel better.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then get cleaned up. We’ll meet you there.”
The three oldsters sat in a semicircle with Jacob in the center. Nancy fixed her attention on his face—she had to know for sure what the real story was.
“Take it from the top, Jacob. I’m sure your parents loved you, didn’t beat you or starve you. I’m sure they were proud of your scholastic success. Tell us about them.”
“Tia, my father’s great-grandparents, Herschel and Deborah, were diamond and gold merchants, as their ancestors had been for centuries. When they adopted the baby boy who would become my grandfather, they named him Abraham and gave him the family name of Geltmacher. Someday I would like to go back and research who my true ancestors were. I’d also like to find out more about the Geltmacher line.
“Anyway, Abraham was raised Chasidim. When he came of age, the elders introduced him to Sarah Glikberg, another adoptee from the war, also Chasidim. Abraham and Sarah had my father, Isaac. He was introduced to my mother, Rebekah Farber, granddaughter of another adoptee. That’s how I got here.”
He stopped, gazed into some unfathomable distance, and continued.
“All along the way the Chasidim community seemed to steer the adoptees and their children toward other adoptees.”
Galen noted the increasing discomfort in Jacob’s facial expression and body language. He tried to diffuse the young man’s tension with what he thought would be a humorous comment.
“Well, Jacob, if you follow your lineage, you’ll have your choice of two potential mates.”
“Funny you should say that, Tio. I’ve already been introduced to two sisters, one named Leah, the other Rachel. And, yes, they come from an adoptee family.”
“It sounds like you’ve grown up in a very supportive, loving community, Jacob.”
Edison knew what the answer would be, but he had to see if that was part of the young man’s perception of himself.
“On the surface it would seem that way, wouldn’t it? So why do they herd us all toward each other—all the adoptee descendants—like sheep on a breeding farm?”
“Maybe there’s wisdom in that, Jacob.”
Nancy could see an alternative plan here.
“Think about it: Your ancestors—and the others—probably came from the same village in the old country. Marriage and mating were kept within the confines of that social structure. It’s possible the old ones, those who opened their hearts and homes to the victims of the Nazi monsters, wanted to preserve that pattern. But that’s only a guess on my part.”
“You don’t suppose it was a deliberate attempt to segregate us—that we were looked upon as outsiders, unfit to marry within the community, Tia?”
“No, Jacob,” Galen added, “everything you’ve told us says otherwise. Your genetic family was Jewish; your adoptive family was also Jewish. I know there are differences in some of the external practices, but you come from a great heritage, and those who took in your grandparents continued that tradition.”
“Then why did my papa do what he did? I told him and Mama that I loved art—that I loved to capture life as it is and preserve it. That’s what cinematographers do. Someday, I told them, I would trace our family and bring its history to life. But Papa became angry and said I would bring shame on our family by having anything to do with that yetzer hara box.
Galen whispered to Edison, “The TV.”
“He ordered me to go into the family business, because it was tradition—and a son must obey his father’s wishes.”
Galen blanched at those last words. He steadied himself, not allowing Jacob to see the tremor in his hands.
“I don’t think your problem is with Judaism,” Edison interjected.
The young man started to interrupt, but Edison held up his hand.
“Wait, let me finish. It’s so easy for older folks—parents, teachers, whatever—to forget that one of the bittersweet joys of youth is to dream. All young men and women dream of conquering the world with great deeds, righting wrongs, becoming heroes and heroines.”
Edison was surprised by his emotional response. He remembered his own dream and the power structure that shot it down. Then he almost laughed out loud, realizing for the first time that the Powers That Be had not stopped his idea from happening. He had received no credit, but the Internet—his dream child—had become a reality.
“Your problem is with Isaac the man...” and Edison looked directly into Jacob’s eyes, “and with yourself. You are your father and he is you—two identical magnetic poles. It’s natural to have conflict. You’re both afraid of your futures.”
“I don’t understand…”
“Yes you do,” Nancy countered. “Your father is getting older. He sees his mortality coming closer day by day. He wants to be assured that something of him will carry forward, that what he views as part of himself will respect and remember what he was. You are an extension of him. How can he deal with what he considers self-betrayal?”
“You mean…”
“No, I am not saying that you are betraying him. Remember, he was young once and had his own dreams. Who knows what he would have done, if he hadn’t entered the family business.”
Jacob nodded.
“Papa is a fine violinist. He and Mama play violin-piano duets together. I even studied it for awhile, but I’m not nearly as good as he is.”
“The artistic soul resides well within your family, Jacob,” Galen said. “The job facing the four of us is to remind your father of his dreams. Only then will he accept the possibility of yours.”
“That’s enough for tonight,” Nancy chimed in. “Tomorrow you three men can go shopping. You know how I hate to shop.”
She tried to hide her grin.
The two old men laughed.
Galen lay in bed, staring at the wall. Was it all that simple? Why couldn’t he have seen this back then? His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door.
“Come in, whoever it is.”
The door opened slowly, and Jacob entered, wearing Tonio’s spare pajamas and robe.
“Tio Galen, I’m sorry to disturb you but … I wonder if, before we went into town … could we visit the Garden of Remembrance? I never had a chance to do so when Betty died, and I’d like to do it while I’m here, for Tonio’s sake as well as my own.”
Galen nodded. He, too, needed that visit.
Morning broke with the unique crisp, cool clarity of a mountain spring day. The four had delayed breakfast, until they could trudge down the mountain trail at dawn, their steps accompanied by the chirping of nestling birds seeking sustenance from their parents.
“Here we are, Jacob.”
Edison indicated the small clearing,
where only the early daffodils were in bloom, their white petals bonnet-like around their central cones.
Jacob carried the sandalwood case. He took off his coat, spread it on the ground, and set the case on top of it. He carefully opened the case and placed one of the tefillin on his left arm, the other on his head. He unfolded the time-worn tallit and carefully draped his shoulders. The tzizilts moved in time with the early morning breeze, tassels of belief in God’s wisdom.
Nancy, Edison, and Galen watched the young man step forward and recite the Kaddish, the ancient prayer of mourning.
“Yisgadal yiskadash sh’may rabo…”
Glorified and sanctified be God’s great name throughout the world, which He has created according to His will.
The three knew that Jacob had found himself.
It was a long drive by car for the old friends—a long time since any of them had ventured to New York. They had discussed many options for travel, but considering what Nancy had in mind, Edison’s Subaru seemed the most practical. And, given the length of the trip, Edison even allowed Galen to share in the driving. He often said it was “white-knuckle travel” when Galen took the wheel.
“You realize, young man, that this car stops for all bathroom breaks. It is one of the joys of surviving as long as we have. The bathroom is a holy shrine for the three of us,” Edison solemnly intoned.
Galen and Nancy completed the doxology.
“Praise be the bathroom. Amen!”
Jacob tried relieving his nervous tension by joking, “Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”
The trio smiled in recognition.
As they approached their destination, Edison and Nancy thanked the Fates for their escape from metropolitan New York twenty years ago. Neither had thought the area could get more congested, but during their absence the area had seen an astounding growth in buildings and traffic.
It was Sunday. The Shabbat restrictions had ended in the residential neighborhood of old brownstones, where Jacob’s parents lived. With his knowledge of the area, they were able to find parking just a short distance away.
The Legend of Safehaven Page 18