“How are you?”
“Not so good, Elan. Papa had an accident.”
“What kind of accident?” Elan sat up in his bed.
“Well, Papa was driving the truck. He was going to pick up oranges. It was a long ride. If he had called me, I would have gone for him. But he didn’t call me.”
“So? Where is he? Is he all right? Talk Aryeh . . . Tell me . . .”
“He fell asleep at the wheel, Elan. He’s dead.”
“Oh MY GOD . . .” Elan said, his hand trembling as he held the receiver.
“You have to come home for the shivah. Mama needs you.”
“I’ll be there,” Elan said.
Elan hung up the phone, his mind still hazy from the alcohol. Then, without folding his clothes, he threw all of his things into his backpack, got into the car, and began driving toward his parent’s home. He stopped a few miles down the road and got a cup of black coffee and a glass of ice water. He drank the coffee quickly although it burned his tongue. Then he poured the water over his head. His hair and his shirt were soaked, and it was cold outside, mid-January. But, at least he was awake and alert. Now he could go home.
Chapter 88
Elan stood at the gravesite, holding his mother’s arm. The way that she swayed in the wind, it felt as if she wanted to fall into the grave beside his father.
They returned to the house where Elan and Aryeh had grown up. Outside the neighbors had left a bottle of water and a box of paper napkins. It was a tradition that when Jewish people returned from a funeral at the cemetery, they poured the water over their hands before entering the house. This is what they did.
Inside the house, all of the mirrors had been covered and the immediate family removed their shoes. The Amsels were in mourning, and this was the shivah period. During the shivah, which would last for the next seven days, all of their friends and relatives would come to the house bringing food, to pay their respects. And, before the visitors departed, they would eat something sweet so as not to take the bitterness of death with them when they left. Traditions.
For seven days Elan sat on one side of his mother, while his sister, his brother, and Brenda sat on the other as people came and went. Brenda looked as if she might go into labor at any given moment. Some of the visitors tried to distract Elan’s mother with good memories of his father, others just offered condolences. On the seventh day, after everyone had gone, Elan’s mother poured herself a cup of coffee and came to sit down between her sons.
“Elan, I would like to talk to you,” she said. He looked at her. His mother, always so strong, so in control, now looked weak and lost.
“Yes, mother?”
“I want you to take over your father’s business. It would be good for you. Aryeh is working as an accountant. He is doing well and he should not change jobs. But I think this would be good for you.”
“No, mother, I don’t want to spend my life like a fool, working at a fruit stand in the market,” Elan said.
His mother’s eyes, already red from crying, flashed with anger. She slapped him hard across the face. “It was good enough for your father. What makes you so high and mighty?”
“I’m sorry, mother. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“There is no way to mean it. You will come home and stay here with me until you get on your feet. And you will take over your father’s business.”
This was a twofold operation on her part, Elan thought. His mother was worried about him. She knew he had no direction and she was trying to straighten him out. But, at the same time, she needed him to support her. She needed him to work the business. He didn’t want this, but how could he leave her alone without anyone to help her. She could never lift the boxes of produce herself. If he left, she would have to try and sell the business. And then what? If she moved in with Aryeh and Brenda their marriage would suffer greatly. He knew how demanding his mother could be, and two women in one household? Not a good situation at all. So, what other choice did he have?
“All right mother. I’ll do it.”
“Don’t look so pained, Elan. It’s not a bad business. You’ll earn a living and make some friends, too.”
“Yes, mother . . .” he said. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
While they were sitting shivah, the boys had each slept in the rooms where they slept as children. Tonight, Aryeh and Brenda left to go home.
Elan went to his room and took off his clothes. His life had not turned out the way he’d planned.
Chapter 89
At first Elan hated working at the busy market on Ben Yehuda Street. Around every corner and down every aisle, buyers and sellers bargained for everything, from jewelry to spices. The noise level took some getting used to, and most days ended with Elan closing his stand to return home, his head pounding with a terrific headache.
But, as the weeks went by, Elan made friends with the owners of the neighboring stands. He got used to Amand, the jeweler, calling out to the tourists walking by. "I have the finest gold. My gold is 24-karat. Look, come on, just take a look."
Or the old man who came every Wednesday morning to buy his food for the week. “I’ll give you fifty shekels for those olives,” the old man could be heard saying to the vendors.
“Fifty shekels? That’s not even enough for half of this. Look at the size of the bottle.”
“Fifty-five shekels and that’s my final offer.”
“Sixty. Sixty shekels. Look at these olives. Beautiful, beautiful I tell you.”
“Done.”
And the sale was made.
His friend Gad often brought him pita stuffed with falafel, and in exchange Elan gave him apples, ripe persimmons, and lettuce.
Elan was too tired to go out at night, and he didn’t drink nearly as much as he had before his father’s death. The market forced him to be awake at 4:00 a.m. in order to set up, and so he was usually in bed by nine.
Work consumed him, and he was glad that he had very little time to think or to reminisce. Still, when he saw a girl with long golden curls walking through the stalls in the marketplace, his heart ached for a moment with the memory.
Brenda gave birth to a little girl three weeks after the Shiva ended. Elan was there with
Aryeh to celebrate.
And so it was that the years crawled by. Elan’s mother grew older and more dependent upon him. Without her husband, she was lost. She leaned on her son for everything. Elan didn’t care. He wasn’t looking for a wife, or a life of his own. He’d given up. It had been a long while since his breakup with Katja and he’d decided that he was done with women. Meanwhile, Elan’s relationship with his brother grew stronger. He became a wonderful uncle to his niece, bringing clever gifts for her birthday and Hanukah. It began to seem as if Elan would grow old as a lonely bachelor.
But . . . then, it happened.
On a day like any other, Elan was sitting at his stall in the market, waiting for customers to arrive. He was eating an apple. “Do you want an apple?” he asked Gad, who was just across the aisle.
“Yeah, sure,” Gad said.
Elan tossed him a shiny, red apple.
It was then that a petite young woman with long, straight hair the color of red clay, walked up and began bargaining with Gad for a silver necklace. The fire-haired woman was accompanied by a girlfriend with short, curly brown hair. He watched them. The little one had spunk. He laughed to himself.
“You would think it was diamonds instead of silver and opals,” she said, tossing her red hair just as a ray of sunlight fell upon it, making it look like a flame. “I’ll give you two hundred shekels. That’s it, that’s all it’s worth.”
She was American. Even though she spoke Hebrew, he could hear it in her accent.
“Two hundred shekels? I’d give it away first,” Gad said.
“Then give it away. See if I care. There are plenty of other sellers here,” the little redhead said. Her curly-haired friend had gone a few feet away to look at some cloth handbags.
<
br /> “Gad . . . come on . . . give it to her for two hundred; she’s a friend of mine,” Elan called to Gad.
“You know her, Elan?”
“Yeah, I know her.”
“All right, then. You’re a friend of Elan’s? For you . . . 200 shekels, it is.”
After she made the purchase, the redhead came over to Elan’s stand.
“Hey, thanks,” she said.
“Of course,” Elan smiled. “I’m Elan.” She was not beautiful, but she had a warm smile and a cute sprinkle of freckles across her nose.
“I’m Janice, and that’s my friend, Bonnie.” The girl pointed to her friend, who was a few stalls away, deciding on which handbag to purchase.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Same here.”
“So you are visiting Israel?” Elan said.
“Yes, Bonnie and I are staying on a kibbutz.”
“Ahhh, so you are our Jewish-American cousins. May I ask how you like Israel so far?”
“I love it. I’ve only been here a few weeks, but it’s a wonderful country. When I told my friends I was coming they said that when I got off the plane I would feel like kissing the ground because this is the Jewish homeland.”
“And did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Kiss the ground?"
“Well, no, but I did feel at home.” She smiled.
“I’m glad. Welcome to our home.” He smiled
“Listen, I owe you for helping me with that negotiation over there. How about if I take you to lunch?” she said. She was so open, so American. He had never known a woman to be so forward. The boldness made him smile.
“Well, I never leave my stand for lunch. But how about if I take you to dinner?” he said, surprising himself. Elan had not been out with another woman since his break up with Katja.
“I’d love that,” she said, picking up one of the apples on his stand and taking a bite.
Gosh, she was bold. But he liked it.
“Good. Where can I pick you up?” Elan asked.
“I’ll meet you here at the market. What time do you finish?” she asked.
“Five,” he said.
“I’ll be here at five-thirty. How is that?”
“I look forward to it.”
Chapter 90
Elan and Janice went to a small café a few miles from the market, inside of the old city. She asked a million questions about the menu. Elan finally suggested that he order for the two of them. Janice laughed, and then she agreed. "You can order for me this time, but I’ll study more about the food here and next time I’ll be able to order for you.”
Elan laughed.
They sat for several hours at an outside table, under an umbrella, with a candle illuminating the night.
“So you were born here in Israel?” Janice asked.
“Yes, I’m Sephardic. This country means everything to me,” he said.
“I have noticed that all of the Israeli’s I meet seem to feel that way.”
“It’s because we have to fight constantly to keep this little piece of land.”
“You know, in America, when you meet someone, you never talk about America. But in Israel, when you meet someone, it seems that Israel is the first thing that you talk about.”
“This country is different than any other place in the world. It was built on the blood of our people,” Elan said.
She nodded. He watched her, wondering if she realized how serious he was about that statement.
“So tell me more about you . . . what do you like to do?”
“I love American music. I love comedians. Have you heard Menachem Zilberman, the comedian? He’s on the radio all the time.”
“Yes, I love him. He’s hilarious.”
“You can understand him?”
“Most of it, yes,” she said. “My Hebrew is not too bad.”
“He does a live show in Tel Aviv. We should go sometime,” he said.
“I would love to.”
“So tell me a little about you, Janice.”
“I live in a primarily Jewish suburb of Chicago, which is a big city. I love to paint, and someday I want to be a famous artist. Like Dali.”
“Have you done any paintings since you’ve been here?”
“Not yet. But I know I will. It’s so beautiful here that I can’t help but be inspired.”
“Yes, it is beautiful,” he said. “Do you have any siblings?”
“A sister, and a dog, who is like another sister.”
He smiled.
“You want to see a picture of my dog?” Janice said, taking a picture out of her wallet of a beautiful golden retriever. It was sitting beside a young girl who had hair the same color as Janice’s.
“She’s pretty.”
“Who, my sister or the dog?”
He laughed. “Both.
“So what about you? Do your parents live near here?” she asked.
“My father passed away, and I’ve been living with my mother. She needs me to support her and she’s getting old. I wouldn’t want to leave her alone. She could fall or something else could happen. Losing my father was very hard on her. She depended on him for everything.”
“That must be tough. I mean you’re still young and I’m sure you go out all the time,” Janice said.
“No, not really. Believe it or not, this is the first date I have been on in years,” he said.
“Because of your mother?”
“No, I had a bad break-up. It happened before my father passed away.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
He shook his head, “No, I’d rather not. It’s in the past.”
“I had a bad break-up, too. I’d been dating this boy for two years and one day he just said that he met someone else.”
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Eighteen.”
“Do you know how old I am?”
“No idea.” She shrugged.
“Let’s just say that I’m closer to thirty than I am to twenty. Do you think I’m too old for you?”
“Not at all. You’re older and more mature than the boys I knew at home in the states.”
He smiled. “I have an idea. Let’s both forget the past. We can start fresh from today. I’d like to make a toast to the future.” He poured them each a glass of wine and they clinked their glasses.
“To the future.”
“To the future.”
The following night Elan picked Janice up at the kibbutz where she was staying and they dined together again. By the end of the week, Elan took Janice to meet Brenda and Aryeh. They went to Brenda and Aryeh’s home, where the four of them had cake and coffee and sat on the floor playing with Elan’s niece, Aviva.
Elan watched Janice with the baby. It had been a long time since he’d considered that he might want to have a family of his own. Aviva took to Janice right away. Janice played with the toddler, making her laugh. And for the first time in a very long time, Elan’s heart was touched—touched by this warm and gentle American girl.
When she met Elan’s mother, Janice was respectful. Of course, as Elan predicted, his mother was critical and negative, but Janice was Jewish and because she was Jewish, Elan knew that his mother would get used to Janice. And, besides that, Janice was smart. The second time she came to see Elan’s mother; she brought her a gift, a lovely silk scarf. Slowly, with patience, Janice began to win the affections of her boyfriend’s cantankerous mother.
Although he considered taking Janice to the Ghetto Fighter’s kibbutz, he could not bear to go back there. It would only rekindle memories of Katja. And, of course, he could not forget Katja’s background. Yes, it was best to stay away. So instead, Elan took Janice walking along the beach at night. He kissed her under the stars and, ever so slowly, Elan began to feel alive again.
Janice was not the kind of girl to sit back and allow Elan to wallow in self-pity. She was full of life, and her exuberance was contagious. When Elan was not working,
Janice taught him to play tennis. At night they went to the theater. On Sundays, they swam in the Mediterranean and took hikes into the mountains. Before Elan met Janice, he had lost his zest for life. Now he felt that, in many ways, she’d saved him.
Aryeh and Brenda wanted to take a vacation, so they asked Aryeh’s mother to stay with Aviva for a long weekend. She agreed. It would be easier on the child if Grandma came to Aryeh and Brenda’s house. After all, Aviva’s toys and things were already set up there.
Elan’s mother left on a Thursday morning.
That night, after work, Elan picked Janice up at the kibbutz. For the first time since they met, Elan and Janice were totally alone in Elan’s house. Janice insisted upon preparing an authentic American dinner for Elan. She peeled and cut potatoes, which she planned to mash with butter and salt. Then she breaded chicken breasts to fry. As the potatoes began to boil on the stove, Elan walked into the kitchen. He came up behind Janice and then he turned Janice toward him. He kissed her softly at first. Then she put her arms around him and kissed him long and deep. He reached over and turned off the burner on the stove. Then he lifted her in his strong arms and carried her to his bed.
It had been a long time since Elan had been intimate with a woman. Although his physical needs were overpowering, he forced himself to be slow and tender. Gentle, gentle with this wonderful girl who had breathed life back into his broken heart.
After they made love, she took his hand and kissed his palm.
“I love you, Elan,” she said.
“I love you too, Janice. You have done so much for me. So much more than you could ever know,” he said. “Do you think that you could live in Israel? Do you think you could make this place your home?"
“I do. I love it here.”
“You know that this land means a lot to me. Because of how important Israel is to our people, it will always be a priority in my life. It’s important to me that you understand that.”
“Yes, I understand. I feel the same way.”
“You do?”
“I do. I understand perfectly.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Really?” she said, her face lighting up.
The Promised Land (All My Love, Detrick Series) (All My Love Detrick Book 3) Page 34