by Maisie Mosco
“At the right time I couldn’t afford to give you one. But late is better than never.”
Was this another item on the list of things he had left undone and wanted to do before he departed? He had not suffered a bout of coughing since they left home. Or complained he was out of breath from walking, though Nathan had told her his heart was not strong. Nothing had happened to burst the bubble of happiness on which she had allowed herself to float and she would not let it now. She linked her arm through his and went with him into the shop.
“In a place like this, a ring will cost a fortune,” she whispered, surveying the discreetly expensive decor.
Abraham smiled. “But diamonds I know you don’t like.” His voice thickened with emotion. “If you did, and I could give them to you, I would, Sorrel. Only the best is good enough for you.”
An opal necklace in the display cabinet shimmered into a rainbow as Sarah gazed at it through misty eyes. It was as if, in that simple statement, Abraham had expressed everything she meant to him and there wasn’t a jewel in the world the equal of that.
She emerged from the shop with a dainty cluster of garnets glistening beside her wedding band. The salesman had fitted a clip to the ring because her fingers were so tiny, and she had refused to leave it there to be altered to her size. She wanted to wear it now, on this perfect day.
Later, they sat down to rest on a bench on the promenade, with Southport’s silky, golden sands stretching for miles before them to the ever-distant sea.
“When I show my ring to the children, Bessie will say there’s no accounting for taste,” Sarah smiled. “And Rebecca will glance at it patronizingly and tell me it’s the thought that counts. Esther, of course, will say it isn’t an engagement ring because it has coloured stones. Like she told Marianne about the turquoise one Ralph bought for her.”
“And David and Ben will say they could have got it for you wholesale.”
They shared a laugh.
“How well we know them, Abraham!”
“We shouldn’t by now? Their good points as well as their bad. Which even my daughter-in-law Bessie has, I was surprised to discover.”
Sarah watched a flock of seagulls descend upon the beach. Just like a family. It was the nature of all God’s creatures to be together with their own. But, just this once, how refreshing it was to be where none of hers could reach her.
Sarah opened her eyes and looked at the clock. “Wake up, Abraham. We’ve overslept. The sea air must have drugged us!” Since he retired, she had not bothered setting the alarm. And would be an hour behind schedule with her Shabbos cooking, in consequence.
She was slipping on her dressing gown when she became aware that Abraham had not stirred. Her heart missed a beat. Then she went to look at him. The peaceful expression on his face was not of this earth. Her husband would never wake up again.
She wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him back to life and had to clench her fists to stop herself. Her hands fell limply to her sides. She must go downstairs and ring up the children. Instead, she sank on her knees beside the bed, her eyes riveted to Abraham’s still countenance.
She could hear the loud tick of his pocket-watch on the bed-table and the sound of the breeze rustling the net curtains at the open window. Distant traffic noises assailed her ears. And the clink of two milk bottles being set down in the porch. Later, she heard the letterbox click and the thud of the mail landing on the lobby mat. Her legs felt stiff. How long had she been kneeling here? But she could not make herself rise; grief had immobilized her. Where were the tears she had expected to shed when this moment came? To unleash her sorrow would be a blessed relief. But who was she sorrowing for?
Abraham had lived according to his beliefs. Known the contentment only those who make no demands can know. Seen the fruit of his seed unto the third generation and gone to his Maker willingly. Sarah had never seen him happier than he had been these last few weeks, when he had been preparing for his going.
There was no cause to sorrow for Abraham and pitying herself had never been her way. The iron-cast will that had always been hers reasserted itself and she rose to her feet, busying her mind with the things she must do.
After she had dressed, she slipped the garnet ring on her finger. Everyone would look askance at a mourning widow wearing jewellery. But Abraham would have wanted her to wear it. She went to the bedside to kiss him goodbye before David and Nat arrived and took over, after which she would never again be alone with him. “Only the best is good enough for you,” he had said. Luxury he hadn’t given her. But she had had the best of marriages.
Marianne arrived with Ralph and baby Martin in the early evening. Harry had telephoned to tell her their grandfather was dead, and she found the family gathered in the parlour, where they had been all day.
She went to sit beside Sarah and took her hand. “There has to be some significance in Zaidie dying the day Israel was born,” she said pensively.
“What is your wife talking about?” Sigmund asked Ralph.
“It’s the dramatist in her, she can’t help it. But haven’t you heard the news?”
“Who switches the wireless on at a time like this?” David said morosely.
His eyes were red-rimmed. Nathan’s, too, Marianne noted. She had not expected her uncles to weep; but maybe losing their father had momentarily reduced them to small boys again, reminded them of their childhood. “The Government’s withdrawing the troops from Palestine,” she announced. “We saw it on the placards when we came out of London Road Station. They’d sold out of evening papers, but Ralph read one over someone’s shoulder in the taxi queue. Mr. Ben Gurion is Israel’s first Prime Minister. He made the Declaration of Independence this afternoon.”
“Mazeltov!” Ronald shouted jubilantly. He leapt up from his chair and went around shaking hands with everyone.
Shirley had rushed to hug David. If Abraham had been miraculously restored to life there could not have been greater excitement. At such a moment in their people’s history, in the midst of their grief the family could not but rejoice, too.
“Our troubles are over,” David said thankfully.
“What makes you think that?” Hannah asked him.
“This will be the beginning of another lot,” Sigmund, the doom merchant, prophesied and a heated debate followed.
“How can you all sit here arguing about politics when you’ve just lost someone you love?” Ralph interjected.
“If it wasn’t politics, it’d be something else,” Nathan assured him.
Marianne sent Ralph to the kitchen to ask Lizzie or Bridie to feed Martin his bottle.
“It’s like a crèche in there,” he said when he returned.
“It always has been when the clan get together,” Marianne told him. “And I expect it always will be.”
“A little red-haired madam kicked me on the shin,” her husband complained.
“Like her mother used to do to our Martin’s namesake and me when we were kids. The little madam is Shirley’s Laura.”
Ralph gave his attention to something Hannah was saying about Egypt and Marianne glanced at her grandmother. Sarah had never seemed beautiful to her, but suddenly she did. How erect she held herself, seated in a high-backed chair with only her faded, grey shawl softening the starkness of her mourning attire. And her opaque eyes, which Marianne had inherited, mysterious dark pools in her proud face. Most people were diminished age, but on Sarah Sandberg it appeared to be having the opposite effect.
“That’s a beautiful ring you’re wearing, Bobbie,” Marianne said quietly. She had never seen it before, but it must mean something special to Sarah, or she wouldn’t have worn it today.
Sarah read her thoughts and smiled. “I knew you would like it. And when I’m gone it will be yours.”
“I hope that won’t be for a very long time.”
“Whenever it is, I won’t argue. Like your grandfather didn’t. He was a remarkable man. Only I didn’t know it until lately.” Sarah
became aware that the room had grown silent. “The discussion is over so soon?” she inquired.
“You’ll have to forgive us, Bobbie,” Ronald said. “We got a bit carried away by the news from Palestine.”
“Israel,” Shirley corrected him.
“We ought not to have been making so much noise,” David said.
“I should think not!” Esther, who had not contributed to it, exclaimed. “With Father lying dead upstairs.”
“If the dead could hear and speak, your father would shout downstairs that he doesn’t mind,” Sarah told her. It had been almost noon when she telephoned David, too late for the funeral to take place today. With the Sabbath intervening, Abraham would not be buried until Sunday. “He wouldn’t want everyone to sit here shtum, with long faces.”
Little Laura Kohn wandered in from the kitchen, jangling the gold charm bracelet on her chubby wrist.
“Bless her heart,” David and Bessie chorused adoringly.
The child climbed into Abraham’s wing chair, which had remained conspicuously empty.
Shirley and Peter exchanged an uncomfortable glance.
“Now Gweat-gwanpa’s gone to Heaven, Lawa can sit here,” their daughter gurgled.
Esther burst into tears,
“Don’t be upset, Esther,” Sarah said, going to comfort her. “Nature arranged it that youth should replace age. Nobody’s chair stays empty for long.”
But before Sarah vacated hers she had a lot to do. Reuniting Arnold with the family was one matter. She must visit Sammy and Miriam in New York, too; it was unthinkable to go to her grave without seeing them again. And Nathan and Rebecca’s strife was affecting Leona; something had to be done about that. Like Abraham, she had many loose ends to gather up and, God willing, would be around long enough to knot them together.
Copyright
Copyright © 1980 by Maisie Mosco
Copyright © 2018 Classica Libris
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