by Roger Herst
Gabby attempted to imagine Asa's thoughts. At the time of the accident, doctors spoke about the complete restoration of Tybee's face in positive, reassuring terms. But Anina was now telling a different story. Clearly, the specialists had exaggerated. Tybee's nose, eyelids, and ears would have to be re-built from skin transplanted from her limbs and buttocks. A second smaller model with far less detail represented an approximation of what the surgeons had in mind for a result. It looked nothing like Gabby's image of young Tybee.
"The idea is to pull healthy epidermis from this region," Anina drew a long, artistic forefinger over the model, "and tuck away loose flaps in this region. To do this I think Hank Rasknick will make modifications to her jaw. It's important to understand that scarring epidermis tends to shrink during the healing phase. It gets tough and unruly. So it must be stretched often to prevent contraction. At the Hospital Center we're working with sterolithography, a relatively new method for facial reconstruction." She reached across the table to a clear plastic mask approximating Tybee's facial dimensions. "A mask like this forces the disfiguring scar tissue to conform to our demands, not what nature would like to do on its own. Her lower lip is going to present the greatest challenge. The work needs to be staged carefully to allow her to eat. There are two lip specialists doing innovative work in Sweden, but they're both tied up and can't fly to Washington for at least three or four months. We're considering sending Tybee to Stockholm."
Kye had remained silent during Anina's explanation, but suddenly came alive. "Why not teleconference the lip procedure here and connect to the specialists in Stockholm? That shouldn't be difficult to set up."
Anina angled her face toward him, squinting through eyeglasses that sparkled with spotless clarity that she insisted her vision demanded. What Kye suggested was within the possibility for Tybee's treatment, but would add additional costs.
"My company does transatlantic networking regularly," he continued. "Linking people is our bread-and-butter. We're in the process of downsizing, but I'm certain we could establish links with our associates in Sweden."
Anina evaluated the animation in Asa and Gabby who considered any help for Tybee to be worthwhile. She said, "Is this for real? Because if you're offering, I'll mention it to my partner and he can approach Dr. Rasnick, who personally knows one of the Swedish surgeons. I'd do this myself, but Franklin is on far better terms with Hank Rasnick than I am. I'm sure the Morgensterns would be delighted."
To Gabby, Kye said, "My group has a generous pro-bono policy and since I make final judgment on what we underwrite, there won't be any charge to the Morgenstens, unless they have deep pockets. These days we're tight on cash, but I can strong-arm my associates in Sweden who owe me a few favors."
Asa shifted his view from the second model to Kye Naah as he spoke, "These lips are horrible. I just can't imagine Tybee going through life with them."
Anina replied. "Would you like her better without differentiated facial features to speak of?"
"No. That's not what I had in mind. It just seems so unfair for a beautiful little girl."
"She's only eight," Anina resumed. "In the course of her life, new techniques will be developed. Often we go back and make corrections. Keep in mind, what my colleagues are planning is only the first stage."
To Kye, Asa said, "Thanks for your help. I sometimes believe technology saves the world, not faith, but just cold, impersonal innovations in science."
Kye's fingers went instinctively to Asa's shoulder. "Don't underestimate your value, Rabbi. Doctors do one thing; technicians another. But it's still the spirit that governs them both. Not one of us would be any good at innovation without a feeling of worth and purpose. Besides, what's all our work for anyway?" Here he withdrew his eyes from Asa and laid them on Anina. "We'll do what we can."
Kye willingness to help, despite his own troubles, impressed Gabby. She gave him a squeeze of affection as they followed Anina and Asa into the hospital corridor.
***
"Tom-tom drums are beating," Chuck warned Gabby the following morning. He possessed inordinately sensitive listening antenna for shifts in sentiments around Ohav Shalom and she had come to rely upon his warnings.
Though early in the morning, when she usually felt most energetic, she sighed in obvious fatigue. "Don't tell me, I can guess."
"You didn't expect your sabbatical, did you?"
"No, but I do expect my contractual responsibility to be met. The thought of hiring a lawyer gives me the willies."
"And you don't see how the Trustees are scared to death about a Morgenstern lawsuit?"
"Whether or not I'm in the saddle doesn't matter. There will be long delays and I'll be back before it cranks into full motion. Long continuances are routine."
"That's if you don't win the election. I may be the only one in the Jewish community who knows that's not impossible. You can't fool me – if you run, you'll win."
She dismissed him with a demeaning chortle. "Tell that to Toby Ryle's followers. They're never going to vote for me."
"Jews aren't the only voters, you know. You underestimate your popularity outside the Jewish community. Once you announce your candidacy, the press will lionize you. And we all know how that translates into votes."
He followed her into her study. At her desk, she pivoted around to regard him. "So what tom-tom drums are you hearing, friend?"
"You're not going to like it."
What possessed her to pucker her lips like a young school girl, she didn't know. "Okay, let's hear the bad news."
"The Board was unhappy with Asa's deposition, saying he contributed far more than was necessary. They want you to ride out the Morgenstern monsoon. Stan Melkin's secretary asked me to clear with you a date for dinner at his home on Tuesday. If that works in your schedule, he'll invite other members of the Board. Dottie Melkin will present one of her world-famous order-up dinners and Stan will dig deep into his renowned wine cellar for a fabulous chardonnay. Then they'll deliver the coup d'grace. No sabbatical for Rabbi Gabby this year."
"Then I must win the election. Want to work with me in my new congressional office on Capitol Hill?"
"What do I know about politics?"
"You're the savviest politician around." Her eyes glowed in play as she tilted her head coquettishly.
"I'll give it serious thought, Congresswoman. Both of us need a change."
***
Before Congress passed anti-discrimination housing legislation, Stan Melkin's home in Kenwood Park was off-limits to Jews and Negroes. Known for its cherry blossoms in spring, Kenwood is an affluent single-family residential community of Bethesda, just north of the District of Columbia. Naked winter branches on a stand of cherry trees cast tormented shadows over the illuminated white brick façade of Stan's home. Dottie Melkin, who had greatly enhanced her husband's career by being a consummate hostess, knew how to greet Ohav Shalom's trustees at the front door as though members of the family. By the time Gabby received her welcome, seven trustees were well through their first cocktail. As she greeted them, each recalled one or another personal service she had rendered during the course of her tenure at the synagogue.
Sensing the guillotine blade would strike immediately after Dottie's elegant dinner of grilled salmon, asparagus, and scalloped potatoes, Gabby made conversation with difficulty. Some people fill their stomachs with food when nervous. Not her. Her digestive tract shut down. She could do little more than pretend to eat by pushing morsels of food from one edge of the plate to another. The fruity California chardonnay Chuck pledged Stan would serve went down a bit easier. On the surface, Ohav Shalom's trustees and directors remained cordial and respectful. Yet with warfare about to erupt, it was difficult for her to regard them as friendly allies.
After a parfait of mixed fruits and apricot ice, the party adjourned to the living room for coffee. Joseph Weinrod, silver-haired and immaculately tailored, asked for permission to smoke a cigar. Caroline Pryerson, surviving scion of a philanthropic fami
ly who had long seen to the financial needs of the congregation, proclaimed that cigar smoke made her nauseous, rejecting the request abruptly. Gabby sat on a piano bench, a few inches higher than the others sunken in soft sofa pillows. Dottie Melkin passed among them with a tray of white porcelain coffee cups, followed by a stainless steel thermos with decaffeinated coffee.
Stan's commanding look gathered together the synagogue trustees. One eyebrow invaded the domain of his forehead before he anchored his eyes on Gabby. "We promised to deal with the matter of your pending sabbatical. I suspect that we would have dealt with it earlier had it not been for the Morgenstern tragedy. Still, we owe you a decision and I'm afraid it isn't the one you've been hoping for."
Heads bobbed, a concurrence in the judgment about to be rendered.
"Gabby, please understand that we're painfully aware of the history behind this matter."
"There were promises made, Stan," she inserted herself impatiently into his argument, "not on one occasion, but twice, both by your predecessors as presidents of the congregation. I brought my notes with me this evening."
By clearing his throat, he prepared for a plea. "Gabby, please understand that the sole function of the trustees is to ensure the continuity of Ohav Shalom. In the course of our negotiations, we've re-read your employment contract and I've taken the liberty to duplicate the relevant passages. It's true that we agreed to provide you with a sabbatical of an undetermined period after your seventh year of service and you are now in your eleventh. But by the same token, the language is quite specific about the circumstances under which it is to be granted. To refresh your memory about this contract I've made copies." He pressed a stapled photocopy in her direction, then read the relevant passage, “That such sabbatical will be granted only with the specific approval of the Board of Directors and only after provisions have been made for a qualified replacement. Neither of those two conditions have been met. We do not wish technicalities to divide us."
She said, forcing control into her voice, "If these aren't technicalities, what are? Since four of you are lawyers, I would be foolish to argue the exact wording of the contract. During my tenure not once have I, or any member of the Board, referred to this contract. We have always operated as though we had an old-fashioned shake of the hand, a gentlemen's agreement. Now suddenly, you wave my employment contract before me. What happened to the verbal promises? Do they just evaporate? In ancient days, Jews would go to the city gates and make vows to one another before witnesses. Such vows were considered absolutely inviolable and the penalty for breaking one might result in death. Are the words of Ohav presidents inferior to language on a contract written over a decade ago? Should I have brought a lawyer to represent me at this gathering?"
"Hold on, Gabby," Stan's palms shot out in front of him. Additional photocopies of her employment contract slipped from his lap to the floor and remained there. "We would not request a postponement under ordinary circumstance. But we're facing a very taxing and potentially damaging law suit."
"I already told this Board how I intend to remain in Washington and be available to respond to this suit."
"And we appreciate it," interrupted Sally Medford-Quine, wife of Sylvan Quine, CEO of the cell-phone carrier, IIC Communications in Tysons Corner, Virginia. "But unfortunately, with what's on Rabbi Folkman's plate these days, we all agree that it's necessary for you to be on the field, not in the dugout, if you follow my metaphor."
Stan continued without waiting for her reply. "Gabby, we looked at every alternative to satisfy your needs and none work. While many in the congregation are fond of Rabbi Folkman, none of us believes he has what it takes to fill in for you during these critical months. Being the prime defendant in our lawsuit adds additional pressures. While we have made no decisions about his future, it may become necessary to buy out the remaining years of this employment contract. That would be more difficult were he acting senior rabbi and would cost the congregation a great deal more money."
The notion appalled Gabby. For an instant she feared the onset of trembling in her limbs, but mercifully it did not occur. "I really can't believe this," she exclaimed. "Rabbi Folkman is as good a rabbi as I know. Better than the vast majority. He's got a heart as big as the moon. He's scholarly and one of the most accomplished musicians ever to enter the rabbinate."
"He didn't do us any good at his deposition, Rabbi," trumpeted Harry Dealson, owner of racetracks in Delaware and Pennsylvania, two of which had introduced slot-machines and tripled his already substantial fortune. "There are many in the congregation who believe that had he been more careful this tragedy would have been avoided. And, I might add, you'd be able to take your sabbatical as planned."
"Without you on the pulpit during the difficult months ahead, it's very likely we'll lose members," Stan added. "Opinion about the Morgenstern tragedy is mixed. But if only a fraction of those who disagree with how we handle it terminate their membership, we could be in big trouble. Some are already threatening. The only thing that keeps them on board is you, Gabby."
She offered in a conciliatory tone, "I'll be happy to meet every family puzzled by the Morgenstern situation. And since I'm going to remain in Washington I can handle problems as they arise."
"We appreciate your loyalty to Rabbi Folkman," Stan said. "That's admirable. Lawyers tend to support each other, that is until they find themselves at each other's throats in court." Mild chuckles rippled around the living room. Dottie Meklin seized the opportunity to pass a thermos of hot coffee, then retired to the kitchen to fetch after-dinner mints. "But the truth is, Gabby," her husband continued, "we don't share your confidence in Rabbi Folkman. And confidence is essential to a spiritual leader. He has many admirable qualities, not to mention his musical contributions to the liturgical life of the congregation. Still, we sense a lack of dedication, which incidentally showed up on his deposition, the transcript of which I have taken the time to read carefully. Ohav Shalom cannot afford to risk his leadership, even for an interim period."
Her eyes glanced around the room for support and found none. A mild dizziness seemed to lodge in the frontal lobes of her brain. How was it possible, she asked herself, for the Board to evaluate Asa this way? Were they planning to fire him? And if so, on exactly what grounds? "So," she said, hiding her exasperation, "No sabbatical for the foreseeable future?"
"Hopefully not that long," Stan answered. "But unfortunately, this brings us to an even more sensitive problem – that of your candidacy in the race for Toby Ryles's seat."
Several trustees improved their posture in the cushions.
"Your intention to run is very painful for Ohav Shalom," Stan continued. "My phone rings off the hook with congregants asking what we would do if you were successful. Shouldn't a search for your replacement be initiated immediately? When Seth Greer left us, we learned that the hiring process is complicated. Lots of egos involved. Everybody has a different idea about the kind of rabbi he or she wants. But then, people started confronting me with an even stickier matter. What happens if you don't win?"
"The most likely scenario," Gabby interjected with her first lightness of the evening.
Stan didn't lose an instant. "To challenge Toby Ryles will antagonize many members. We don't have to remind you how popular she is around here. Whenever the Jews need a friend in Congress, from issues dealing with Israel to anti-Semitism in New Mexico, Toby is with us. Many members of the congregation contribute to her campaigns. Several of our kids have worked in her congressional office as interns? She's written hundreds of recommendation letters to universities and the military academies for them. When we require police protection for special events, a phone call to her staff always does the trick. I think it fair to warn you that running against Toby may hurt you. And it may not be easy to return to this pulpit after a political campaign waged against her."
Stan fell silent and no one filled the void. Gabby let the silence enlarge. Eventually, she said in voice rich with conviction, "Toby Ryles has held he
r seat for twelve years. That's a long time. Where is it written that being elected to Congress equates to a lifelong tenure? Last I heard, this republic encourages a turnover of leadership."
"We're not going to argue political theory with you, Rabbi," Sally Medford-Quine intoned. "I've worked with Toby for five of her past campaigns. For the synagogue to run an opponent against her is nothing short of gross disloyalty. She deserves far better from those she's supported. And if she beats you, how can Jews go back to her for future support? If I were her, I would tell us all to go to hell. So, I ask myself, what's to be gained?"
"The system." Gabby was curt, not expecting to be understood.
"I'm sorry. Did I miss something?" Sally Medford-Quine snapped. "Could you please enlighten us, Rabbi?"
"Despite all the wonderful things Toby Ryles has done, she's still a member of the congressional incumbents club, which opposes campaign finance reform. She condones practices that make it almost impossible for challengers to compete on a level playing field. The Incumbents Club has one purpose – to keep newcomers out. Don't you see that what she benevolently bestows upon the Jewish community from the taxpayers' exchequer is part and parcel of the process of ensuring votes? You support the system and it, in exchange, supports you. A Congressperson gives away the taxpayers' money and is deemed a hero."