by Judith Gould
'I've been talking nonstop about myself,' Tamara said, leaning across the table toward him. 'Now you must tell me about yourself. How did your speeches turn out? I wanted to attend one of the ones here, but it was impossible for me to do so. So I want to hear all about it. Did you get to see the President when you were in Washington?' She fixed her father with her famous gaze, her eyes glowing like liquid silver in the candlelight.
He shook his head. 'I had to give the letter I wanted to hand-deliver to him to a sympathetic businessman who has connections with your White House.' He gave a little self-effacing smile. 'I would have liked to discuss our problems with him, but . . . well, it is not as though Jews are a major concern at the moment. I fear our struggle for true independence and freedom is not supported, let alone recognized, by any government with the exception of Great Britain. And Britain, unfortunately, treats us more like a colony than a territory bound for independence. Britain, our staunchest supporter and yet the greatest enemy of our freedom! It is ironic, no?' He fixed Tamara with a wry smile. 'I will not pretend that I am not disappointed by President Roosevelt. A meeting with him might have proved very fruitful. However, we must not allow ourselves to think of what might have been.'
She stared at him, her dessert spoon frozen halfway to her lips. 'I don't understand it. President Roosevelt seems to be a champion of the underdog. I would surely have thought that if anyone would be supportive of your cause, it would be him, but since help from Roosevelt isn't forthcoming, isn't there some other way you can stir up support?'
He sighed heavily. 'I am trying. Believe me, I am trying. That is why I am here. To raise awareness and much-needed funds. But even many of the Jews consider me to be too . . . how do you say it? Inflexible? They like to believe you can accomplish everything quietly and with velvet gloves.' He shook his head sadly. 'If only that were true in this case.'
'And in Palestine? Surely you are a hero to all the Jews there.'
He made a disparaging gesture. 'I am afraid I am not.'
She stared at him. 'I can't believe that! After all you're trying to do?'
'The people I represent are the minority even among the Jews in Palestine. For one thing, Jews comprise barely a fifth of our population. Of these, perhaps one in ten supports me. And of these, very few dare come out and do so publicly, for fear they will suffer Arab reprisals or that the British might use them to lay a trap for me.' He smiled. 'So you see, things are far more complicated than they seem.'
'But you were successful in raising money and support while you were here?'
'Some, but hardly as much as we need. Everyone seems to like the idea of our creating a Jewish nation, but they do not wish to face the means needed to accomplish this. It all boils down to political pressure, money, and arms.' He added wearily, 'No nation was ever created without violence.'
Tamara smiled, 'Then you really are the swashbuckler the papers make you out to be!'
He laughed. 'Like in your movies?'
'Well, something like that.'
He sighed. 'If only it was as simple as a movie. I hate violence, but only through guns and bullets can we survive. I do not mean we should go out and shoot Arabs. What I am saying is that when we are attacked, we must fight back. Even retaliate. In 1929, there was a massacre of Jews. We cannot let that happen again.'
'But what about this fugitive business?' she asked. 'Why should the British want you so badly? You're not doing anything wrong. Are you?'
'According to the existing British laws, yes, I am,' Schmarya said. He smiled. 'Morally, however, I believe I am doing the right thing.' Seeing her startled expression, he said soothingly, 'Believe me, I much prefer to live with my conscience, even if it means having a price on my head.'
Tamara was shocked. 'Do you? Have a price on your head?'
He laughed. 'Not yet, but very soon I may well have.'
There was a momentary silence around the table, which Louis broke. 'But you believe Palestine has a real chance of becoming a Jewish nation?' he asked in a hushed tone. 'You think it's more than just a pipe dream? That it will really happen?'
'It has to,' Schmarya replied grimly. 'Without it, the Jews of the world are doomed. With the situation in Europe being what it is, I cannot tell you how urgent it is that it happens very soon.' He paused heavily and added softly, 'Before it is too late.'
'But why?' Inge asked. 'What makes things now so much worse than they were at any other time? I thought there were always troubles for Jews.'
Schmarya glanced around the table, holding each of their gazes for a full ten seconds. 'You have all heard of Adolf Hitler, I presume?'
'Charlie Chaplin,' Inge laughed. 'The Little Tramp! He looks just like Chaplin.'
Louis and Tamara laughed along with her.
'Do not laugh.' Schmarya's face was grave. 'There is nothing at all comic about the German Führer. No matter how ridiculous he may seem to you, the peoples of the world would be well advised to take him seriously. Do you not realize that the man is probably the greatest danger the twentieth century will have to face?'
'That clown!' Inge scoffed. 'You cannot be serious!' She stared at Schmarya.
He nodded. 'I am serious. If you know what is good for you, then you and the rest of the world had best begin to change your views of him before it is too late. Soon he will be invincible. Since he took office in January of last year, he has been given dictatorial power. Do you have any idea what that means? He now controls everything in Germany.' His cheeks tightened and his eyes flashed. 'Everything. And he has lost no time in consolidating that power. He has outlawed and disbanded all opposing political parties. Strikes have been banned. Everything, including culture and religion, has been brought under the aegis of the government.' His voice dropped. 'And Jews are disappearing everyday. We must find out what is happening to them. If he is not stopped, more and more Jews will simply disappear.'
A thin shiver, like a blade of fine steel, traced its way down Tamara's spine. Her voice trembled. 'He must be mad!' she whispered.
'Don't you think you're blowing Hitler slightly out of proportion?' Louis asked. 'Surely you're giving a megalomaniac more credit than he's due.'
'No,' Schmarya said definitely. 'If anything, even I am not taking his threats seriously enough. At first I did not want to believe what I was hearing either, but the stories I heard from the immigrants from Germany were all the same. Throughout Germany, entire Jewish families are rounded up and disappear.'
Louis was silent.
'You have only to read Mein Kampf, Hitler's book, in which he outlined all his twisted beliefs and grievances,' Schmarya said. 'If it is up to him—and now that he is dictator, it may very well be—then there will not be a single Jew left alive on this planet. That is one reason—the most important reason— for the creation of a Jewish nation. Our people will be in desperate need of sanctuary. Germany is no longer safe for them. It will be worse than Russia ever was. There will be war as Hitler seeks to expand Germany, and everywhere the Nazis go, the Jews will disappear.'
'You're frightening me,' Tamara whispered.
'And well you should be frightened. Really. I am not exaggerating. Hitler intends to take over the world and kill off everyone who is not Nordic and blue-eyed and blond-haired. Aryan, at least.'
'But that's . . . preposterous!' Tamara sputtered. 'No one can do that!'
'If anyone can, it will be Hitler. And believe me, he will try.'
Abruptly Tamara pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. 'It seems to have gotten chilly suddenly,' she said, rubbing her forearms briskly. 'I suggest we have our after-dinner drinks indoors.'
'If you do not mind, I will say good night and prepare for bed,' Inge said, glancing at her wristwatch. 'For me, it is far past my bedtime.' She smiled at Schmarya and took his hands. 'I am glad you have come,' she said, looking directly up into his eyes. 'You are a nice, brave man. Senda loved you, you know. Everything she did, she did because of that. I think now, if she were alive, she would be ve
ry proud of you.'
'I should be going soon also,' Schmarya said after Inge had left. 'Tomorrow we take the train back to New York, and I still have to pack.' He saw the protest in Tamara's eyes and smiled. 'Well, perhaps I can stay a little longer, but I do not wish to impose.'
'I know that.' She grinned and squeezed Schmarya's arm. She took a deep breath. 'You know, Inge was right.'
He looked puzzled. 'About what?'
'You are a very nice man. And I'm proud of you also.'
He looked suddenly embarrassed, and then Louis asked, 'Demitasse or brandy?'
'Brandy,' Schmarya said quickly. 'It is rare where I come from, and I might as well take advantage of civilization.'
Louis splashed some Napoleon brandy into giant snifters and they sipped them on the soft white leather chairs grouped around the circular fireplace with its copper hood and flue rising two storeys to the glass-domed roof.
'Now tell me about Palestine,' Tamara said, sitting up straight. 'I want to know what it is about it that you love so much, that keeps you going and makes all the battles and hiding out, the struggles to survive . . . everything, so worthwhile.'
'Palestine,' Schmarya said softly, a faraway look in his eyes, 'yes, I will tell you about the Promised Land. It is everything God promised it would be, and more.'
Chapter 17
Tamara was entranced, and even Louis had fallen under the spell. While Schmarya had spoken, they sat as though hypnotized, forgetting where they were. Through the sheer power of words, he had transported them thousands of miles eastward and into the past, centuries from the luxurious estate in Los Angeles to the ancient land of Deborah and Solomon and Jezebel and Elijah.
'I had no idea all that still existed!' Tamara cried when he stopped. 'I always thought it was something in history books and the Bible. But you make it sound so real!'
'Ah, then you begin to understand,' Schmarya said, nodding with satisfaction before continuing to sing the praises of his adopted land.
The hours had slipped slyly by, and all too soon the time came for him to leave. It was well past midnight.
'I fear I really must leave now,' Schmarya said, getting to his feet. 'Let me call for a taxi.'
'No,' Tamara said adamantly. 'Louis and I will drive you back to your hotel.'
'But you must be tired. Surely you get up early.'
'He's right, you know,' Louis said. 'You've got a makeup call at six-thirty, which means you won't get more than four and a half hours' sleep. You know how the camera picks up the slightest puffiness from lack of sleep. I don't have to be on the set until eight. You go on up to bed and I'll drive Schmarya downtown.'
Tamara hesitated.
'Please,' Schmarya said. He smiled slightly. 'It would make me feel better.'
After a moment she nodded. 'In that case, how can I refuse?'
'Good.' Schmarya smiled, and it occurred to Tamara that this was the first time in her memory that she'd had an opportunity to obey her father.
'I'll go get the car,' Louis said, heading toward the foyer. 'When I honk, meet me up front.'
They watched him leave, and once he was gone, Tamara turned to her father. 'I'm glad we found each other after all these years,' she said warmly. She stared into his eyes. 'My only regret is that we didn't have more time together.'
'Mine also,' he said. 'You see how easy it is to get greedy?' He looked at her silently for a moment. 'I should be grateful. After the way I ran out on you and your mother, I do not deserve the good fortune of having found my daughter again.'
'I'm sure it wasn't all your fault. It can't have been.'
'It was.' He frowned to himself. 'I was a brash young fool in those days, always out to change the world.'
'Which you're still trying to do,' she pointed out, but he did not laugh.
'Sometimes it seems remarkable that things have turned out as well as they have. It proves that life is not all bad.'
'It doesn't do anyone any good for you to keep whipping yourself for something that happened so long ago,' she said gently. 'You're a fine man, in many ways much finer than I imagined my father ever to be.'
Something like surprise showed in his eyes.
'You've even awakened me to the selfish life I've been leading. Here you are, doing so much for our people, for the world, and all I've been doing is thinking of myself. I'm rather ashamed. I never expected you to have such an impact on me. You seem to have a gift for helping others.'
'You make films. You bring enjoyment to people all over the world. That too is a gift.'
'Don't humour me. It's not the same thing, and you know it.' She lowered her eyes. 'I ... I know I can't do much to help the cause you're fighting for. You see, my hands are tied. O.T.—he's the head of the studio—would have a fit if I opened my mouth and said anything political.' She gave a low laugh but grimaced rather than smiled. 'My contract specifically forbids me from making any public appearances and speeches except those sanctioned by the studio. And then they tell me what I can and cannot say. I suppose they all think I'm a child who needs constant baby-sitting.' She sighed. 'I wish I could do more to help, but . . . well, I want you to have this.'
Almost furtively she pressed a folded piece of pink paper into his hand.
He looked down at it. 'What is this?'
She made a negligent gesture. 'Oh, just a little something to have made your tour a little more worthwhile. I know money can never take the place of personal involvement, but it must be necessary if you've had to come here on a fundraising tour.'
'You know you do not need to do this,' he said quietly.
She raised her hand as though challenging him. 'Oh yes I do. It's the only way I know of to help. Take it. Please,' she urged. "There are no strings attached. Spend it on whatever you think is necessary, I don't care what. I left the bearer line blank since I didn't know how you would want it made out.'
Slowly he unfolded the cheque and looked down at it. His eyebrows rose. 'Twenty thousand dollars!' He met her gaze and shook his head. 'This is out of the question. I cannot possibly accept this.'
'I don't expect you to.' She looked him straight in the eye. 'I'm not giving it to you. I'm giving it to your cause, to help fight for a Jewish nation.' She closed his fingers around the cheque. 'Stop worrying, for heaven's sake, and just take it in the spirit it was given.'
'Do you realize that this is the largest contribution we have received on the entire tour so far? You are certain you can afford it?'
'Look around you,' she said lightly, gesturing at the room. 'What does it look like?'
She was glad he did not reply to that. The twenty thousand was everything she had managed to tuck away during the past five years from her astronomical salary—an astronomical salary that seemed to vaporize as soon as she was paid. It was her secret emergency fund. A pathetic hoard, considering she'd earned close to a quarter of a million dollars and this was all she had to show for it.
From outside they could hear Louis honking the car horn, and they both glanced toward the door. He leaned down and held her tightly as he kissed her cheek. 'Did I tell you you have a very nice husband?' he said.
'No, but you didn't have to. I know.'
'You will tell Inge for me that I enjoyed seeing her again?'
She nodded. 'And I'll write often to the address you gave me,' she promised.
'Do not be disappointed by the mail. Letter service is slow and sporadic in Palestine,' he warned. 'Often mail gets lost.'
Then I just may have to come in person.'
'I would like that. If you do, and you write when you are coming and receive no letter from me in reply, do not worry. Come anyway and stay at the Rehot Dan Hotel in Tel Aviv. Check in under the name of Sarah Bernhardt.'
'Sarah Bernhardt!' She laughed. 'You've got to be joking!'
He permitted himself a slight smile. 'It sounds rather obvious, but only to us. It will be our own private code, and no one else will suspect that it is a message to me.' He smoothed her hair. 'Sarah
Bernhardt shall be a private joke between us.'
'Sarah Bernhardt.' She nodded solemnly.
Then, after you check in, place a personal advertisement in the newspapers. It should read "US passport lost vicinity Jericho. Contact Holy Land Pilgrimage Tours". Do not add anything else. Then wait at the hotel until someone gets in touch with you. It may be me or someone else and it could take several days, so try to be patient.'
'It all sounds rather mysterious, like something worthy of Mata Hari. Are you sure all this subterfuge is necessary?'
'As long as I am committed to fight for a Jewish homeland, yes, I think it is.'
' "US passport lost vicinity Jericho",' she repeated. ' "Contact Holy Land Pilgrimage Tours". 'I'll be able to remember that easily enough.'
'Good, but it is all written down with the address I left you.'
Louis honked again and Schmarya embraced her for one last time, enfolding her in the comforting paternal warmth of his arms.
'You'll see,' she vowed with quiet conviction, 'I'm going to visit you in Palestine. It might even be sooner than you think.'
Chapter 18
'Is Señor Harriman, señora,' Esperanza announced from the door. 'The man from the bank.'
'Well, don't just stand there,' Tamara said irritably. 'Send him in.'
Esperanza fixed her with a dark look. 'Si señora,' she said with resignation, and flapped back out, then led Clifford Harriman into the room and shut the door from outside.
'Miss Tamara,' Harriman said, crossing the expanse of white carpeting to where Tamara was standing. 'I hope I am not inconveniencing you.'
'Not at all, Mr. Harriman. It's a pleasure to see you,' she lied in a pleasant tone, holding out her hand for him to shake. His handshake was light and bony, almost brittle. She had the feeling that if she gripped him too hard, she would hear his bones breaking. 'Please, won't you take a seat?' She waited until he put down his briefcase and was seated. 'Can I get you a drink?'