by Roger Herst
Once she finished speaking with Miles Boronsky, Gabby returned to Kye, kissing him affectionately to resume where they had left off. He received her kisses, but showed no signs of interest, even when her hand dropped to his leg. "I'm sorry," she whispered
"Are you ever going to get a life for yourself, Gabrielle?" he inquired. "Everyone wants a piece of you, especially me, and there aren't enough pieces to go around. Ohav Shalom is eating you up, morsel by morsel."
They rested against the pillows and listened to the sounds of the ocean, then talked a little and listened some more. For the second time, the telephone rang. Gabby didn't bother to ask for Kye's permission to answer it.
"Rabbi Gabby?" Chuck's clear, sharp voice was on the other end. "It's your old friend in Washington. I called Miles Boronsky the moment I heard about Rabbi Landau and he said he had just spoken to you and that you were thinking of coming home early."
"Yes, we just hung up a few minutes ago,"
"Can I say something impertinent?"
She laughed. "You always do. Why break your stride now?"
"Coming home early is the stupidest, most asinine thing I've ever heard of," he barked in a forceful tone, leaving nothing to ambiguity. "Yes, there are emergencies, but this isn't one of them."
"Not to you, but to Rabbi Landau it's a nightmare."
"Perhaps, but she doesn't deserve your attention. What kindnesses has she shown you? What sacrifices has she made to convenience you? Nothing. NOTHING! If I have to say it, then I will. GODAMN NOTHING! Why should you cut your valuable holiday short?"
"She's hurting, Chuck. Abner is unreachable somewhere in South America."
"Cici is a mature woman and the fact that her absentee-husband chooses to be out of touch, that's they're problem not yours."
"I'm sorry, friend. I appreciate your concern for me and I always want you to let me know what's on your mind, but this time you're wrong. Rabbi Landau is my colleague and my associate. It's a matter of derek-eretz, common decency. Please do me a favor and make a note in the Newsletter that, due to an emergency, I won't be able to contribute the final episode of the Odyssey of Mordecai Yoelson. I'll just have to leave that up to the imaginations of my readers."
After Gabby thanked Chuck for his concern and hung up, she returned to Kye who said with exasperation, "Chuck thinks you're nuts and I think you're mishunganah. You're so stubborn, you're not likely to listen to either of us."
The next morning, Kye returned to meetings at the Hilton Hotel. Gabby called United Airlines to inquire about a flight out of Monterey Airport, connecting in San Francisco to Washington's Dulles International. Later that morning, two executives' wives from the new Images picked up Gabby in a convertible for a prearranged drive down Highway 1, along the coast. They failed to tell her that they also had an appointment with a residential realtor to look at homes for sale. The agent, a pretty woman in her forties who obviously spent time in a gym keeping herself in shape, had lined up five homes to tour, all with spectacular views of the ocean. The women were cordial and businesslike, asking intelligent questions about the properties and writing responses in spiral notebooks.
"Which ones do you prefer?" they asked Gabby at the end of the tour.
"Each is a palace. Who wouldn't want to live with such breathtaking views?"
"Hopefully we'll all select different homes," another added.
"I don't think Kye and I are interested," Gabby said.
The women looked at each other to hide their surprise.
That evening, Gabby told Kye of the house tour. "Of course, we could never afford any of the five I saw. The prices quoted had so many zeros I lost track. They should quote them in nth powers like astronomers."
"You're wrong, Gabrielle," he replied. "Remember I told you that this merger is going to make us very rich, so rich we can afford any one of the homes you saw today. All you have to do is tell me which one and I'll make it happen."
Gabby never envisioned herself living in such a house and for an instant was moved almost to tears by the very thought of it. "It's heaven," she said to him. "But they're twenty-five hundred miles from Washington. And I'm afraid what would happen to us here. Maybe it's better to visit paradise than to live in it. I'm sure you'll be coming often. Maybe you should rent an apartment in town and, when I can get time off, I'll fly out and stay with you."
Early the next morning, en route to the Hilton Hotel, Kye drove Gabby to the Monterey Airport to catch a flight back to Washington. "Sorry I must leave you two days early," she said on the curb as he took out her luggage from the trunk.
"I am, too," he replied, ready to manhandle the luggage toward a curbside check in counter.
"We accomplished what we wanted," she was defensive. "Somebody is going to call you Daddy soon."
Flying from the West to East coast, Gabby lost almost a day in travel and arrived in Washington late Friday afternoon. Normally, she would be on the pulpit on Erev Shabbat, but since she was technically still on holiday, she had made no plans to be in the synagogue until Monday morning. While waiting for her luggage at Dulles Airport, she phoned Cici's home and learned from her mother that Cici had left the hospital and was recuperating in bed. They still had not heard from Abner Landau. Gabby asked if she could come directly from the airport to visit. Mrs. Green said that at the moment Cici was sleeping, but was certain to be awake by the time Gabby reached the house.
When she arrived at the Landau home, not only was Cici awake but sitting at her upright piano, dressed in baggy jeans and one of Abner's sweatshirts, its long sleeves rolled above the wrists. Her mother had not relinquished responsibility for taking care of Teddy and Shelly and, since Gabby's previous visit, had made little progress curtailing their messiness. A healthy inventory of toys was scattered over the floor, left exactly where they were when the child's attention was distracted to something else. Since it was apparent that no attempt had been made to straighten things before her visit, Gabby assumed neither Cici nor Mrs. Green were conscious of the mess.
There was a withdrawn, distant expression on Cici's pale face. She rose painfully from the piano bench to extend a formal hand in welcome. Gabby attempted to press her into a hug, but she held back to indicate such affection wasn't wanted. Ethel Green entered the room with Shelly trailing behind, ignoring Gabby's presence. Mrs. Green offered to make tea, an idea that Gabby welcomed.
"Judah Gould phoned to inquire about my health," Cici opened, her eyes on Shelly to avoid contact with Gabby. "I haven't met him, but he sounds like a nice man. He let me know that he's looking forward to working with me when you're on sabbatical."
"Yes, he possesses an easy manner. Some guys have such egos, they're impossible to work with. When we selected Judah, we had this in mind. I came right from the airport to see how you're feeling. I know this is a major blow for you and Abner. I try to imagine what it must feel like to lose a baby and all I can conjure up is despair."
Cici tightened her lips as if trying to hold back what was on her mind. "Well, at least now you'll have me back working sooner than you anticipated. That should please you. I know you haven't been happy about me getting pregnant."
Gabby caught the anger in Cici's remarks and momentarily struggled for a response. "No, Cici. The truth is, I was never unhappy about you're getting pregnant. That's natural for a woman. But I won't say your hiatus from the synagogue hasn't caused problems for me. I've got to run a lot of programs and being short-staffed isn't fun. It requires me to double up and expend more administrative time. So please, let's keep the record straight on this matter. I'm delighted you'll be returning, but not happy about the circumstances. And I don't want you to come back until you feel physically and emotionally strong enough. Healing from a blow like this will take time."
Cici rotated her shoulders and came alongside Gabby as a ship-of-the-line preparing to fire a broadside at the enemy. "Now that it's over, I've had time to think about what happened and I've concluded my miscarriage was caused by stress. I never
felt comfortable about my service to Ohav Shalom and you didn't make it any easier. Things would have been much different if I had found more support from you. But they say a person can't give what he doesn't have and that kind of empathy isn't in your personality."
Cici's assault caught Gabby unprepared. Her first impulse was to deny that she was the cause of the miscarriage, but she knew that would only draw Cici into an argument, and this was certainly not the time to be argumentative. Her second impulse was to parry the blow by striking a counter-blow at her colleague's work ethics – also a self-defeating technique. "I'm sorry," she finally said. "It was never my intention to put pressure upon you and I most certainly never created a climate for your miscarriage. Yes, I always want you in the synagogue alongside me. But no, not at the cost of your health."
"I wish I could believe that, but I've thought about it for a long, long time and I just don't come to that conclusion," Cici responded.
Ethel Green arrived with a tray and three cups. Unaware of the hostile conversation, she set it down on a coffee table and returned to the kitchen for a teapot. Neither Gabby nor Cici said anything, but continued to exchange accusing looks. Gabby was glad Chuck Browner wasn't there to stir the fire of disagreement between them.
After tea was poured, Gabby addressed Cici, "Keep me posted about your recovery. And I meant what I said about not rushing it. Still, some people divert their minds from unpleasant thoughts by devoting themselves to others."
Cici glanced at her mother before saying, "I'll give that some thought. The way I feel now, I don't think I'd be very effective at the shul. I'm exhausted and depressed. Ohav Shalom is partly responsible for what's happened."
"I hope you don't believe that," Gabby replied in a reproving tone. "Using any definition of responsibility, the synagogue is not responsible. You'll enjoy your service there far more if you don't believe your troubles were caused by the congregation, or me."
After only sipping her tea, Gabby excused herself by mentioning a full schedule of duties waiting. Cici failed to offer thanks for cutting short her holiday in California, but that, Gabby reasoned, was probably because she was unaware of the arrangement made with Judah Gould. Clearly, Cici was in no mood to be grateful for anything. It was only on the street outside that Gabby confronted herself, remarking, "For this, I lost two days in paradise!"
To get a feel for the service from a congregant's point of view, Gabby considered going to Ohav Shalom's Sabbath worship in disguise. Espionage appealed to the devilish side of her personality, but it was eventually overruled for being dishonest. In the end, she elected to attend a nearby Conservative shul where a disguise was not disingenuous.
She spent Sunday jogging on the C&O Canal and made notes about all the things necessary to prepare her house for a baby. Her girlfriends would help, of course, and her sister was likely to provide basic lessons on infant care. Sunday afternoon, she called Cici, offering to talk about responsibility for the miscarriage. But Cici said that she was tired and really didn't want to talk about that subject. It continued to be a very painful reflection and the less said the better. The brief conversation left Gabby upset. She liked to resolve disagreements and clearly this one wasn't going to be easily reconciled.
On Monday morning, Gabby failed to mention to Chuck her visit with Cici. He possessed a way of reading her and, after handing over a stack of call-back memos, asked, "How did you find Rabbi Landau?"
"Depressed, exhausted, and still unable to get in touch with Abner. Unfortunately, she's not very pleased with me. She believes that I put her under unnecessary stress and somehow this led to her miscarriage."
"My God, that woman could bend a telephone pole into an excuse. You can't take her seriously, can you?"
"It's not what's true but what she believes is true."
"She's quick to attribute responsibility, but slow to assume it. Why is it necessary that we caused her stress? She's done it to herself."
Gabby shuffled the stack of phone messages. Callbacks would take the better part of the morning. "Let's leave the matter of Rabbi Landau, Chuck. We both know the problem. I've invited her back to work just as soon as she feels physically and mentally ready."
"Sometime next year, if she doesn't get pregnant again."
The ninth message caught Gabby's eye. It was from Dr. Shenna Benjamin of the US Holocaust Museum who requested a return call as soon as possible. Gabby dialed the Museum first, but Dr. Benjamin was in a Monday morning staff meeting. Her return call to Gabby arrived at 10:20 am.
"You know, Rabbi," she said, "museum exhibits have a way of churning muddy waters. Curators have learned how exhibits bring people out of the woodwork. The Holocaust Museum has an extensive national mailing list we use to solicit contributors. I got a call from a man in Naples, Florida, whose neighbor is on our mailing list. The neighbor's name is Kyle Dormyer, who was a sergeant attached to the team that discovered the Sefer Torahs from the Offenbach warehouse. I called Mr. Dormyer and he said he was making plans to come to Washington to see the exhibit."
"That's incredible," Gabby exclaimed. "I'd love to meet him when he comes."
"Kyle Dormyer promised to call me in advance so that I could introduce him to my research staff. When I told him about how we discovered the tattoos, he said he could have told us about that a long time ago. Moreover, he said that he personally discovered, in a folder in the Offenbach warehouse, a code for the tattoos. With their passion for Teutonic precision, the Nazis tattooed each scroll with a number that corresponded with the region in which units of the select murdering Einsatzgruppen operated. That code he handed over to an army intelligence officer in Munich. I put my research team immediately to work to see if we could locate it. The original document from Offenbach is missing, but the US Army Archives, warehoused in Culpepper, Virginia, has a copy. The archivist there sent us a Xerox and my staff immediately matched the code with the seven Torahs we have in our exhibit. We were able to locate the origin of three of the seven scrolls, two in Galicia and one in Belarus."
Gabby adored historical sleuthing.
"I was wondering," continued Shenna Benjamin, "if perhaps you have a record of the tattoo on the Sefer Torah stolen from Ohav Shalom."
"No," Gabby said. "I didn't even know our scroll was tattooed until Carey Sylerman brought it to my attention. But she said that all the kids in our Bar-Bat Mitzvah program knew about it, so maybe one of them remembers it. I'll make inquiries."
"Do that, please," said Benjamin. "Meanwhile, I'll keep you posted about Sergeant Dormeyer's visit."
Gabby had been up trying to reach Carey Sylerman by phone and therefore sent an email message.
Shenna Benjamin at the Holocaust Museum called to say that she was in contact with an ex-soldier who was part of an army team that discovered the cache of Holocaust Torahs in Offenbach, Germany. He said that accompanying the scrolls was a codebook to identify them. Dr. Benjamin's research people found a copy in Pentagon Archives. Is there any way you can remember the tattooed number on Ohav Shalom's stolen Sefer Torah?
On another subject, reports from your class on Orthodox practices at OS were very favorable and we're looking forward to having you back this Sunday. The airline tickets are already processed. All you have to do is show up at the ticket-counter with a photo identity card.
Carey Sylerman's reply arrived within three hours.
Rabbi Lewyn: Unfortunately, I can't remember the tattoo number, but I believe Susan Nebel might. I think she's now a graduate student at Washington University in St. Louis, studying public health. I'll keep trying to remember myself, but for the present I'm only drawing a blank. Re. this Sunday. Baruch objects to my teaching at a Reform synagogue. He said he permitted me to do this once because he didn't want to appear fanatical. But he fears what will happen if word gets out in the community. He's ordered me not to return. I'm not certain I want to let him make such decisions for me, particularly because we're not married yet. I'll have to think about this a little longer before
giving you a definite answer.
Gabby wanted to blast a reply excoriating Baruch for his narrowness of mind and warn Carey that if her fiancée was giving orders before marriage, beware of what might happened after they emerge from the chupah. But she refrained from intruding into Carey's and Baruch's relationship and instead sent a different kind of reply.
Carey, please remind Baruch that Ohav Shalom is the synagogue of your youth and had it not been for this institution, you probably wouldn't be a candidate to join Sh'erit ha-Pletah. While we have no desire to interfere with your relationship or to antagonize members of Sh'erit ha-Pletah, we feel you have the expertise to contribute to our course of study. If you choose not to come for this Sunday class, I will think no less of you. Please let me know as I shall have to make arrangements to teach the class myself. And that will be a loss for the students, since you are eminently more qualified than I am. Shalom, as always, Rabbi Gabby
Gabby had no idea that her invitation to Carey would spark such a firefight. Carey replied with several emails delineating her difficulties, more social than ideological or logistical. Baruch was very unhappy with her for what he called "recidivism." He argued that he had been nominated to become of member of the Z'chut Avot Society at Sh'erit ha-Pletah, which meant, if elected, he would be eligible to study in the Chamber of Merit and carry a Sefer Torah after Maariv prayers. Carey's deportment reflected badly upon him. Either she would have to cease trips to Washington or face the prospects of having her engagement revoked. That did not mean that she could never become a full member of Sh'erit ha-Pletah, but would have to wait until the leadership identified another husband for her. Of course, that also meant canceling their plans to live in Jerusalem.
Gabby didn't like what she heard, but then told herself many cults required discipline from prospective members. She saw no harm in having Carey teach at Ohav Shalom, but since this had become a personal decision about her future family, Gabby resolved not to put additional pressure upon her.