Then Chia looked at Lenny and said with a straight face, “Well, I hope it won’t be in June … because Lenny and I are getting married then.”
Chavala had to hold back the tears, remembering the night Chia was born. The memories were too many and the past too close tonight. In her mind she was standing with a new child in her arms, back in that kitchen south of Odessa … “You are mine … you were given unto my keeping …. little Chia … mama’s life will be lived through you …” I’ve kept my promise, mama. For all the bad things I’ve done, all the mistakes I’ve made, this makes it worthwhile …
Compared to the great announcement they’d just heard, hers about the new store seemed insignificant. It could keep. Tomorrow was time enough.
CHAPTER THIRTY
IT SEEMED A CENTURY since they’d first reached the shores of America. Chavala had never dreamed how she was going to make a living. A day to remember. It was the worst blizzard that New York had had in years, and they’d barely had sufficient clothes to keep them warm. The snow fell between the eaves of Mrs. Zuckerman’s attic, and Moishe had complained about the apartment on Delancey Street … Well, maybe it was a century ago … it was 1920, and in the short period of five years she’d worked herself up a very long way. Only in America…
Chavala signed the lease on a store at Fifth Avenue and Forty-first Street. It was 1925. America was riding the crest of her prosperity wave. Chavala wanted her store to fit the times. The lighting was soft. Muted pearl-gray silk covered the walls, and in front of the gold French tables Louis XV chairs were positioned so the customers could contemplate the merchandise in comfort.
Chavala, Moishe and Julie stood in front and watched the sign, “Landau’s,” being hoisted in all its splendor.
The pawnshop was now operated by a close friend of Mr. Leibowitz who was too old to stand on his feet any longer; his honesty, of course, was beyond question.
Since the landsman felt it was time for Benny to become a respected merchant, he suggested to Chavala that the onetime “Mr. Epstein” should run the store near Harlem. Chavala agreed quickly; it was the least she could do.
All that was left was to manufacture her own jewelry. It was also a matter of need. So as not to be obliged to show records of wholesale purchases, Chavala and the landsman realized that the smuggled loose diamonds would have to be mounted. She found a loft on the Bowery, where the rent was right and where there were men out of the labor market so far as their ages were concerned but not their valuable experience. Some were stooped, most white-haired, their pants bagging on frail limbs and with belts taken in too many notches. They had been skilled and respected craftsmen, first in the old country, then for years in America. But age had overtaken them, or so they were told. Chavala’s offer to them was a simple one, and they blessed her for it … Do what you do best, gentlemen, and name your price—within reason, of course … They smiled and went about their jobs like reborn human beings. Someone had given them a chance to get out of the alleys, the dark corners, literally and spiritually. Her name was Chavala Landau.
Chavala also became a designer, thank you very much. She designed what the old men executed, and maybe she wasn’t educated at some fancy school for design, and maybe her sketches were all in her head, and she didn’t talk like she had her lips buttoned and didn’t know whether she was a boy or a girl, but she managed, along with a little help from those noses-in-the-air Cartier, Van Cleef & Arpels, and, not to be a piker, Mr. Tiffany too. So she used her imagination—under the spur of necessity—to make a few adjustments … a diamond instead of an emerald, a blue star sapphire instead of a ruby, but depend on it, the designs, whatever they were, she sold like a master craftsman. And who was hurt? Nobody, just like with the smuggling … except a few dollars in duty that didn’t get collected into somebody’s pocket… And who could argue that many, many were helped?
Between the three stores and the manufacturing plant, Chavala began truly to acquire a sizable bank account. She provided for her family, now they would never be in want. Every month Raizel received a check. As for Dvora, she was more cautious with her since she knew about Ari’s resistance. It was a delicate subject, but she’d found out about an outfit called Harvester that made large farming equipment, and she knew what Ari needed was a mechanized plow. Except she couldn’t just send it to him tied in a red ribbon and say Happy Chanukah, so she decided to ask Dovid to help, welcoming at the same time an opportunity to be in touch. That evening she wrote a letter:
My Dearest Dovid,
As always my thought are of you and Reuven. I pray that all goes well with you and, especially, that you are happy. Joshua is a lovely little boy and talks about you constantly. In my heart I know that the time will come when we will be together. Permanently.
Now, Dearest Dovid, I need your help. Knowing your ability to handle delicate matters, I would like for Ari to have a mechanized plow. Let me know what you think would be best for his use and suggest the necessity of it. I will arrange to have the money transferred to Jerusalem. Of course he must think the loan is from you or he will not accept it. When he pays you back, the money will be put into an account for the children. What else can I say except thank you, thank you for your help.
Now, about things here. As you know, Chia is getting married in June to a wonderful young man I’ve written you about before. As you already know, I still cannot get over the fact that the family, and you, Dearest Dovid, will be together on that memorable day. Well, Darling Dovid, what can I say, except that I live for that day.
With all my love,
Chavala
As June approached, the excitement over Chia’s wedding took precedence over all else. But when Chavala sent the tickets for the family, there was an exception that made her terribly sad … how could she call it a reunion of family if Sheine would not share in the important event? And how could she? Her husband, son of an anti-Semitic mother … Sheine still having in her heart to live a deception about what was left of her true feelings…
For several days she could not even wait on the trade, instead sitting in the office and trying to work on the books.
Moishe went upstairs to Chavala’s small office, sat in front of her desk. “You know, you and I have shared a lot of things. Now, tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Nothing … what brought this on?”
“The way you’re acting.”
“How am I acting?”
“Sad.”
“Why should I be sad … that’s nonsense … I have a lot of things on my mind—”
“Such as?”
“Four businesses.”
“But that’s not new … for God’s sake, Chavala, don’t always be so brave. You have a problem, talk about it.”
She looked at him. Maybe it would help to talk about it. “I want Sheine at the wedding …”
“So? Why don’t you write and ask her?”
“Well, as I told you when I came back from Berlin and I’d seen Sheine, she told me she’s expecting a baby and—”
“So … pregnant women don’t travel? What is she going to take, a horse and wagon? She’ll be on a luxury liner.”
Chavala said nothing.
“To ask wouldn’t hurt.”
But Chavala was thinking about her anti-Semitic mother-in-law. Still, she told herself, she wasn’t inviting the mother-in-law. “Well, maybe you’re right …” She was grateful to him for making her face her reluctance, and helping her overcome it. Including the worrisome prospect of meeting a true-blue Aryan like Gunter,
As soon as Moishe left, Chavala took out a piece of stationery headed “Landau’s Fine Jewelry,” and began:
My Dearest Sheine,
The memory I have of the last time we saw each other in Berlin becomes more vivid with the passing of each day. Even a brief moment can become a timeless gift, which is the case with you and me. I long to see you.
As you know from my last letter, Chia is getting married and the family are all
coming from Palestine. The only sadness will be if you aren’t here. If I had one wish it would be to share this joyous time with you. Do you think it might be possible for you and Gunter to come? Please try, my Dearest Sheine.
I pray that you are well and happy. Write soon, as I will count the moments for your reply.
Your loving sister,
Chavala
Sheine opened the small metal box at the post office and found the letter from Chavala. Quickly she sat on a wooden bench and opened it. After she’d finished, there was a long moment when she wondered if it would be possible … there was nothing in this world she wanted so much as to be reunited, after all these years, with her family.
She thought of little else that day, and in the evening when she and Gunter were alone in their rooms, her pulse raced as she handed him the letter and even more so as she watched him reading it.
When he’d finished, he handed it back to Sheine, then said, “Obviously, dear, you want to go, and that’s understandable. But how do you think your family is going to accept me?”
Forgetting the rejections she’d had from his family, she put her arms around him, grateful for his not saying no. “You mean that we can go?”
“I wouldn’t want to deny you … but the question remains. Will they?”
“They’ll love you—”
“That’s a bit more than I was asking.”
“They’re very happy for us, the baby … that’s all they want… my happiness …”
He hesitated, remembering the reaction of her family when they’d married. Still, time could change things … look how his mother had mellowed about his wife… “Well, if it means that much to you, then, yes, we shall go.”
Amidst her rush of gratitude was a sobering thought… “What will you tell your mother?”
Poor Elsa—he still thought of her by that name—she still lives with ghosts. Of course, it was all unfortunately the residue of her Jewishness, her apprehension about her past He sighed to himself, determined to put her mind at rest. Taking her in his arms, he smiled down at her. “Darling, my mother is not our keeper. We’ll tell her we are taking a holiday. There, do you feel better now?”
She did. How could she not with such a sweet understanding husband so unlike his mother…
When Gunter retired that evening, she could scarcely wait to write Chavala.
And when Chavala received the letter, her world was finally complete.
Waiting for the family to arrive strained Chavala’s self-discipline to its outer limits. She marked off each day that brought them closer. But it seemed that when one waited, time never passed.
Still, in the next month there were a million things to do, which made the waiting a little easier. The ceremony would be held in the large chapel at Temple Rodeph Shalom, accommodating two hundred and fifty people, and the reception at the Plaza Hotel. The bride’s dress was purchased at Bergdorf Goodman, and the bridesmaids’ dresses at Bonwit Teller. This was going to be the wedding to end all weddings. Chavala worked for hours at a time with the florist on decorations for the chuppah. White roses, small orchids, peonies, baby’s breath and green maidenhair fern created the dome from which hung satin ribbons entwined with lily of the valley. White streamers and tall standards filled with gladiolus would line the aisle, and on the pulpit would be large roses, gladiolus stalks and lilacs. For the table centerpieces, baskets of pink peonies sitting on pink damask tablecloths.
The next project on Chavala’s agenda was more complicated. Going over the menu with the caterer at the Plaza, it was decided that the food would not only be the finest but also strictly kosher. Raizel and her sons were especially to be considered in this connection … including not having Beef Wellington, out of the question. Chicken, but strictly kosher, was the compromise. On the five-tiered wedding cake, were would be no compromise.
The orchestra … Chavala had auditioned them personally … had been engaged, as well as the photographer, a man whose pants were too tight, but what could you do? … he had a very good professional reputation … And all none too soon. Tomorrow was the day. The family was arriving.
Chavala was a nervous wreck as she stood at dockside waiting with Julie, Moishe, Chia and Lenny. Each moment seemed an eternity as the giant steamer was nudged by the tugboats into its pier. When it finally had stopped, Joshua looked up, then screamed out, “There’s papa… Reuven, look over here …”
Although the little boy’s voice could not be heard from the deck above, Reuven saw his brother being held up on the shoulder of his uncle Moishe. Reuven waved back furiously, laughing with excitement at the sight of Joshua.
And then things began to happen at what seemed a furious pace as the passengers began walking, running down the gangplank. When the family was finally assembled, laughter, tears, excited conversation overlapped … “It’s unbelievable” … “Chia! I can’t believe it’s you” … “Oh, Dvora, and Ari” … “Aunt Chavala” … “Pnina, what a beauty …” Reuven kissed and hugged Chavala. “I’m very happy to see you, mother…”
In spite of the excitement, Chavala was not only touched by this open display of affection from her previously disapproving son, but surprised that he’d called her mother instead of ema. “You’ve learned English,” she said, and laughed a little nervously.
“I had to. Aunt Dvora’s a slavedriver. It’s all her fault… I’m glad you approve …”
“Oh, I do, it’s wonderful…”
And then came the moment when not only Joshua was in Dovid’s arms, but so was she, being embraced. The deep thrill that went through her, right to her very soul… “Dovid, oh God, seeing you, I don’t have the words …”And then in a whisper … “I love you, Dovid.”
“Those are the best words, Chavala. And they are mine to you—”
Suddenly it occurred to Chavala that neither Lenny nor Julie had been introduced. In Hebrew she said to the family, “This is Julie, Moishe’s wife, and come meet Lenny, Chia’s chatan.” Excitedly, the family greeted the new additions. A slight problem, however … since the acknowledgment was made in Hebrew, Julie and Lenny couldn’t understand one word. Moishe came to the rescue and interpreted.
The preparations had included housing for the family. Raizel and her sons were driven to Mrs. Zuckerman’s, where everything would be kosher. A suite of rooms was reserved at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, since kosher was not a problem—nor would the language be a barrier—Ari, after all, having been born and bred in New Jersey, U.S.A.
After the family had been settled, Chavala went back to her apartment to supervise the preparations for dinner that evening. She suggested that, since she would not be available, Dovid and Reuven take over the role of family guide.
After an hour’s rest, the family was gathered together, and the sights of Manhattan loomed before them. Each place they stopped at was awesome. New York was a city of towers that seemed to reach up and touch the sky. As they walked the streets, they had to step aside to allow the ongoing flow of this multitude of humanity that passed them. Zvi looked at his father, “I don’t like it, abba.”
Ari laughed, “To tell you the truth, I’m not crazy about it either, Zvi. I never was, but then, the whole world isn’t Palestine.”
Overhearing the remark, Reuven said, “It is for me.” Reuven was still Reuven.
When they finally stopped at Schrafft’s Restaurant to rest their weary feet, the family all agreed Manhattan wasn’t Tel Aviv.
Raizel, seated close to her sons around the large round table, felt all but forgotten until the waitress asked for orders. She looked at Ari and in Yiddish asked, “What did the lady say?”
“She wanted to know what you want… we’re going to have coffee and cake and ice cream sundaes. What would you like?”
What she would like was to be back in Mea Shearim, where she didn’t have to contend with this dreadful trayf. From these dishes and cups she wouldn’t drink. “Thank you very much,” she told Ari, “but I’m not hungry.”
&nbs
p; Her sons followed her example. They sat and observed as the coffee cakes and ice cream sundaes were being served and delightedly consumed. Watching the family, the two oldest sons, sitting there with their black broad-brimmed hats, looked meaningfully at one another … it was Sodom, said the first with his eyes, and the other’s silent response was, Gomorrah.
At seven they all arrived to be greeted by an ebullient Chavala. No denying it, Chavala’s apartment was magnificent, though Zvi said to his father, “I like our place better.”
Reuven agreed.
But Dvora did not share her husband’s or Reuven’s feelings. She was proud of Chavala, and grateful to her. “This is beautiful, Chavala … I’m so proud of you.”
Chavala thanked her and told her how proud she was of Dvora … of all of the family … “And to think I have you all together. Would you have believed when we left that little shtetl that we’d be here in New York City tonight waiting for little Chia to be married?”
“No, I surely didn’t, I wouldn’t even have been able to imagine it. But thank God it happened.”
Thank God, Mr. Leibowitz and the landsman, Chavala thought, and kissed Dvora. “Now, then, I think we’re all ready to go to dinner.”
The next day the family collected once again for the arrival of Sheine and Gunter. Again the kissing, the hugging, except for Gunter, who stood awkwardly aside until Sheine took his hand in hers and said to the family, “This is Gunter.”
Uneasily, formally, he acknowledged the introduction.
Dovid greatly helped by holding out his hand. “It’s a pleasure. I’m sorry we took so long, but, welcome. You’ve made all of us very happy by coming, and helping to make this family gathering complete.”
Sheine, deeply grateful for those words, could barely control her emotions as she stood now in front of Dovid … She had married Gunter because of Dovid, her frustrated love for him being so great at the time. It was almost a perverse reaction. And, now, as she and Dovid, she too close to the middle of her life, embraced, she knew her love was even greater than before, but so very different … love had so many faces, disguises … now Dovid was once again the brother she had had as a little girl. Now her love for him had come full circle, back to reality. It was a great relief…
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