Never Again

by Harvey A. Schwartz

  Sarah and Abram were carried on the payroll of Abram’s uncle’s jewelry business in Portland, Maine, but few employees there would have recognized them. They crisscrossed the country raising money for the movement. Sometimes, they purchased supplies that not even the government of Israel was anxious for the settlers to have.

  Goldhersh became skilled at negotiating the clandestine weapons markets in towns outside American military bases—places where soldiers could make beer money, and more, by smuggling items off the bases. That was one of the other reasons he’d returned to Portland. It was an old seaport. Not too large, not too small. International freighters called regularly, delivering containers from around the world, leaving with containers of American goods. Once in a while, a freighter left for the eastern Mediterranean and Goldhersh could ship a cargo container with “farm supplies” for his former settlement on the Golan. Goldhersh also had access to warehouse space along Portland’s waterfront.

  Homeland Security monitored shipping containers entering American ports, but who cared what was shipped out of the country?

  Sarah knew most of what her husband did. More often than not, she joined him on his cross-country shopping trips. As they were more and more successful in purchasing such “surplus” military equipment, they cut ties to people outside the movement, partly for security reasons but mostly because they had little time for anything but their work. Debra Reuben had only an inkling of what her former roommate and her husband were doing. They had not spoken in half a dozen years.

  On the telephone, Sarah was cold at first; then an incredulous tone came into her voice.

  “Debbie,” she said. “I thought you were in Israel, that you moved there, lived there permanently. I’ve been wondering about you, and, of course, about all the other poor Israelis we knew, but I really have been wondering whether you were okay. Debbie, you did live in Tel Aviv, didn’t you? To tell you the truth, I assumed you were dead. I’ve included you in my prayers. I said your name when I lit the candles. Debbie, it’s nice, nice to hear your voice.”

  “Sarah, it’s nice to hear your voice, too. You can’t imagine how nice it is to hear a familiar voice. And yes, I am alive. It’s a long story, a very, very long story. I can tell you most of it but not all of it. Yes, I was in Israel. I was there pretty recently, when the, you know, thing happened. And, obviously, I did escape. But there is so much more to it than that. Sarah, I’m in Maine. I looked at a map. I’m on the coast north of Portland by probably a few hours’drive.

  “Sarah, I know it’s asking a lot and I know I am the one who stopped calling you, but, Sarah, this is so important. Could you possibly drive up to where I am? I don’t have a car. I don’t really have a place to stay. Please come, and I’d like it if Abram could come, too. I’m in a small town called, of all things, Brooklin, near Blue Hill. Do you have any idea where it is?”

  “I know where it is, Debbie. Abram and I attended a fundraiser at somebody’s vacation house there. It was somebody important. Not the kind of somebody you’d expect to find in a little town like that in Maine, but you’d be surprised who vacations around here sometimes.”

  “Sarah, what I have to discuss is important too.”

  “Look, I’d like to see you, but Abram and I are very busy with what’s going on in Boston. They’re rounding up our people and jailing them like war criminals. It’s frightening. I never thought I’d see this in the United States.”

  “Sounds horrible, but this is important for our cause and our people. Please, just trust me.”

  Sarah told Reuben to hold on so that she could consult with her husband. A couple minutes later she said they would make the drive.

  “Debbie, swear to me that you’re not a government agent. Swear to me this isn’t some sort of setup.”

  “I swea, Sarah. We’re on the same side now,” Reuben said.

  Reuben and Levi sat inconspicuously at a corner table at the Brooklin Inn. Both felt disoriented. For one thing, the table was not rocking from side to side, and they had an actual wine list to choose from.

  “How we gonna pay for this?” Levi asked.

  “No worries,” Reuben said. “I have this.” She flashed an American Express Card. “And I have these.” She opened her purse. At the bottom were gold coins.

  “Those aren’t shekels,” he said.

  “Krugerrands,” she answered. “Gold coins. Part of the national treasure of Israel, I suppose. There was a box of them back at . . . at that place I left. I took a few just in case.”

  “How many makes up a few?” Levi asked. “And what are they worth in real money, in dollars?”

  “As many as I could stuff into my bag. That’s why my duffel was so heavy. As to what they’re worth, to tell you the truth, I’ve got no idea. I expect Abram Goldhersh will be able to tell us what solid gold goes for now, being in the jewelry business and all.”

  They sat nearly an hour, sipping on wine and apologizing to the waiter. Finally, Sarah and Abram arrived.

  Reuben leaped to her feet. Levi rose slowly, hesitating about whether it was proper.

  “Sarah. Abram. How wonderful to see you.”

  “Sorry,” Sarah said. “Turns out Brooklin was a bit farther away than I remembered. But here we are.”

  “Hello, Debbie,” Abram said flatly. He never was a great fan of his wife’s former college friend—not when Reuben was a TV reporter in New York and not even after she’d moved to Israel. In fact, once she turned up as a member of a coalition Israeli government, a coalition not fully supportive of the settlements in the West Bank, Abram was ashamed to tell friends in the movement that he knew her.

  The Goldberg-Goldhershes waited throughout dinner for any explanation of why they were summoned. In fact, besides introducing Levi as “my friend,” Reuben said almost nothing about the man she was obviously closely involved with. Abram puzzled over Levi’s accent. His English was excellent, almost good enough to pass as an American, but there were occasional hints that Goldhersh recognized as Israeli.

  Sarah, who after two years sharing the same sorority room truly did know Reuben well, could not figure out what the involvement was between Levi and Reuben. They touched, seemingly by accident and only occasionally, but when they did they lingered, if only for the barest hesitation. Sarah guessed, accurately, that Debbie herself did not know where the relationship was or where she wanted it to go.

  Mostly, they talked about what happened in Boston, about the ships, the refugees fleeing in the middle of the night, and then about the arrests, thousands of refugees and thousands of American Jews rounded up in the middle of the night and taken into custody.

  Reuben was incredulous, not having been privy to the news while at sea.

  “Wait a minute, just hold on. Haven’t we, I mean hasn’t the United States, sent, like relief ships and medical aid and troops and billions of dollars to Israel to help those poor people? I don’t understand. Are you trying to tell me America was going to send those ships full of people where? To Palestine—God I hate saying that name—with an Egyptian Navy ship? Honestly, Sarah, I just don’t believe it. There has to be more to it than that.” Reuben looked at her friend, waiting for an explanation.

  Instead, Abram responded.

  “You are demonstrating how naive you are, once again. You and that whole government of cowards you got dragged into as a little showpiece. Jews should know better than to count on anybody else to protect them when the tide turns against us,” Abram said, speaking in a whisper. “Sure, for a few years or even a few generations they let us blend in, they let us believe everything is different this time. But then something happens, or some crazy leader comes along, and it starts all over again. What do you think was more important to these Americans? What was more important when it came to choosing between sending doctors to treat dying Jews or getting cut off from half the world’s oil? Tough choice, right? Not for this country, it seemed.”

  He looked Reuben straight in the eyes.

  “How do y
ou think German Jews felt in 1938 when their neighbors, neighbors who they thought viewed them as good Germans first and as Jews second, stopped talking to them, and then started turning them in? And that was far from the first time. What about the Spanish Jews? The Inquisition ring any bells for you? Don’t you think Spanish Jews felt as comfortable, as much a part of their country, as American Jews feel now? Don’t you think some Spanish Jewish banker told his wife not to worry, nothing bad can happen to us here?”

  Levi interrupted, speaking for the first time after he was introduced.

  “What are you talking about in Spain? I was there just two months ago. Nothing happened in Spain with the Jews.”

  Goldhersh glared.

  “I’m talking history. Jewish history. Don’t they teach Jewish history in the public schools in Eretz anymore?”

  The conversation paused as all four realized they were getting heated and loud. After a few sips of wine, Reuben continued.

  “Abram, Spain, Germany, they were abominations, horrible, but certainly they were exceptions,” she said. “Jews have been accepted in plenty of countries. England, Holland. France. Okay, I know Russia was bad, Poland, too. But please, Abram, is that what’s really happening here in the US?”

  Goldhersh started to stand up, throwing his hands over his head, then looked around the restaurant and restrained himself. He sat back down.

  “Why don’t people study history? How can Jews forget their own history? Where do you think the Spaniards learned about expelling Jews, Debbie? I assume you are not acquainted with the Jewish Expulsion from England in 1290? Well, good King Edward ordered all the sheriffs of England to serve writs on every Jew in the country, and there were plenty of Jews in Jolly Olde England then. Jews were craftsmen, teachers, rabbis, active in government, politics. The writs ordered them to pack up and leave . . . Want to hear a few more dates, Debbie? How about the Expulsion from France in 1182? At that time almost half the property in downtown Paris was owned by Jews. Think they felt secure? Sure they did, about as secure as a Jewish doctor living in Brookline, Massachusetts, does right now.”

  “Abram, enough, stop it, right now,” Sarah barked.

  Goldhersh rested his head in his hands.

  “How many Jews were turned to dust in Tel Aviv?” he whispered. “Dust. Dust, like in a crematorium. Tell me, Debbie, tell me, Chaim Levi, do you suppose the Jews of Spain, the Jews of England, the Jews of France, the Jews of Germany, those of them that survived, vowed that it would never happen again? How could they not have done so? That is what frightens me more than anything else—that the first words on my lips when I wake, the first words when I go to sleep, are never, never, never again, not here, not now. What frightens me is that no matter what I do, it is going to happen again, like it has always happened before. Why do people think it is impossible here, now, when it has always been possible everywhere else? Why does God do this to his Chosen People? Why?”

  Sarah turned to Reuben.

  “Debbie, I apologize for Abram. It’s been difficult. He’s so tired. We’re all tired. But, Debbie, you still haven’t said a word about why we had to get together. It’s your turn. Tell us what is going on with you”—she gestured toward Levi—“with both of you.”

  “Not just yet,” Levi interjected. “We have to be careful. We’ll go for a walk after dinner. Then we’ll talk. Now, let’s eat.”

  “And drink,” Debra said, finishing her rum and coke and picking up the wine list. “We need two bottles, don’t we?”

  The rest of the dinner was spent reminiscing about Sarah and Debra’s college days and how much their lives had changed since they were sorority sisters. Levi listened patiently. Goldhersh sat silently, simmering.

  When the table was cleared, the waiter placed the bill, inside a leather folder, in the geographic center of the table. Abram waited to see if anybody would move first. He cleared his throat and sat motionless. Reuben spoke.

  “Abram, we have a little problem about money.”

  “Ah, now we get to the truth.” He smiled at Reuben. “Tell me about your money problem and how much you want from me, Debbie.”

  “Well, Abram, for reasons that you will soon appreciate, I don’t want to use this.” She showed him her American Express card from her wallet. “And I have a whole bunch of these, but I don’t know what they’re worth and I don’t think they’ll take them here.”

  She slid open the top of her purse and tilted it toward Goldhersh. His eyes widened. He reached inside and removed one shiny coin, cupping it in his hand so only he could see it. He returned it quickly to the purse, where it made a dull thunk when it slid into other coins.

  “A Krugerrand. You don’t see them much anymore. They went out of style when Nelson Mandela was released from prison,” he said. “What an odd currency to travel with, Debbie. I assume there is a story that goes with that coin, and it sounds as if that coin may have some company.”

  “Oh, there is certainly a story,” Reuben responded. “But for now, tell me, Abram. Is that worth anything? Is there some way to turn it into real money?

  “It certainly is worth something, Debbie,” Goldhersh said. “I’d have to check where gold is floating today, but I’d say that coin is worth about twelve hundred dollars. And it is gold. Solid gold, South African gold. Gold can always be turned into money. That is what gold is all about. I can do that for you easily enough. Tell me, Debbie, how many of these do you have?”

  “Well, there was a box of them, a pretty big box. I couldn’t carry them all, but I took some in a bag. I haven’t counted them, but it’s awfully heavy, maybe twenty or thirty pounds I’d guess.”

  “In that case,” Abram said, smiling, “I’ll spot you for dinner, and I can be generous with the tip.”

  He paid the bill, in cash, Levi noticed, even though he had a wallet full of credit cards. A cautious man, Levi thought, who does not want to leave a trail. I like that.

  All four pushed their chairs back and stood up.

  “Let’s take a stroll down by the water,” Levi said, taking command of the conversation. “We have a story to tell you.”

  The two couples got into Abram Goldhersh’s Nissan Pathfinder and drove to the waterfront area near where the sailboat was anchored. Levi had not decided whether he was ready to tell the Americans about the bomb hidden in the sailboat’s water tank. The decision was taken from him when Reuben took his hand, leaned close and whispered in his ear.

  “Don’t tell them about it,” she said. “Not yet. I have more thinking to do first.”

  Levi nodded.

  “That’s our boat out there,” Levi said, pointing at the Hinckley riding calmly at anchor a hundred yards or so from the shore. “Home sweet home for the two of us.”

  He placed his arm around Reuben’s waist and drew her closer to him, emboldened perhaps by the wine, by her whispering in his ear or just by the expectation that she would not pull away in front of her friends. Levi was surprised when Reuben did not resist but, instead, leaned her head to rest momentarily on his shoulder. She barely smiles at me when we’re living in a box together for two months; now we get on shore and she acts like my girlfriend, Levi thought. Well, I like it better this way.

  “Debbie, I can’t believe you came all the way from Israel in that tiny boat,” Sarah said. “Weren’t you frightened to death?”

  “Actually, I was surprised at how comfortable it was, once you got used to being stuck in such a small area,” Reuben said. “I suppose we were lucky on the weather. Everything was great, until the Bacardi ran out.”

  “Quite a voyage, all the way from Israel,” Abram said.

  “We didn’t quite sail all the way from Israel,” Reuben replied. “We met in Spain.”

  She told them that Levi was in the Israeli Navy and how he escaped in a naval vessel.

  “As for me, I was with the government. Luckily, I was away from Tel Aviv, in the Negev in fact, when the bomb went off. I was with some, well, some military people and they help
ed me get out of the country. I am the only surviving member of the prime minister’s cabinet, which I suppose makes me the highest ranking official of the government of the State of Israel. I suspect there are a lot of people from other governments who would like to question me.”

  Reuben took a sip of her drink, paused. Goldhersh, looking awestruck and angered, launched into a tirade.

  “They sure would like to find you. They haven’t found anybody to hold responsible for Damascus, not that I think anybody needs to be held responsible for it. In my mind, whoever did that should receive Israel’s highest decoration. My regret is that since Israel had a hundred atom bombs, why did we only use one. Why didn’t we blast every Arab village back to the Stone Age where they deserve to be?”

  Reuben was frightened to see how little control the huge man had over his anger.

  “Debbie, I don’t know if you had anything to do with Damascus—after all, I kind of doubt whether the minister for tourism was given the code for launching the missiles or fighters or whatever,” Goldhersh continued. “But it seems you’re the only person still alive who could be blamed for that decision. You’d better be plain Debbie Reuben, or chose some other name, while we see which way the wind is blowing.”

  Reuben smiled and nodded.

  “We’re in agreement on that,” she said. “Just being Debbie from Long Island sounds pretty nice to me right now.”

  “Oh no, no no,” Abram started. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. This is no time for any Jew, especially an Israeli Jew, to look for rest and quiet. We have serious work to do, perhaps dangerous work, especially after what happened to all those Jews in Boston. I’m not saying to run away. I’m saying be careful, that’s all.”