Authors: Cynthia Freeman
The Arab leader, carefully eyeing the grenades, said nothing.
Dovid turned his back on him, and he and Ari walked slowly to their horses, mounted and rode out of the encampment….
It was eleven o’clock that night when they reached Safad.
“Dovid,” Ari said as they sat having coffee and pita, “I don’t mind telling you I held my breath.”
“As, I assure you, I did.”
“Well, I think Abdullah has a healthy respect for you, Dovid—”
“More for those grenades … but now I do think you can risk bringing the women back.”
“We owe you so much, Dovid. But we still have an enemy. When the marshes have been cleared, then we can bring them home.”
Home, Dovid thought Ari and their home, Chavala’s and his son’s in New York City. He had news of it in Chavala’s letters, but he could not be there. Soon, though … soon …
The women and children finally did return to Kfar Shalom. It was spring, the season for life’s renewal. The fields were covered with wild flowers. But more beautiful still was what Ari had managed.
Dvora came back to find the beginnings of their farm. Crops were planted in the fields, there was a small vineyard and a vegetable garden. Next to the two-room wooden hut Ari had built a new barn and a stable. Two mules, and a cow whose calf sucked at her swollen udders.
Pnina was especially fascinated by the tiny yellow chicks, which she delightedly chased after, waving her arms. Ari led Dvora into the nursery, and Zvi ran after them, not wanting to miss a thing. Ari had already started the beet root for fodder. Dvora shook her head … “Darling, when did you have time to sleep?”
“I didn’t… without you, who needed to go to bed?”
She smiled. Her hunger had been as great as his.
Such an idyllic new beginning, which did not last long … In spite of Ari’s efforts, the first wheat crop failed. The vegetables lay rotting in the field; Dvora and Zvi had recurrent attacks of malaria, and Ari had to take care of his wife and children. Worse … no sooner had Dvora recovered than Pnina developed an eye infection. Each day the lids became more red and swollen, and the child cried through the night Ari and Dvora took turns trying to comfort her. When morning came the child’s eyes were swollen shut.
“Ari, it’s no use. We must take the baby to the hospital in Jerusalem.”
He nodded. Each knew the other’s fears. Trachoma…
When they arrived at the hospital, Pnina was taken down the hall to the children’s ward. Dvora, Ari and Zvi were left to sit waiting for the doctor.
It seemed an eternity, but finally he appeared.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ben-Levi, I’m Dr. Haril. I’ve seen your little girl.”
Dvora’s pulse raced.
“We won’t be able to tell about her until the swelling goes down.”
“But you must have some idea of what it is, doctor,” Ari said.
“We can’t be sure, but she’s been put on medication to reduce the swelling. She’s more comfortable.”
As Dr. Haril turned to go, Dvora called out to him, “Doctor…”
He turned around. “Yes, Mrs. Ben-Levi?”
“We live in the Galilee. Do you think it’s all right for my husband to go home … or should he stay?”
“If it’s important for him to go home, I don’t see any immediate danger.”
It was five in the afternoon when they went in to see Pnina. Her eyes were bandaged, a sight that was almost too much for the parents. When Ari held her she said, “
Abba?
”
“Yes, darling… it’s
abba.
I’m here …”
Zvi stood next to the bed and whispered, “When you come home, Pnina, we’ll ride on the donkey and we’ll pick wildflowers like before—”
“Like before. Promise.”
“I promise,” and that was all he or anyone else could say.
As they left the ward and walked down the corridor, Dvora put her arm around her son. So young … and he’d already seen enough for a lifetime … She looked at Ari. “Go home, darling, it’s getting late … I’ll get word to you about how things are going. It will be all right …I have faith. You must too. Please …”
“I won’t let you go through this by yourself—”
She remembered when he wanted their safety and she refused to go. “The doctor said it was all right. You have too many responsibilities at home. Besides, I’m going to Raizel’s so I won’t be alone.”
He knew she was right, but hated to leave her.
They walked down the long corridor and out into the dusk. When they reached the truck she kissed her husband and son, trying to smile. But the moment she saw them disappear in the distance a dreadful loneliness came down on her. She felt shattered, hollow. Slowly she went back and waited in front of the hospital for the bus to arrive.
When it came she paid the driver and sat down, not hearing the conversations around her. As it wound its way down the hills she looked out the window and saw the Mount of Olives, and her father’s image now came large into her mind, and with it the thought that if it hadn’t been for Chavala, he wouldn’t even have had a stone…
When the bus stopped at the Jaffa gate Dvora got off and ran to the Wailing Wall. She slipped the lightweight sweater off her shoulders and covered her head with it.
For the first time in a very long time, she truly prayed. Opening her purse she took out a small notebook and wrote a prayer to God. Then she placed it between the moss-covered cracks. She touched the ancient stones, remembering the first day her father had come to this holy place. He’d gotten down on his knees and kissed the ground. Something in the depths of her now compelled her to do the same.
On bended knees she put her body very close to the holy wall and embraced it. Tears that could no longer be held back. And whispering to the ears of God she recited:
O Lord of life, our times are
in Thy hands. One generation
cometh into the world to be
blessed with days.
She lingered a few moments longer, then got up and walked through the streets of Jerusalem until she turned into the cobblestoned alley at Mea Shearim. She passed the ritual baths, and a short distance beyond came to the building Raizel lived in.
After being delighted to see her sister, Raizel had to ask her why she was in Jerusalem … alone. Dvora took a deep breath and told her the story. “But, Raizel, I don’t want Chavala to know anything about this until later. She has her own problems, I don’t want to add to them.”
Raizel shook her head. “It’s too bad when families are so far apart. Sheine in Germany, Chavala in America … well, all we can do is pray that maybe one day … Come into the kitchen while I fix supper. Lazarus and the boys will be home any minute.”
And when they arrived, the scene was a replica of what Dovid and Reuven experienced when they came.
Dvora did not kiss nor touch her brother-in-law, since that too was against his religious precepts. This man was so very rich. Dvora both envied and loved him for his unending reservoir of spirituality.
“It’s so good seeing you, Lazarus … you look very well.”
“I thank God for giving me my health and the health of my family … where are the children and Ari?”
She told Lazarus about Pnina. “Our lives are in God’s hands, Dvora. You must believe that.”
“I’m sure. But it’s not knowing that frightens me.”
“You must not be afraid. God is watching over us, as it is written. God will help you, Dvora.”
“I hope so, Lazarus … and I’m sure your prayers will help.” How sure was she …?
That night Dvora slept in Raizel’s kitchen on a straw mat. She was grateful for the first light of morning. Quickly she washed and dressed, left a note and closed the door softly behind her.
Although she knew it was much too early to see her child, just sitting outside Pnina’s room made her feel a little better. She looked at the clock… six-thirty.
The nurses were beginning their morning rounds.
“I’m Mrs. Ben-Levi,” Dvora said to the young nurse. “My little girl’s name is Pnina. Could you tell me how she is?”
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait for the doctor.”
Dvora paced back and forth until she saw the nurse come out of the children’s ward. She went to her. “Pardon me, but what time do the doctors come?”
They should be making their rounds in about an hour.”
“Do you think I could see my little girl?”
“We are very busy in the morning. A little later.”
Bracing herself against the wall, she stared up at the ceiling. Perhaps if she had a strong cup of hot coffee she might feel better. She went to the cafeteria in the basement. Peering over the rim, she kept her eyes on the clock … it
never
seemed to move. Oh, God, this waiting was unbearable. After three cups she went back upstairs and sat.
At nine o’clock she saw the doctor go into the ward. She thought she would die until he came out again. Quickly she went to meet him, “Good morning, doctor. You’ve seen Pnina?”
“Yes.”
“How is she?”
“About the same as yesterday. We made a diagnosis. She does have trachoma—”
Dvora steadied herself, then caught her breath. “How serious is it?”
“Fortunately it’s in the beginning stages. I think it can be cured in a reasonable length of time—”
“How long … I must let my husband know.”
“I think she should stay here about a month.”
Dvora shook her head. “Thank God.” The news was better than she’d feared.
That evening she wrote to Ari:
Dearest Ari,
Our anxieties over Pnina were exaggerated. I suppose parents always think of the worst things, but you can rest easy now.
Pnina has a mild case of trachoma. If we’d neglected to take care of it when we did it would have been more serious. I am not going to concern myself with anything other than the fact that we will be home together very soon. Please stay well and give Zvi my love.
Yours forever,
Dvora
After five seemingly endless weeks of anxiety and loneliness, the waiting was over, and Ari was able to come to take Dvora and Pnina home.
When he looked at his family, Ari realized that Dvora had performed miracles with the little girl, but she was working so hard and her hours were so long, he worried about her health. “You can’t keep going this way, Dvora.” She looked at him and smiled, as though he’d said something too foolish to respond to.
But after the medical bills had been paid and with no crops to sell, their funds were depleted. The work on the new stone house had to be suspended. The children needed shoes, Ari needed seed to plant. Dvora was beside herself. The needs were
so
great she thought of breaking down and asking for Chavala’s help. In fact, she’d suggested it to Ari. “No,” he said. “We can get a loan from the mutual. I don’t want charity from
anybody
.”
“But Chavala’s sending us things now and you don’t object to it—”
“That’s different, they’re for the children. But I won’t accept from her what I can’t pay back.”
But Dvora was beyond such worries of pride. A loan would be one final burden too many, she was convinced. In her letter to Raizel it was difficult not to unburden herself.
It was also too much for Raizel to hold back from Chavala what Dvora was going through:
Dear Chavala,
I know honor is important and one should never betray a promise … But this promise I made to Dvora, I feel I can’t honor.
Two months ago Pnina was stricken with trachoma. Thank God the child has recovered and is doing fine, but because of the illness, they went badly into debt and, as you know, when things begin to go bad it seems that everything happens at once. They’ve had one failure after another in their crops. They barely have money for seed.
I know you never would have forgiven me if I had kept silent. I can understand Ari’s pride, but when a child’s need is so great, one must put their feelings behind them.
I’m sorry, dearest Chavala, to be the bearer of such bad news, but I had to speak out. I trust that this finds you and Chia and Moishe and, of course, Joshua, in the best of health, and may God bless you for all you have already done.
With love and devotion,
your sister,
Raizel
When Chavala received Raizel’s letter, there was a momentary feeling of anger that Dvora hadn’t taken her into her confidence. What did they suppose she was doing here, living without her husband, if it wasn’t to help secure the future of the
family?
To help whenever she could? Then quickly the feeling was replaced with worry about Dvora and her family. Obviously Dvora hadn’t wanted to burden her with such news. Dvora’s courage, her loyalty to Ari so great …to go against his wishes and ask for anything would be impossible…
Unfortunately, though, at that time the pawnshop was earning just enough to pay for expenses and to send a little something to Palestine. But this was a crisis. Action was required. Chavala went into action.
She went to the back room, took one of the cigar boxes out of the safe, brought it to the table and sat down. Lifting the lid, she took out the largest stones, put the loupe in her eye and examined each of them … color was blue-white … no carbon … carat and a half. They were worth $250 per carat.
She selected five of the best and took them to Mr. Leibowitz.
“My darling Chavala,” the old man said when she came into his office. “Business must be too good, I haven’t seen you for some time.”
“My family complains about the same thing, and they’re right, and so are you. But it’s not really because business is so good. I must stay in the shop, hoping a customer will come in.”
“It’s hard for a woman … I know, Chavala.”
“I don’t mind … my sister, Dvora, is the one with problems.”
She quickly told Mr. Leibowitz about Dvora, then put the stones on his desk, “I must sell these immediately.”
He examined them carefully. “These are very nice stones.”
“What’s the most I can get for them?”
“Well… $250 per carat…”
“Who shall I take them to?”
“These I could use.”
She hugged him. Words were inadequate for what she felt.
She went immediately to the bank and withdrew the thousand dollars she had in her account, which now would show no balance, added it to the amount from the sale of the stones, then made arrangements to have the money sent the fastest way possible.