Rabbi Gabrielle's Defiance (7 page)

"Thanks," she said, somehow not believing
him. "Unless I receive a thunderbolt from the Almighty, I'm going.
I can't speak for Asa."

"Do a cost-risk analysis first, Gabby."

"We're talking about human lives here, Stan,
not commodities. Besides, David will be less likely to sue if he
sees that his rabbis share his pain."

When the conversation ended, she felt not
only alone but vulnerable.

The moment Asa entered the robing room, he
enwrapped long arms around her in a hug. Unlike Dov Shellenberg, he
was a physical man, not shy about embracing and kissing women of
the congregation. While she knew physical touching departed from a
code of professionalism, she nevertheless experienced a certain
enjoyment in it. With Dov Shellenberg, there was no physical
contact and virtually no personal warmth. The thought of warning
Asa about touching women had often crossed her mind, but nothing
came of it. Like herself, women seemed to like his affections and
no complaints had been brought to her attention. Because unpleasant
memories of Seth Greer's dalliances lingered about Ohav Shalom, she
believed Asa's physicality to be like a prescription drug,
potentially dangerous, yet therapeutic.

"It's bad, Gabby," he said to her. "Worse
than you might think. I was at the Hospital Center most of the
night, but David and Laura refused to see me. I sat in the waiting
room hoping they'd change their minds."

"What's the medical situation?"

"Janean is on the critical list. Doctors
don't know whether she'll survive. She could leave us any
time."

"What about Tybee?"

"Much better. She'll need heavy-duty
reconstruction but her life isn't threatened."

"Has anyone mentioned how the fire
started?"

"It's still a mystery. Janean is too badly
burned to talk and Tybee hasn't said a word yet. A female resident
doctor told me that shock sometimes does that to kids. They just
stop talking. Speech usually returns later."

She pushed back from him. "Are
you
all right?"

He looked like someone who had spent a
sleepless night in a hospital waiting room. A shaving razor had
made perfunctory swipes over his face, bypassing several patches of
whiskers. His comb had failed to arrest a rebellious colic. He
shook his head, sighing, "I don't understand this, Gabby. I just
don't understand it."

She closed the distance to him again and
planted a kiss on his cheek. "I don't understand either. We'll talk
after the service."

"I'm returning to the hospital this
afternoon."

"That's not necessary, Asa. It looks as
though you need some industrial strength rest. This is my
responsibility now."

"I was the one who taught the girls. You've
got enough
tzoris
without this."

"Stan Melkin and I spoke this morning. He
thinks there could be legal ramifications."

"What kind?" he asked in a voice filled with
suspicion.

"A personal injury suit against the
synagogue. It hasn't happened and most likely won't. I doubt David
Morgenstern would want something like this. But you know how
cautious Stan is."

She sidestepped to regard his expression. His
very light brown, almost blond hair receded beyond a strong brow
and penetrating dark eyes. He possessed heavy whiskers but had
never tried to look more rabbinical by growing a beard. That, she
attributed to his days in the Marine Corps.

"All the more reason for me to visit the
girls this afternoon."

"I'm afraid I'm going to pull rank on you,
friend. I'm told that David is angry."

"I can handle him," Asa's tone strengthened
with determination. "It's not necessary for you to run interference
for me. Let David punch me if he wants. I probably deserve it."

"You definitely
don't
deserve it. The fact that you were the primary
contact with the girls is absolutely incidental. I would have done
exactly what you did. The rabbis of this congregation are a team.
You were on the court last night. It's time for a replacement. If
my premonition is correct, we'll need our combined strength for
this one."

"If we're a team, let's go to the hospital
together."

She was about to deny his request when choral
voices from the sanctuary permeated the robing room. Cantor Reuben
Blass' full tenor voice opened the service with Psalm 113.

Soon after the introductory hymns, Asa introduced a
special prayer for the recovery of the Morgenstern girls, then
tried to refocus his attention on the Bat-Mitzvah of Miranda
Goldsmith. Though no mention was made of a long night at the
Washington Hospital Center and the Greenbrier Hotel, the
congregation understood that both rabbis were physically and
mentally drained. Cantor Blass, steady as always, filled noticeable
gaps in the liturgy with musical interludes.

After
Shabbat
worship, Reuben, Asa, and Gabby moved toward the robing room to
shed their clerical gowns. Gabby's secretary, Chuck Browner, was
waiting for them in the alcove.

She greeted him with a
Shabbat
kiss on the cheek, a tad more intimate than
the multitude of kisses she shared with other congregants and
friends. "You're not supposed to be working on the weekend."

"Right – except when there's a fire. I heard
a report about the Morgenstern girls on NPR radio. The station
identified you as the family's rabbi. With your visibility around
town, I reckoned it wouldn't be long before the press sets an
ambush and I wasn't wrong. A couple of communication trucks are
parked outside the
shul
right now.
Vultures are already circling the wagon train."

"I don't want to talk with the media," she
almost barked her displeasure.

He extended his arms in front and pointed his
palms and fingers upward in a theatrical gesture imitating a
policeman. "Consider this august institution protected by a
cordon sanitaire
. No one gets inside
without either a black eye or a broken camera… or both."

She grinned at him in the playful manner they
often shared. "You'd resort to violence in this holy place of
worship?"

"Absolutely not. Wouldn't think of it. But I
would haul the intruders onto the sidewalk first, then show 'em
what a Jewish
fegallah
can do."

"I didn't know you were a professional
bouncer."

"I employ the element of surprise. Nobody
expects to be pummeled by a gay. If you hadn't noticed, we're on
the warpath these days. I spend a lot of time in the gym making
myself more beautiful than the average flabby on the street."

Friends and family congratulating Miranda Goldsmith
on her Bat Mitzvah filled the high-vaulted marble-lined sanctuary
foyer. As Gabby and Asa circulated, many hands reached out to shake
theirs with
Shabbat
greetings. Most
congregants learned of the Morgenstern tragedy from opening remarks
and prayers offered by Asa. The moment services ended, people
wanted to talk about it. The Goldsmith family
nachas
awkwardly intruded upon this solemnity and
Gabby had to remind herself that joys and sorrow are often mixed
together. As she moved toward the Goldsmith family to extend a
mazel tov,
she hid her gloom, thinking it
wrong for one family's sadness to undermine another's joy. She took
personal pleasure in having developed a talent for acting. This
morning she was going to need it.

Later, in the Meyeroff Social Hall at a
reception in honor of Miranda, Asa introduced family members to
Hebrew blessings over wine and
challah.
Gabby noticed how he was encircled by admirers, mostly pubescent
girls. The humor that usually peppered his conversation was gone
and his high-pitched giggle silent.

Chuck Browner, who possessed an instinct for
Gabby's needs, stepped alongside to assist her escape. In the
corridor outside her study, a blond woman with a slender figure
above the waist and mushrooming hips below, blocked their path. Her
face was vaguely familiar from the evening television news. Her
features were symmetrical and appealing, perfect for presentation
on screen. "Rabbi Lewyn," she shuffled forward, forcing Gabby to
stop. "I'm Sibyl Tempkin from WTTL and would like to ask you a few
questions about the Morgenstern girls."

Gabby threw a look of exasperation in Chuck's
direction before providing a canned response. "Sorry, Ms. Tempkin.
This is the Sabbath and I don't give interviews on the Lord's holy
day. “Sibyl Tempkin – for whom Sunday, not Saturday, had always
been the Lord's day – rallied. "Without sounding disrespectful, I
fail to understand how answering questions violates anything.
Particularly if you can tell us how God could permit a tragedy like
what happened to the Morgenstern children."

From the opposite end of the corridor, a
two-man TV camera crew trotted forward to assist their newscaster.
"My God," Chuck exclaimed, stepping forward to block them. "Through
a small fissure enters a troop of street rats! The fortress has
been breached! Sound the alarm! All hands to battle stations! All
hands to battle stations!"

"They say that Chanukah candles started the
fire that burned the Morgenstern girls. Is that true, Rabbi?" Sybil
Tempkin appeared unaffected by Gabby's dismissal.

What patience Gabby possessed failed. "How
should I know? I wasn't there. The papers know more than me. Ask
the Fire Department."

As a cameramen positioned himself to begin
shooting, Chuck angled around the newswoman. "Please don't," he
said while planting a wide palm before the lens of a shoulder-held
camera. "It's extremely rude to take pictures without permission.
Particularly when you barged into this synagogue without
invitation. We're asking you to leave immediately."

When the lead cameraman tried to reposition
his lens, Chuck took an aggressive step forward. "Apparently, what
I said didn't shame you. This is a religious sanctuary and you're
trespassing. If and when the rabbi wants to talk with you, she
will. Now if you don't want this extremely reasonable model of
deportment to become a snarling pit bull, stop right now." He
pointed down the corridor for the camera team to retreat. "By the
way, please refresh my memory about your station?"

"WTTL," the woman said.

"Good, we'll know in the future which channel
to avoid."

Gabby scooted around the cameraman who,
sufficiently chastised, did not realign his viewfinder. Chuck
followed.

When a safe distance away, she tugged at his
arm, "Thanks for the rescue. You have a great sense of timing."

He snuggled closer. "Been working for you for
more than ten years now, Rabbi Gabby. You have a penchant for
getting into trouble and the press thrives on it. Besides, if I'm
not wrong, you'll be making a visit to the Hospital Center this
afternoon. I've got wheels. You'll need company. This won't be a
joyous occasion."

"Thanks, but it isn't necessary. Asa wants to
go with me."

"I'm happy to accompany you both."

"It's the weekend. We have a full-blown
rabbinical emergency on our hands. No need for you to get buried by
this tragedy. By the way, how do you find Asa?"

"They say rabbis must have thick skins but
his is like tissue paper. I don't think he'll last in this job. To
me, he looks like a seagull dragging a broken wing."

She considered that for a long moment before
whispering, "Asa will do just fine. One isn't born with thick skin.
It must be cultivated. Mark this one down to education."

"Thick skin grows all right, but only on the
proper skeleton. Asa's an artist, not a pugilist."

"And me?" she asked.

"Most people are soft inside and tough on the
outside. You're the opposite. On the outside you're a pussycat, but
inside you're a tiger. I don't know anyone tougher than you. A lady
of iron in a soft fleece jacket."

She appreciated his observation but was
skeptical. Chuck confused armor for toughness.

***

When Asa entered Gabby's study, she was
seated before her Apple, her eyes scanning text. She swiveled about
in the leather chair once occupied by her predecessor, Rabbi Seth
Greer. "I'm reading about the treatment of burns on the Mayo Clinic
web site. The complexity is baffling. It's mostly about infection
and scarring. Doctors must balance lost electrolytes; and nurses
must keep changing dressings often to fight infection."

Asa assumed a position beside her to peer at
the screen, his hand innocently dropping to her shoulder. She
corkscrewed upward to regard a troubled face.

"Asa, sit down, please," she said in a soft
voice. "I know this is weighing upon you."

"Tybee and Janean are wonderful kids. Their
parents wouldn't even see me last night. I sat in the fucking
waiting room from nine until five this morning. When I sent nurses
into Intensive care to ask permission, they returned to tell me I
wasn't wanted. I did that at 8 and 9 o'clock, 12:30 a.m. and at 3
a.m., so David and Laura knew I was there. If nothing else, they
should have shown some common decency. What more could I do?"

"In severe pain people are never at their
best. Try imagining how you'd feel if your children were badly
burned. I'd be off the wall crazy. Don't let their pain drag you
down, Asa. You didn't start that fire."

"I should have told them how dangerous fire
could be and not to touch a match without their parents nearby. But
it just didn't occur to me. I never imagined a situation in which
they would light candles without their parents around."

"I wouldn't have thought of it either. We all
make assumptions that seem absurd after the fact. It's pretty
obvious that small matches start large conflagrations. But who
thinks of warning someone before striking one? We don't march up
and down the boulevard with a sign board advertising the
obvious."