CHAPTER 2 - THE SHARING
Jose, meanwhile, trotted swiftly up the road to Las Naranjas, the quaint, little hotel belonging to Jacob Tannenbaum, named for its tiny, potted, sour-orange trees. Up the broad, freshly painted, white-wooden front steps and across the porch he hurried. Into the empty lobby with its colorful pots of orange trees and ever-spinning, overhead fans he went and stopped before the polished, wooden desk where Jacob’s wife was sorting mail.
Jose waited politely for the woman to acknowledge his presence and, for a few moments, he watched her work. She was old and frail, like Jacob, and her name was Goldie because, as Jacob was so fond of recalling, her now gray hair had once been the color of gold. And, like Jacob, Goldie had numbers on her arm.
Jose had always wondered about those numbers, but the opportunity to inquire never seemed to present itself and placating Julia would take all his time today. So, once again, he pushed the numbers from his mind and concentrated on the problem at hand.
When several seconds passed and Goldie still hadn’t looked up, Jose cleared his throat politely, or so he hoped. Goldie jumped in surprise. "Forgive me for startling you, Goldie. I would speak to Jacob." Goldie recognized him and smiled a greeting. She lifted the phone. "Jacob, come," she said. "Your friend, Jose, waits at the front desk."
The office door behind the desk swung open and Jacob peered out. Wisps of gray hair stuck out in different directions giving him an elfin appearance. Gold-rimmed glasses perched on his generous nose set off a kindly face. His rumpled, white, summer suit hung on his frail frame making Jacob appear even smaller than the last time Jose had visited the hotel.
Jacob tottered around the desk and into the lobby, arms outstretched to embrace his visitor. "Jose, my friend, so good to see you. Come, come, my boy, out to the terrace." Calling back over his shoulder, he instructed Goldie to send refreshments to their table.
They passed through the double doors into the garden near the river. Jacob motioned Jose to take a seat at a small table under the branches of a large oak tree.
"Life is good!" Jacob exclaimed, smiling. Jose nodded in agreement and, almost immediately, they began to speak of their families. Jacob was delighted to hear that Jose’s new bride was happy and the marriage went well. He was even more delighted to hear the dreaded mother-in-law had finally made her appearance and her name was Julia.
"Julia is my friend," Jacob confided much to Jose’s surprise. "We met years ago. I was bathing in the ocean, walking off the beach into the water. Water as smooth as a polished glass." Jacob smiled at the memory. "A young girl came up to me. You understand, a real looker." Jacob winked at Jose. "She smiled. ‘What does she want from me?’ I asked myself. Then she spoke."
Jose had been hanging on every word. "What did she say," he begged.
"She said that no one here, who knows better, ever strolls straight out into the ocean. It was unthinkable to her that I should ask the ocean goddess to take me for her own."
A young, dark waiter in a short, orange jacket with brass buttons interrupted Jacob’s story by placing two glasses of beer and a platter of appetizers on the table. Jacob waited discreetly until the waiter departed before resuming his tale.
"So, I tell this poor, superstitious, native girl, who was also a real looker, you understand, that I was born a Jew, I am a Jew all my life, and I will die a Jew. I tell her I do not believe in her ocean goddess."
"What did she say to that?" Jose asked.
Jacob chuckled. "Before she could say anything, a big wave comes up. Rears right out of this smooth, quiet sea and slams me. It knocks me on my back. The air is out of me. Water is in my mouth. I think I will drown. And then all the water runs off. Just me and the girl. I look up and she is laughing at me!" Jacob paused to sip his beer. "Goldie sees us. She comes running down to the water. Goldie gives the girl a mean look, like this." Jacob screwed up his face.
"So, she thought Julia wanted you," Jose laughed.
"At first, yes," Jacob agreed, "but Goldie could not stay mad at Julia for long." He absently picked at a pineapple chunk. "So the girl says she will teach us how to enter the water and not to show her goddess disrespect."
Jose took up a piece of cheese and popped it into his mouth. "How are you supposed to enter?" he asked.
Jacob stood up and stepped away from the table. "Like this," he told Jose. "Watch! Behind me is sand." He waved his arm. "Before me is the ocean." He turned sideways and entered the area designated as the ocean. "So, from then on I have always entered the water crabwise. And," he concluded triumphantly, "have never again been knocked flat!"
"But there is no ocean goddess!" Jose exclaimed.
Jacob smiled. "Are you so sure, my boy?" He picked up a barbecued chicken wing and took a bite.
"Arturo, the missionary, teaches us that . . ." Jose began, but Jacob interrupted.
"All my life, in Europe, no matter what country we lived in, or hid in, I practiced Judaism. Understand, my boy? I did not believe in other gods. I did not believe in Julia’s orishas. I did not believe in your Jesus."
Jose twisted nervously. "But . . .," he began.
Jacob shook his head. "Try to understand, Jose. Here, in your Dominican Republic, things are different. I am still a Jew," he said bringing his fist down on the table. "That will never change, but there is something else here."
Jacob’s eyes met Jose’s and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Some kind of magical power, right here, from before time." He brought his face close to Jose’s. "You must learn to respect it. You must! Or it will destroy you."
"No!" Jose jumped up, shouting. "I will not listen! Jesus teaches us . . ."
Jacob raised his hand in a placating gesture.
"Sit, sit, my boy," he said. "I know all about your new god on the block."
Jose fell back in frustration. He gulped down the rest of his beer.
Jacob pushed up his sleeve. "Do you see this?" He pointed to the tattoo on his arm.
Jose leaned closer and stared at the curious numbers. "Yes, what does it mean?"
Jacob fell silent. When he began again, his voice was heavy with emotion. "It is from the time Goldie and I were in the camp."
Jose was confused. "You and your wife got tattooed on vacation?" he asked.
Jacob stared at Jose in surprise, then smiled. He shook his head. "No, Jose, it was a prison camp. We were tattooed for identification. Like cattle. We were sent to the camp to die." Jacob paused to recover his composure. He took a sip of beer. "Have you ever noticed the photograph in the lobby, Jose? The one in the frame? It’s behind the desk."
Jose nodded, remembering the old photo of the gringos. They had funny haircuts and wore strange clothes, but they all looked like Jacob, so Jose thought it must be a photo of the Tannenbaum family from long ago.
"My family!" said Jacob proudly. Then his voice broke. "They’re all gone now. Goldie and I, and our daughter are the only ones left. We came here," Jacob said indicating the hotel with his hand, "to begin a new life, just like you and Maria. Other camp survivors came as well. This country has been kind to us. The people here leave us in peace."
Jacob’s words stirred memories in Jose, memories he’d tried to erase until now. Jose began to absently trace the wet, ring patterns made by his beer glass. For a time neither man spoke, then Jose broke the silence.
"During the fighting here, during the revolution, my brother fought against the government," Jose began. He stared down at the wet patterns as he spoke. "One day the soldiers came to our home. They looked for my brother. My mother said he had gone away, but they forced their way inside. They went to the bedroom and lifted the bed. My brother was under it." Jose paused. Tears danced behind his eyes. Jacob put his wrinkled hand on Jose’s arm to lend him courage. In a barely audible voice, Jose continued.
"They dragged him out to the living room. They were going to shoot him. My brother saw these soldiers were very young. Not old enough to know why they were fighting. He told them they did not know him. He asked why they wan
ted to kill him. Do you know what they answered?" Jacob shook his head.
"The soldiers said it was because they had been paid to kill him. They said they had been hungry and without work. The man from the army found them. He gave them food and a place to live. He gave them fancy uniforms and guns. In exchange, they were supposed to shoot people. So they shot my brother." A fly circled the platter of appetizers and came to rest on a chicken wing. Neither man noticed. Jose clenched his hands on the beer glass.
"Then they looked at us," he said. "At my mother. And my father. And my baby sister and brother. They would have shot us, too, but we ran. We pushed past them and got into the yard. Planes were overhead, shooting down at us, and we tried to run in different directions across the yard. It was all open, no bushes or trees. My mother was screaming and the bullets were all around us." Jose shot a glance at Jacob. The old man sat with his head bowed, listening, waiting for Jose to continue.
"My family ran into the city, but there was no place to hide. There were soldiers everywhere. Many people were killed. Then we thought to climb down into the sewer. We ran along inside until we reached the other end of town. A few weeks later, the fighting stopped and it was safe to come out again. Jose turned to Jacob and smiled. "We were not the only ones to think of the sewers," Jose said. "Many people escaped that way. So, next time you go to the city, look at the sewers. The government put on big cement caps so no one can ever escape that way again!"
Jacob smiled wryly. "We have each had our share of trouble." Jose nodded wisely.
"So," Jacob sighed, "you will understand when I tell you about my daughter. Eva was six, with long, golden hair. The image of her mother." Jacob smiled at the memory. "She came home from school and went to play next door. She had a little friend, you see. Goldie was about to put our supper on the table. I was going to the door to call Eva, when the door burst open in my face."
Jacob’s eyes filled with tears. "The soldiers shoved their way into the room, in their black uniforms and boots. They turned the table over. All of Goldie’s good cooking! And our wedding china broken. Crystal smashed. All over the carpet. We were dragged to the center of town. Trucks were waiting for us. We were to be taken to the camp." Jacob turned and Jose saw the agony on his friend’s face. Jacob continued.
"And all the time I was glad. Glad because Eva was safe! At a classmate's house. The soldiers did not know where she was. But little Eva heard the commotion. She came running to the square. The soldiers had just finished putting the men and women into separate trucks when my Eva showed up."
Jose nibbled nervously on a chicken wing while waiting for Jacob to continue.
"Eva was so bold. She would have climbed right into the trucks after us. So, I motioned to Goldie and we both crouched down. We hid our faces so our child could not find us. The trucks began to move out. Eva was crying out to us, but she could not see us. Then the classmate’s mother ran over and grabbed Eva. This woman picked our daughter up and took her away. I stood up so my neighbor could see me. She hugged Eva to let me know my daughter would be protected.
"But later, when we were in the camps, I heard people were starving in the cities. Then I worried that my neighbor would allow Eva to wither so she could save her own daughter."
"It is a terrible thing to break a family," Jose murmured. "And always being hungry is terrible, too. How long before you saw Eva again?"
"Not until the end of the war. Goldie and I survived the camp. As soon as we were able, we began searching for Eva."
"Looking first at the neighbor’s house?" asked Jose.
"To be sure, my boy," smiled Jacob through his tears, "and the neighbor was still there. She was happy to see us. We hugged. We cried. Then we asked about Eva."
"And she was safe?" asked Jose. "Yes, safe, but now she was Catholic," answered Jacob. Jose frowned and Jacob continued.
"You see, in order to keep Eva safe, she had to be hidden. The best way to hide a Jewish child was to bring her to the nuns. The neighbor gave the church our silver to pay for Eva’s keep. The nuns put her in an orphanage under another name. When the soldiers began searching the orphanages and convents, the nuns baptized Eva."
"So?" Jose inquired.
Jacob spread his hands helplessly. "Jose, try to understand, as a Jewish family it is a tragedy for our daughter to be raised as a Catholic. By the time I located Eva, she had received communion. My daughter had forgotten most of her early Hebrew instruction. I traced her to a Catholic orphanage and was told she was in the chapel."
Jacob gripped Jose’s arm. "Picture this," he said. "I finally set my eyes on my small daughter and there she is, kneeling in a Catholic chapel, surrounded by burning candles, praying to a statue." Jacob chuckled. "To this day, Eva, my Jewish daughter, believes her parents were spared because she prayed every day to the Virgin for our safe return."
"Yes," Jose nodded, "the Virgin can do such things."
"But, Jose, you miss the point. I am Jewish. I do not believe in your Virgin."
"But," insisted Jose, "whether you believe or not, the Virgin still exists!"
Jacob nodded. "This is the point I am trying to make, my friend. Even though I did not believe, my daughter did. She prayed every day. So, say there was no Virgin. When everyone we knew was killed, how did Goldie and I survive? Did anyone else, anything else, hear those prayers?" Jose stared at Jacob in amazement. Jacob prodded Jose with his forefinger.
"What I am telling you, my boy, is not to close your mind to Julia’s gods. Julia has so much knowledge. So much power! There are so many people who pray to the old gods. So, if there are no such spirits, where does her power come from? Where do all those prayers go?"
Jose liked Jacob, but he was miserably confused by the old man’s logic. Jose shook his head. He didn’t have any answers.
"It’s all right, Jose," Jacob said and stood up. "I don’t have any answers either."
Spellbound: a Tale of Magic, Mystery & Murder Page 3
