“Now, if I’m correct, you said if we had an adult one, I could lead it myself. Is that right, Rabbi?” Daniel nodded. “Well, if we continue hosting the one for the students here on Monday nights, and then Sandy and I have another one here—”
Daniel jumped in. “Jay, don’t worry. I completely understand. I wouldn’t ask you to host twice in one week. I know Naomi and I don’t have a place big enough right now, but we’ll find another place for the youth to meet—don’t worry about it.”
Sandy laughed. “As for our son, Jake, he loves your group, and actually he’ll probably love going somewhere other than Mom and Dad’s, if you know what I mean.”
“Great,” Daniel said. “Jake’s one of the best contributors in the discussions. As far as the house hunting, nothing’s on the horizon as of yet. We‘ve been working with Florence Greenberg. At the last Israel planning meeting she cornered Naomi—”
Naomi put her pocketbook on the floor. Looked like they were staying a little while longer. “I made the mistake of telling her we were looking . . . I’d forgotten she was a realtor. She’s kinda aggressive.” Everyone laughed in agreement. “But she hasn’t shown us anything like what we told her we wanted.”
Sandy walked back into the living room, waving them to follow. Once all were seated, she said, “Jay and I had another reason we brought up the whole house hunting thing.”
Jay squeezed his wife’s hand. “Tell them, sweetie.”
“I think you know Jake works part-time cleaning swimming pools. There’s a house where he cleaned the pool the other day. Jake was telling us about it. The owners want to sell it by themselves . . . without a realtor. I understand it’s really nice, and without a realtor it should be a good price. It’s in the Camino Real development.”
Naomi shared a glance with Daniel and squeezed his hand. “Camino Real . . . you’re kidding? It’s gorgeous there.”
Naomi was squeezing so hard, Daniel thought he better do something quick, before she cut off his circulation. “Jay, if you want to get the address from Jake, we’ll check it out.” Ahhh, she loosened her grip.
They finally said their goodbyes, all the while Daniel aware Naomi was about to jump out of her skin. Car doors closed and key in the ignition, he turned to her. “I know My-omi, and the answer is no, not tonight.”
“But, Daniel—”
“It’s too dark right now to see anything. First thing tomorrow, before I go to work, we’ll drive by and look at it. If we like it, I’ll call. Good enough?”
She sprung out of her seat and threw herself into his arms, “You’re the greatest. How’d I get so lucky?”
The next day they encountered a problem. Because Camino Real was a gated community, they were not allowed entrance. “Daniel, I hate to say it, but maybe we should call Florence. She could probably get us in.”
He shrugged. “Well, I was thinking we really don’t want to antagonize her . . . she’s signed up for the Israel trip and as of now we have just enough people to get the discount. Besides which, I think we signed a contract with her that even if we found something on our own, I think we’re still tied in to pay her a fee.”
Between the threat of breaking a contract and antagonizing an Israel trip signee, both agreed they’d call Florence. Hopefully she could get them in to see the house later that day.
While giving her business card to the guard at the front gate, Florence warned, “Now, Rabbi, I know you and your wife walk to shul on Shabbos. This’ll be a bit more of a schlep from here. Are you prepared for that?”
Naomi sat in the front seat and answered for her husband. “We’ve already discussed that and decided we could use the exercise.”
With the grandeur of the homes, the exquisitely manicured lawns, even the expensive cars sitting in the driveways, how could they possibly afford this place? She turned to face Daniel sitting in the back seat. He was busy scribbling a note and she was unable to get his attention.
Florence reached over to Naomi, and effectively pulled her back around. “I spoke with the owners. It needs a little updating. Nothing too major, but enough that we can negotiate a good price.”
Daniel tapped his wife on the shoulder and handed her a note. It read, “Didn’t get a chance to tell you, but I talked to my dad. They’re giving us a gift for the down payment.”
From the moment Florence turned into the driveway, they knew if they could afford it, they wanted it. The driveway was quite long and fully landscaped, with tall royal palms evenly spaced in front of the limestone ledge which afforded a degree of privacy.
The owners, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, had been called and asked to make themselves scarce while the prospective buyers walked through their home. Since the property had not been listed through a realtor, there was no lockbox hanging from the doorknob. Instead the Grangers had left a key under the cushion of a charming front porch swing.
Upon stepping inside, they stood in a spacious great room with high ceilings. Most impressive was the clear view straight into the back of the house. A combination of floor to ceiling windows and glass sliding doors showcased the Florida room off of the living area. And beyond the relaxing sunroom, they were awed by the inviting swimming pool.
Once oriented to what was more immediately in front of them, they realized they were standing in a huge living room, and to one side of this airy space was a sunken conversation pit.
Stepping down into this pit, Daniel asked, “Is this a fireplace I’m seeing?”
“Most certainly,” Florence answered.
Naomi walked down to join her husband. “In Florida?”
Florence explained, “It’s gas. A few homes have them down here. Meshugganah, isn’t it?”
After inspecting the kitchen, in need of updating, they walked into the bedrooms and from there the bathrooms. Daniel took Naomi aside, and said, “Maybe we can find someone to put down that Spanish tile you like so much. Have that done in the bathrooms, if you like.”
After leaving the property, they went with Florence to her office where she worked up the numbers. With Daniel’s parents’ gift, it was feasible they had found their first home.
Naomi was convinced somehow she had made it into God’s good graces. Her life was beyond her wildest expectations. There was the present reality of a good man who loved her, the belief she was helping this man to fulfill his calling, and now possibly a beautiful new home. With all this favor the Lord was showing her, any day now she should be able to bear him his first child.
Denise, Daniel’s secretary, answered, “Temple Beth Shalom, can I help you?”
“Yes,” Naomi said breathlessly into the telephone. “It’s me. Is my husband available?”
While waiting for him to pick up, she leafed through several home decorating magazines. Turning the pages frenetically, she tore one page halfway down the middle. Finally, Daniel said, “Hi, honey. What’s up?”
She shouted into the phone, “They accepted our offer. It’s ours.”
“That’s terrific. When do we—?”
“Daniel, I got a call waiting. You wanna hold on?”
“No, call me back, okay?”
Naomi discovered Daniel’s father. Stefan, was on the other line. He told her, “Our Dana is getting married. You and Danny must come.”
After Naomi expressed happy disbelief at the news, Stefan said, “When see her, you will know. She’s pregnant. Big already.”
The wedding would be happening in three weeks. Not only did Ed and Dana want Daniel to perform the ceremony, but Dana wanted Naomi to be the maid of honor.
“She call you soon,” Stefan added. “And, please, ask Danny call me.”
Naomi, doing her best to sound happy, told her father-in-law, “Of course.”
Daniel arrived home that evening and instantly filled Naomi in on the conversation he had with his dad. “The problem is my mom. She says she won’t even go to the wedding. I don’t know what part bothers her the most. Her daughter, the bride, pregnant, or probably more the groom
being black. I’ll call her tonight and try to talk to her. Meanwhile, we need to make plane reservations. The sooner the better.”
Usually upon arriving home, Naomi poured him a nice cold glass of raspberry tea and a glass of iced coffee for herself. They would then sit out on their terrace and catch up on the day’s events. Tonight Naomi simply sat on a dining room chair, hardly even making eye contact with him as he stood near her.
He lowered himself into the chair next to her, brought it close enough that their knees touched, and asked, “What’s the matter?”
Quietly she admitted, “I wanted to be the one to tell your Mom she’d be a grandmother.”
He rose from his chair, walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of iced tea. He had a choice: show his exasperation or make a valiant attempt to change the direction this evening was heading.
With resolve, he poured her a glass of iced coffee and carried it to her. “It’ll be fun. We’ll stay at a nice hotel in Manhattan. I mean we need to have a vacation anyway. You can find some Broadway shows for us to go to.”
He waited but received no response. He shook his head. “When are you ever going to be satisfied? We just learned we’re getting a beautiful new home, and I didn’t even get to tell you yet, but Dad says he can get us furniture at wholesale prices.”
With that, she looked up. “Really?”
No longer shaking his head, but instead nodding, he affectionately assured her, “Yes, really.” And then he added, “Let’s go out for dinner tonight. You choose where.”
Daniel and Naomi flew out of West Palm Beach the day after the Purim celebration, arriving in New York three days before Ed and Dana’s wedding. They picked up a rental car at the airport and drove to the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan.
“They told me our room would be overlooking Central Park. Is it okay, Daniel? You said for me to splurge.”
He gave the car key to the valet and explained, “We’ll be checking in and then coming right back out. Need to drive to New Jersey.”
Another staff member took their suitcases from the trunk and placed them on a luggage cart. “Your name, sir?”
“Rabbi and Mrs. Cantor.”
As soon as they were released from the glass revolving doors, Naomi grabbed Daniel’s arm. “Do we have to go out to New Jersey right away?”
He nudged her a few feet away from the doors and from the heavy pedestrian traffic. “Naomi, I feel compelled to talk to my mom right away. Dad’s tried talking with her, and now he’s looking to me for help. If Mom doesn’t come to the wedding, it’ll . . . we’ll have time alone here later. I promise you.”
During the ride into Rutherford, Dana’s pregnancy weighed heavily on Naomi’s mind. Daniel drove while Naomi entered a world of her own, filled with jealousy—what was Dana feeling right now? And soon a precious little voice would be calling her “Mommy.” And Dana would bless her husband, making him a father.
Because of my hideous past, God will never bless my marriage. It will never be a true union.
Naomi eventually forced herself out of seclusion and asked, “What made you agree to perform the wedding? I thought—”
“I figured a Unitarian Church in a way is no big deal. It’s not a real church. I mean, we won’t have to worry about seeing some cross or anything like that.”
Naomi waited as he paid the toll for the Manhattan Tunnel. Once they were moving again, she continued. “But you said you wouldn’t ever marry an interfaith couple unless the Gentile converted.” Tentatively, she added, “You said something like that, didn’t you?”
With an uncharacteristic snicker, Daniel commented, “They’re not interfaith anything . . . they’re both pagans.”
Shocked by her husband’s harshness, Naomi again withdrew into her own cocoon, staring out her window, while Daniel, disappointed with his own behavior, shut himself off as well. He tuned the car radio to a station he remembered from his high school days.
He tapped the steering wheel to the beat as he sang, “And you’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive, ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin—”
Was she hearing this from her husband—her husband the Cantor? He sounded so cute. As if on cue, they turned to face each other, and broke out in harmonious laughter.
Still laughing, they pulled into his family’s garage.
Zofia ran out to meet them and almost appeared joyful. She hugged Daniel, then Naomi, then back to Daniel—pinching his cheek, smothering him with her kisses, then pinching his cheek again. Stefan stood to the side, beaming.
And Naomi received a pleasant surprise. She had always called her mother-in-law Mrs. Cantor, but today Zofia corrected her. “Call me Momma.”
Zofia had made a delicious dinner of bigos. “I remember, your favorite.”
After dinner, Daniel walked over to his mother and pulled up an extra dining room chair which had been moved out of the way while they were eating. “Mom, why won’t you come to the wedding?”
His mother looked over at her husband and said, “Stefan, you tell him I not go.” To make clear this was an ironclad resolution the woman placed her cup of tea in its saucer and folded her arms across her chest. She repeated, “I not go.”
Daniel bent his head down to his mother’s level. “Mom, is it because she’s pregnant or because you don’t like Ed?” Seeing tears streaming down his mother’s face, Daniel reached for a napkin.
As he wiped her tears, Zofia unclasped her arms and peered into her son’s eyes. “My boy. My beautiful boy. You not know about hate. You not see . . . people do evil.”
Stefan put his arm on his wife’s shoulder. “Zofia, tell Danny what you told me.” When he was met only with silence, Stefan told Naomi, “In Polish, it’s easier for her to say.” He turned back to Zofia and said, “My wife, tell what you afraid of.”
In her broken English, she expressed her fear—a multiracial couple would not be accepted anywhere by anyone. “And now, vith baby . . . I know vhat hate can do . . .”
Stefan was now kneeling beside his wife and rubbing her neck, while Daniel said, “Mom, listen to me. How do we stop hate?”
When she turned her head away, he asked, “Mom, look at me. There are bullies out there. Evil people. I know that. Remember when I came home and told you about kids throwing things at me and calling me a kike and a Christ-killer? You told me to stand up to them. Well, Mom, people like Dana and Ed, they love each other and no one has a right to bully them and stop them from being together.”
Zofia became quiet, her eyes moving from side to side. Eventually she put her index finger up to her lips and took a moment to make eye contact with all three individually. Finally they heard the words, “I come to vedding.”
Once alone in their car, driving back into Manhattan, Daniel turned to Naomi. “My-omi, I’ve not been fair to you. I’ve tried ignoring how much you want to have a baby. Forgive me for being so selfish. I’ve been thinking, what if you haven’t been able to get pregnant because we weren’t both wanting it? Maybe God was waiting until I wanted this blessing as much as you do.” With a shrug and a smile, he said, “Let’s see what happens.”
They returned to their hotel room, and Daniel took his tallit and covered himself and Naomi. He petitioned their God. “Master of the Universe, we stand before You as one, beseeching You to grant us the desire of our heart. Bring forth a child out of this union.”
The plane ride back to Boca allowed time not only to reminisce about the events of the wedding, but also to map out what needed to be done to make the trip to Israel a successful event. Yet every once in a while, Daniel did say, “Hello, earth to My-omi.” Her vacant stare gave it away: her mind was wondering.
A few times her mind was recalling Dana’s obvious pregnancy even with her flouncy bohemian wedding dress. Her mind also wandered off to the announcement her parents had made—they soon could be retiring to South Florida. The thoughts about Dana soon having a baby filled her with resentment and remorse—thoughts of her parents living near her
filled her with joy.
But the most enticing distraction was wondering how soon she could go back to the doctor to have another pregnancy test. Over and over again, she played the scene in her head. “Daniel, we’re pregnant.” And over and over again she envisioned his excitement.
Then, of course, there was that beautiful house in Camino Real soon to be their home. And with Stefan’s getting them wholesale prices, in Naomi’s mind the sky was going to be the limit when furnishing and decorating –especially the nursery. Would it be blue or pink?
CHAPTER 18
Before they call . . .
Daniel squeezed his wife’s waist and nuzzled his chin on her neck. “C’mon, honey, I’ll help you clean up in the morning.”
She dropped her handful of paper plates and napkins back onto the coffee table and giggled. “Sounds good.”
He now steered her into their newly furnished sunroom. Oh, so inviting.
“Give me a second,” she told him. “Let me get some matches.”
“The candles are already lit,” he whispered.
Once seated on the rattan loveseat, he stretched his legs out on the ottoman and hers went across his lap. In perfect synchrony they let out a contented sigh.
“I think the only havurah more exciting than tonight’s was the first one,” Daniel said. “You agree?”
She shook her head. “Nope, tonight’s was way more exciting. I mean what could be more exciting than this? The very first one in our new home.”
He tickled her feet. “Nope, you’re wrong. Couldn’t have had this one if we didn’t have the first one.”
Naomi yanked the pillow out from behind Daniel’s head to wallop him with it, but he intercepted the hit. This precipitated a playful round of wrestling, ending with Daniel carrying his wife piggyback into their bedroom.
The evening ritual, since the time in Manhattan, was again performed this night. Under his tallit, they petitioned the Master of the Universe to bring forth a child through their union.
Naomi, The Rabbi's Wife Page 24
