Once they had said their goodnights, Naomi added her own secret petition: Lord, please let the gynecologist tomorrow tell me, “Yes, Mrs. Cantor, you are pregnant.” Why had she kept tomorrow morning’s appointment a secret from Daniel? She really couldn’t come up with an answer.
Daniel turned over in bed and told her, “Honey, the furniture you picked out and even the way you arranged it, it works terrific. I’m so proud of you.”
“And I love your idea to have a barbecue for our next meeting.”
They said goodnight one more time, leaving Naomi with new fodder for her fanciful world. The students, in all their exuberance, would be so happy for their Rabbi and his wife when she became pregnant. And Naomi could even be an inspiration to the young people to wait until they were married to enjoy this kind of bliss. Had she waited, there would then be no ghosts seeking always to invade her peace.
The doctor did not even make an appearance. The nurse took Naomi’s sample, had her wait while the test was run, and in a very short while came back with the results.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Cantor. It’s negative again.”
Wordless and expressionless, Naomi stood up, placed her purse strap around her shoulder and proceeded out of the room.
The nurse caught up with her in the hallway. “Dr. Morris wanted me to ask you if you would like a referral. He has a colleague who specializes in fertility problems. Wait right here and I’ll get you his card.”
Naomi did not wait for the nurse to return.
With five hours until she was needed at the Temple to help with the Friday night service, she wandered around the Town Center Mall. Only yesterday she had looked forward to having the time to browse the many home décor boutiques. Today, however, her eyes were unable to focus on anything in particular. Into one store and then into another, hoping for absolutely no human contact
Finally close enough to the time for arriving at the Temple, Naomi went to Cohen’s Bakery and picked up the challah to be used for the evening’s service. She had to make it home, park the car, and then walk to the shul. Living in their new neighborhood, the walk required an extra thirty minutes, and here she had spent the day dawdling around as if time were there to be wasted.
Driving a good ten to fifteen miles over the speed limit and even racing through a red light, she pulled into the driveway and hurriedly ran in and changed her clothes. Having made it on foot almost to the guardhouse, carrying the challah, she remembered—Daniel told her they were running low on the wine needed for Kiddush, the ritual performed at the end of Friday night’s service. He expected her to have picked up another bottle at the store.
High heels on, she raced back to their home and reached into the pantry. Thankfully she found an unopened bottle of kosher wine, found a burlap sack to carry it in, and started on her hike again.
She arrived at the Temple, wiping the sweat off her face with a tissue. She found Daniel in the social area engaged in conversation with an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Bagliebter. The wife had a tendency to corner either Daniel or Naomi and then talk nonstop. Seeing his wife enter, he waved her over.
Daniel kissed Naomi on the cheek. “Norm and Ida are telling me how excited they are. They just learned they’re going to be great grandparents. Can you imagine?”
Ida shoved a picture into Naomi’s face. “You know what this is? It’s called a sonogram. A picture of the baby inside my granddaughter. Do you believe it? He’s less than one month old but, look, you can see the little feet already.”
“Excuse me.” Naomi pushed the sonogram away, “I have to take the challah and the wine . . .” Rather than finishing her sentence, she simply walked away.
When the time arrived for his sermon, Daniel announced, “I had something all written out to talk about tonight, but I hope you’ll forgive me if I’ve changed my mind.”
His congregation was now comfortable with the casual environment their Rabbi had created, and now with many more young people in attendance, this free-flowing dialog seemed all the more appropriate.
He stepped off the bimah and addressed the congregation. “I was privileged this evening to see a glimpse of the Bagliebters’ great grandchild. Modern technology is an amazing thing. They showed me a picture, a sonogram, that was taken inside the womb of the mother. I can’t get it out of my mind.”
Daniel leaped back up the steps to his pulpit and picked up his Bible. Turning the pages while stepping back down, he explained, “Before there was such a thing as a sonogram, King David was inspired to write Psalm 139.” Daniel read from his Bible, “For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.”
Daniel closed his Bible, walked back up to his pulpit, and smiled toward his wife. He believed Naomi was shedding tears only because she, too, was touched by the beauty and truth of the Psalm.
Daniel’s exhaustion after a hectic week dulled his sensibilities and he did not see behind Naomi’s everything-is-fine facade. Usually she could fool others with this, but her husband was not so easily guiled.
If he had known what she truly was experiencing, he would not have told her as they arrived home, “Honey, I’m too tired to do our prayer tonight. I’m going right off to sleep. But I want to tell you, My-omi, since we started praying, I’m now wanting a baby as much as you do. Good night, honey.”
Was this to be the remainder of her life? Rude messengers always there to taunt? The howling always there to keep her deaf to all other sounds. Forevermore the shameful ache—this was her penance.
Words like bricks piled heavily upon her breaking heart. “You will never be good enough. God will never give you another baby. Because of you, your husband will not be blessed. You have brought curses with you into this marriage, not blessings.”
Those thoughts dragged her into the pit of another horrific nightmare. Grotesque images . . . ovens . . . babies screaming . . . Zofia’s words echoing throughout—“People do evil.”
Her muffled cries and restless movements in their bed awakened Daniel, “Honey, wake up.” Once her eyes were open and staring at him, he asked, “Are you okay?”
“I did evil, Daniel. I’m so sorry.”
“Honey, it’s just a bad dream. Go back to sleep, okay?”
Soon she heard his rhythmic breathing again, glad she had not disturbed his much-needed sleep. She tiptoed out of the bedroom and into their den. She switched on the television and huddled up on the couch.
On the screen she saw a young forlorn-looking woman, walking listlessly in a secluded area. The camera moved to a tight close-up of the woman who now sat on a bench. Tears streamed down her face as an announcer asked, “Are you hurting from an abortion? You’re not alone. Call the number on your screen for free confidential help.”
CHAPTER 19
. . . I will answer
It must have been someone’s home at one time. White brick and green shutters. Thankfully warm and inviting, but what was this place?
Mustering up the kind of courage it once took to enter an audition hall, Naomi parked and got out of her car. Once inside, she approached a woman stationed behind a small desk.
“I called earlier. They told me I could come in at 9:30.”
The middle-aged woman removed her tortoise-shell eyeglasses and smiled warmly. “Do you know who you talked to, love?”
“Melinda.”
The receptionist’s finger moved toward the intercom button while at the same time an attractive redhead stepped out from a narrow hallway. The receptionist turned toward the redhead and said, “Oh, Melinda, I was about to call you.” She pointed her eyeglasses toward Naomi and said, “This young lady is here to see you.”
Melinda extended her hand to Naomi and said, “I have an office, we can talk in there.”
Naomi nodded and followed. Expecting to find a cold sterile-type office, she instead found a space designed to feel like you were in a
friend’s living room. Naomi walked over to a floral print sofa. “Okay for me to sit here?”
“Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you like coffee or something else . . . soda or some water?”
“No, thank you.”
Melinda then sat on a matching print chair in front of Naomi. “Do you want to give me your name?”
“No, not yet.”
“When you’re ready.” Melinda went on to assure Naomi of the strict confidentiality adhered to at this center.
“And what is this center?”
“Like I explained on the phone, we’re a women’s center. Run by women for women. Some women come here because they’ve found they’re pregnant—some people would say they were in a crisis pregnancy—and some women, like myself,” she put her hand to her chest and peered into Naomi’s eyes, “have needed to talk with someone about the abortion they had. Maybe they’re feeling guilt . . . maybe grieving over their choice. For me, I was experiencing a spiritual crisis. And one thing most of us have had in common, we’ve kept all these feelings to ourselves. The shame made us feel we couldn’t ever talk to anyone about all of this. For me, it was the loneliest, most isolating time in my life.”
Playing with the strap from her shoulder bag, Naomi asked, “And how are you able to help? I mean, are you a psychiatrist?”
“None of us here are psychologists or psychiatrists. A few of us get paid but most of us are volunteers. Truth is you couldn’t pay us enough to equal the joy we feel in doing what we do.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, but I want to address you by name. It seems so cold not to. Otherwise, I’ll end up like Maggie, the woman you met in the front. She calls everyone love—which is fine for her, but I’d rather . . . Would you mind giving me your first name?”
“Amy. I’m Amy.”
“Amy, as I mentioned many of us, after having had an abortion, we find ourselves in a spiritual crisis. Therefore, what we do here is use the Bible. There’s a Bible study we would do together, Amy, to repair your relationship with God.”
Naomi sensed Melinda did not believe Amy was her real name, but was gracious enough to use it nonetheless.
Melinda leaned forward. “I don’t know how familiar you are with the Bible, but the Hebrew prophet Isaiah promises that God will heal the brokenhearted and that He will console those who mourn. He’ll give us beauty for ashes and the oil of joy for our mourning. Who wouldn’t want that?”
Who offered anything this good without a price? “The ad said this is free.”
“It is. The Bible study we would go through, if you can pay it, is eight dollars, but if you can’t, we’ll give you a free copy.”
“I can pay you.”
“Okay.” Melinda swiveled her chair around to face the bookshelves behind her. She quickly grabbed a book and swiveled back to Naomi. “Here, Amy, this is for you.”
Naomi unzipped her purse, but was told, “You can give the money to Maggie on your way out. Let’s talk a little more first.”
Closing her purse back up, Naomi looked expectantly at the woman who sat across from her, albeit with a modicum of skepticism.
“First question: would you like to do this one-on-one, just you and me, or would you like to do this with a group? We have a group starting next Thursday night.”
“Can I do it only with you? Besides, I couldn’t come at night.”
“Of course. You can take your workbook, do the homework, and we could meet next Saturday if you want.”
Naomi’s heart fluttered. “No, I can’t usually do Saturdays.” The frightening realization struck her: it was the Sabbath and she had driven her car. Where was her head? Since Daniel left earlier on Saturdays to officiate the men’s prayer time, Naomi had managed to slip away. Earlier this morning, filled with anxiety about visiting this strange place, she had jumped into her car and never even stopped to think about what day it was.
“I only came today because I saw the ad last night and when I called this morning, you told me to come right in—and I didn’t want to chicken out.”
For the first time, Melinda laughed. “I understand completely.”
“But Saturdays are definitely not usually good.”
“Amy, don’t worry, my schedule is flexible. We simply need to give you time to do your homework. We could meet next Friday morning, if that’s good.”
“Okay. Ten a.m.?”
Again swiveling back toward the bookshelves, Melinda found her appointment book and immediately began writing. “Amy, Friday ten a.m. Amy, what’s your last name?”
“Winston.”
Having looked at Naomi’s wedding ring, she asked, “Mrs. Winston, would you be able to give me your phone number?”
“No, I can’t. But I could call you if you want me to.”
“That’ll be good. Maybe the day before to make sure there’s been no change in our appointment. One more question: Do you have a Bible?” When Naomi quickly nodded, Melinda said, “Good. May I pray for you before you leave?”
“Okay.”
Melinda reached over to take Naomi’s hands, but Naomi flinched. “Amy, I like to hold hands when I pray for someone, but we don’t have to.”
Naomi pursed her lips together for a moment and then held her hands out. “No, it’s okay.”
Melinda asked God to bless Amy as she sought healing for her trauma. And then the prayer was closed, “In Jesus’ Name.”
Withdrawing her hands, Naomi grabbed her purse and the workbook. She had already agreed to pay for the book and to avoid any confrontation she would give them her ten dollar bill and leave as quickly as possible. Later she would call and cancel her appointment.
As she was hastily making her way out, Melinda called to her, “See you Friday, and call me if you need to talk before then.”
Daniel’s probably at this very minute thinking “where is she?” If he only knew. And why did that woman have to say “in Jesus name?”
Okay, I’ll drive back home, hide this creepy workbook thing, and then I’ll have to walk to the shul. More like run.
After racing home and throwing the workbook in the trunk of her car, Naomi started her twenty-five minute trek to the Temple. This meant she would be arriving just only as a few stragglers were saying their goodbyes.
As she had predicted, by the time she approached the Temple people were getting into their cars and driving away. Only one other couple, Jay and Sandy Marcus, would be walking home.
“Naomi, are you okay? Everyone was asking about you,” Sandy said.
Trying to catch her breath, Naomi said, “I wasn’t feeling that well.”
And now she saw Daniel standing in the doorway and shaking hands with those who were still making their way out.
At the first glimpse of his wife, Daniel excused himself and hurried to her. “I was worried about you. Are you—?”
“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t feeling that well this morning.”
His eyes lit up. “Morning sickness, you think?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Then what’s the matter? Why don’t you feel well?”
“I’m feeling fine now. Please, don’t worry.”
“Okay. Then Jason’s Deli on the way home?”
“Sure.”
The next day was spent with Jay and Sandy. Never having used a grill before, Daniel needed the practice, and they, along with their son Jake, were eager to volunteer their taste buds.
Sandy and Naomi were preparing the hamburgers and chicken breasts together in the kitchen while the men prepared the charcoal. Yet Naomi’s mind was elsewhere. If she had been alone, she would have gone into Daniel’s office and taken a look at his Bible, the one with the concordance in the back. She would have looked up the words Melinda had told her were in Isaiah.
The words kept resonating in her mind. If she could prove they were not from the Hebrew Bible but only misquoted by this “Christian lady,” then she could put the whole thing to rest. She would cancel her appointment with Melinda and burn th
e book she had taken home.
But that would mean her hope for any possible healing was gone. The nightmares would never end, her sin would never be forgiven and the curses she brought upon Daniel would take away his hope, too.
The following morning Daniel kissed her goodbye and once his car was no longer in sight, she accomplished that which she had waited all day yesterday to do. Finding her husband’s Bible sitting on his desk, she picked it up and hugged it to her chest. Yes, it was a holy book, but it was also her Daniel’s Bible. She thought how much he enjoyed poring over the Scriptures and praying over what he read.
Finding the word “ashes” in the concordance, she noted it had a reference to Isaiah 61, to which she turned. There she read almost verbatim the words Melinda had spoken to her.
You are the God I’ve been looking for.
She delicately placed the Bible back exactly where she had found it, fondly stroking its cover. Maybe she could just take a peek into the workbook—what could it hurt? Since she had buried it deep inside her car trunk, she decided to go for a ride. Then in seclusion she would dig it out and . . . just a little look, that’s all.
Driving aimlessly for about thirty minutes, she finally made the decision to drive to Delray Beach. Much less chance of running into anyone who might know her there. She easily found a parking place across from the water. Naomi pulled out a large towel also kept in her car trunk, and brought out the workbook hidden under the spare tire.
Her divergent emotions were at war within her: dread and hope. The first words she read chased away the dread and buoyed her with hope. “What a wonderful God we have, He is the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ . . .” Nonetheless, dread made a thunderous return, attempting to shove hope out of the way. Yet something was tugging at her to continue reading. “Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort. 2 Corinthians 1:3.”
Am I crazy? I can’t do this. I’ll ruin my marriage.
She slammed this frightening book shut before it could contaminate her any further. Naomi stood up and shook out the sand from the towel, and proceeded back to her car. There was a garbage can right next to where she had parked and she would toss this dangerous thing right where it belonged.
Naomi, The Rabbi's Wife Page 25
