Forever, My Homeland: The Final Book in the All My Love, Detrick Series

by Roberta Kagan

  Brenda unwrapped the small bundle removing the blanket. Surprisingly the baby slept, peacefully, her small fists clenched as her chest rose and fell with each breath. Elan turned away.

  “Look, Elan, look at her. She is alive. Look, if you would just take a second, you will see how much she looks like Nina.”

  “Get her out of here…”

  “She has Nina’s eyes…”

  Elan could not help himself. He glanced at the infant who had just awakened. Noa had dark, almond-shaped eyes like her mother.

  “And her nose too. She looks so much like Nina.”

  It was true. She did. Noa looked like a tiny version of her mother. It was almost as if Nina were reborn. Elan surprised himself. A million emotions rushed over him and he reached for the baby. Miraculously, Noa didn’t cry when Elan took her into his arms, but Elan did. He sobbed…his tears fell across his cheeks. He rocked his child in his arms, as he wept for the beauty and joy of the small flicker of light that looked up at him with Nina’s eyes. Elan held the baby to his chest. He felt the small heart beating against his. Nina, he whispered in his mind. Nina, you were right. Then, for the first time in months, Elan looked around the room. It was a disaster.

  “Thank you, Brenda,” he said, his voice barely audible.

  Brenda smiled at him. “She’s a beautiful baby, Elan. Nina would have been so happy.”

  “Will you take her home with you and bring her back tomorrow. I’ll need the night to clean this place and then I’ll have to go into town, to get what I need to set up the nursery. This is her home, here with me and the memory of her mother.”

  “I know you didn’t buy anything for a nursery because of the superstitions. Would you like for me to have Aryeh come by tonight and bring a crib and some other things?”

  Elan nodded, hanging his head. He was spent. “Yes. Please bring what you have.” It was hard for him, but he was trying to show his gratitude. His anger at God and the world was fading. “Thank you again...especially for your persistence.”

  That night Aryeh brought a crib, a playpen, and several other items Elan would need for his daughter. Elan could not bring himself to speak much to his brother. His emotions were too close to the surface, and it had always been hard for Elan Amsel to show weakness in front of Aryeh.

  “Brenda will bring Noa in the morning,” Aryeh said.

  Elan nodded.

  After Aryeh left, Elan took a shower, shaved, and then sat staring out the window. He had no experience with babies. How was he going to care for this child? He took the phone book out of the cabinet and looked up home care nursing services. There were several, but only one that specialized in the care of infants. He left the book open to the page and decided that he would call them first thing in the morning and then went to bed. Surprisingly, he fell asleep quickly and awakened with a smile. He’d had a dream of Nina that was so real that it was hard to believe that his wife was not lying on the bed beside him. She told him how happy she was that he was going to raise Noa. She would be with him always, in spirit, she said. He felt an inner calm, a peaceful feeling that he’d not felt since Nina died. Elan would manage. He would do his best to be a good father, and wherever Nina was, she would be proud.

  CHAPTER 3

  Gloria Finkelstein was not a trained nurse by trade, but she had been a mother of two children, a boy and a girl. The day Elan hired her through the agency, she moved into the nursery in the Amsel home. Gloria was a survivor of the Holocaust, who had been in several concentration camps and was the only one of her family who was still alive. Once the camps were liberated, Gloria searched for friends and family only to find that she was alone.

  When Israel became a nation, without any possessions or loved ones, she’d gotten onto a boat and migrated to the Jewish homeland. Kibbutz life was too invasive for her: too many people. After the crowded camps, the disease, the horrors, Gloria had become a private person. It was hard for her to talk about her family or her past, and she didn’t want to hear about the horrors others had endured.

  All she wanted to do was escape the memories. The only thing she knew well was how to care for a home and children, so she became a full-time, live-in housekeeper and nanny.

  She’d worked for another family before she met the Amsels, a husband and wife who were both doctors. She’d raised their three boys until they were in high school and no longer needed a nanny.

  By the time she met Elan and Noa, Gloria was well into her late fifties, but she was a remarkably strong and capable person. She was a quiet woman who, most importantly, knew when to keep her mouth shut. For that reason alone, Elan liked her right away. She was efficient but gentle with Noa and never argued with Elan’s decisions. The situation was a good one for both the employer and the employee. Gloria had a place to live and a family to care for while Elan got the help he could rely on to raise an infant.

  The year that followed was a difficult one for Elan. With continuous effort and tremendous self-control, he finally managed to stop drinking in excess. Although he’d been told that he must give up his alcohol use entirely, Elan knew that he never would. He loved the feeling of the burning liquid rushing down his throat, soothing and taking the edge off the constant thoughts that plagued his ever-active mind. Since Noa came to live with Elan, he no longer thought about suicide, even though he was still terribly lonely.

  Nina’s memory was never far away. He could not bring himself to clean out her closet or her drawers. Her personal items were everywhere. Tiny things, like a pressed flower that fell out of the phone book, or the small embroidered handkerchief that her grandmother had given her, still lay on the table beside her bed.

  It had been months since she passed and Elan still had not washed Nina’s pillowcase. There was no denying it. Nina had left a mark in every room in the house. Just a glimpse of her perfume bottle in the bathroom could set Elan back for the day.

  Gloria was a tremendous help with Noa. She never let the baby cry long enough to awaken Elan at night. She knew that her boss, Mr. Amsel, was suffering from deep depression. For Elan to heal, to truly become whole, he needed something to do, a job perhaps. She would wait until the right time, and then gently urge him to find work. Then once he began working, Gloria would carefully ask Elan to allow her to remove all of Nina’s possessions and free him of the past.

  CHAPTER 4

  March 1978; the Outskirts of Tel Aviv

  Noa was playing on a blanket on the floor. Elan loved to watch her play. She was so intent with her toys. He could spend hours eating up her smiles, and marveling at her tiny hands and feet. Elan had come to love his daughter. As Noa grew, Elan came to see bits of Nina in her more every day.

  A cartoon was playing on the television when the phone rang. Since few people called him anymore, Elan assumed it was his brother. He stretched his back and then his arms over his head and went into the kitchen, to answer the call. Before he left Noa alone, Elan called to Gloria Finkelstein, who had gone to her room, to get something.

  “Mrs. Finkelstein, please come out and keep an eye on Noa.”

  “Yes, sir.” Gloria said and was instantly on her way to the living room where the baby was busy at play.

  Elan picked up the heavy black receiver and said, “Hello.”

  “Amsel?”

  “Yeah?” He recognized an old familiar voice, a friend from Mossad.

  “It’s Chi.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m all right. How are you?”

  “I’m getting along,” Elan said.

  “I didn’t call to make small talk. Earlier today, an eighteen-year-old-girl and eleven members of the Fatah killed an American tourist, and then they hijacked a bus that was on its way from Haifa to Tel Aviv. Close to forty people, forty Israeli’s, Elan, forty of our own people, were killed. Some of them were kids. We have almost eighty wounded in the hospital. Come back to Mossad, Elan. We need you… Israel needs you.”

  Elan put his hand on his forehead. It had been a wh
ile since he’d felt that old familiar power, that driving force that ran through his blood and pushed him to defend the country he loved. But as he thought about what Chi had just told him, what the Fatah had done to his people, he remembered what it meant to be an Israeli.

  Standing in the kitchen and looking into the living room at Noa as she played on the floor, Elan was reminded that without Israel, his child as well as every other Jewish child had an uncertain future. Anything could happen to the Jews without Israel behind them, even another Hitler. As Elan contemplated all of this, he felt the strength and the urge to stand up and defend the land he loved seeping back into him.

  “I’ll be at the office in an hour,” Elan said.

  “I knew you would come through for us, Elan. We’ll be waiting for you.”

  ***

  When Elan entered the offices of Mossad, he was overcome with a mixture of emotions. It was here that he first met Nina. He could still see her slender form standing in the office kitchen making coffee, but there was more than just the memory of his beloved wife here.

  As he looked around the familiar room, he saw the faces of his old friends. They were the faces of his brothers and sisters. These people, like Elan, were true Israelis. The other members of Mossad came up one by one and embraced Elan, welcoming him back to his rightful place in the world. Elan Amsel was home. He didn’t want to cry in front of his friends, but he felt his eyes fill with tears.

  And so began operation “Avi Hachochma.” Israel was determined to push the Fatah, who was allied with the South Lebanese Army, away from her border. Israel placed over thirty thousand IDF soldiers in the area south of the Litani River, with shoulder-launched, rocket-propelled cluster bombs that were provided by the United States. Over the seven days of intense fighting, the IDF had killed at least six hundred terrorists, but two thousand civilians were massacred.

  President Carter of the United States of America said that Israel was using the bombs America gave her illegally: the agreement had been for defense-only. Carter threatened to cut off all military aid to Israel if they continued to use the cluster bombs. Prime Minister Begin of Israel could not risk losing America’s support, so he agreed to end the war.

  But for Elan, this conflict with the Fatah had different consequences. It brought him back to life. It brought him home, home to Mossad. He was older now, and he would no longer take assignments in the field. He could not risk his life because he knew that Noa needed him. He was her only living parent.

  However, his extensive knowledge would be a great help at the office. Elan Amsel had worked as an undercover Mossad agent in the Operation Wrath of God, and when he was younger, he had served several terms in the IDF where he’d flown bomber planes. When he was called up again, he’d gladly come forth for Israel and fought in the Six-Day War. Here, amongst his people, Elan was a hero. He’d devoted his life to the survival of his beloved land.

  One night, several weeks after Elan’s return to his position at the offices of Mossad, he returned home from work. Mrs. Finkelstein had bathed Noa and put her to bed. Then she’d left food for Elan and quietly slipped off to bed.

  He took the napkin off the top of the plate that Mrs. Finkelstein had left for him and grabbed a thick piece of pita dipping it into the fresh hummus. It was good. Gloria Finkelstein proved to be an excellent cook. The house was quiet, and Elan had a feeling of stability. After pouring a small glass of brandy, he sat down in his thick, easy chair without turning on the light in the living room. The only light came from the kitchen and filtered through the window from the full moon.

  “Nina,” he whispered softly into the night, so as not to awaken the baby or Mrs. Finkelstein. “I’m trying, Nina. God knows, I’m really trying. It won’t be easy to for a man like me to take care of a little girl, especially as she gets older. I have to admit I don’t know too much about girls.

  But I’ll be damned if she doesn’t look just like you. When I look at Noa, I see you, Nina. You’re still here, you’re still alive, and you live in our child. Her smile is your smile, that look she gets on her face when she is stubbornly resisting something, that too, is yours. Yes, love, I can still remember that look, I still remember everything, Nina, everything about you. Help me to be a good father. Guide me from wherever you are. I know, I’ve always hated to admit that I needed anyone else. But I need you, Nina. I’ve always needed you. And… I’ll never stop loving you, Nina, never…”

  CHAPTER 5

  Tel Aviv; 1981

  Katja Zaltstein sat on a bench feeding the pigeons. When things were troubling her, she often went to the park, to be alone and think.

  Something terrible happened to her daughter, Ima, a few months ago, something that Ima refused to tell her mother or her grandmother. When Katja pressed her daughter for answers, Ima closed her out and refused to discuss the matter.

  Katja’s mother, Zofia, said that the best thing to do was to let Ima come to them when she was ready to talk. Zofia felt that if they kept trying to force Ima to tell them what happened, Ima would only retreat further away from them. Katja could not help but feel lost and helpless.

  She’d stopped at a bakery on her way to the park and purchased several slices of pita bread which she now mindlessly tore into small pieces. The birds surrounded her, but she hardly noticed. It was as if she were acting on autopilot.

  Katja always missed her husband Mendel, who died fighting in the Six-Day War, but now, she missed him even more. She needed his wisdom. Mendel was smart, he would have known what to do to reach Ima. My God, Katja thought, my baby has been damaged and I so afraid that I will lose her forever.

  She poured the torn pieces of bread onto the ground. Birds came from the sky, to join those that were already eating. Katja thought, no matter how much I bring, there are always more birds than bread. She was well inside the park, and there was not another bench for a half mile.

  The sun peeked through the branches of the trees, and she happened to notice the sun as it glittered on the silver leaves of an olive tree a few feet in front of her.

  “Mind if I sit here for a couple of minutes?”

  Katja was startled out of her daze. A man stood in front of her. The sun was so bright behind him that it temporarily blinded her.

  “Yes, of course,” she said. Katja hated to disappoint anyone, even someone she didn’t know.

  Once the man sat down, Katja could see that he was a light-skinned black man.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m John.”

  “Hi,” Katja said.

  “This is a beautiful park. In fact, all of Israel is quite beautiful,” he said.

  “Yes, it is. Are you visiting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, how nice. Where are you from?”

  “England,” he said, “but I was born and raised in America.”

  “Oh? America? Where?”

  “New York—in Harlem.”

  “Is that in the city of New York or a suburb?” Katja asked.

  “It’s in Manhattan. But…well... It’s a rather nasty part of the city. I’m afraid it’s not a good place to grow up.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, it’s a poverty-stricken area. Most of the people who live there are dark-skinned like me. The world is not as kind to dark-skinned people, especially men. So I studied hard, and when the time came for me to go to college, I got a scholarship to go to England and attend a University. My goodness,” he laughed. “There are so many pigeons here.”

  Katja laughed, “I guess I have to say that the invasion of the birds in this part of the park is my fault. I feed them, and then they gather in clusters like this waiting and hoping for more. No matter how much bread I bring, there are always too many birds. Look over there.” She pointed. “You see other types of birds are also coming. Somehow, they know when someone is feeding them. Maybe they send messages to each other…messages like, ‘we have a sucker over here with lots of bread.’” She shook her head and smiled.

  He laughed.
r />   “Where in England did you go to school?” It was good to have someone to talk to, something to distract her from her worries.

  He smiled a broad smile and Katja could not help but think that he was a very attractive man. “Oxford.”

  “Oh, impressive! That is quite an accomplishment.”

  “For a black man, you mean?”

  “I didn’t say that, John. I said it was an accomplishment, and it is…it’s quite an achievement whether you are black or white.”

  “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

  “It’s all right.” She shrugged. “I’ve heard a lot about Oxford, it’s very old and established.”

  “Yes, that it is…and I was lucky. Even with all of the progress that civil rights have made, I was still one of the only blacks in my class. I suppose I must have filled a quota.” He laughed a sad and bitter laugh.

  She had never met anyone like him. In fact, he was the first black man she’d ever had a conversation with. Before this, Katja had not given much thought to the Ethiopian Jews she saw walking through the streets. But now she was starting to understand that life for people with black skin was in many ways the same as life for Jews. Strangers instantly hated them for no reason at all. “What did you study?”

  “Law.”

  “My husband was a lawyer.”

  “You’re married?”

  “I was. My husband died in the Six-Day War.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “So am I. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think of him. He was my best friend. We were children together.”

  John nodded. “It must be hard. Do you have any kids?”

  “I have a daughter. What about you? Are you married?”

  “No, I’ve been too busy with school. Haven’t had time for a relationship. Like I said before, and I hate to keep repeating myself, but it really is so much harder for a black man. My grades had to be better than the rich white boys, or I would have been thrown out of Oxford. I didn’t have any family that were alumni to send money if I screwed up. So I focused all my time and attention on studying.