No Time for Tears

by Cynthia Freeman

  Chavala took Dovid into her office, closed the door and took out the cigar boxes. “Well, Dovid, what do you think?”

  He listened quietly as she explained the business, how she had come to acquire the inventory she now had. “And you know, Dovid, this is really just the beginning. I have very high hopes… it’s so important…”

  To whom, Dovid thought, but said only, “Yes, Chavala, it’s remarkable what you’ve done in so short a time. And it seems Moishe agrees.”

  “Yes … I told you that something like this could only happen in America …” She hesitated, took a deep breath … “now that you’ve seen it, Dovid, wouldn’t you maybe think about trying it?”

  His look said it all. “I’m sorry, darling, I can’t, and you know why.”

  Chavala forced back the tears. In her heart she’d known the answer before she asked it, she was foolish even to think she could change his mind. But to be without him again after even this brief reminder of what it was like together … God, why didn’t he try to stop her? But she could hear the answer … What good would that have done, wouldn’t they have ended up resenting, even hating each other? A husband shouldn’t have to force his wife to be with him. That wasn’t a marriage. If she stayed it had to be because she loved him so much she would do anything he asked … But was that really love … ? In a way it was Dovid’s great strength that made it possible for him to let her go. It took a strong man to do that. Chavala only wished she had been woman enough not to leave Dovid …

  She forced a smile. “Now, Dovid, I want you to meet Mr. Leibowitz.”

  “Ah … Chavala,” Mr. Leibowitz called out as he came up to them. He ruffled Reuven’s hair. “So how is the bar mitzvah boy?”

  “Fine … thank you. This is my father,” Reuven said with obvious pride.

  “Ah ha, so this is Dovid. If I met you on the street I would have known you. Reuven described you very well. Now, come into my office and I’ll send out for coffee and cake and we’ll talk. I want to hear all about what’s going on in Eretz Yisroel.”

  “Thank you, but we can stay for only a few minutes. I just wanted to show off a little,” Chavala said, looking at her husband, “but please come to supper tonight.”

  He hesitated for a moment, looked at Chavala’s stomach and smiled. “I would like that very much, but you’re sure it wouldn’t be too much for you?”

  “I’m only going to have a baby, Mr. Leibowitz, and a family still has to eat.”

  He nodded, remembering the first time she had walked into his office, a total stranger, and now he felt as though she was a daughter. “I’ll be there, and thank you. And you, Dovid, things haven’t been the same since the bar mitzvah boy heard you were coming.”

  Dovid looked at his son. “The feeling was shared. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Leibowitz, we’ll see you this evening.”

  “God willing.”

  On the way home Chavala bought a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of seltzer. After she rather laboriously climbed the stairs, she opened the door to the flat to find Chia had already set the table with the new white tablecloth Chavala had purchased for Dovid’s arrival.

  “Where’s abba and Reuven?” Chia asked.

  “Reuven took Dovid to show him his yeshiva. You notice the change in Reuven, I’m sure.”

  Chia sighed. “He can’t let abba alone for a minute.”

  “I know. I hate to think … when Dovid leaves …”

  “Let’s not think about it today, we’re together for the first time in a long time. Let’s make every moment happy.”

  It was like old times as Chavala watched the pots. The smells were heaven. The brisket bubbled away in its own natural juices, the kasha simmered slowly, the carrot tzimmes needed just a bit more sugar. The one thing Chavala bought were the cakes from Mrs. Neusbaum … she was just too tired to make them.

  As Chavala served the food it seemed so natural to have Dovid sitting at the head of his table.

  Mr. Leibowitz had brought the sweet Passover wine, which he drank all year round. With his glass touching Dovid’s he said, “To Jerusalem.”

  “To the state of Israel,” Dovid responded.

  “L’chayim,” Reuven said.

  Chavala hoped with all her heart that Dovid’s dreams of a Jewish state would come true. If both of them could realize their dreams then they surely could start together again. It would happen, somehow. She willed herself to believe it would…

  After supper Chavala felt especially tired. She kissed Dovid and said goodnight to Mr. Leibowitz, thanking him for coming.

  Reuven was pleased that his mother had gone to bed early and that Chia had gone off to study. He listened attentively as Mr. Leibowitz plied Dovid with one question after another, and to Dovid’s answers…

  “You didn’t say so much today …but tell me, how are conditions, I mean with the British?”

  The lines in Dovid’s forehead deepened. “Not good, Mr. Leibowitz. They’re trying to make peace with the Arabs, and as usual at our expense.”

  Mr. Leibowitz shook his head. “They won’t let us live, will they? I mean …I thought the British would be sympathetic. That’s what I read in the Yiddish papers. What about this Balfour Declaration?”

  “Not, as they say, worth the paper it’s written on. You know …for centuries the Arabs lived without lifting a hand to redeem the land and now they’ve invented something called Arab nationalism. Very convenient. We hoped that the agreement between Chaim Weizmaon and Faisal would bring our two people closer together. It was hoped that with the agreement, Jewish immigration into Palestine would flow, but the Arab nationalists were against it. A few weeks ago the settlements in upper Galilee were attacked.” He looked at Moishe. “Trumpeldor was murdered at Tel Hai. He fought in Manchuria, in Gallipoli, in Europe, he came home and they murdered him in Eretz Yisroel. Riots broke out in Jerusalem, Jews died. The British authorities gave the Arabs a free hand, the Jewish defenders led by Jabotinsky were wiped out…”

  Moishe, never surprised by British treachery, was nonetheless in a state of shock. Finally he asked, “What about Jabotinsky?”

  “Sentenced with I don’t know how many others to a long term, for the crime of defending the Yishuv.”

  “Are you trying to get them out?”

  Dovid laughed bitterly. “The Turks were so corrupt, no one, from the highest to the lowest, turned down a bribe. With gold you could buy yourself out of the grave. The British on the other hand, so civilized and polite, stab you in the back just before taking their tea. They can’t be bought off, if the price is a Jew. And it’s a Jew, an English Jew, Sir Herbert Samuel, who’s been appointed Palestine’s high commissioner.”

  “Well, my God, Dovid, why doesn’t he help?” Moishe said.

  “The British know what they’re doing. One mistake and he’s labeled pro-Jewish. He can’t even be suspected of being lenient. He has to lean over backwards …”

  “You mean he’s done nothing for the Jews?” Mr. Leibowitz said.

  “In the beginning he tried to bring in some Jewish immigration, but he had to appease the Arabs. So the Jews that did were put on road projects. He also made Hebrew an official language, side-by-side with Arabic and English as a concession to the Jews, but on the other hand the best government-owned land in the Beth She’an valley was distributed among the Bedouins.”

  Mr. Leibowitz and Moishe sat in silence. It all seemed so grim. How little, they realized, was written about Palestine’s Jews in the American newspapers.

  “Abba, why can’t Aaron Aaronson and you do something like what happened in the war?”

  Dovid looked at his son, the boy had been listening so intently he’d all but forgotten he was there. “Because this is a different time, Reuven.”

  “But you helped the British in the war. Uncle Moishe was wounded—”

  “I know, Reuven, but the British aren’t exactly grateful to Uncle Moishe or to me or people like us. A few days ago a man named Winston Churchill who’s v
ery important in the British government sat on the terrace of the King David Hotel in Jerusalem and looked out into the distance and there and then apparently decided that the Arabs needed another country, so he created a new place called the Kingdom of Jordan. All that land, Reuven, was once a part of Judea.”

  “What are we going to do about it, abba?”

  “Fight, Reuven … We must be prepared, we can’t depend on anyone, especially the British, to even help us get our land. That’s why instead of going back and working the land I’m working where I feel I’m most needed, with the Zionist Agency … And now, Reuven, I think you should go to bed, it’s getting late … oh, and don’t tell your mother about this, I don’t want to worry her…”

  Mr. Leibowitz couldn’t believe it was one o’clock already. He wasn’t a bit tired, but he knew he should go home and let these people get some sleep. Getting up he said to Dovid, “If you need me for something, anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Dovid nodded. “I’ll remember, Mr. Leibowitz. And thank you for all you’ve done for Chavala. It makes me feel better knowing she has someone here like you.”

  “Shalom … Maybe if you have nothing better to do, stop by and we can lunch in my office?”

  But that invitation was not to be taken advantage of…

  When Dovid started to undress in the dark Chavala said calmly, “Dovid, I think maybe you better go down and get a cab.”

  He went quickly to her, took her in his arms. “The pains … are they very bad?”

  “No, they started about an hour ago. Dovid, I love you, thank God you’re here …”

  The family, as well as Mr. Leibowitz, waited nervously as Chavala was taken to the delivery room at Bellevue Hospital.

  Dovid paced in one direction, Moishe the other. Reuven had never seen his father so worried. As for himself, he just felt sort of embarrassed … not sure what to do or how to act.

  Mr. Leibowitz, sitting next to him, said, “Your abba is a wonderful man, Reuven, and your ema is a remarkable woman. I know they’re both very proud of you.”

  Reuven barely heard him as he watched his father pacing back and forth.

  Chia had her own special, private fears as her thoughts inevitably went back to when Chavala’s and her mother had died …if anything happened to Chavala, she didn’t think she could bear it. Chavala had always been more like a mother to her than a sister … The hours seemed endless. She put her arms around Reuven and held him close to her, as much to reassure herself as Reuven….

  Nature took over, and on October 23, 1920, after five hours in labor, Chavala gave birth to a son. He weighed nine pounds, three ounces, and from the moment of birth was the living image of his father.

  Back in the ward, Chavala asked to see her husband and Dovid was quickly at her side.

  Chavala smiled. “Have you seen him, Dovid?”

  He shook his head, “No, not yet, but I see you and I love you and—”

  “Wait, Dovid, wait until you do. I thought I was seeing a miniature you.”

  She stroked his head, which lay against her breast, filled with an inexpressibly tender love for this big, strong man who felt no shame in expressing his own love. Trying not to allow the shadow of his leaving her room affect this wonderful moment of closeness, she whispered, “I love you, Dovid. Now go see your new son.”

  He smiled, kissed her, and walked down the long ward between the rows of beds. He took Reuven with him, and the two walked on to the nursery. The others stayed behind, understanding that this was a special moment between the father and son.

  When the infant was handed to Dovid he lowered the child so that Reuven could see his brother for the first time. It was a shared moment they both would never forget…

  Three days later Chavala was able to go home, carrying her new son, sharing the joy of him with Dovid, Chia, and Reuven, who almost from the start acted more like a kind of substitute father than a mere brother. He seemed at once fascinated and possessive about the baby.

  The day his son was circumcised Dovid proudly held him, surrounded by Moishe, Reuven, and Mr. Leibowitz. After being given a drop of schnapps the infant slept in his father’s arms while the men toasted the new father.

  Afterward they were joined by others at the apartment for the simcha. The pearl-stringer Yetta was there, and so were all the people Chavala had worked with. Mrs. Neusbaum and Mrs. Zuckerman had brought enough food to feed everyone and twenty more, and Mr. Leibowitz kvelled with the pride of a grandfather as he held the child. “Chavala … Chavala … what a baby, I can’t believe it. It was like yesterday that you sat in my office, needing help, and now …”

  Finally people said their goodnights, and as they did, Chavala thought of a leave-taking to come that would not be so sweet. She’d not let the thought settle in her mind up to now, the joy of little Joshua … it had seemed a fitting name when she’d mentioned it to Dovid and he’d immediately agreed … had been too important to be sullied with it. But now, there was nothing to do but face it. Dovid had not changed his mind. He had come to America, she now reminded herself, for the birth of their child, in time to be with her when she delivered, even though he hadn’t come on the occasion of Reuven’s bar mitzvah, which must have seemed almost as important to him. Almost … Remember that, Chavala, when you’re tempted to feel sorry for yourself, or berate Dovid … You, your child, came first. Remember that…

  They sat quietly in the kitchen on the last night before his departure, and spoke of everything except what would happen the next day.

  Suddenly, framed in the doorway, was Reuven. He looked first at his mother, than at his father. Slowly he walked to where they sat. Without hesitation, he spoke the words he had so carefully weighed, and rehearsed.

  “Ema, I love you, I always will, but I want to go home with abba.”

  She cleared her throat, swallowed back the tears. What could she say? He had a right to go, and in a way she’d known without admitting it to herself that this was going to happen. It was only a question of when … and now it was no question. After all, she had the new child, she had Moishe and Chia. Dovid had nothing of his family. She would not stop Reuven, not even argue. This was not his country, perhaps it never would be. Like his father he belonged in the hills of Zichron … the farm at Athlit… the coves of Caesarea. Even when the snows of winter melted in America, Reuven would always be cold.

  Chavala nodded, even managed a smile. “I’m happy for you, Reuven. I will miss you, my sweet boy, but your father has missed you long enough. And life has a way of taking care of things … I think there will come a time when we will all be together again. I believe that …” And she did. She had to…

  Chavala stood with Joshua in her arms and watched as Dovid and Reuven walked up the gangplank. She felt a chill all through her, and not only from the sharp winds that blew in from the sea.

  The whistle blew, and the ship began to move out. She stood on the dock, flanked by Moishe and Chia, until it was lost from sight. Then they turned and slowly walked back to their life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  DOVID AND REUVEN STOOD AT Athlit and looked out to the shoals. They watched the sea roll back and cascade above the high rocks. The spray felt so good on Reuven’s face. This might have been the happiest day in his life, except for the look of sadness in his father’s eyes. He could guess that it had to do with being apart from his mother, which he realized affected him too. Yes, even though he had not been happy in America and never really understood, or at least accepted, his mother taking him there and staying there, he did miss her. Yes, he missed her…

  And Reuven was right. Dovid did miss Chavala, and thinking about her he also thought of the years they’d lived here. How contented Chavala had been, the pride she’d taken in their small house. But the memories were not all sweet. And filtering through were the sounds of dying, killing. They drowned out the good thoughts … Mostly he’d returned here today because Reuven wanted back the memories of his childhood, but for Dovid
there was too much to remember…

  And now there was even more … He closed his eyes against the sky. This morning he had heard the news that Aaron had died in an airplane somewhere over the Atlantic. It seemed too much to cope with. Aaron had so much more to give, and he’d somehow always seemed so … invulnerable, invincible. He shook his head. Aaron would not have wanted him to be undone by grief. They’d fought too long and hard, too many of them had died to give up now. Their land was still not theirs … to withdraw from the struggle would betray the past, and forfeit the future…

  Reuven stood very close to his father, almost feeling his pain. And determination too. “Abba, I know we talked about me living with Aunt Dvora, but I would like to stay in Tel Aviv with you … please?”

  “I’d like that, Reuven, but my life is too unpredictable. I’m away too often. It’s important for a boy, even a big boy like you, to have a settled place to live, and a woman … well, a woman like your aunt—”

  You’re my family, he wanted to say. And you need a wife. “Will I see you?”

  Dovid knew Reuven’s feelings, knew them too well. He’d once been comforted when he needed it most by Chavala’s mother, Rivka Rabinsky. His son had been cut adrift too, must be feeling the pain and fear of leaving Chavala and Chia. The next week he’d planned with his son would, he hoped, help ease the change for him.

  Dovid put his arm around his son’s shoulder. “Will you see me? Of course, as often as possible.”

  As they walked back to Dovid’s car, Reuven looked across the fields and saw the laboratory at Athlit where he remembered his father had brought him as a very small boy. Some of the sounds and sights came back. He had wanted to be a scientist like Dovid, he remembered his father holding him up so he could look into the lens of the microscope. Well, maybe he still would be, but first he would work with his father to create a permanent homeland for the Jews.