No Time for Tears

by Cynthia Freeman

  The moment she entered, Moishe knew something terrible had happened. Chavala stood there, actually shaking. He came from behind the counter and helped her to the back room.

  For a moment she just sat staring at Moishe. Oh God, the nightmare of it. If only her family hadn’t stayed … for what? This? Were things going too good in America? God didn’t like that…?

  “What is it?” Moishe’s words finally got through to her.

  “Lazarus was killed.”

  Moishe sat down. A long silence between them, then Chavala said, “I’m going to Palestine.”

  “We should all go.”

  “No … nothing can help Lazarus now. But I can help Raizel. You stay here, keep things going. The needs are going to be even greater now. I’m going to take Joshua. His father and brother should see him …”

  “And the store?”

  “Close it, what else can we do?”

  “We can take the merchandise out and bring it here.”

  “Yes … well, what more is there to say? Raizel left with five children … there’s no end to it, is there, Moishe?”

  “I guess not. I can’t get over it… When will you leave?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  Dinner that night was a very quiet affair.

  “I feel I should go with you,” Chia said.

  “No. Raizel will understand, you can’t leave school.”

  “Chavala, I’m part of the family too, you’ve always talked about family. I’m no child, I can help. I can miss school and make it up later or—”

  “No. It’s different. I mean, it’s different for me. My sister’s husband has been killed. I must go, she has asked for me and I couldn’t live with myself if I weren’t with her now. But you have your own life, darling. Yes, you’re family, of course, it’s your sister too. But I think you can see it’s different. I thank you for wanting to come, I wish I could accept. Believe me, I’d much rather go with you, have the comfort. But in the end it would hurt you too much, set you back too much and I’d only be indulging myself. I know it sounds trite, but it’s true. Life does go on. It has to. And it’s never more important to remember that than at a time like this…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  THE CLOSER THE SHIP came to Palestine, the greater Chavala’s anxieties. She had the time and atmosphere now for her old guilt about separating from Dovid to surface. And guilt because she lived in comfort and safety now while much of her family not only struggled but lived with danger every day. She had been through this a thousand times in her head, but she still felt it…

  As she dressed Joshua, her hands were unsteady. This was the first time since Joshua’s birth that Dovid would be seeing him. And if it hadn’t been for the tragic death of Lazarus, she wouldn’t have been coming back now.

  When the ship anchored in the harbor at Haifa, Chavala was on deck with Joshua. She scanned the crowd, and when she saw her family … Dear God, the loneliness, the feelings of isolation came back with a jolt. All the good reasons for leaving them four years ago didn’t seem as convincing or important today. The price she paid for America seemed terribly high as she walked down the gangplank.

  Dovid watched as Chavala and Joshua walked down the gangplank, and he scarcely recognized her … it wasn’t the years that had changed her, it was the look, the air of elegance … He thought she was beautiful, but nearly a stranger, surely not the same woman from four years ago. This was not the peasant girl he had loved and married. This was a woman of the world, and he realized … feared … that they were worlds apart…

  Face-to-face now. For a moment neither spoke, the awkward silence. Finally: “How wonderful to see you, Dovid.” “… Yes, Chavala … it’s been a long time.”

  Even the embrace seemed stilted.

  Everything seemed out of focus to Chavala.

  She felt rather than saw Joshua being taken from her, watched as Dovid all but devoured the child before he got to Chavala and held her close.

  Ari was speaking… “We’re so happy you’ve come…”

  Chavala nodded, looked at her older son.

  At first Reuven seemed reluctant to embrace her. Chavala understood, and fought back the tears. Well, it was up to her to try … “Reuven … I’ve missed you so,” she said. The words sounded empty even to her.

  Dvora saw the difficult byplay and felt for Chavala. In spite of her affection for Reuven, she did feel the boy tended to be a bit rigid … she remembered how she’d sat with him and he’d criticized his mother so sharply for not staying in Palestine, for having gone to America, where he was never happy. She’d tried to explain to him that Chavala had made sacrifices and denied herself in ways he perhaps was still too young to understand, and that she had done it not just for herself—not for herself at all—but for all of her family … Reuven didn’t seem to be listening, or didn’t want to listen, was probably more like it. Dvora, realizing that she could only expect so much from the boy, left off with reminding him that whether he understood or not about his mother, whether he approved or not, he ought to remember that Chavala was his mother. She deserved at least his respect.

  Quickly now she went to Chavala with Pnina. Chavala looked down at the little girl with the incredibly blue eyes and suddenly her life didn’t seem so empty…. She swooped the girl into her arms, “I read your letters all the time, Pnina. They make me very happy. I want to thank you for them.”

  “And thank you, Aunt Chavala, for the dolls.”

  Chavala blinked back the tears. “You’re very welcome, I’m sure … And now, Zvi, my, what a big boy …” Looking at the small boy, now eight, the past came back swiftly. How well she remembered the day when Dvora came to tell her she was marrying Ari and she’d said, “There’s a war going on, why don’t you wait?” … She tried to push away the next remembrance, and failed … “If he doesn’t come back? …” “Then I’ll have his child …” And now the child of that love was in her arms. How good he felt. She thought of all the years that had passed since that day, and felt suddenly old.

  Dvora, again sensing the tension, went to Dovid and said, “Let me see my nephew… Joshua, I’m your Aunt Dvora.”

  The little boy looked at her and quickly lowered his eyes. So many things were happening … so many strange people were holding him. He reached out to Chavala, but Reuven took him from Dovid. From the moment he had first seen his baby brother, Reuven had felt a special affinity, a special bond that seemed a physical thing … went beyond the notion of this is my brother—more like a pledge … to the child and to himself that they would always be together, that he would protect this infant all through his life. That feeling was reawakened now as he said, “It’s too bad we have to be introduced, but I’m your brother Reuven…”

  A bit cruel, Dovid thought, though he also suspected the feelings that were below the surface of Reuven’s words. Still … And Dvora shared his thought … “I think we had better get started, Raizel is waiting,” she said quickly.

  Dvora had tried to prepare Chavala, but there were no words to describe Raizel’s grief, or her sons’. She sat silently, like a helpless child.

  What could Chavala say? Nothing would bring Raizel comfort. “Raizel, please try to remember the good, the happiness you brought Lazarus, and he brought you … you have your lovely children to live for, Lazarus would want you to remember that…”

  “What will I do without him, Chavala? He was my life…”

  “He lives in your sons, Raizel, and in your memory of him. And … well, please don’t worry … I mean, I can help, whatever you need…”

  Raizel finally allowed the tears to come as she embraced her sister.

  When they left, Dvora said, “I’m afraid Raizel’s like papa. He never recovered from mama’s death. Well … we’d better get some rest, it’s been a long day.”

  When they arrived at the small pension where the family had been staying the last few weeks, they walked to the second floor and stood for a moment in front of Dvora’s
room. Dvora kissed Chavala goodnight, and she and Ari, with Pnina, closed the door behind them.

  Reuven and Zvi shared a room, but tonight Reuven asked if Joshua could sleep with them. Chavala said yes, but somehow felt vaguely threatened by the request. It was a fear she could not articulate or justify … she decided she was just overtired, worrying about shadows…

  But when she found herself alone with Dovid again, the same uneasiness came over her. They said little. When finally she lay by her husband’s side she sensed a distance, and was terrified. But what did she expect? Could a man like Dovid live his life as a celibate? In the darkness Chavala said softly, “Do you hate me, Dovid?”

  Silence. Then: “No, I love you, although sometimes I’ve wished I didn’t.”

  “I can understand that… I know I’m depriving you of your new son, and myself … but I don’t know what to do…”

  “Only you can find the answer, Chavala…”

  If only I could, she thought … find a way to fulfill her need to see her family secure, take care of Raizel and her children, and still be with Dovid. How?

  “Do you want to be free?”

  The question came shockingly to her. It seemed he was asking for his freedom … The next thought was too painful to keep to herself… “Dovid …is there someone else?”

  “No, but one can’t live alone forever …What about you? You’re a beautiful woman, and one day—”

  “Don’t say it, Dovid. Don’t even think it There will never be anyone else, you must know that.”

  “Time and life can change people. No one can be happy alone.”

  “Then you want to be free.”

  “No, that’s not what I want. But what I don’t want is ever to be unfaithful to you—”

  “Then you’ve met someone—?”

  “No, but I’m lonely and being lonely makes one reach out If I met someone I liked, I’m not sure I would not be strong enough to walk away. I’m only human—”

  The whole prospect was too much for her. “Dovid, I’m willing to come back, give it all up. I don’t want to even think about you and someone else—”

  “You say you’re willing, and at this moment you mean it, I know … but being willing isn’t the answer, darling. You’ll never be able to come back until you can let go. Raizel’s needs, Dvora’s farm, Chia’s and Moishe’s future … They’re still your overwhelming concern. I can’t blame you, I never have. But I won’t pretend I’ve not been bitter at times, driven half out of my mind with wanting you…”

  Chavala wept quietly. “Love me, Dovid … love me, please, in spite of myself…”

  “I love you for what you are, not in spite of yourself. My God … you’re a very extraordinary woman, Chavala, but for some reason you don’t feel your life belongs to you. You owe too much, you think … Love you? Yes, God help us both … I do love you …”

  Nothing, of course, was resolved, but then Dovid turned toward her, held her close and proceeded to make love to her, washing away, for the moment, all the uncertainties, resentments, guilts …in the moment of union a singleness that shut out the world and all its diversions….

  Since Lazarus’s death the family had been in Jerusalem. Several weeks had passed, and now, with the harvest under way, it was imperative that Dvora’s family return to Kfar Shalom. Chavala felt she would stay on at least a little longer with Raizel.

  The morning of departure Reuven made it clear by the way he looked at Joshua that he wanted to spend more time with his brother. He said as much, and in a kind of demanding fashion that Chavala could have done without. Still, she gave in, realizing that the atmosphere at Raizel’s was hardly ideal for Joshua and that he’d be better off at Dvora’s house and with her family. Well at least Dovid would be staying in Jerusalem …

  Chavala could barely get through the next week with Raizel and her mourning. When it was simply no longer supportable she told her sister it was time for Dovid to pick her up and take her to Dvora’s, after which, unfortunately, she would be leaving for her home in New York. The final morning, as they sat in the kitchen waiting for Dovid, she said to Raizel as she had so many times before, “Come with me to America, you and the boys. In Brooklyn there’s a community of Chasidim. You’ll feel happy there. Please, Raizel…”

  Raizel shook her head. “Chavala, I thank you, you know how grateful I am for what you’ve done for us, but I can never leave Jerusalem … never … who would be here to watch over papa’s and Lazarus’s graves? Besides, this is our home, we belong here…”

  “Then come with us to Dvora’s for a few days. You’re not sitting shiva anymore—”

  “The boys say Kaddish.”

  “But can’t you get away for a few days? I mean, they’re old enough now and—”

  “I know… but I belong here … I’m sorry, Chavala …”

  Chavala nodded, knowing the answers in advance. At least she would take some money to see her through the next few months, and, Chavala swore to herself, beyond that Raizel would never be in need…

  During the following week Reuven thought his mother seemed happier at Kfar Shalom than he could ever remember seeing her. Memories of the little house they lived in at Zichron were evoked when he saw her baking bread in Dvora’s kitchen, and he dared hope that, maybe, being here would make her want to stay. For his father’s sake …he’d seen how much he liked having Joshua here … And each day Reuven took Joshua to the fields with him, wanting his little brother, even at the age of three, to feel the soil, to plant a seed. Joshua was obviously delighted, and none of this went unnoticed by Chavala.

  Including how intimate and closely knit the families of the village of Kfar Shalom were. She was proud that her sixteen-year-old Reuven was not only respected and admired but had in fact become a leader among his peers.

  On Saturday the family was up earlier than usual. Today they were going to climb to the summit of Mount Tabor. Chavala and Dvora were busy with the preparation of the food as the men were attending to the farm chores. Then shortly before dawn, with their knapsacks on their backs, the journey began. Dressed in their sandals, white shorts and blue tops, Reuven and Zvi took the lead. Even Pnina came along with Joshua. The air was crisp and invigorating in the early morning.

  Mount Tabor rose to more than two thousand feet. From time to time as they stooped for food and drink Pnina romped with Joshua while Zvi and Reuven scouted ahead, not because they were unfamiliar with the sights they were about to see but because it was a never-ending source of wonder and beauty.

  Along the hillside there were dozens of goatskin tents and in the distance grazing flocks of small black goats. It was four in the afternoon when they reached the large round plateau of Tabor, to the south the entire Jezreel Valley opening before their eyes. For Chavala the sight was staggering … the valley was a symphony of color, in the distance square-cut fields sat like jewels in a setting of green. White clusters of Arab villages dotted the landscape all the way to Mount Carmel, and to the north lay the Sea of Galilee.

  Dovid pointed to the place where Gideon was buried and where Saul and Jonathan had fallen in battle to the Philistines. Reuven, obviously deeply affected, broke out into: “Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain upon you nor fields of offerings. For there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul…”

  Chavala was understandably impressed, and Dovid proud. “That was beautiful, Reuven,” Chavala said. “You certainly know your Bible—”

  “All sabras do. That’s our history book, the Bible.” Then he picked Joshua up so that his brother could see and, he hoped, never forget.

  Chavala didn’t miss the message for her. She could be proud of Reuven, but she could also wish he were just a little less righteous…

  Now they moved beyond the forest until they reached the pinnacle. The remains of ruined Crusader forts stood there, along with a Saracen castle. Finally they reached the campsite. Chavala walked to the eastern rampart and looked out to th
e valley and the Sea of Galilee. A chill went through her as the mild wind blew through her hair. She stood at the wall and remembered the first time, so many years ago, that Dovid had taken her to what she then considered a place of wilderness and self-imposed exile. But the earth had yielded to Dovid’s dreams, and somehow she stood unfulfilled for her … lack of faith?

  Dovid, standing now behind her, brought her back to the moment. “Dovid, what can I say when I look out there and see this land and what you’ve accomplished?”

  “It wasn’t what I accomplished. I had only a small part—”

  “But it was you who saw what this valley could become when you said over and over that it belonged to our people, and managed to acquire so much of it by your own efforts. I’ve hardly been a devout Jew, but I must say, when I stand here and look out to the land there I really feel a sense of God … of what you have felt for so long. I envy you, Dovid …”

  Joshua broke into the mood of communion with, “Let’s play ball, abba.”

  Dovid looked down at the little boy and picked him up and held him close. “Right, big fellow. Let’s go.”

  By dusk the boys and girls of Kfar Shalom reached the summit. Immediately a pit was dug, wood was gathered and four lambs were prepared and spitted for roasting. The sun moved down behind the Jezreel Valley and, suddenly, there was a burst of laughter and singing as the fire was lit and the lambs placed over the pit.

  After the feast the mountaintop rang with song, and the dancing began. Meir Zeid sat cross-legged, beating the drum made of goatskin. The rhythm of his beat was accompanied by the playing of an ancient Hebrew melody on a reed flute. Each song gave way to a new dance. Against the starlit sky the young dancers cheered and clapped as they sprang into the air, and then half a dozen jumped into the center and started a hora. The ring grew larger and larger and the dancing went on for hours until they collapsed in breathless, delighted exhaustion.

  As Chavala watched these strong, free sabras, it occurred to her … grandiose though the thought might be … that in their fashion they were the young lions of Judea, the ancient Hebrews reborn. Their faces were the faces of twelve tribes … they were Reuben, Simeon, Judah, Zebulun, Issachar, Dan, Gad, Asher, Naphtali, Benjamin, Ephraim and Manasseh. The strength of God, and His children, was in their young hearts and souls. The comparisons were perhaps too grandiloquent to express, but she deeply felt them at that moment…