The Devil in Jerusalem

by Naomi Ragen

  “Well, if you really feel that way, there are plenty of empty caravans in Yahalom.…”

  “Oh, wouldn’t Esther love that!”

  “She might. She’s not a Jewish-American princess. I love Esther.”

  “So do I.” He nodded.

  “Wouldn’t it be great to bring up our kids together?”

  His eyes got a faraway look. He was getting tired of the rat race, working sixty-hour weeks to make partner, never seeing his kids until they were fast asleep every night. He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m cut out for farming, not unless the carrots want to sue the potatoes.”

  They laughed. He squeezed her shoulder, and she patted his face.

  “Can I hold the baby?”

  She lifted Shoshana gently, placing her in his arms. “I guess you miss your kids.”

  “Well, I didn’t think bringing them to a funeral and shiva was a good idea for anyone.” He adjusted the baby so that her head rested comfortably in the crook of his arm. “She is gorgeous. Blond, blue-eyed, like an ad for babyGap.”

  She looked over her daughter lovingly. “I’m very lucky to have had five easy pregnancies and five perfect births. I have to get out of this depression I’m in. It’s not fair to the children.”

  “Or your husband.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “How are things going between the two of you?”

  “Great, just great,” she murmured.

  He was about to pursue it when his mother suddenly sat down beside them.

  “We arranged for the will to be read now. Will you both come upstairs?”

  “Do we have to do it right now?” Daniella asked, aghast.

  “Well, since you’re leaving tomorrow…”

  She reached out for the baby.

  “It’s okay,” Joel offered. “I’ll carry her upstairs for you.”

  Reluctantly she climbed up the elegant winding staircase that led to the study. She sat down in her grandmother’s favorite chair, a magnificent maroon leather studded with bright brass nail heads. It was a place she’d often crawled into as a child to leaf through a book she’d pulled randomly from the shelves. Sometimes it was a book with photographs of faraway places and sometimes a book with no pictures at all, just words. She’d sit there, unmoving, just wanting to be in the room with her grandmother as she worked.

  She leaned back, motioning to Joel to hand her the baby. Shoshana was still sleeping soundly as he placed the child in her arms.

  Mr. Weinstein, the family attorney, took out some papers and cleared his throat.

  “I … I just want to say what an incredible and gracious lady your mother and grandmother was. It was a privilege to serve her. This will was updated two weeks ago.”

  “What!” Claire shot to her feet.

  “Yes, she called me to the hospital and I came.”

  “She was under medication!”

  “She was perfectly lucid. Her doctor will testify to that, as will several nurses, who are signed here as witnesses.”

  “Sit down, Mom,” Daniella said, pulling on her arm, wondering at her outburst. What was she so afraid of?

  “As I said, you’ll find this completely in order,” he said, coughing uncomfortably.

  “‘I, Elizabeth Auerbach, a resident of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, make, publish, and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament—’”

  “Oh, just skip the legalese and get on with it,” Claire said irritably.

  He stared at her, appalled.

  She sighed. “Just get on with it.”

  He nodded. “I revoke all prior wills and codicils to wills made by me. I direct my executor to pay my funeral expenses, the expense of my last illness, and the expenses of administering my estate. I do hereby appoint my longtime attorney and trusted friend Morris Weinstein as executor of this will. My executor shall have full power and authority to sell any property of my estate at public or private sale, excluding the following personal bequests.…”

  There was a list of fabulous jewels, which were left to Claire. That seemed to calm her down.

  “In addition, I leave half ownership in Auerbach Jewelers to my daughter, Claire Auerbach Whartman, who has been a hardworking and excellent manager for many years. The remaining half I leave to my beloved grandson, Joel Whartman.”

  Claire shifted in her chair.

  “All remaining cash, my house and furniture, property and estate of any kind and nature wherever situated, both real and personal, I give, devise, and bequeath into a trust for my beloved granddaughter, Daniella Goodman, who has always made me proud to be her grandmother and to be a Jew.”

  Claire was on her feet, livid. She turned to Daniella: “I can’t believe it! What did you say to her in that hospital room, Daniella? What did you ask her? Well, we’ll just see about all this.…”

  “Don’t answer that,” Weinstein said firmly to Daniella. “Mrs. Auerbach, as executor of this estate I must tell you there is a no-contest clause.”

  “What is that?”

  “Let me read it to you.”

  “Don’t bother! Talk to me in English.”

  “It means that anyone who contests this will gets nothing. And I assure you, it will be enforced.”

  Claire sat down and leaned back, closing her eyes.

  All eyes were on Daniella, who sat there, hardly breathing, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she was sure it would wake Shoshana.

  Her grandmother had visited her in that graveyard. She felt her hold her hand now, leading her out and closing the door behind her on a room full of stunned relations. She winked, and Daniella, through her tears, winked back.

  The door suddenly burst open. It was her mother.

  “You aren’t going to go along with this, are you? You know it isn’t fair. It’s not fair to me, or to your brother, or to his children.”

  “She left you and Joel the business.”

  “You have no idea how hard things are now in the jewelry business with this economy!” she shouted.

  “But you have your own beautiful home! I’m sure you have savings!”

  “It’s none of your business what I have or don’t have! She was my mother, mine! I had the bulk of her estate coming to me! That’s the way these things work. If you rob me of my legacy—”

  “Rob you!”

  “Yes, rob me! I don’t know how you sweet-talked her into this … your usual Zionist sob story, what? A fortune to support you and your useless, freeloader husband pretending to be a farmer while he makes you pregnant every other day.”

  A strange calm came over Daniella. “Take it back,” she said threateningly.

  “I have no intention. I only speak the truth!”

  “Then, Mother, you and I will never speak to each other again.”

  She turned her back, walking up to her room and slamming the door behind her. Too late she thought of Shoshana, who woke with a start, wailing. She opened her dress, nursing the baby until she calmed down. Then she put her in her crib and quickly packed her bags. There was a knock on the door. “I don’t have anything to say to you, Mom,” she called out.

  “It’s me. Joel.”

  She opened the door, falling into his arms. He hugged her.

  “I’m so sorry, Daniella.”

  “I didn’t say anything to Granny, Joel. You have to believe me.”

  “I do. This was obviously what Granny wanted. She and Mom never got along.”

  “So, you’re not angry?”

  “I got half the business; you know what that’s worth?”

  “But Mom says it’s not doing so well…”

  “So I’ll be a millionaire, not a billionaire. Trust me, there’s enough for everyone. Mom’s just being greedy. And I think, deep down, she’s honestly hurt. She’s taking it out on you.”

  “I don’t care, Joel. She’s finally gone over every red line. I’m finished with her.”

  “You’re packing?”

  “I can’t stay here another minute.”
>
  “I’ll drive you to an airport hotel.”

  They walked out together, using the backstairs to avoid any awkward run-ins. When Joel finally pulled the car up to the hotel, Daniella got out, then lifted Shoshana from her car seat. Joel took her suitcases from the trunk. He waved to a bellboy, who quickly loaded the luggage, wheeling it into the hotel.

  “Thanks, Joel. When are you going home?”

  “I’m catching a plane later tonight.”

  “Give my love to Esther and kiss the kids for me.”

  “I will.”

  “I’m going to miss you so much, Joel. You’re really the only family I have left.”

  “Take care of yourself, Dani. I’m always going to be there for you. Remember that.”

  While later she would forget those words, he would not. It made all the difference.

  14

  Shlomie wasn’t there, Daniella realized, her eyes scanning the balloons and flowers and smiling faces of expectant welcomers crowding the arrival hall at Ben Gurion Airport. How was she supposed to get back to Yahalom in the middle of the night? She looked anxiously at Shoshana. Thankfully, she’d finally dozed off, no doubt worn out by eleven hours in the dry cabin air and all that hysterical crying as the plane’s descent tortured her tiny ears.

  Exasperated, Daniella took out her cell phone and dialed her husband, letting it ring until it went to voice mail. She exhaled, considering her options. Did she want to wake up her friends to find out if the house had burnt down or someone was in the hospital? Why bother? In all the worst-case scenarios her imagination could conjure, the answer was simply to get home as soon as possible.

  “Taxi!”

  It would cost a fortune, she knew. But that burden at least had been permanently lifted from her shoulders. How she had been looking forward to sharing that life-changing news with her husband! But now, she was too distraught to even imagine the joyous celebration she had envisioned the entire plane ride home.

  It was close to dawn when the taxi pulled up to the closed gate of Yahalom. She dialed security. “Hi, it’s Daniella Goodman. I’m at the entrance. Can you tell me if everything is all right with my family?”

  There was a short hesitation, a throat clearing. “Sure. Your husband will tell you all about it when you get home. Welcome back.”

  What was that supposed to mean? she thought. A “sure” together with a “he’ll tell you all about it”? What was “it”?

  She paid the cab, struggling to wheel the luggage and the baby carriage across the rough gravel path to her front door, hoping the scraping and the bumps wouldn’t wake Shoshana.

  With a feeling of dread, she unlocked the front door of her darkened home, putting on the hall light. She looked around. The house was an astonishing mess: shoes, toys, soiled diapers, and dirty clothes littered the floor. She locked the door behind her, taking the baby out of the carriage and tiptoeing into the bedroom. Without changing Shoshana’s diaper or clothes, she laid her down gently in her crib, tucking a blanket around her little body.

  Quietly, she checked on her other children. They were all fast asleep, the covers half thrown off. Gabriel and Yossi were dressed only in underpants, their little legs naked to the chill air. Shlomie hadn’t even put them into pajamas! She tucked warm blankets around them, furious. But no one seemed damaged in any way. She walked toward her bedroom, passing the kitchen. Dirty pots, dishes, and take-out containers littered the kitchen counter, where a long trail of ants were having a feast. She felt disgust rise up in her throat.

  How could this be? Her friends, her dear friends, had promised to look in, to help out.… But from the look of things, Shlomie had been left totally on his own.

  She walked into her bedroom, half-expecting it to be empty. But there he was, her husband, stretched out across the bed fully clothed. Had he meant to be at the airport and simply overslept? Or was there another, more sinister reason, in line with the “your husband will tell you all about it”?

  “It,” she thought, her anxiety somewhat quelled by the fact that the house—appallingly dirty as it was—was at least still standing, and everyone seemed alive and well. She sat down on the sofa, kicking off her shoes and stretching out, her mind slowing down. She pulled the couch blanket over her shoulders and closed her eyes. Sleep was instantaneous.

  She was awakened hours later by small hands shaking her shoulder and patting her face. She heard the baby crying.

  “Ima, Ima!” the children screamed in joy, climbing into her lap and hugging her.

  Yossi, her big cuddly bear, and Gabriel, her sweet, baby boy. She hugged them, squeezing their little bodies close to hers. “Where are Duvie and Amalya?”

  The other two, hearing their names, bounded through the house, Duvie throwing himself into the couch pillows, almost crushing Yossi, and Amalya bending in to kiss her gently on the cheek.

  “Did you miss us?” Amalya asked. “We missed you so much!”

  “Yeah, and Aba got into trouble and killed all the plants and now everyone is angry at us, but he says it’s Hashem’s decision,” Duvie added breathlessly.

  She looked up into his eager, childish face, inwardly groaning, catching Shlomie leaning against the wall. “You didn’t come to meet us. I had to take a taxi.”

  He looked down. “I’m sorry. I … couldn’t.… No one would … I had to care for the children.”

  “What about our friends? Yochanon, Essie?”

  He rubbed his hands together. “I have something to tell you.”

  She got up. “Not now!” she hissed, glancing meaningfully at their children, then heading to the crib to take care of Shoshana. The baby was soaked through. Daniella took off her soiled clothes, wrapping her in a towel and hurrying into the bathroom to give her a quick, warm bath in the sink. After she’d been dried, diapered, and put into clean, warm clothes, Daniella carried her into the living room.

  Exhausted, Daniella sat down on the couch to nurse the baby.

  The other children crowded around.

  “No one will play with us anymore!”

  “They say Aba is a mazik!”

  “Why not? Who says?” she answered in confusion, her head spinning.

  “Children, please!” Shlomie said. “Ima is feeding the baby.”

  “I have presents for all of you!” she remembered, grateful for the distraction. “Duvie, go get Ima’s green suitcase.”

  He ran, rolling it into the room.

  “Now unzip it!”

  It looked like some scene from a Christmas card, she thought, taking in her children’s looks of delighted expectation. The suitcase brimmed over with wrapped packages.

  “All the blue packages are for Duvie, the pink for Amalya, the green for Yossi, and the orange for Gabriel.”

  The children scrambled, tearing the packages out of each other’s hands, gathering them in a pile, then sitting down to rip them open.

  Their cries of happiness were deafening.

  Shlomie stood by silently, his hands in his pockets, watching them with a pasted-on smile.

  “Children, take your new toys to your rooms. Aba and Ima need some quiet, okay?”

  Obediently, they took their loot and disappeared. Only Gabriel sat on the floor close to her, refusing to budge.

  “Talk, Shlomie. I’m just about ready to have a heart attack.”

  He shuffled his feet, one hand rubbing the back of his head, the other clutching his skullcap.

  “I meant to do a good deed; the neighbors have been so helpful.…”

  “What did you do, Shlomie?” she asked levelly.

  Just then Gabriel began to cry. “Amalya, come get Gabriel,” she shouted, patting him on the head. Amalya dutifully picked him up, shaking a toy tiger in his face.

  They were both silent, waiting for the children to leave before resuming.

  “Well, I’ll start at the beginning. Marwan’s wife had a baby.”

  Her head ached. “What?”

  He seemed surprised at her impatience
. “His wife, she had a baby,” he repeated.

  “I heard you. Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because he didn’t come in to work for two days. And I don’t know how it happened, but the plants didn’t get enough water and some of them died.”

  She looked down at Shoshana. She had Shlomie’s eyes, those beautiful blue eyes. “I’m listening.”

  “So, I bought some seedlings to replace them. The nursery man said they were the finest quality.…” He stopped. “They weren’t. They were infected.”

  “What does this have to do with all our friends being angry at us?”

  “I bought some extra, to give out. To thank our friends for all their help. I meant well.”

  She felt nausea rising up from the core of her being. She quickly shoved the baby into his arms and fled to the bathroom. Her stomach was empty. She heaved green bile. She washed out her mouth, cupping cool water and drenching her eyes and face. There was no clean towel, so she wiped her face with the hem of her skirt.

  “How bad is it?” she asked, taking the crying Shoshana and putting her over her shoulder, patting her gently.

  He stuttered. “Now everybody’s greenhouse is infected. Their plants are all dying, and they all blame me.”

  “All of our friends?”

  He nodded.

  She covered her face with her hands.

  “They say they will have to throw out everything and start from scratch, that they’ll lose the entire growing season.” He was shaking.

  “Well, Mustapha will just have to pay the damages. They were his plants!”

  Mustapha Quadri, a devout Muslim who lived in Jericho, had been Yahalom’s sole supplier of plants for years.

  “Well, it’s a little more complicated than that.” Shlomie shook his head sorrowfully. “You see, someone from kollel said it wasn’t right that we were helping to support our enemies. He said his father had a friend who knew a devout religious Jew with a nursery in Ashkelon who would sell seedlings to me at a very reasonable price.…”

  She looked around at the walls of her almost-brand-new home, the place they had built in the Holy Land, surrounded by friends. They had been accepted, taken care of, loved. And they had returned evil for good.