Liana and “the girls” unpacked their garment bags, putting their finery in the closet so that the wrinkles would hang out of their dresses. “Let me see what you are going to wear to the wedding, Rebecca,” Liana said to Jakob’s seventeen-year-old sister.
“I found the prettiest dress,” Rebecca crooned, pulling a Betsey Johnson number out of the closet, black and fuchsia, with blinding sparkly stuff scattered all over.
“I love it—you’re going to look awesome! The bride will be jealous. I wish I’d brought something half that stylish!” Truthfully, Liana loved her own dress too and couldn’t wait to wear it the next night.
They had a quiet dinner on Friday evening in the hotel restaurant, strangely exhausted from the short, two-and-a-half-hour flight from New York. After polishing off her molten chocolate cake and wondering whether she’d still be able to zip up her dress, Liana was scanning the adjacent lobby when she spotted Rabbi Nacht, sitting at a small table in the corner. He was dressed in neat slacks and a buttoned-down shirt, his beard closely trimmed and his head covered with a yarmulke. Even at a distance, she could see that he was quietly chanting the traditional grace after meals, his lips moving and his head nodding very slightly with the intonation. Liana waited for him to finish. “I’ll be right back,” she said, squeezing Jakob’s shoulder. As she approached the rabbi’s table, she wondered if, out of context, he’d know who she was.
“Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi. Would you like some company for a few minutes?” Liana asked. “I’m sorry if I startled you,” she added.
“Shabbat Shalom, Liana! What a nice surprise. What’re you doing here in Atlanta? Please.” He motioned to a large upholstered chair adjacent to his, and Liana sat down.
An empty plastic plate and cutlery remained on the table, and Liana realized that the rabbi had not eaten the nonkosher food in the hotel, that other arrangements must have been made. “Are you okay eating here in the lobby?” she asked.
“Yes. I enjoy watching the people coming and going,” he said. “All different sorts of lives, some intersecting and some not. Sometimes I invent stories about them, what they’re thinking, the next conversation they’ll have. I find it fascinating, even if it’s just my imagination run wild. Want to play?”
“Seriously?” Liana asked.
“You have something better to do?” the rabbi challenged, eyebrows raised. “So this is how it works. We’ll do one from your world so you can relate.” He looked around the lobby until his eyes settled on a man in a grey wool pinstripe suit, standing against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest, about thirty feet away. He discreetly pointed him out to Liana with a nod of his head.
“That gentleman escaped from the Fulton County Jail this morning. He’s not violent; he’s more of a swindler, petty thief. He stole those clothes from a cheap department store because it was all he could find—who voluntarily wears that in this weather? It’s hot as blazes down here. He’s not sure where his next meal is coming from or where he’s sleeping tonight. He came to the lobby of this swanky hotel, looking for an easy mark. Okay, your turn.” The rabbi looked away from his subject and back to Liana.
She stared at him with her mouth wide open. “Didn’t I learn in one of your sermons that it’s a big no-no to speak badly of other people?”
The rabbi smiled. “It’s just pretend, Liana. We’re not hurting anyone.”
Mollified, Liana sat forward in her chair and perused the possibilities.
“See that woman over there? The striking brunette wearing the too-tight red top. Ooh—should I not have pointed her out to you?” Liana cringed.
“I’m a rabbi and I’m getting old, Liana, but I’m not blind. So, what’s her story? Is she the target?”
“Yes, and she’s vulnerable, because she’s feeling lonely.”
“Why is she lonely?” the rabbi asked.
Amazing how concerned he sounds when it’s only pretend.
“I’m not sure, honestly—she looks like she has a lot going for her. She came into the hotel to get out of the heat for a few minutes. But she’s also an undercover cop, and she’s not beyond using her feminine wiles to catch her quarry. This isn’t going to end well for your guy.”
“Excellent! I knew you’d be good at this. You need to figure out why she’s lonely though.” The rabbi shifted in his seat and focused back on Liana. “You still haven’t answered my first question. What’re you doing here?” the rabbi asked.
“The groom is Jakob’s cousin—I’m here with his family for the wedding. Hey, what’re you drinking?” she said, surprised at the glass she hadn’t noticed in the rabbi’s hand. “I don’t think of rabbis as kicking back with a nightcap,” she said, blushing at her own directness.
The rabbi laughed. “Well, I won’t speak for the entire profession, but I like a good bourbon, especially when I’m back in the South and away from my family on Shabbat.”
“That must be hard,” Liana said, picturing how happy the rabbi’s wife and kids always looked when the congregants were leaving synagogue on a Friday night and the family finally was able to go home.
“It comes with the territory,” the rabbi said, a note of resignation in his voice. “I’m often thrust into the middle of critical moments in people’s lives, whether joyous or sad, and that’s both meaningful and humbling. Sometimes it comes at the expense of my own family. But you’re a public defender; I don’t have to tell you about sacrifice, do I? I admire you, Liana. I imagine it must be a very fulfilling job.”
Liana’s first impulse was to laugh, but she thought the rabbi might view it as disrespectful, which was not at all what she wanted to be. She took a deep cleansing breath. “I don’t know, Rabbi. It all seems a lot murkier than it did when I took this job. At the beginning, I was totally stoked about playing my part in ensuring that justice, with a capital J, was done for every individual, even those who seemed to deserve it the least.”
“The Bible makes that an imperative, Liana: ‘Justice, justice you shall pursue.’” He took another sip of his drink and waited for her to continue.
“Yes, intellectually that still works, but . . . there are times when I would give anything to believe that if I work hard enough and I look hard enough, I’ll encounter someone who really needs me, Liana Cohen, to fix a terrible wrong that has been done. And I don’t mean someone who didn’t get a fair shake from the system—that’s easy, it happens all the time.” Liana’s eyes had filled with tears, and the rabbi was getting blurrier by the moment. Surprised by the assault of emotion, she squeezed her eyes shut and continued.
“I can’t seem to muster that hope or faith or whatever you want to call it that someone like that is out there for me. And each day I represent another defendant who has done something unspeakable, I lose a little more of the dream that I’m making the world a better place.” Liana opened her eyes. “Doesn’t sound so admirable anymore, does it, Rabbi?”
The rabbi tilted his head back onto the plush chair and looked up at the lobby ceiling, where ultramodern crystal chandeliers hung, illuminating the hall with a soft, flattering light. Liana was worried she had tired the rabbi out with her ramblings or, worse, that she had disappointed him. But then he leaned forward and started to speak, his cadences soft and musical, the remnant of his Louisville youth.
“Should I tell you why I enjoy that game we played earlier, Liana? It’s because it allows me to break a number of critical rules without any consequences. I can make all sorts of judgments about people and draw conclusions about situations based on nothing, and it doesn’t matter. When I play, I indulge in the fantasy that I understand what’s going on in people’s heads and in their lives, when, in reality, I understand very little. In my line of work, and I would think in yours, what’s most important is to keep an open mind and let things unfold. If I do that, I trust that God will grant me the insight I need to help when I can.” He looked back over at the people milling about the lobby, and Liana thought he might start another round of the game, leaving he
r hanging. But after a moment, he caught her eye.
“Have you ever seen that Cher movie from the eighties called Suspect? She starred opposite Dennis Quaid and Liam Neeson?”
“Great cast, but I don’t watch TV or movies about the law—same old, same old for me,” Liana said.
“I think you’d like this one. Cher plays an overworked public defender in Washington, DC, and one day when she’s feeling particularly burdened, she asks her colleague why he keeps doing this sort of work when it’s so difficult. And the old guy answers—and I’ve always loved this line—‘For the one poor bastard who didn’t do it.’”
Liana followed the rabbi’s eyes as he watched the beautiful woman in the red top walk past the man in the pinstripe suit and embrace a woman who had just arrived, kissing her on the lips and holding her close.
“Huh!” he said, with a quick nod of his head, and then he turned back to Liana.
“The Talmud teaches us, Liana, that whoever saves a single life, it’s as if she’s saved an entire world. So, if, over the course of your long and storied career, you chance upon one person, just one, whom you can save from a wrongful conviction, then you will have achieved something truly extraordinary.” The rabbi finished off his drink, and Liana was afraid their conversation was over.
“And what if I don’t ever find that one person?” she asked, her voice barely audible under her rising panic.
“Our sages have something to say about that too. The rabbis teach us that ‘It’s not your responsibility to finish the work of perfecting the world, but you’re not free to desist from it either.’ Everybody has a part to play in trying to make the world a fairer, kinder, more just with a capital J place, Liana. If it turns out that the Public Defender’s Office is not right for you, you’ll find another way to have an impact. But I wonder if your job isn’t just a job for you. I wouldn’t throw in the towel just yet. That poor bastard, if you’ll excuse my language, could be just around the corner. Keep an open mind and let things unfold—people may surprise you. And remember—we’re Mets fans. We gotta believe, long after all the evidence says we should quit.”
Liana thought about the rabbi’s words as he rose from his chair. “Do you always know the right thing to say?” she asked him.
The rabbi shrugged. “My children think I’m insufferable, always quoting something.”
“Your children undoubtedly wish you were home now. Sleep well, Rabbi,” Liana said, getting up and starting back toward the dining room, where she could see Jakob trying to catch sight of her.
“Good night, Liana. Please give my regards to Jakob and his family.” With that, he made his way to the staircase to head up to his room.
Liana walked slowly back to the table in the dining room.
Could Danny Shea be that one person?
As she entered the restaurant, Jakob pushed his chair back from the table. When Liana was within his reach, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap.
“Where did you go? I was getting lonely without you,” he said, his breath warm near her ear.
Liana smiled up at him. “I needed to stretch my legs after sitting on that plane. But I’m back now.” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was safely out of the rabbi’s sight and then planted a kiss, soulful and sweet, on Jakob’s lips.
“I can’t believe we are in this gorgeous hotel and you are making me sleep with Grandma.”
“Hey,” Jakob said, “don’t count Grandma out. She could probably teach you a thing or two.”
The “girls” stayed up talking for a little while; it felt like Liana’s apartment at Yale, when she and her graduate school roommates, Charlotte and Katie, all had their single beds crammed into one room so they could keep the adjacent room empty to hang out in with friends. How many times during that third year of law school after she had started dating Jakob did Liana awake, wondering which new boyfriend she would find stowed away in one of her roommate’s beds, while she and Jakob had to settle for long distance telephone calls between their visits? Liana had to admit that she was enjoying the vibe this weekend. There had been stretches of time she had been jealous of Jakob and his family. She longed for siblings, a grandmother to dote on—all of her grandparents were long gone—and parents who were still relatively young and, most importantly, alive. She no longer thought the Weiss family was perfect—she could see their strengths and weaknesses. Phyllis always said that when you married, you married the whole family.
I could do worse.
The wedding was scheduled for Saturday night, after the conclusion of the Sabbath, in accordance with Jewish tradition. When they arrived in the reception area outside the main ballroom, the smorgasbord was going at full throttle, the waiters and waitresses passing hors d’oeuvres and handing out fruity cocktails.
“Oh my God, Jakob, did we miss the ceremony?” Liana whispered.
Jakob laughed. “No. Apparently in more traditional Jewish weddings, the cocktail hour comes first, then the ceremony, and then the dinner and dancing. My grandmother gave me a primer on the flight down. If you’re nice, I’ll enlighten you as we go along,” he said. Liana had been planning to stick close to Jakob anyway. She could barely walk in her high-heeled strappy sandals, but it was worth it for the effect of the shoes with her pale pink shift with silver sequins. She stood out from all the women in their little black dresses, and she felt sexy and good. She was glad she’d decided to come.
They walked the perimeter of the room, following her late father’s oft-repeated advice to check out all the options before piling your plate with food. The bride’s parents had chosen Atlanta’s finest kosher caterer, and there were so many dishes featuring mock crab and mock shrimp and mock lobster that Liana thought she might be in a mock aquarium. Everything they tried was delicious, and Liana was especially impressed by the Southern offerings: panfried chicken, hushpuppies, and baby back barbequed ribs. She wished that she’d worked out with Jakob at the gym before the wedding so she could eat with more abandon, but she soon retreated to her usual stance—you only live once—and sampled everything that wasn’t nailed down.
“Look, here’s the next part of your lesson,” Jakob said, steering her on her unbalanced feet toward the front of the room, where a large dais had been set up. A rail-thin but pretty young woman wearing a huge amount of florid makeup and a big white satin dress was sitting on a large wicker chair in the center. On either side of “Maggie May,” according to the invitation, sat her mother and her soon-to-be mother-in-law, Jakob’s Aunt Ellen. Stretching out on either side were the bridesmaids: Liana counted ten in total. The young women were wearing taffeta gowns in Pepto-Bismol pink, with modest scooped necklines, formfitting bodices, and floor-length hoop skirts straight out of Gone with the Wind. The bridesmaid code of honor prohibited Liana from mockery or laughing out loud. She remembered the getup she and Katie had been required to wear to Charlotte’s wedding two years earlier. Although aesthetically head and shoulders above these, the gowns had been made of some ultrasynthetic material covered with tiny fake pearls that had left both Liana and Katie with a painful rash over 90 percent of their bodies for close to a week.
“Well, don’t they all look festive!” Liana exclaimed. “But why are they sitting there like that? Are they for sale?”
Jakob was taking his role as wedding tour guide very seriously, which made Liana slightly anxious. But she would certainly want Rabbi Nacht to officiate at her and Jakob’s wedding if that day ever came, and he would undoubtedly insist on these rituals. This would be an excellent dry run, if she could manage to tune out the bride’s frightening fashion taste.
“This is called the bedeken,” Jakob said. “The women sit here, and the guests greet the bride and ooh and aah over the bridesmaids and the flower girls. Then, in about twenty minutes, the groom, his father, his future father-in-law, and the other male relatives and groomsmen will come in from a second room, where they are currently eating more manly food and drinking a lot of very expens
ive bourbon. Zach will approach Maggie and make sure she’s the woman he wants to marry.”
“What? Shouldn’t he have decided that by now?”
“It comes from the biblical story of Jacob. He was all set to marry Rachel—had the whole deal in place with Rachel’s dad, who was kind of a jerk. Then at the last minute, the dad stuck Rachel’s older sister, Leah, under the wedding canopy instead. Jacob had to work another seven years for Rachel. So from that time on, the custom is that the groom comes in and makes sure it’s the right girl, then he puts the veil on the bride and retreats back to the bourbon room until the ceremony starts.”
Liana could tell that her Jakob was impressed by his own knowledge of the story of his patriarchal namesake, especially because he knew something Jewish that Liana did not. But she also had a thing or two up her sleeve. “You know what else is very cool about this ceremony?” Liana asked.
“What?” Jakob said, surprised.
“Maggie and Zach haven’t seen each other in a week. And they’re fasting today. So by the time Zach comes in here from the other room, they’re famished and faint and absolutely dying to see each other. Isn’t that romantic?” she said.
“I guess,” Jakob replied. “It sounds kind of like overkill to me. Well, I’m going to go to where the guys are hanging out. I’ll be back when they come in here. Can you manage by yourself?” Jakob asked.
“Of course,” Liana said.
After Jakob left, Liana wandered slowly and carefully up to the dais. She hadn’t noticed Grandma up there before, but she looked so thrilled sitting with Maggie and Aunt Ellen. Liana had the fleeting thought that she and Jakob should get married in time for Grandma, who was no spring chicken anymore, to sit on her dais too. She hugged Grandma and Aunt Ellen and introduced herself to Maggie, kissing the air next to her face so she wouldn’t smudge lipstick on her and gushing over how stunning she looked and how gorgeous her bridesmaids were. A few minutes later, over the restrained din of the women, Liana heard the sound of trumpet blasts coming from down the hallway.
Unreasonable Doubts Page 8
