Karl turned over in his bed, the same bed he had once shared with Aidie, and gazed out the window at the moon. It was only a small sliver of light in a blackened, starless sky. Unable to sleep, he stared out into the darkness. Then, in the shadow of the moonlight, he saw a spider building a web on the outside of the window. The web stretched from the pane of glass to the leaves on a tree branch several feet away. In the minuscule light, he could see the intricate pattern of the web. The spider was working fast. Karl had never been afraid of insects, and this one was outside, so in his mind, he knew there was nothing to fear. Yet a shiver of dread ran down his spine.
He got out of bed and took a bottle of brandy out of his dresser drawer. He kept it there for nights when he was haunted by the pain of his memories. But tonight, it wasn’t Aidie’s memory or her death at such a young age that was tearing his insides up. It was fear. Karl was afraid. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was that was terrifying him. He took a swig from the bottle of brandy, and the hot, sweet liquid warmed his throat. Then he lay back down and watched the spider weave. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Karl drifted off to sleep. He slept only a short time because a strange dream awakened him.
In his dream, a giant bird of prey with a white head and a black body swept down and began fighting with the spider. In the dream, the spider was larger than in reality. It was enormous and black, with a red violin on its back. Even so, the insect was no match for the giant eagle—a large and fierce creature with long talons. Within minutes, the eagle devoured the spider.
Karl heard the bird scream as it took the spider from her web. It wasn’t that Karl cared much for spiders, but seeing the entire web torn to shreds unnerved him. The vision was so real that it jarred Karl awake. His sheets were twisted around his sweating body. He looked outside the window—the spider was still there, spinning and spinning.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Losing her husband plunged Chenya Kaetzel into a depression. Her days were clouded with grief. She, the daughter of a rebbe, married a rebbe and spent her entire life as the rebbetzin. And from this, she derived her identity. Most of her time was spent in charity work, helping those less fortunate in any way she could. Women came to her for advice, and she advised them to the best of her knowledge. But most of the time, she sent them to talk to the rebbe.
Some women might have resented living in their husband’s shadow, but not Chenya. She adored Asher and never lost her awe of his brilliant intellect. He died so unexpectedly that it still didn’t seem real to her.
The morning of his death, she prepared breakfast for him and Eli. When he finished, he stood up and thanked her for the lovely meal, as he always did. Then she watched him wrap his tefillin around his shoulders, her eyes filled with love. He looked her way, and she smiled at him. Running his hand over his beard, he returned that smile in the special way he had of looking at her. It made her feel loved and cherished, the way every wife should feel. The way she wished that Eli would make Rebecca feel.
Oh, how Chenya wished she could go back to that morning! She knew he wasn’t feeling well the night before, but she had no idea he was seriously ill. He seemed fine as he left for the shul. If she had only known, she would have begged him to see a doctor. She asked him, “Are you feeling better, Asher?”
“Yes, my beloved,” he said. “I am feeling just fine.”
Then he and Eli left for the shul. There was nothing unusual about that morning. Nothing at all. Chenya believed her husband when he said he was feeling better, and she had no reason to doubt him. He never lied to her.
She quickly cleaned up the kitchen and went to pray at the shul. But that day was unlike any other, and was the worst day of her life. Her beloved Asher was never to return to their home alive. Chenya tried to comfort herself by remembering that it was Hashem’s will, and she must accept Hashem’s will. But still, her heart ached for her beloved.
She often went out walking alone, far away from the eyes of her family and friends and wept. She would find a quiet place and sit down under a tree. Then, as she remembered the day she met her precious Asher, she let her tears flow. Asher was a kind and gentle husband, many times treating her more like a papa than a partner, but she adored him from the day she first saw him. And even now, she could remember how her young heart skipped a beat when she walked toward him on that summer day wearing her modest wedding gown.
Oh, Asher, you have left me too soon. Much too soon.
Chenya knew that her son was destined to follow in his father’s footsteps. But so far, Eli was not as wise or as able as his father had been. Although she was a quiet woman, Chenya knew everything that went on in her home. She thought her son might be questioning his religion and his faith, and she didn’t know how to help him. As the next rebbe, he was supposed to be the one to counsel and mentor others. But so far, he did not think himself capable, so he had not taken on any responsibility. Chenya could see Eli was kind to his beautiful wife—as kind as he could be—but he found her uninteresting.
But Chenya could see things in Rebecca that Eli had missed. She was sure Rebecca was smarter than she let on. Chenya wished Eli would allow Rebecca to guide him. She was sure Rebecca could help him more than he realized. Still, she could not say anything to her son or her daughter-in-law. She didn’t want to be an interfering mother-in-law, so she just watched and waited, hoping that Eli would see Rebecca’s potential on his own.
Eli could see his poor mother wasting away. She’d grown so thin and frail since his father’s passing, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Rebecca was like an angel. She made Chenya’s favorite soup, and quite often, when her mother-in-law refused to come to the table, Rebecca brought the soup to her room. She spent hours trying to coax Chenya to eat. Chenya told Eli that she couldn’t have loved Rebecca more if she were her own daughter. For this, Eli felt both guilty and grateful. He loved Rebecca, but not in the way a man should love his wife. He loved her the way a man loved a sister.
Every Friday night, he fulfilled his duties as a husband and performed the mitzvah of creation. But Rebecca did not conceive, and although the act itself was not unpleasant, it was not wonderful either. Eli often thought of his father and how much his father would have been disappointed in him as a son. When he thought of his papa, he tried harder to be the man his father would have wanted him to be, but no matter what he did, it seemed he was always restless and bored—in search of something he couldn’t explain in words. He knew he dared not try to talk to his elders at the shul because he was sure they would never understand.
Winter of 1937
The frigid winter winds blew into Berlin with a vengeance. Rebecca had plenty of free time, so she took a job teaching children at the shul. She got up early and prepared breakfast for her husband and mother-in-law. She sat beside her mother-in-law to make sure she ate. Sometimes, Chenya refused to eat until Rebecca put the spoon of hot cereal into her mouth. It was warm and soft, and Rebecca would speak kind words until Chenya would swallow. Once she fed the old woman, she got dressed and ate something quickly then went off to work. As Rebecca walked to the shul, she thought about the children. She enjoyed them; they were full of life, and enthusiasm, and dreams. Often Rebecca wondered what had happened to her dreams. She’d grown old in her heart, even though she was still a young woman. Eli was a handsome man; he was a good man too. But he was distant, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not reach him. Her mother-in-law was weak and hardly left the bed these days. Rebecca knew that the sadness of losing her mate was slowly sucking the life force out of Chenya.
Rebecca wished she could do something for her mother-in-law, something that would at least bring her some joy. The only thing she could think of was to conceive. If she were pregnant, her mother-in-law might find a reason to live, knowing a grandchild was on the way. But even though she and Eli tried, she did not conceive. To make matters worse, lately, Rebecca found herself smiling at the milkman’s son when she went to pick up the milk
and cheese that Eli enjoyed each morning.
His name was Shmul, and although he wasn’t as handsome as Eli, he was far more attentive. And she was so lonely. She was so starved for a kind word or a tender touch that when she walked into the milkman’s small store in the center of town and Shmul’s eyes lit up, it sparked something inside of her. Rebecca could feel the desire emanating from Shmul like heat from a fire. It shamed her that she liked the way he made her feel. In fact, if she had a girlfriend she could trust, she would have sent her to the milkman to pick up her milk and cheese rather than face Shmul and the feelings he stirred insider her.
By marrying Eli, she was destined to be a rebbetzin. She could never trust anyone enough to tell them her sinful thoughts. A rebbetzin should be above such things. So she would lower her eyes when she saw Shmul and try to avoid looking at him. But then, something would make her look up, and when their eyes met, she smiled against her will.
Oh, Rebecca! You must be careful! Sin is as close as your own hand.
She asked Shmul’s papa for a pound of cheese. As he wrapped the yellow cheese in brown paper, she could feel Shmul’s eyes on her.
On one crisp winter day when the sky was ice blue, Rebecca sat in her classroom, waiting for the children to return from their afternoon meal break. She was organizing her desk when Eli came into the classroom. Rebecca looked up, surprised to see her husband. “Eli? What brings you here?”
“Mama is very sick. I went home for lunch, and she was wheezing very loudly. I went into her bedroom, and she was lying in bed. Her face is very pale, and from the sounds she is making, I am sure she is having trouble breathing. I didn’t know what to do, so I came here to you. We need to do something,” he said, his voice edgy with panic.
“All right. I’m coming. Let me tell Marta that I am leaving, so she can take care of my class.”
He nodded. Rebecca explained the situation to Marta, then she quickly put on her winter coat and scarf. She turned to Eli.
“Let’s go home,” she said. “Avigale is at day school. I’ll have one of the neighbors go and bring her home.”
He nodded. “Yes, that’s a good idea. My sister should be at home with us.” Rebecca could see how frightened he was. Sometimes he reminded her of a child. She swallowed hard. She knew how much her in-laws adored their only son, their only child. Since Eli’s birth, they had pampered Eli to the point of paralysis. She heard them say they gave him everything he ever asked for. And she had learned by living with him, that he was used to being cared for by others. He couldn’t make decisions on his own. Although her in-laws meant well, and Rebecca had come to love them both, she also slightly resented the fact they had not forced Eli to be a man and grow up.
Eli and Rebecca walked side by side as quickly as they could without falling on the icy, snow-covered sidewalk. Rebecca hated the silence. She longed to say something, but when she looked at Eli, he did not return her gaze. He kept his eyes cast down at the ground. I wish I knew how to comfort him, but he is so far away, so consumed with his own thoughts that I don’t know how to reach him. I am so afraid she is dying, and poor Eli is so lost without his father’s guidance. Now he is losing his mother too. He needs me, but he doesn’t realize it. And no matter what I do, he won’t let me in.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Chenya loved her daughter-in-law, but she cherished her son. Since the day he was born, she doted on him. Now that she was very ill, her son was her major concern.
As she lay on the bed she had shared with her husband since she was just a shy girl of fourteen, she gripped the quilt firmly in her hands. It was so hard for her to accept that she would never see her beloved Asher in this life again. How gentle and kind her husband was during their years together. How understanding of her fears and her needs. Chenya fell in love with him the first moment she saw him, and that was on the day she was married. She peeked under her veil as she walked down the aisle beside her father, nervous about her future. Asher Kaetzel, a boy of seventeen, stood waiting for her in front of the rabbi. He was tall and handsome.
A smile came over Chenya’s face as she thought how skinny Asher was when they were married, but then how fat he got on her cooking. They had enjoyed a good marriage. They had cried together when she miscarried her first child. He had not criticized or blamed her; they both shared the same pain. Their home was also filled with laughter, like the time she accidentally burnt the brand-new sheitel that she bought from the kosher wigmaker on the Shabbat candles. She was so afraid Asher would be mad, but once they put out the fire and she was all right, he started laughing. Then she joined him, and before they knew it, they were both laughing so hard they had a hard time stopping.
But their greatest shared joy was the birth of their two wonderful children. First their son and then their daughter. How proud her Asher was of his family! And how happy it made her to see the pride in his face. Tears formed behind her eyes at the bittersweet memory. Such pride my husband took in everything we had together: our wonderful children, our beautiful but modest home, and my cooking. Whenever he invited guests to our home, he would say, “My Chenya can cook, I tell you. Come, you’ll taste her food and never be satisfied with anything less again.” Oh, Asher, I know the truth. I am dying. I will miss my boy and his wonderful wife, but I am going home to spend eternity beside my husband, my Asher. My poor Eli. He is so confused. The only consolation I have is that I am leaving him with a good wife, a girl I can trust to take care of my son when I am gone. Asher and I loved our precious boychik. Yes, Eli was the light of our lives from the day he was born. Avigale was a joy, but Eli, he was something special. Her wrinkled eyelids closed as she remembered the day of Eli’s bris, his circumcision. Asher gently took her arm and led her to their bedroom where she was to stay during the procedure, surrounded by her two sisters. She sat down on this very same bed, trembling, knowing that in the other room the moshel was cutting her child. Asher knew that it was unwise for a mother to be in the same room as her son when he was being circumcised. And Asher was right because Chenya almost fainted when she heard Eli let out a small cry. Oh, Asher, we have so many memories between us. I have missed you so much since you left me. I am ready to come to you; I am ready to come home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Chenya was already gone when Eli and Rebecca arrived at the house. Her limp, lifeless body looked peaceful on the bed. Eli knelt beside his mother and wept. Rebecca tried to put her hand on her husband’s shoulder, but she could feel him stiffen up. She tried to massage his shoulder gently, but he did not yield to her at all. No words came to her. All she could do was watch Eli’s body slumped in misery.
Oh, Eli, I know you are hurting. I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know what to do.
“I am an orphan now,” was all he said, and he didn’t look directly at Rebecca when he spoke. Still keeping his eyes cast down, he stood up.
“I must go to the shul so that I can make arrangements for my mother’s funeral and the shiva to follow.”
Rebecca nodded, feeling abandoned but trying to be understanding. Eli has just lost his mother. I will be here for him even if he chooses to shut me out.
Eli closed the door to the house gently, but Rebecca knew he was gone. Tomorrow she would go to her parents’ home and tell them of her mother-in-law’s passing. They would come to her aid. She had no doubt that her mother would help with the shiva.
She would go on pretending she was happy. Neither of her parents would ever know how miserable she was with Eli: how sad and alone she felt in her marriage. And it was because she loved them that she would never tell them. Instead, she tried to be grateful for her blessings, so she said a silent prayer, thanking Hashem that her parents were still alive.
Yousef and Eli remained good friends through the years.
But Yousef was a different man once he married. He raced home every afternoon to spend time with his wife. Eli sensed a contentment in Yousef that he envied. As a young man, Yousef had terrible skin problems.
He often broke out in pimples, but since his marriage, his skin was clear, and his eyes were alert and joyful. He was focused during Torah studies, and his mood was always bright. This is what my father wished for me. This is how it should be between a man and his wife. But it is not this way for Rebecca and me. Something is missing.
Eli swallowed hard and rubbed his head as he walked over to Yousef.
“I need to speak with you,” Eli said.
Yousef nodded, stood up, and followed Eli out of the prayer room and into the lobby.
“Nu? What is it?” Yousef asked, looking into Eli’s eyes.
“My mother passed away this morning.”
“Oy, Eli, I am so sorry.”
Eli nodded. “Thank you. Will you help me arrange the funeral? I am sure my in-laws will help with the shiva.”
“Of course, of course. And my wife will help with the shiva too,” Yousef said, patting Eli’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry about anything, my dear friend.”
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