A Life Worth Living (23 page)

“The Vaad Hatzalah?” Gaby was familiar with the neighborhood volunteer ambulette services back in
New York, but that couldn’t be what Lee was referring too.

“The Vaad Hatzalah was the main source of all the rescue efforts in the
United States. We ignored the orders of the Roosevelt government, and we did whatever was possible to save the lives of as many Jews as we could, legally or illegally.”

“That’s incredible,” Gaby said, taking a notebook out of her bag and writing down notes. Gaby had so many questions, she didn’t know which one to pick. “Were you horrified when you heard the details about what happened in
Europe?”

“Yes,” Lee said simply. “We were horrified.”

Gaby chewed her lip, remembering her conversation with Cobi last night. “Don’t you wonder sometimes where God was in all this?”

Lee looked at her and smiled. “There’s a story my husband liked to tell. There was a young boy named Leiby who was the oldest of four children. He was only ten years old when the Nazis rounded up his family and the rest of the Jews left in the town and put them on the trains to the camps. His father had already been deported and his mother, alone with four children in a packed cattle car, was trying to comfort her children. One of the little brothers, Sender, was crying incessantly that he had lost his
shechaleh
, his little shoe. Now, as you can understand, everyone was frantic and hysterical. They had been beaten and were packed into a cattle car with hardly any air, but when they heard this little boy crying for his shoe, they stopped their own panic and they helped Leiby look for Sender’s shoe until they found it and Sender was calmed. That was godliness. Caring about that little boy in his time of need, despite their own terrible circumstances.” Lee nodded sharply, underlining her point.

Gaby listened intently, her pen poised in the air, while Lee spoke, afraid to break the imagery that Lee was weaving with her soft, composed speech.

“Shortly afterwards, they reached Auschwitz. A neighbor took Leiby under his wing and instructed him to lie about his age because an older boy would have more of a chance to be sent to the right, to life. He saw his mother and his siblings sent to the left, to be gassed. Leiby survived the war under the care of this neighbor, and is still alive today, in Netanya, with a family and grandchildren, all thanks to this neighbor. That was godliness.” Lee’s brown eyes were shining. “When you do the best you can with what you have, and you act with care and concern for another person, that is the spark of God inside of you. You are acting like God. That’s where God was. In all of us.”

When Lee paused for breath, Gaby scribbled as rapidly as her hand would allow.

Lee watched her indulgently, allowing Gaby time to write. “I’m curious what you thought of the museum,” she said.

“Well, I haven’t gone yet,” Gaby admitted.

“You should go, it’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Gaby raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think I ever heard of a Holocaust museum described as beautiful.”

“Yes, it is beautiful,” Lee insisted. “When you walk around Yad Vashem, you see the scope and detail of the organized genocide against the Jewish nation. They were going to build museums about us, to show the world a people that once lived and are no more. And yet, here we are. And more than that, we are a graceful people. When the Jews were liberated, we did not go on rampages against our attackers and their collaborators. We turned our attention to rebuilding our lives and allowed justice to run its course, although, granted, the courts did a terrible job.” Lee shook her head. “Ah well, there is only one true judge in the world.” She looked up in the direction of the ceiling. “Justice will prevail. If not in this world, then the next.”

“Can I ask you something?” Gaby asked gently, afraid that her question might offend Lee. “Why do you keep saying ‘we’? You and your family were safe in
America.”

“Yes, that is true, my family was not harmed directly by the Nazi regime, but if Hitler had his way, there would be no Jews left in the world. So in reality, we are all survivors.”

“That’s true,” Gaby acknowledged.

“And of course, the Nazis destroyed great yeshivas and communities and erased so much history and culture. So we all lost a great deal. But here’s a fascinating tidbit for you.” Lee had a mischievous look on her face and Gaby leaned closer to hear what she was going to say. “Few people know this, but there are many children of Nazis who actually converted to Judaism.”

Gaby drew back in disbelief. “No way. I don’t believe you.”

“Yes, indeed. The Germans, as it is known, are a very intellectual people, and the children were remorseful of the sins of their parents. They wanted to study who were these people that the Nazis hated so much and were so determined to exterminate, and for some of them, Judaism was so appealing, they converted! In fact, I’ve recently read a newspaper article that the grandson of Hitler’s nephew is a religious Jew living right here in
Israel.”

“That is insane.” Gaby said, narrowing her eyes as she considered the possibility. The children of Nazis living as Jews? It was too topsy-turvy to comprehend.

“How’s that for revenge?” Lee asked slyly, with an expression that could only be described as a gleeful smirk.

“Revenge is best served cold,” Gaby quoted.

“Very true,” Lee chuckled.

“So how did you end up here?” Gaby asked, waving her hand around the lovely little house.

“After I married my husband, Dr. Henry Rubin, we moved to Israel. This was pre-Six-Day War, and it wasn’t a very popular move in those days. People were afraid of living in Israel, but this is where we wanted to live. My husband passed away a brief seven years after we married, but those were the happiest years of my life.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. It must have been terrible for you, to be alone for all those years.”

Lee brushed away Gaby’s condolences with a wave of her hand. “That’s all right. I’ve been happy here. I’ve had a very full life. I have a lot of relatives in Israel, and my sisters visit me all the time from New York. My father even moved in with me for the last few years of his life. He stayed here, in this room.” Lee smiled at the memory. “He was a wonderful man, deeply learned, with a true appreciation for Torah.”

“That sounds nice,” Gaby said. She picked up a plainly bound book that was lying on a nearby shelf. “What’s this?”

“Oh, that’s some poetry I wrote.”

Before Gaby could ask if she could read it, Lee was already standing up.

“I think we’re done here. Would you like to go to a nearby shuk with me?”

“Sure,” Gaby said. Apparently, this lady was not used to sitting around.

Lee led the way to the entranceway where a vintage map of the world was displayed, covered with red tacks. She picked a brown purse up off an elaborately-carved umbrella stand, and carefully put the narrow strap over her head. Gaby, waiting as Lee made herself ready, examined the map.

“What’s this?” Gaby asked.

“Oh, that?” Lee looked up. “Those are all the places in the world I’ve traveled.”

Gaby leaned closer, peering at the red tacks clustered in groups on every continent on the map.

“Wow, you’re a real world traveler.”

“Yes, I used to be. I traveled with my sister, Dotty, a couple of times a year. But now…” Lee indicated with her cane and Gaby smiled sympathetically.

“So what was the most interesting place you’ve been to?” Gaby asked as the two of them went outside and Lee gingerly climbed down the steps.

“Hmm, the most interesting trip would be when I went with Dotty on a seven-week trip to
India, China, and Japan. It was like being in a whole new world. In India, especially, there was no middle class, and there was extreme poverty. Bodies would be lying on the road, and a truck would come by and check if that person had a pulse. But it was fascinating. They had such a different culture.”

Lee told Gaby about her travels as they walked through the quiet, well-maintained streets of
Ramat Gan to the nearby artisanal market. This market was remarkably different from the Machane Yehuda Shuk in Jerusalem, where in closely-packed, old wooden stalls, vendors yelled and screamed to attract the attention of potential customers. Here, business was conducted in soft, pleasant tones, in stalls built from pretty pine wood and shaded by bamboo awnings. Lee purchased some groceries of fresh bread, cheese, and a few bakery items, and presented Gaby with two plastic tubs of black and green olives.

“Thank you for coming,” she said.

“Thank you for having me,” Gaby said. She stood there for a minute, smiling widely, awkwardly holding the olives.

“If you have any more questions, it would be lovely to have you visit again!” Lee said. “But call first, I might not be home.” She started walking away, in the direction of her house, and Gaby grinned at her retreating back.

On the bus ride back, she quickly handwrote her notes on the pad of paper, sketching out her thoughts into paragraphs.

Hopefully, Elanit and the rest of those in charge would be happy with her report, and they would accept Lee’s letters as an exhibit in the museum. Maybe Elanit would be so impressed with her work that she’d give her a chance to interview other people. Regardless, she definitely planned on calling Lee and visiting her again. Lee had been fascinating to talk to, and Gaby was looking forward to another visit.

It was odd. If you saw Lee from afar, you would think she was just a little old lady, tending to her garden, buying her small amount of groceries, but in fact, Lee with her nonconformist views toward happiness, her lack of fear in moving to Israel, her desire to see the entire world, not to mention her ability to articulate her viewpoint with others, made her one of the most unique people Gaby had ever met.

Everyone thinks they are so different, but when push comes to shove, they all want the same thing: a loving husband, healthy and successful children, a big house, and plenty of money to go with it. But when life doesn’t go the way they hoped, how many act like Lee and make the most of what they’ve got? Lee was unique because she made the most of her life, she used her intelligence and kept her independence into her twilight years, and she didn’t allow the lack of something as fundamental as a nuclear family to stop her.

To live a life as full as Lee did was something Gaby could aspire to. Who’s to say she wouldn’t start traveling around the world, or own her own sweet little cottage filled with priceless artifacts?

She would do all of that, travel the world, and collect souvenirs, and fill a map with little red tacks. And the first place she would visit would be her employer, the museum, and she would do it with Hillel.

She would make up with him, no matter how long it took. Talking to Lee taught her that life was more than what you got, it was what you did with it, and the person she wanted to make the most of her life with was Hillel. They belonged together, and that was that. She had made a mistake, and she was going to fix it. It was time to get Hillel back, and once she did, she wouldn’t let go of him again.

Gaby sat on the green iron bench in front of the exit for
Shiloh in the Central Bus Station, tapping the point of her boots impatiently, waiting for Hillel to come. She checked her phone again to confirm the time and double checked it against the digital display above the exit. Still too early.

She got up and went into the bustling shopping section, walked past home design stores, candy stores, and clothing stores, and went into a bakery.

Against the wall was a large red board listing the deals. Gaby read the board and when the cashier asked her what she wanted, Gaby asked for two large coffees with two vanilla croissants. The cashier handed her the pastries and coffee and processed her change, and as she was leaving the bakery, Gaby realized that the whole transaction had taken place in Hebrew.

Feeling a little proud of her mastery of the language, she walked back to her spot. Hillel was there, leaning against the rail in front of the
Shiloh exit, a huge duffle backpack leaning against the railing. He was on the phone and didn’t see her approach, and she took a minute to savor the sight of him, the first time she was seeing him in over two months.

Finally, he looked up and noticed her. With a huge grin, he hung up the phone and put an arm around her.

“Hey, how are you?”

“Good,” she said, a beaming smile on her face. “Look what I bought us.”

Hillel took the small yellow and red bag from her and smelled the fresh croissants. “Just like I bought you when we first met.”

“It was actually the third time we met.” Gaby corrected him.

“That’s right,” he said. “You remember.”

“I remember everything,” Gaby said. “Did you remember the
tefillin
?”

“Of course,” Hillel said, indicating a shopping bag holding a cardboard box that was resting on top of his duffle bag.

“Thank you. Rafi is going to be so happy.”

“It was my pleasure,” Hillel said.

Gaby paused, thinking about how natural it was for Hillel to go out of his way just to make Rafi, a boy he met once, happy. But she couldn’t throw herself on him to show her never-ending gratitude, so instead she said, “You want to hear something crazy?”

“Sure,” Hillel said, biting into his croissant.

“When I got the food, I ordered it all in Hebrew.”

“Look at that. You’re really getting used to being here.” He took a long sip of the coffee and smiled. “Just the way I like it. How’d you know?”

Gaby laughed, remembering when she had been amazed that they took coffee the same way. She took a sip of his coffee, savoring it. “Delicious.”

Hillel smiled and taking her coffee from her other hand, sipped. “Perfect.”

Gaby laughed, relaxing. It felt like them before, but with a difference. Now, she couldn’t take Hillel for granted, and assume he would do whatever she wanted. She looked at him pensively. “I wanted to ask you something. Would you come with me to Yad Vashem?”

Hillel raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you work there?”

“No, I work in a separate office building. I know I should go see the exhibits, but I’m too scared to go alone.”

“Sure, I’ll go with you if you want. Why are you scared to go?”

Gaby shrugged. “It’s just so sad. I know some people think it’s beautiful and hopeful, because we are still here after all that destruction. But for all those people who died…” Gaby paused. “They aren’t here anymore. And they died for being a Jew.”

“Not over a parking space,” Hillel said.

Gaby snorted, and then stopped herself. “Stop, I’m being serious.”

“I know. I’ll go with you, and then we’ll go to the
Kotel
so we can rejoice,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“And check out the
Churva
shul,” Gaby added. “My friend Rikky said it’s beautiful.” As the words came out of her mouth, she realized that for the first time she was able to think of Rikky without any grief, just fondness.

“They say it rose from the dead,” Hillel said.

Like us, thought Gaby.

Hillel looked at her and touched her collarbone. “I like your necklace,” Hillel said.

Gaby looked down at her necklace, a twisted piece of hemp holding up the yellow glass sun Hillel had bought her.

“I like it, too,” Gaby said.

Hillel smiled down at her for a long minute and then nudged her shoulder. “We better get onto the bus before it leaves,” Hillel said.

“Yeah, I’ll go get us seats.” She took the bag of croissants back from him and went up the steps of the bus to find them seats in the back. Hillel came up the steps a few minutes later, after depositing his duffle bag underneath the bus, and sat down next to her.

Gaby turned to him and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.

“So am I,” he said.

She put her hand on her necklace and shook her head in wonder.

“What?” Hillel asked.

“You bought me the sun,” she said.

“It was my pleasure.”

Then, in a low voice, so low she wasn’t sure he could hear her, she told him, “You’re like the sun to me. You’re the only one I want. You’re the only one that’s real to me. You make me so happy.” Please come back to me, she silently begged. Please, please, please.

Hillel tilted her head up and kissed her softly on the lips.

Gaby smiled against his lips and asked him, peering up into his eyes, “So are you my boyfriend again?”

“I always was. I always will be.”

They kissed again. He wrapped his arm around her, and she snuggled into his warm body.

The bus wound around the rocky hills of the Shomron until it entered the gate of Shiloh, and the two of them got off. Hillel dragged his bag off the bus and put it on his back, adjusting it as he looked up the steep hill.

“That’s one crazy hill, dude.”

Gaby looked up at the hill and laughed. “You’ve seen it before,” she said.

“That was the one night I had a car,” he retorted.

“You get used to it,” she said. “Come on, let’s go.”

They walked up the hill hand in hand, Gaby showing him the few sights
Shiloh had to offer.

When they got into the house, Gaby was relieved to see that Rafi had followed her instructions and that the house was clean, the floor
sponja
-ed and the table already set with a white table cloth. Impressively, even the paint that Rafi had dripped on the tiled floor last week after he gave in to the inevitable truth that Gaby would never get around to painting his room and did more than a half-decent job painting his room himself, had been cleaned up. Rafi came out of his bedroom and stood shyly in the hallway as Gaby led Hillel to her room.

“Hillel, you remember Rafi?” Gaby asked as the three of them stood crowded in the little hallway.

“Sure,” Hillel said, with a broad smile. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you?” Rafi politely said.

Gaby walked into her bedroom, and Hillel followed, leaving the door open for Rafi, who stood just outside in the hallway.

“So what’s going on, Rafi?” Gaby asked, taking Hillel’s duffle bag from him.

“Nothing.”

“The house looks great. Thanks for taking care of everything.”

“No problem. The food is in the oven already.”

“Thanks. You got vegetables from the
makolet
?”

“Yeah,” Rafi said. “You want me to start peeling them?”

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of them, you did enough already. Actually, if you have some time…” she looked questioningly at Hillel who nodded, and then continued, “Hillel has something for you.”

“Really?” asked Rafi, coming fully into the room. “You have my
tefillin
?” he whispered hopefully.

Gaby laughed at Rafi’s excitement, but Hillel was serious. “Yeah, that’s why I came,” Hillel said, pulling the cardboard box out of his duffle bag. “Here, take a look.”

“Wow. Cool, thanks,” Rafi said, still whispering. He opened the cardboard box gingerly and took out the navy blue velvet bag. His full name, Rafael Yisrael Kupfer was embroidered in thick silver thread on the front, above an image of a set of
tefillin
. “Wow,” he said reverently. He sat down on Gaby’s bed and gently unzipped the bag and peeked inside. “Wow,” he said a third time.

Gaby started leaving the room, letting Hillel take over. She paused as she heard Rafi say, “My dad will probably come to
Israel soon, and he’ll want to teach me how to put on
tefillin
.”

She looked back into the room and watched Hillel casually unzip his own
tefillin
bag from a side pocket of his duffle bag. “Yeah, probably he will. But meanwhile, we can practice, right?”

“Right,” Rafi said.

Gaby let out a breath and closed the door behind her.

***

It was surreal, watching Hillel leave the house with Rafi to go to shul, both of them dressed in their bright white shirts and dark suit pants.

Once they were out of sight, Gaby turned back from the window to Shira who had come over, ostensibly to help make salads, but really to see how awkward it was going to be with Hillel back in the picture. When she saw how quickly and seamlessly Hillel had integrated himself back into Gaby’s life, Shira had gotten bored of the non-drama and was sitting on the daybed next to Mrs. Kupfer, leafing through old copies of
Israel haYom.

“Isn’t that something,” Gaby said, overwhelmed with joy and disbelief that this was really happening. Hillel was back, and she was never going to let anything come between them again.

“That you two are back together?” Shira asked without looking up. “Nothing short of a miracle.”

Gaby roll
ed her eyes at her, a pointless gesture, as Shira was still absorbed in the pages of the newspaper. She went over to the counter to start chopping up the vegetables for the salads. At least her mother, who was playing along with the charade that Hillel was simply Gaby’s friend, feigned ignorance at Shira’s comment, and turning the page of her novel, asked Shira, “How’s life at the kibbutz?”

“Boring, same as usual. I can’t wait to finish the year.”

“Do you have any plans for next year?” Mrs. Kupfer asked.

“I’m thinking of going to Tzfat next year.”

Gaby perked up at that tidbit and paused her vigorous mixing of vinegar and oil. “Tzfat? What’s there?”

“They have a place where you could train horses.”

“Horses?” Gaby said, turning around to look at Shira.

“Yeah, like Yael did.”

“Yael? Who’s Yael?” Did Shira have a whole life without her?

“How do you not remember? Yael, from Sdei Avraham? She fought off the Arab guy who broke into her house?”

Gaby thought back for a second. “Vaguely.”

“Of course, I remember. It was all over the news. What a special woman,” Mrs. Kupfer said, putting her finger on the page of her paperback as a bookmark. “What she managed to do…to resist him, right in front of her children! I’m sure they were all completely hysterical. She must have incredible physical and internal strength.”

“I know! I think she’s the coolest woman in the world,” Shira said, her eyes glowing with admiration.

“So what do horses in Tzfat have to do with Yael?” Mrs. Kupfer asked.

“Well, Yael trained horses in her moshav, so it inspired me.”

“Ahh,” Mrs. Kupfer said. “She was a horse trainer. That might be one reason why she had the strength to fight back.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Shira said.

“Isn’t there a horse training farm not far from here?” Mrs. Kupfer asked. “Why do you need to go all the way to Tzfat? Wouldn’t your family miss you?”

“Tzfat is not so far,” Gaby said. “It’s like a four-hour drive.”

“The truth is,” Shira said slowly, ducking her head. “I think my family and I could use a break. There’s a school there that I want to go to.”

Gaby’s mouth gaped open in shock. “A school? Like a seminary?” Would wonders never cease? Shira in seminary.

“Yeah,” Shira said, not looking up.

“I think that’s great,” Mrs. Kupfer said, patting Shira on the arm and giving Gaby a reproving look. “It’s great to learn more about our heritage.”

“You can learn about your heritage without being stuck in a building,” Gaby mumbled, turning back to her salads.

“No, it’s true,” Shira passionately said. “I never really learned anything in school. I always just sat in the back and fell asleep.”

“Like me,” Gaby agreed.

Shira didn’t laugh. “I don’t know anything about the things we’re supposed to do, or why we do it. Like, how come you cover your hair if you aren’t married?”