Come Pour the Wine (36 page)

She took a sip. What a bitch she’d turned into. At least he was trying to be pleasant and, so it seemed, he was a gentleman.

“I’m sorry, I was rude … And you’re right. It’s just not easy.”

“I know. I went through it three years ago. My wife thought fifteen years with me was enough. She married my best friend. Fortunately, we didn’t have any children and that made it a little easier.”

“I have two, thank God … it gave me something to live for or I think I would have lost my sanity—”

“I suspect it’s better to have children. It was tough being replaced by another man, I assure you … made me feel like, if you’ll excuse the expression, horse manure.”

“Makes you feel like that when you’re not replaced by anyone else too.”

“What did yours do, go into the priesthood?” Not very funny, he thought. Even for a divorce lawyer.

“Something like that. Except his monastery is Manhattan, without taking any vow of celibacy. You see, he wanted to be free and good-by to almost twenty years and two children. I think it’s better your way. At least she left you for someone. Mine left for nothing.”

Allan shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he said, and meant it.

“I thought so too.”

“I simply can’t understand anyone leaving someone like you.”

“Well, you don’t know that much about me. But I … I tried … I really did—”

“That I believe.” And he really did.

“Since we’ve become … so confiding in so short a time, tell me, what makes a man walk away from a marriage for no apparent good reason?”

“Well, you hear about it all the time, not that it makes it more palatable, but some men—and women—are petrified of growing old, feel like they’re going to miss the boat, and become obsessed with holding on … or rather out … How old is your husband?”

“Forty-five.”

“That’s about when it most often happens. The seven-year-itch or the twenty. No one really knows the answer. But you’ll pick up the pieces and one day someone will walk into your life out of the blue … You’re much too young and far too desirable to live alone. You’ll marry again—”

“Never
…”

“A very long time, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“What about you?”

“I’m partial to the notion of one special person to share my life with. When she comes along, I think I’ll know … Now, let’s dance….”

The day the ship lay at anchor in Kingston, Jamaica, Janet and Allan stood at the rail watching the young Jamaican men dive for coins in the wondrously pellucid, clear blue-green sea. The money was retrieved and brought to the surface within moments. Laughing, they shook the water from their heads, held up a hand and called out, “More!”

Allan threw a handful of coins and quickly they dove back and out of sight.

Janet said, “Aren’t they wonderful?”

Allan wanted to say, yes, and so are you. Instead he said, “I think it’s time for us to take the launch.” With a lady like Janet, you didn’t rush. He took her arm, led her down the gangplank and helped her into the small boat.

Kingston could never have been adequately described in the travel folders. Statuesque Jamaican women with twisted turbans and ropes of colored beads strode majestically in bare feet. Shopping for the food their families would eat that night, they bartered not so differently from the ladies on Hester Street whom she remembered. Janet and Allan stopped at a bazaar where musk oils from the East and perfumes from Paris were sold. She allowed herself to accept a bottle of Patou’s
Joy
that Allan assured her … more than once … was only the gesture of one shipmate to another, a remembrance of good companionship on this brief excursion … No, you surely didn’t rush this lady … Further on, the bazaars became more exotic, and she bought earrings and beads for Nicole, Kit and Kit’s daughters, Deborah and Becky. She had no difficulty selecting an ivory bracelet for her mother, but Effie was a problem. After a dozen items were eliminated she finally gave up and settled on a colorful petticoat which she knew Effie would never wear. For Jason, Nat and the boys she bought wristwatches.

The day was an enchantment. As they sat on the wide terrace of the Jamaica Inn, sipping a rum-and-fruit drink, Janet felt the first complete sense of peace she’d known since she started this … was odyssey too strong a word? Ironically, the realization of it made her momentarily uneasy.

The waiter came by and asked if they’d care for more drinks.

Slightly light-headed, Janet looked at Allan. “Should I risk it?”

“Live dangerously. Besides, you’re in good hands, if I do say so myself.”

She was beginning to have few doubts about that. “Well, all right, and then I think we should have lunch.”

As they lingered over coffee, Janet said, “You know, Allan, it occurs to me that I’ve been burdening you with my problems for over a week, but I really know very little about you …”

Allan laughed. “Well, to be perfectly immodest, I’m afraid my story would read like a Jewish
Gone With the Wind.
”

“Really? Well, I’d love to hear about it. Family sagas are my favorites.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re a romantic …”

“About some things, I suppose … anyway, start properly … at the beginning.”

Allan not only knew his family tree, but was rather fascinated by it. His great-grandfather, Julius Kahn, had arrived on the shores of Louisiana from Alsace-Lorraine two years before the outbreak of the Civil War. Julius’s wealth was not quite large enough to finance the Southern cause, but the funds he contributed were considerable nonetheless. Julius was integrated into the upper strata of Jewish society, where he met and married Amanda Langer. It was a lavish wedding, and the house in the French Quarter that he gave his wife as a wedding gift was considered one of the Quarter’s true showplaces. Not many weeks after being carried over that imposing threshold, Amanda was able to whisper in the silence of their bedchamber that Julius could be proud, that she was expecting a child. Nine months later they became the parents of a blonde, blue-eyed little girl that they named Evelyn. In the next few years Andrew and Charles were equally welcomed. It was a home of love and devotion, and of spirituality too. Julius, in fact, was one of the first and largest contributors to New Orleans’s new Reformed Temple. Julius Kahn was also an astute student of human nature, as well as of history. When the first shot at Fort Sumter rang out, Julius understood that it also signaled the end for the glory of the old South. Inevitably, he felt, the Confederacy’s cause was doomed. Democracy and slavery
were
incompatible. And separatism could only be the death of the Union. He’d had quite enough of being separate, thank you, before reaching his hard-won status in America. By the end of the war Julius’s Confederate dollars had long since been converted into francs and marks, and were deposited in a secure Swiss bank. Disposing of the few holdings that he still retained, he moved his family north to Philadelphia.

When Julius and Amanda Kahn’s daughter Evelyn was seventeen, she met and married Samuel Blum, whose family was three generations removed from Germany. David Blum was their only child, and he and his wife Louise were the parents of Allan and his two older brothers, Lawrence and Philip. Louise and David Blum gave their sons not only material wealth, but imbued them with pride and respect for an ancient heritage. For David Blum and his wife, Judaism was a code of ethics that a man applied to his daily life, not only on the Day of Atonement; it was a living, ongoing covenant between man and God.

It was not until Allan joined the army that he seemed to forget some of his earlier training, and it was a particularly sad moment for his parents when he told them that he was marrying outside the faith. Out of his love for them he did, he admitted, regret that Joyce Porter was not Jewish, but reminded them one didn’t always have a choice in the matter of love and he prayed—literally—that they would accept her. In the end, out of their love for him, they gave their blessing.

Unfortunately, there was more than one time during his marriage that he had occasion to recall his mother saying, “Your father and I don’t want to play God or sound all-knowing, but the beliefs of two people do tend to make a far stronger bond … there are no promises that marriage will be perfect, even with people of the same faith, but at least the chances for understanding are greater….” The words had especially come back to him during his last confrontation with Joyce. Indeed, the sounds of her attack
…
“I’m through with you, you damned, despicable Jew …” still were an ugly resonance in his head. That part of the “romantic” saga he omitted. It didn’t fit. And it was hardly what Janet wanted to hear … or he to tell her … If their friendship grew and a good reason for it came up, he might tell her. Perhaps … another time. He had to smile to himself. A male Scarlett O’Hara … he’d do it “tomorrow.”

“Well, that about sums up four generations of Blums,” he finished crisply.

Looking at Allan sitting across from her, Janet thought of Yankel Stevensky and the four generations that had come from him. He too had left something of his stamp on her. She
felt
it, especially at this moment … “That’s quite a story, Allan. May I tell you something that’s strangely parallel in our lives?”

“Please do.”

“Well, my antecedents weren’t as elegant or romantic as yours. Hardly. But my great-grandfather was Jewish—”

“Were you brought up in the faith?”

“No, my parents were Protestants. But my father, like me, as I discover more and more, has an inbred sense of
Jewishness,
rather than Judaism. I’m sorry to say I know so little about it, and that I never knew the religious part, but I have a strange sort of pride in the fact that that wonderful Jewish heritage
is
a part of me. You know … the greatest warmth and generosity I think I ever had—especially when I most needed them—was from a lady I’ll never forget … Her name was Fayge Kowalski. That lady taught me something about goodness that I hope I never forget….”

The rest of the trip was pleasantly, but not romantically, spent with Allan. He’d been very good for her, but she’d established from the beginning that there was to be a distance, and he respected her feelings … much as he regretted the constraint.

The last night they strolled once again around the deck, then stood at the rail looking out at the midnight-blue sea.

He put his arm around her, which she allowed, but she drew back when he leaned over to kiss her. “Allan, you’ve been terribly nice, you’re a wonderful person and I’m truly grateful for your company … but you know, I didn’t come aboard for a single lady’s fun and games. I hope I made that clear in the beginning, but, please, don’t take offense … you’ve been so …”

“Gentlemanly?”

“Yes, and as I said, I’m grateful—”

“Well, I’ll accept that, but you should also know that I had every bad—or good, depending on one’s point of view—intention in the world of trying to go to bed with you. Truth to tell, I thought about it the first time I saw you. I’d
still
like it… I’m not, I hope you agree, exactly Jack the Ripper. And further truth to tell, it hasn’t been exactly easy being this close to someone you like for two whole weeks and … well, tomorrow it’s homeward bound and I’d hate to think this is going to be the end of it, of us …”

“Allan, as you well know, nothing in my life has been resolved … obviously I can’t become involved … I mean …”

“You mean you still hope some miracle will happen and your husband will have a change of heart and want to come home.”

“I guess I’d be less than honest if I said differently.”

“Don’t hitch your hopes to that, Janet. It can only lead to more disappointment.”

“Maybe … but one thing I know, this trip hasn’t been wasted. I’ve had a lot of time to think and I’m going to see if we can’t salvage something. I find it impossible to believe, when two people had as much as we did, that it can be over just like that—”

“And your pride?”

“Pride? You can’t spend your old age with pride. I’m going to try, Allan.”

“So … then this is good-by for us?”

“I think so. But I’ll always remember how kind you were.”

“Well, that wasn’t what I had in mind. But if you ever want to be in touch, let me know. Chicago isn’t very far away, and then, of course, I’m in New York a lot. Hold that thought, if you can …”

K
IT WAS AT KENNEDY
Airport to meet Janet’s flight back from Florida. She was shocked—and pleased—when she saw the change in Janet, but she said nothing until they were in the car on the drive back to Westchester.

“Okay, Janet, I can’t stand the suspense. What happened to you?”

“Why?”

“Well, my God. I mean you were walking a pretty thin line the last time I saw you, and now you seem almost … content. Did anything
happen?”

“A lot of things. Mostly in my head.”

“Oh? Such as?”

“Making a stab at getting Bill back.”

Kit paused. That wasn’t what she’d been hoping for. “Well, Columbus took a chance and found America. Too bad the queen almost cut off his head. If it doesn’t work out you could get hurt bad, Janet.”

“I already am, so what have I got to lose?”

“Not much, when you put it that way. Anything else interesting happen aboard?”

“Well … I met a man. Very nice. But that’s as far as it went. How he ever put up with me, God only knows. I was bitchy as all get out in the beginning … Now tell me about the children.”

“Nicole is very sad and Jason’s very mad … Not to change the subject, what about this man?”

Janet shrugged. “What’s there to tell?”

“You tell me. Did he try?”

“Yes.”

“That must have charged your batteries a little.”

“That wasn’t why I took the trip—”

“But still it helps to restore a lady’s morale.”

“I guess, but in my case it didn’t work. You know something, Kit, you can’t run away. In fact, it’s depressing when you look around and see nothing but lonesome women all literally in the same boat, all trying to prove they’re still marketable. I wonder how many tears were spilled at night in those luxurious staterooms? How did they feel when the blonde wigs and the false eyelashes came off and they took a good look at themselves? It’s no fun to have to start all over again … I wonder where I begin—”