Among the Living (29 page)

Goldah felt the water closing in all around him, warm and dense; his arms strained against the current. He had tossed away his jacket and tie on the beach — Eva’s screams had shredded the sky above — but his pants were now weighted as he tried to push through. Diving deeper in he felt his ears compress, the water darken with weeds, as wild tendrils brushed against his arms like thick strands of hair. He grasped at them, frantic to feel skin and bone beneath, but the current was stripping them away even as he reached out. He was drifting — he knew it — lungs burning, desperation and hope draining from him with every stroke. He had never called out to God in the past, never once, not even at the edge of his own death — not to beg, not to thank — but now he thought: You must answer. Who are You if this is the moment You choose to remain silent?

Goldah swept his arm out, then again, and felt the cloth across his fingers like breath itself. He clenched at the shirt in his hand, the small body close in now, weightless, drawing it into him as he pushed them both to the surface, their heads breaking through as one. Goldah gasped for air and shouted “Here!” only to see the face of the boy bobbing at his side. From somewhere, other hands appeared, pulling them forward until Goldah felt the sand beneath him, the boy torn from his grip. Goldah’s own heaves now lay shrouded in shadow from those standing around him.

He heard a dull ringing in his ears as he sucked in for breath. He had no understanding of why the minutes passed as they did — for lack of air, for the shock, for the relief — but they came to him in a strange haze, heightened, as if he were watching himself live through them. It made his own movements jagged and disconnected, the sun too low in the sky to keep anything in focus.

He was standing somehow, pushing his way through the men who had gathered around him. He saw another man kneeling over the boy.

“Ike.”

Goldah felt a hand on his shoulder. He had heard his name. He turned to see Jesler holding him back.

“Ike.”

Goldah tried to speak but he couldn’t: Where was Pearl — where was Malke in all this?

“The doctor needs his room, son. There’s nothing else you can do. Nothing. Just stay back.”

Goldah was again staring at the boy, both of them unmoving, the small arms stretched out above the head, the face lifeless until, with a sudden jerk, the boy coughed and coughed again. A stream of water spilled from his mouth, and the doctor brought him up.

Goldah found himself wrapped in a bear hug with Jesler.

“Good God, Ike. You brought him back. You did.
Baruch Hashem.
”

There were other hands now on his back as Goldah released himself from Jesler’s embrace. He saw Eva stumble to the sand and pull her boy in. The doctor stood, shaking his head, and Goldah thought he heard, “Not even a scratch …”

Goldah watched as Eva cradled Julian’s body in her arms, pressing her head to his, weeping, and letting her dress become soaked through from the water. Goldah felt Jesler place something rough on his shoulders.

“Pull it around you, Ike,” he said. “You need to avoid a chill.”

Goldah let the jacket fall as he moved toward her. The Weisses were already at her side, a lifeguard with them. All three were kneeling down and doing what they could to try to dry the boy and Eva.

Goldah found himself standing over them; he was still hearing the ringing in his ears. Mrs. Weiss was the first to look up, her eyes red and her hair windswept. She was trying to say something but all she could do was nod and cry. Goldah tried to speak as well but Weiss was somehow standing with him, fighting back his own tears as he put a hand out to Goldah.

“Thank you, Mr. Goldah. Thank you.” Goldah felt the grip in his hand; he felt it tighten. “I’m not sure I know who you are but I do know how lucky we are to have you here.”

The hand released and Eva was looking up at him, her gaze filled with a deep joy — a deeper sadness behind it — and all he wanted was to reach for her, but Jesler was once again at his side, wishing them all well and moving Goldah off, back toward the women.

“We had a little light-headedness,” said Jesler. “Maybe more than that … Pearl did. And Miss Posner — she needed her medication … There was some shouting. Nothing too much … It was best to move her off. She’s all right now … Herb’s keeping her in check. Just over here.”

Goldah saw them, sitting on the sand like driftwood, all at odd angles and leaning into each other: Pearl was smoking silently with Fannie and Selma; Malke stared absently out at the water; Herb and Joe stood just behind.

When Goldah drew up, Malke barely turned her head.

“I’d never seen a beach like this until today.” She spoke in a distant voice; he wondered if she knew she was speaking Czech. “And now I’ve seen it. I suppose I’ll always remember today for that, won’t I?”

Pearl finished her cigarette; she kept her eyes on it as she crushed the stub deep into the sand. “He’s all right then, the boy?” Her words carried no weight. “And Mrs. De la Parra, the Weisses?”

“The boy’s fine,” said Jesler. “They’re all fine.”

“How relieved they must be.” Only then did Pearl look up; her eyes were no clearer than Goldah’s own. “And you, Ike — so very brave. Our brave, brave Ike.”

Goldah felt his knees buckle; Jesler was there to keep him upright. Malke shouted out to no one, and Jesler said, “We need to get them home. Anything else can wait.”

13

THE GIRLS STAYED
in bed during services the next morning. The doctor had stopped by last night and again today: A shock like that could be dangerous for Miss Posner, he said. Not that he wanted to be making a habit of it but, just in case, he gave Pearl a sedative as well. As for the ringing in Goldah’s ears, if it had stopped … well, no reason he couldn’t join Jesler at shul. Goldah’s motives for staying away from the house were not quite so spiritual.

Thankfully, and to everyone’s great relief, lunch passed without fanfare: The girls continued to sleep. Mary Royal had come in earlier than usual so as to keep an eye on things, and Jesler asked if maybe Raymond could come along, too. Just in case.

Jesler now sat at the dining-room table, sliding the last of his apple pie onto his fork and using his thumb as a guide. He had been trying to keep things light. “I wouldn’t pay too much attention to any of it, Ike. It was maybe half a minute before she calmed herself down. People are just concerned, that’s all. They want to make sure she’s okay.”

Several in the congregation had suggested that the sight of a lifeless boy must have triggered something in poor Miss Posner. They could only imagine. But how heroic Mr. Goldah had been.

“Took some of the spotlight off you,” Jesler said. “I know how you appreciate that.”

“Yes …”

“Well … I’m guessing you’ll want to go over and see the boy, Mrs. De la Parra.” Jesler wasn’t expecting an answer; still, a nod would have been nice. “You saved him, Ike. You saved Weiss’s grandson. They’ll want to thank you for that.” Nodding for them both and standing, he said, “Anyway, I’m going to go up and check on the girls. I’m sure they’ll sleep. You come back when you want.”

Jesler moved out into the hall and listened until he heard Goldah’s chair slide back. Jesler then headed toward the kitchen and waited for the sound of the front door latching behind him before he pushed through.

Inside he found Raymond and Mary Royal sitting at the small table with two pieces of half-eaten pie in front of them.

“No, no — it’s okay,” he said, “don’t get up. The girls are asleep. But I’ll be needing —” He stopped himself. “I was wondering if I could see you in my study, Raymond?”

Raymond shot a glance at Mary Royal. “Yes, suh, Mr. Jesler.”

“Good. You can give me about five minutes.”

Jesler didn’t need the time. He took it anyway and stood by his desk, thinking he might pour himself a glass, but why go down that road? Better to come at this clearheaded.

Four minutes into his vigil Jesler heard the knock, then watched as Raymond stepped inside. Jesler had laid out several pieces of paper across the desk. He now moved to the window and asked Raymond to take a seat.

“I wrote that all out last night,” Jesler said. “I’ll be taking it to my lawyer to go through this week. You should have a look.” He saw the hesitation and waited for Raymond to pick up the first sheet. “Bottom line, it’s four percent,” he said. “Four percent
on everything. That seems reasonable to me and maybe, depending on how things go, we can talk about that down the line … I don’t know. But one thing I
do
know, you can’t go telling anyone about this, Raymond. No one. Maybe Mary Royal, Calvin — I’m not even sure on that front. Word gets out that a Negro has any kind of stake … that would just kill the business. You understand? Cohan, Hirsch … anyone wanting to buy a pair of shoes … Kill it. I’m putting that in writing. I’ve also got a paragraph that says you’ve got to go easy on the money … how you spend it, at least at the start. Put it away, save it up. No flash. I can help you with some of that, if you want … and I don’t know if it’s even legal for me to tell you how to spend your own money but we’ve got to be smart on this. I’m guessing that’s something for the lawyers to make right … I’m assuming you’ve got your own Negro lawyer to take a look at this? In any case, that’s all he’d be doing — taking a look. That’s just the way it has to be. You understand?”

Raymond continued to stare at the page. He hadn’t read a word and now set it on the desk. He tried taking in a long breath before he said, “I ain’t never going to say this to you again, Mr. Jesler, but any chance I could trouble you for a glass a whiskey?”

Jesler poured out two and handed the larger to Raymond. Jesler didn’t bother to take his own.

“Thank you, suh.” Raymond took a sip.

“I don’t want you thinking this is because of the hand,” Jesler said. “Or that fellow at the paper. I can’t have you thinking that.” He spoke plainly, not to plead but to put this behind them. “And I can’t have myself thinking it, either. I’m sorry for that but that’s not what this is about. There’s just a time to make good on things and this is that time.”

“Yes, suh.”

“I guess what I’m saying … I’m saying I’m doing this for the man I think you are and the man I imagine I’m supposed to be. And that’s that.”

Raymond took another sip. He set the glass on the desk. “Yes, suh. I can see that, Mr. Jesler. Miss Pearl know?”

Pearl … Jesler hadn’t even thought about that.

He felt a sudden rush at the prospect of what he was doing: He had written everything out so quickly last night and with such purpose. And maybe he had let the moment get the better of him, but he told himself it wasn’t just last night or this morning or even this instant now, seeing this young man gazing into a future he could hardly understand. There was nothing rash in what he was doing. It had come to him and it had made sense of so many other things, and how rare those moments are, he thought, if in fact they come at all. That he was feeling a bit of caution, well …

“I’m still thinking on that.”

“Yes, suh.” Raymond took a moment for himself. “Mary’ll be good on the money. She’ll be smart.”

“I imagine she will.” Jesler saw Raymond beginning to work things through. Jesler said, “You need to know, son, the money … it doesn’t change things. Trust me on that. It makes a few things easier, but the rest …”

A silence settled around them: It had nothing to do with the weight or the promise of the moment; it was simply that neither of them could think of anything more to say.

Finally Raymond stood and extended his good hand.

“I guess I should be offering you this, Mr. Jesler.”

Jesler gazed across at the thick black fingers, the strength in them — the veins and the tendons — and he knew how they would always dwarf the meaty paleness of his own. He stepped over and took the hand.

Weiss answered the door and Goldah thought: Of course they’d be here. It probably saved him the awkwardness of seeing Eva alone.

“Well look who’s here — wonderful,” Weiss said. “I was hoping we might catch you if you came by. Come on in. Julian’s upstairs, ostensibly sleeping.” Weiss was smart enough to announce Goldah’s arrival from the hall: “Look who we’ve been lucky enough to have drop by.” At the archway to the living room he said, “The man of the hour. I’ve told him Julian’s upstairs.”

Eva was sitting next to her mother. A handful of others stood or sat in perfect groupings across the chairs and settee and, save for the Weisses, Goldah didn’t recognize a soul. One woman, older than the rest, held her teacup at just above her waist.

Without warning the room launched into a stream of introductions, followed by a chorus of deep appreciation for his bravery. But it was the woman with the teacup — still seated — who had the good sense to say they should all be getting home. Only then did she stand and slowly make her way toward Goldah, while Weiss escorted the rest down the hall.

“Mr. Goldah,” she said with an equally unhurried if quavering warmth, “my name is Peggy De la Parra. I’m Julian’s grandmother and Charles’s mother … Eva’s mother-in-law. I’m sorry we haven’t had the opportunity to meet before this.”