Brooklyn Love (Crimson Romance) (8 page)

The penetrating ringing of the phone broke her trancelike concentration.

“It’s me,” the male voice announced on the other end.

“Daniel?” Within months, this man could become her husband. Her heart pounded so loudly that she wondered if he could hear it.

“I have to cancel tomorrow night. I have previous plans I completely forgot about.”

“You don’t want to go out with me?”

Daniel laughed. “It’s not that at all. I’d promised to go with Frisch to a comedy club for his birthday. He’s an old friend from Columbia, so it would be inappropriate for me to cancel.”

“Oh.” Her parents would be so disappointed. “I guess that’s a good reason to cancel a date.”

“Look,” he countered politely, “you could come if you like. But you might get bored with my friends from Columbia.”

“That sounds great! I’ve never been to a comedy club!” What would her mother say?

Ma called up the stairs. “It’s time to light the candles, Rachel.”

“I have to go,” Rachel told Daniel.

“All right, then,” he said. “I’ll pick you up Saturday night. Have a good Shabbos.”

Rachel hung up the phone and left her painting supplies out, her canvas drying. She took one last look at the muted portrait of a young soldier and his young bride gazing at each other with love in their eyes, knowing they were destined for each other. Basherte. Would that happen for her and Daniel? With that thought repeating itself in her head, she raced down the stairs before Shabbos descended over Brooklyn.

Rachel lit the Sabbath candles that were anchored proudly in ornate silver candlesticks. She was ready to greet the Sabbath Queen, an invisible presence, and a royal guest.

Ma lit a candle for every member of the family, even for her sons who had married and moved on to New Jersey. Rachel watched Ma make the blessings as she lit each candle until the polished silver candelabrum was ablaze with light. As the sun set, Rachel wished Ma a “Good Shabbos” and set the table with the white tablecloth used only for Shabbos. Daddy had already left for the synagogue, and Rachel placed two loaves of braided challah bread at his seat at the head of the table. She covered the challah and then set out chilled wine and a shiny silver goblet fit for a king.

“So where is Daniel Gold taking you after Shabbos?” Ma cut straight to the point.

Rachel carefully set out the glass wine goblets. “To a comedy club in the city,” she said, feigning indifference.

Ma settled onto the blue fabric couch in the living room to chat with her baby before Daddy came home from shul. “Comedy club,” she repeated, and added under her breath, “Still no supermarket?”

Rachel smiled as she set out the finest Sabbath china. “Ma, he’s definitely not taking me on a date to the supermarket.”

Ma pretended to examine a rip in the seat cushion. “Well, you know what I think about this whole dating nonsense anyway.”

“No, Ma, really, why don’t you tell me?” Though she must have heard the supermarket theory a hundred times, Rachel played along.

Ma stared Rachel in the eye. “I don’t think this dating business is appropriate for Orthodox Jews,” she proclaimed.

Rachel nodded, tacitly encouraging her mother to go on as she joined her mother on the couch.

“I mean, two people put on their best clothes and go out somewhere exciting and everything is so romantic. Is that reality, Rachel? Is it?”

“No, I guess not,” she replied agreeably.

“So a few months after the wedding, reality sets in, and they’re shopping together in the supermarket,” her mother continued, hitting her stride. “Now maybe they were romantically compatible, but maybe not in real life. Maybe he likes the expensive, plush toilet paper and she goes for the economic choice! You can tell a lot about a person in a supermarket.”

Rachel laughed. “I hear you, Ma. But I think you can get to know a person anywhere, even in a comedy club.”

Her mother waved her hand in disgust and pushed her big round glasses farther up on her nose. “Nu, what can you tell in a comedy club? That he’ll laugh at a good joke? So who won’t laugh at a good joke? But the glue in a marriage, the loyalty, the communication, the respect — even a person’s character, I tell you — that’s what you’ll learn in a supermarket.”

Ma was an independent thinker, and though Rachel had heard variations on the theme dozens of times, there was always a new angle. “Okay, Ma. Say we go to a supermarket instead of a club. What deep mysterious secrets will I uncover?”

Her mother frowned seriously. “Mamale, there are so many signs. How does a boy react when he’s waiting on line? Is he patient for ten minutes? Does he start cursing at twenty? Or try to cut the line, maybe? Is he polite to the checkout girl or the produce man? I’m telling you, life is full of these little trials. Believe me, had I gone with your father to a supermarket on a date, I’d have had a completely different view of him. Not that I’m complaining, of course. But do you want to be with some movie star image in a make-believe world, or with a fine character who’ll be a good life partner?”

Rachel picked up a novel from the coffee table. “And all this you can tell just by standing in line at a supermarket?”

“Well, the right supermarket, that is. Something crowded and pushy — you know what I mean.”

Rachel laughed at her mother’s sincerity. “You make it sound like it’s got to be one way or the other. Can’t a guy be exciting and also a good husband?”

Ma leaned back in the couch, acting defeated. “You laugh? A mother gives good advice to her daughter, and you laugh? A chutzpah!”

Rachel knew what her mother was thinking: that she’d successfully married off her three sons, and now her daughter was talking like an opponent and acting like a know-it-all. Maybe she got those ideas from that art school she went to. Maybe they shouldn’t have allowed her to go.

“Rachel, I’m saying that romance, excitement — it’s all nice, but it’s icing on the cake. But what makes up the cake — now that is very important.”

Rachel thought about Daniel Gold. He certainly was the worldliest man she had ever met, and that made him exciting. So far he’d taken her to a museum, a concert, a nice restaurant, and strolling along Battery Park. It had only been a few weeks since their first date — and each date was more exciting than the last. Most of her friends only got to go to hotel lounges or airports to talk. Maybe the boy would spring for a cola. But Daniel was a man of means and taste. Rachel didn’t know much about his character, but he seemed like a nice guy. More important, everybody who heard about his qualities loved him. Even Ma, no matter what she said. After all, it wasn’t like he was a waiter — or a rabbi.

Ma interrupted her thoughts. “The exciting guys are usually too busy being exciting to be there for their wives. Do you want an exciting guy, or someone stable like Daniel Gold — a husband to be there for you?”

As if on cue, her question was followed by two knocks on the front door. Tall and thin like Abraham Lincoln, with a generally quiet and inexpressive manner, Abe Shine entered his home. Rachel had always thought that her father was handsome. Tonight, he looked like a dashing Italian movie star.

She and her mother rose from the couch as he joined them in the living room, where he paused to take a deep, long breath, inhaling the special smell of the Sabbath. There was nothing as peaceful as this. “Good Shabbos, girls,” he greeted them, and they sang the traditional Sabbath songs, welcoming the angels that had walked home with him from shul.

Jewish lore held that good and evil angels accompany every man home from synagogue on Friday nights. If the home is a peaceful one that honors the Sabbath, the good angel will bless the home to sustain its good fortune; but if a home is filled with discord or disrespect for the Sabbath, the evil angel will curse the household to continue in a negative direction. The Shines’ Sabbath ritual left no question which angel would prevail.

Abe Shine sang “
Eishet Chayil
, A Woman of Valor,” King Solomon’s ode to the capable woman. Rachel reflected on how romantic she found this particular ritual. Every Shabbos, no matter the ups and downs of a relationship, the husband praises his wife in front of anyone present, recognizing her contribution to the home and family. But her father didn’t need the Sabbath to show such appreciation. He often expressed his pride that his wife was a true
balabusteh
, not just in the home, but also in every way. Her advice, encouragement, and sacrifices had helped the family succeed and thrive; if it weren’t for her, he would not be in the position he was in now.

Rachel watched her father gaze at his wife, now pleasantly plump after many years of marriage, and remembered that he had once told her that he still saw his wife as the beautiful child bride he’d married. A petite and voluptuous redhead, Debby Shine had been just seventeen at the time, but she was so bright, kind, and vivacious, he’d known through his core, from the moment they met, that she was his basherte, the only one for him.

Debby would laugh at his romanticism and say that she’d married him simply because her parents told her to look for a husband who was tall, professional, and didn’t wear glasses — and Abe fit the bill. Still, she would admit that she had heard music around him and couldn’t figure out where the music was coming from. They were engaged after three dates and still happily married many years later. And the funny thing was, Debby Shine had confided in Rachel, sometimes when it was very quiet, just sometimes, that she still heard Abe’s music.

After the songs, Abe made
kiddush
, the blessing over the wine, heralding the holiness of the Sabbath. As they washed their hands for the ritual of breaking bread, Abe made a blessing over the rich, brown challah, and when the women answered “Amen,” the Sabbath meal began. They ate the delicious chicken soup (not mushy), roast beef, potato kugel, and salad with gusto, ever grateful for their present blessings.

Rachel’s parents had both grown up extremely poor, in families in which one parent was an American and the other an immigrant. The stories abounded of Abe’s childhood, living in a rat-infested tenement in Williamsburg, where one chicken in a watered-down soup had to last a week of dinners for seven people, and the toilet seat lid had to be kept closed to prevent the sewer rats from swimming in from the plumbing. Abe had once seen a rat climb out of the toilet when someone in the family forgot, and another time he’d had to frighten a rat out of his baby brother’s crib.

But that was then. After years of struggling and bringing up four kids with no outside help, their life was a different story now. Abe was a tax attorney and a partner in Kaufman and Shine, a thriving law practice. Debby, who’d earned both an MBA and a license to sell securities, worked as a financial advisor, and she maintained an attentive pulse on whatever her clients needed. Abe and Debby often worked together, offering clients complete packages that often saved them thousands of tax dollars. Everyone in the community had heard of them; their honesty and commitment to their clients was renowned.

Rachel was proud of her parents, but more than that, she enjoyed them as her friends and advisors. She had faith that they wanted what was best for her and would try to steer her straight. Although she felt for Leah, she couldn’t relate to their other friends who rebelled against their parents or complained about their angst-ridden relationships. And although her mother could be overbearing, Rachel thought that her parents were nearly perfect. At least tonight, they were infallible.

“So Rachel, I noticed your light on in middle of the night most of this week,” said her father, opening the dinner conversation.

“Mmm.” Rachel slurped her soup. “I’ve been busy with school — a big project.”

Ma interjected. “Just school?”

“Well, also, Daniel Gold has been phoning.”

“He’s a catch,” Ma chimed in. “Makes money.”

“Ahh,” replied Daddy. “Good guy?”

“The dates have been fun. He’s taken me all over. He’s bright.”

Her father nodded his head. “That’s nice.”

“He’s a Columbia University graduate, Abe. He’s a smart boy,” said Ma.

“Good, good.”

Ma continued. “He’s taking her to a comedy club after Shabbos is over.”

Daddy looked genuinely surprised. “We sure didn’t do that in our day!”

Ma agreed. “When we were dating, it wasn’t so formal. Maybe Hassidim were formally introduced, but the rest of us met at dances or basketball games.”

Rachel wistfully shook her head. “I wish!”

Ma sighed. “I don’t know why everybody got so formal, the rabbis so strict. So they don’t want kids jumping in the bushes, but no need for all this formality.”

“True,” said Daddy. “It’s nice this fellow thinks outside of the box.”

Ma looked at him. “But a comedy club? How do they get to know each other like that?”

Rachel shrugged. “It sure beats another boring date watching the planes take off and land at JFK Airport.”

Abe laughed. “Enjoy it, Rachel. You’re only young once.”

Rachel knew her father was somewhat curious about his daughter’s suitor, but he wasn’t going to talk about her social life unless she brought it up. He didn’t want to intrude. Abe felt it important to let his kids learn to make their own decisions, especially a decision as big as whom to marry. Within reason, of course.

“So what’s that project you’ve been working on so late into the night?” he asked.

“I’m doing a scene for an illustration class. The teacher, Tricia, wants us to produce a painting of True Love. I’m hoping to finish it for the internship contest with Disney. In fact, I’m going to do a series. The students will have their portfolios reviewed by a Disney representative later this year, and whoever has the best portfolio gets to work for them in the summer.”

Her father smiled. “That’s a wonderful opportunity.”

“What? Where would she stay in Florida?” Ma demanded. “Aunt Shelley lives in Miami Beach. How would she commute to Orlando?”

“Ma, I didn’t win yet.”

“But still.”

Rachel groaned. “Could we cross that bridge when we come to it?”

Ma shook her head. “But what if you get married soon? How do you know if this fellow would want to go to Orlando?”