Joshua: A Brooklyn Tale (39 page)

CHAPTER 42
 

Rachel Weissman Frankel caught the eye of each and every one of Stephen Butler’s male friends. The royal blue bridesmaid’s dress was simply exquisite, and perhaps a bit too fitted for a “married” Hasidic woman. But Rachel chose to wear it anyway. She’d moved out of Binny’s house a month earlier, and though she hadn’t yet received her
get
, or Jewish divorce, it wouldn’t be far off.

Her father had disapproved of the dress, but had held his tongue. He and Hannah had been worried about Rachel. Not being able to bear children was the worst curse a woman could endure in their world, and the stigma of divorce was no picnic either. If this dress would bring Rachel even a glimmer of cheer, they could overlook it.

The bridal party gathered under the canopy. Esther, Stephen, their respective parents, Rachel, Stephen’s brother, and Rabbi Isaac Weissman. It had been a bumpy road, but somehow they’d all made it.

Lazar Mandlebaum was a wealthy man, so much so because he’d been obsessed with his diamond business and neglectful of his family. Constantly traveling the world, leaving his wife alone with their four daughters, sooner or later he knew it would catch up with him. His wife, Leah, had warned him that she’d sensed rebellious fires in their eldest daughter, that Esther had needed more love and attention than a mother with four children could afford. But Reb Lazar had pretended not to see.

The day that Isaac Weissman had visited the Mandlebaums had been a sad one, yet the news the rabbi bore hadn’t been so shocking. The Mandlebaums would have to find thankfulness in their hearts that the boy was at least Jewish, would have to pray to God to help Esther and Stephen find their way back to a Torah life, and would have to give more attention and devotion to their other girls.

After all the tears and anger, this had been the resolution. And Rabbi Isaac Weissman had acted both wisely and gallantly in helping bring it about. Rachel looked into her father’s weary eyes as he offered the betrothal blessings. The last time she’d heard him utter those words had been beneath her own canopy, and his eyes had seemed far more spirited then. He was not alone in having lost his zeal, he was not alone in having become tired, worn, and despairing. And he was not alone in forging ahead despite it all.

Blessed
art
Thou,
oh
Lord,
our
God
 
. .
 
.

Paul Sims sat in his living room, staring into space. It was past twelve, and as usual he couldn’t sleep. His mind had been ablaze since the news of Rachel’s divorce. He could think of nothing else. He had to admit that this gave rise to more than a tinge of guilt, but he was well beyond choice or probity. He had to have her.

He tried rationalizing, reminding himself that the actual biblical prohibition against adultery applied only to married women, not married men, and that—in fact—most of the men in the Bible had several wives. Of course he knew that there were clear rabbinic rulings against such practices nowadays, but he wanted what he wanted.

The only problem was Rachel. She hadn’t been interested in him before, so why should he imagine that she would feel differently now? He didn’t, but he still had to try. As for his being married, he couldn’t see her rejecting him on those grounds; after all, she had been married when he had caught her with Joshua.

And what of Joshua, Paul wondered. Were they still seeing one another? Were they truly lovers, or had he exaggerated their association for his own designs? Soon enough, he mused, he would have answers to all his questions.

Paul waited, and watched her parents’ home for days. From shadows and alleyways, he tracked her every move, meticulously calculating just the right moment to approach her.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he said, jumping out of nowhere, grabbing the door to her building.

She was returning from the market, with overflowing bags in each arm. “Paul! You scared me,” she reacted. “Thank you,” she added, trying to catch her breath.

“It’s Pinchas now.”

“Oh yes, I remember. Sorry.”

“How have you been?”

“Good, I suppose.” Uneasiness. She was still shaken by his appearance, and was uncomfortable with such questions to begin with. It seemed the entire world had been aware of her travails, and she wished everyone would stop reminding her. She hurried through the door.

“Let me help you,” he repeated, following her into the lobby.

“Thank you, but it’s not necessary.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, reaching for the bags.

She gave him the bags, but wished he would go away.

Stay
Calm
, she told herself as she pressed the elevator button. They stood there in silence, the elevator moving ever so slowly. He couldn’t help staring; she couldn’t help noticing.

This
was
what
God
had
intended
a
woman
to
look
like
, he told himself.

I
can’t
wait
to
get
upstairs
and
lock
the
door
to
my
apartment
, she told herself.

The elevator arrived. “Thank you very much, Pinchas, but I think I can handle them from here,” she said, attempting to recover the packages.

“Really, it’s fine,” he insisted. “It isn’t right for you to schlep when I can do it for you. Besides, I haven’t seen your parents in such a long time.”

“My father’s in the yeshiva.”

“He is? I should have realized. But I would like to say hello to your mother.”

Rachel thanked God that her mother would be home. They approached the apartment door, and Rachel took out her keys. She opened the door and, as she walked in, she realized they were alone. Her anxiety had caused a momentary lapse of memory: Hannah was at her weekly Bible class. Pinchas, however, had known all this. He had done his homework.

Paul saw himself to the kitchen, laid the packages on the table, and made as though he was leaving. He approached the door, where Rachel was standing, waiting to see him out.

“Well,” she said, “thank you again. I’ll tell my parents you came by.”

He heard a quiver in her voice. “To be honest, I was really hoping that they wouldn’t be here,” he said.

“Pardon me?”

“I was hoping we could, sort of, be alone.”

“Pinchas, this really isn’t…”

“Right,” he interrupted. “I know.” He attempted to sound rational, but his mind was possessed.

“I think you should leave.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d like you to.”
Stay
cool
!

“Am I not good enough for you?”

She sensed his rage.
Careful
, she told herself. “You’re married!”

“So were
you
when you were with Joshua. Are you still with him?”

“Excuse me?”

“I saw the two of you together. I know all about it.”

“About what?”

“About
this
,” he answered as he reached out and touched her. He was out of control, desperate just to feel her in his arms at last.

She backed away, frightened.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I want you to leave.
Now
!” Trembling.

Paul struggled to restrain himself, to keep from doing something really stupid. Suddenly, almost miraculously, a moment of clarity emerged, ordaining him to heed her demand.

He turned away, wondering if he would ever be able to look at her again, and walked out the door in shame.

He wandered for blocks, confused and dejected, worried about the potential consequences of his actions.
Would
she
tell
anyone
?
Would
Chava
find
out
? What was he to do?

A thought came to mind. He could blow the whistle on her and Joshua. After that, nobody would believe anything she would have to say. It was cruel, but what choice did he have?

He also knew just to whom such information would be most valuable. The one man who would appreciate it and use it wisely. He quickly turned on his heel and headed to see Rav Schachter.

Paul was flattered at the rabbi’s willingness to see him with barely a moment’s notice, but wasn’t sure what to make of it. Last time, he had waited weeks for an appointment. Perhaps it was divine intervention; it certainly made him feel better to think so.

In truth, however, Rav Schachter had a special interest in Paul, and had known from the start of their relationship that Paul would one day prove to be useful. With all the racial problems emerging in the neighborhood, entrée to a man such as Alfred Sims could be quite valuable.

“Good day, Pinchas, I hope things are going well with you and Chava,” the rabbi opened, leaning back, seeming unbothered by the intrusion.

“
Baruch
Hashem
, all is well.”

“
Gut
, then what brings you here this afternoon?” Right down to business.

“I have come with unfortunate news.”

The rabbi raised his eyebrows.

Paul continued, “It is a matter requiring the utmost discretion, a matter that I now realize I should have brought to the
Rav’s
attention long ago. It concerns the daughter of Rabbi Isaac Weissman.”

Schachter appeared nonchalant, but Paul saw through the mask. He knew the rabbi was eager to hear what he had to say. He proceeded to relate his tale, omitting not a single detail of that afternoon on the boardwalk. A few years had passed since the incident, but his recollection was impressively vivid, arousing Schachter’s suspicion of the veracity of everything he was hearing. But Schachter was a pragmatist, and believed in the old adage: where there’s smoke, there’s fire. This was something he could exploit.

“This is an interesting story, Pinchas, but it is about something that happened quite a while ago. Tell me, do you have any direct knowledge that there is
still
something going on between this man and Rachel Weissman?”

“No, I only saw them that one time.”

“And why have you brought this information to
me
, and why
now
, after all this time?”

“I have been grappling with what I saw for a long time. At first, I had considered telling someone or asking someone what to do with such information, but then I thought that I would probably have been doing more harm than good. I didn’t know how to proceed, so I kept it to myself. I suppose, in hindsight, that was wrong; a woman suspected of adultery is a serious matter and her husband has a right to know.”

Rav Schachter nodded.

Paul continued, “Lately, I have been feeling guilty about the way I handled this. I have been wondering how
I
would have felt if it had been my wife, God forbid, and another man had seen her doing something like this, and had concealed it, as I have. It is unthinkable.”

“So why do you come now? The marriage between Rachel and Binyamin is over.”

“But the sin has still been committed, both hers and mine. I know I can’t do anything about hers, and I suspect that the
Bet
Din
wouldn’t choose to do anything at this point either, but I can do something about what I have done, or
haven’t
done, as the case may be.”

“So you have come here to confess?”

“And to ask how I can repent.”

The rabbi began to realize that this “penitent” was even more clever and cunning than he’d imagined. “You have expressed yourself quite well,” he said, “and you are correct that neither I nor the
Bet
Din
would act on such information, considering that such action would serve no purpose for the ‘husband.’ The fact that you did not come forth when you should have, also seems to have had no actual bearing on the unfolding of events in this situation. The
Eibeshter
, our Creator, has obviously resolved the matter on His own.”