Joshua: A Brooklyn Tale Part 41

"You didn't make it easy. All these years, this friends.h.i.+p, keeping it from me, your father. Did you also keep it from your husband, this friends.h.i.+p?"

"Binny knew that Joshua was my friend, Joshua was at my wedding, remember?" Snide.

"I remember many things, Rucheleh, many things. My mind works perfectly well; too well, I'm afraid. It's my heart that I'm worried about."

"Mama."

"Don't worry, Rucheleh. You're a big girl now, divorced and all. You can make your own decisions. I always knew you were somehow different from the other girls, you and Esther. I always knew we wouldn't be able to keep you. I tried to tell your father, but he wouldn't listen. Not you, not his little precious Rucheleh. 'She will bear rabbis and scholars,' he used to say. Not quite, I'm afraid."

Rachel watched as her mother drifted off to another place, distant and unreachable. "Mama," she said again.

"It's okay."

"Mama, nothing has happened between Joshua and me. It's really not what you're thinking. Yes, we're something more than friends, and yes, we love each other. But we have an understanding; we've always had an understanding. We're from different worlds, and we respect that in one another. There have always been lines that neither of us would ever cross."

"Until last night."

"Last night was a mistake."

"Last night was a sign!"

Rachel didn't respond.

"Don't you see how naive you are? How can you possibly expect a man to love you without insisting on being with you?"

"I know." Reluctant. "It's hard for him; it's also hard for me. But we both see everything that's going on these days, and we really have no choice."

"And how long will this understanding last?"

Rachel considered her mother's point. "Tell me, Mama, what is it that upsets you most, that he's black, or that he's not Jewish?"

"Oh please, Rucheleh, what kind of question is that?"

"One to which I'd like an answer."

"I don't know the answer. Neither is wonderful."

"Well, let me ask you this: what if he was to convert?"

"Then G.o.d would accept him. But I can a.s.sure you, the community wouldn't, especially today."

"Who cares about the community?"

"I do, your father did, and you should."

"People convert all the time; blacks have converted."

"And everybody laughs at them, thinking they're crazy, saying things like, he doesn't have a hard enough time being black, he needs to be Jewish too! They're scoffed at and ostracized, and you know it. And what do you think happens to their children?"

Rachel realized she couldn't argue with that. "I know, Mama, that's why it could never happen. Joshua is too proud of what he is to become anything else, and I suppose I'm..." She hesitated, then concluded: "I'm just too weak."

Hannah watched as tears fell from Rachel's eyes. She wanted to reach out to comfort her daughter and tell her that everything would be okay. But she couldn't; it wouldn't.

"So I guess you have nothing to worry about, Mama, nothing at all."

Paul Sims sat still, waiting for Rav Schachter to start the meeting. Being summoned was a distinct privilege, a sign he was gaining prominence with the elder. He tried to hide his curiosity.

"Well, Reb Pinchas, how have you been these days?"

"Baruch Hashem, thank G.o.d. And how has the Rav been?"

"Good, good, except for the recent crisis, of course." Schachter was referring to the killing of Israel Turner.

"Yes, a tragedy."

"There are terrible things happening in the world around us, and we must protect ourselves."

"Yes, we must. I think it is great that we have set up our own patrols. The streets will be safer." Paul knew that Schachter was one of the driving forces behind the establishment of the community patrols.

"Have you joined the patrols?"

"No," Paul answered, embarra.s.sed. "Not yet."

"Your partic.i.p.ation would be most welcomed, and invaluable."

"I have been planning to join." What does he really want?

"Good." Schachter stared into s.p.a.ce.

"Is there some specific reason for which the Rav has requested my presence?" In the past, Paul would have waited for Schachter to get around to it. He was feeling a bit more brazen these days.

"Yes, now that you mention it," Schachter responded. He hesitated, seeming to gather his thoughts. With him, it was always a chess game. "In addition to the patrols," he continued, "there are other ways in which we must fight to save our sacred corner of the world, ways in which a man in your position could be quite helpful."

Paul feigned curiosity, but had a sense of where this was going.

"It is my understanding that your father owns some considerable property in our neighborhood, and that you personally manage this property."

"Yes, he has three buildings, all of which I manage for him. He tried to sell them years ago, but the offers were meager."

"So he has decided not to sell?"

"For now. With my father, one never knows, but I don't think he's looking to put me out of work, or to have me go and work with him on the Island. By keeping the buildings, he gives me something to do, and keeps me away from his main business. I'm sort of an embarra.s.sment to him, I suppose."

"It is terrible, the way these a.s.similated parents treat their children who come into our midst."

"Yes, it hurts to think about it," Paul said, realizing that Schachter was coaxing him. He was beginning to find their dialogue amusing.

"Anyway, I have a proposition for you."

Paul realized it was now payback time for the elder's a.s.sistance with his father when he married Chava.

"I understand that most of the tenants of your buildings are shvartzes," Schachter said.

Paul nodded, hiding his distaste for that particular term.

"Would you like to change that?"

"Yes, I suppose," Paul responded hesitantly. "But it isn't realistic, considering the neighborhood."

"That is something we must change too, but first things first."

Normally, Paul would have dismissed such talk, but not when it came from Rav Schachter. Schachter was a man of power and influence, and everything he said was to be taken seriously. "Does the Rav have an idea in mind?" Paul asked.

"Yes, I do. I do indeed." Schachter hesitated before continuing, hoping to heighten Paul's curiosity, though unbeknownst to him, Paul already had an idea of what he was about to say. It was unusual for a man of Schachter's intellect to underestimate someone, and Paul enjoyed being that someone. The elder continued, "It is simple, and perfectly legal, I might add."

Paul nodded respectfully, but wasn't convinced.

"When an apartment becomes available," Schachter continued, "you tell us, and you rent it only to one of our own. It might take years, but we do have to think in terms of the future. In the end, the values of the buildings go up. Everyone's happy."

Everyone, except the blacks, Paul thought. "And what if someone finds out? I think it is against the law." Paul was uncomfortable challenging Schachter, but he didn't like the plan. He hadn't forgotten Loretta, the woman who had raised him and loved him more than his own mother.

"No one will find out, I a.s.sure you. The schvartzes are stupid, you know that. They'll never catch on to this."

"I'll have to discuss it with my father." Paul knew his father would never go for it, not because Alfred loved blacks, but because Alfred wouldn't do anything to endanger his business or his reputation. At least nothing so blatant as this.

"If you must," Schachter responded, wearing his disappointment. He had hoped to make a secret deal with Paul, not involving Alfred.

Paul felt a tinge of relief, he had found an out, if only temporarily. He knew, however, that Schachter wouldn't fold so easily.

"There is one other thing," the rabbi said.

"Yes?"

"Another possible way for you to help our sacred cause."

"I would be honored to do what I can."

"I am starting a group whose job is to compel local real estate brokers to arrange things so that we get first opportunity at any homes that come up for sale. The group will also visit with black homeowners in the immediate area to persuade them into selling their homes to us. Would you be interested in joining, perhaps even leading, this group?"

Paul didn't like this idea any better, but felt he couldn't refuse Schachter again. To his mind, it would be the lesser of two evils. "If the Rav believes I could be of service, I would be glad to."

"Good. Excellent."

"May I ask one question?"

Schachter nodded.

"How will this group be effective?"

"With money, of course."

"Whose money?" Paul asked.

"Not yours, so don't worry. I will raise the money, it will not be a problem."

Paul appeared uncomfortable.

"Please, Reb Pinchas, don't worry so much. There will be no violence, only financial negotiations. We will offer generous incentives if need be, whatever is required. We have no choice but to do this, no choice but to succeed. In addition to the crime problem, our families are growing in leaps and bounds. We have an influx of brethren from all over the world who need to live close to the Rebbe, within walking distance of the synagogue, and we have a shortage of housing. The situation will soon get out of hand if we don't act. The shvartzes can live anywhere, and with G.o.d's help, as far away from us as possible!"

Paul understood that there was no "we." The elder would work behind the scenes, command the troops from his study, but never actually get his hands dirty. And dirty was the word, for blockbusting was a dirty business and Paul was to be smack in the middle of it. Payback time, indeed.

It occurred to Paul that Schachter had probably never even intended to succeed with his initial request, but had used it only for bait, knowing that Paul wouldn't dare deny the elder twice. Paul had been outsmarted, and with his humiliation came a tinge of respect for the elder's savvy. "When does the Rav want to start this project?" he asked.

"Immediately. There is no time to waste."

CHAPTER 49.

It was six-thirty a.m. Joshua lay in bed, awake, listening to his mother preparing for work. He got up, walked into the living room, and saw her in the kitchen, standing at the table, folding her uniform. He walked in.

She looked at him. "You're up early."

"I know, didn't sleep much last night."

"I'll bet."

He wasn't surprised by the comment; he'd figured she'd heard most of what had occurred. "You were awake?"

"Who wouldn't be, all that screaming!"

"We weren't screaming, we were talking."

"Sounded like screaming to me."

He didn't argue.

"Tell me something, Joshua, why are you always picking women who are going to hurt you?"

"Good question."

She finished with her uniform, placed it in a shopping bag, picked up her pocketbook, and moved toward the door. "I best be going, don't want to be late."

"You don't have to go, Mama?"