A Castle in Brooklyn(19)

One evening Jacob, looking slightly weathered from a long day’s work, came home to find Esther pinning the last fabric panel over the small window in the kitchen, which overlooked the alley down below. She turned slightly, gazing over her shoulder as he walked in. Jacob was trying to balance his black leather attaché case, rolled newspaper, metal thermos, and, nestled in the crook of his arm, a stack of mail he had picked up from the locked mailbox in the lobby. He threw his burden onto the new kitchen table, then tried to make a one-handed catch of the thermos as it rolled to the edge. He was not in time, and before Esther could react, the vessel had fallen off the table, sending a mocha-color stream across Esther’s shiny white linoleum.

“Whoops!” was all Jacob could manage as he stopped to grab the now-empty thermos while Esther rushed off the stool and began searching for a rag in the cabinet beneath the sink.

After removing his bowler and cotton jacket and hanging them up in the hall closet, Jacob returned to the kitchen and, as he encircled his wife’s waist, he felt a sudden sense of déjà vu. Was this a memory or just a long-buried dream? The feeling passed, and he sprinkled her slender neck with tiny kisses.

“What would I do without you, my star?”

Esther stifled a laugh at his use of a new nickname he had adopted for her. She seemed to rather like this shortened, though mangled, version of her name, which he claimed was a metaphor for her blue eyes, “just like shining stars.”

“You’d probably be an old and lonely bachelor, I bet,” she said, pushing him away as she rinsed out the soggy remnant of a sheet that had been repurposed. Jacob went into the bedroom and changed into his tan short-sleeve shirt and a pair of beige khakis. When he returned, Esther was already ladling a large helping of steaming carrots to accompany the slices of meat loaf and boiled potatoes on his plate. He guessed there would be a refreshing dessert after the meal, a Jell-O and fruit mold left over from the night before, a recipe his wife had picked up from one of her housekeeping magazines. Jacob could not help but wonder what he would be eating if he had never met her. Maybe another salami sandwich, as he often had for dinner after a long day at the seltzer-bottling company. Along with a bag of potato chips. Esther was right. He would have been an old and lonely bachelor without her.

Both satiated and content after having had his dinner, Jacob began to feel his eyelids grow heavy, but he fought the pull toward sleep when he glanced at his watch and realized Dragnet, one of his favorites, was scheduled to come on the tube in five minutes. As he crossed into the living room, with his favorite chocolate-brown leather recliner in sight, Jacob’s eye caught the stack of mail he had brought into the house before the fiasco with the thermos. Still standing, he picked it up, casually riffling through the bills and notices. A large official-looking envelope peeked out from the rest. It was addressed to Jacob only and had a government stamp on the back.

It was indeed a document, which at first he read quickly, and then more slowly a second time. As he did, a smile slowly seeped across his face until it seemed his cheeks could no longer contain it. He kept the words that would change his entire life to himself for a few minutes before calling Esther’s name. Her yellow crinoline skirt lifted as she sprinted to his side.

“What is it? What’s happened?” She leaned over, trying to make sense of the paper Jacob held in his trembling hand.

“It’s from your father,” he said, finally finding the words, “and it’s a deed for a parcel of land in Brooklyn.” The simple paper was beginning to feel like a fire in his hands.

She touched his arm lightly.

“I don’t understand. What does it mean?” He looked at her face, her pale skin, her eyes a serene blue.

“It means a house, Esther. It means we can build our own house.”

Jacob eased back into the brown leather recliner, but he didn’t turn on the TV to watch his favorite show; instead, the couple sat talking, planning their future, for hours into the night. When they finally settled into their queen-size bed, their heads abuzz with their plans, their prospects, neither fell asleep until the soft edge of a sun could be seen rising over the city’s gray skyscrapers. So it wasn’t until late the next morning that Esther handed him the unopened letter she’d found next to the recliner on the plush green carpet. Jacob recognized the writing immediately. When he finished reading, he looked at Esther, tears forming in his eyes.

“Another big piece of news. Zalman is coming home.”





EIGHT


Zalman


He remembered the story from all those years ago. It was something from the Bible. “King Solomon was not only the wisest king of all, but also one of the wealthiest. All that was the Euphrates River and then south in Egypt belonged to this great king. And even though he wasn’t the eldest in his family, his father made sure that in spite of his closest advisers, and even Solomon’s own mother, who conspired against him, Solomon would receive his due. And so it was that while still alive, David, the father, bequeathed the vast kingdom to his son. Having conquered his foes, Solomon went on to expand the borders of his kingdom west of the Euphrates, and it is said he owned twelve thousand horses with horsemen and fourteen hundred chariots, with colonies throughout Israel. Yet he did not remain content. He decided to take on the enormous task of rebuilding the Holy Temple with the help of Israelites and subordinate foreign nations. And what a structure it was! Stone and cedar, all overlaid with gold, housing elaborate decorations and tall vessels, a feast for the eyes! King Solomon went on to build his own palace, a citadel, a city wall. But there is nothing like the Holy Temple. And do you know how long it took Solomon to build that temple?”