year behind him in school, she’d always been a bit shy despite her warm nature. Added to that, his grandmother noticed his interest the first time she’d seen him watching Zehava at Temple. You will wait , she’d told him, Wait until she is older .
And he had, until the day he’d called her about the death of Zehava’s father. After Zehava had left with her mother late that night, Nona told him he didn’t have to wait anymore.
“What do you think now?” Nona asked, reminding him she was still there.
“I think I need her to forgive me. She doesn’t hate me although she has every right, and I’ve been a….” He hesitated to say it.
“You have been a jackass.” His grandmother nodded. “You were also a boy. Arrogant, stubborn, and full of pride. Now you are a man. Show her that. You have waited long enough, Isaac.”
The assessment stung, but he couldn’t find fault with it. “I do have one question.”
“What is that?” She patted his leg again and stood.
Rising to his feet quickly, he offered her an arm. “Why didn’t you or anyone else try to stop Zehava from putting our son up for adoption?” In the recesses of his mind, that always bothered him. He’d asked her not to. Practically begged, yet she’d been firm in her conviction. Her mother hadn’t fought her, and neither had his family. They were all so tight-knit in the community, always poking their heads into everyone else’s business. So why not that time?
Nona paused and caressed his cheek. “Ahh, Isaac. We all discussed it. She came to each of us, asked for our advice. She spoke to the rabbi, she spoke to her mother, and she spoke to yours. Like you, we were all included and we listened with our ears and our hearts. She treasured your son, as she treasured you. What she wanted for him was all any of us ever wanted for you. Zehava and you were both so very young, so very stubborn—what she needed from us was what you needed. Our support.”
“Do you wish you’d talked her out of it?”
Did he? And could he ever stop punishing himself for not figuring out a way?
“No.” Nona’s answer surprised him. “Isaac, you love that boy even though you have never seen him, don’t you?”
His chest hurt to even think of the baby, so he only nodded.
“And that is as it should be. No, I do not wish I had talked her out of it because I trust that God has a plan. He sent Moses to a pharaoh to be raised, and Esther was taken in by her cousin after the death of her parents. You were not ready for your son, nor was Zehava, yet you both loved him and entrusted him to the care of those who were. Those are not acts of selfish love, only of good faith, compassion, and trust. Do not regret what was. Embrace what you can have and stop being a pigheaded fool about Zehava.”
“This pigheaded fool loves you, Nona.” He gave her a hug, careful of her stature, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”
“Of course, and do not be so late tomorrow without calling. I am not so old that I won’t thrash you for worrying me.”
She lightened the bruise on his heart, and he smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
It took everything Zehava had to get out of bed the next morning, shower, dress, and go to the community center. Standing inside with the doors thrown open and everything half-set up, it occurred to her that it was Thanksgiving. The likelihood of any of her kids showing up before sundown seemed very slim. Barely nine a.m., the empty day stretched out in front of her like a gaping wound.
She’d waited for an hour after Isaac left the night before, but when he didn’t return, she locked up and went home. She’d talked on the phone with her brother, her sister-in-law, and her mother for a couple of hours.
“Good. You’re here.” His voice crashed into her, and she jumped. Relief flooded through her. After the way he’d left, she hadn’t expected to see him again.
“Where else would I be?” The hardly welcoming, tart reply earned
And he had, until the day he’d called her about the death of Zehava’s father. After Zehava had left with her mother late that night, Nona told him he didn’t have to wait anymore.
“What do you think now?” Nona asked, reminding him she was still there.
“I think I need her to forgive me. She doesn’t hate me although she has every right, and I’ve been a….” He hesitated to say it.
“You have been a jackass.” His grandmother nodded. “You were also a boy. Arrogant, stubborn, and full of pride. Now you are a man. Show her that. You have waited long enough, Isaac.”
The assessment stung, but he couldn’t find fault with it. “I do have one question.”
“What is that?” She patted his leg again and stood.
Rising to his feet quickly, he offered her an arm. “Why didn’t you or anyone else try to stop Zehava from putting our son up for adoption?” In the recesses of his mind, that always bothered him. He’d asked her not to. Practically begged, yet she’d been firm in her conviction. Her mother hadn’t fought her, and neither had his family. They were all so tight-knit in the community, always poking their heads into everyone else’s business. So why not that time?
Nona paused and caressed his cheek. “Ahh, Isaac. We all discussed it. She came to each of us, asked for our advice. She spoke to the rabbi, she spoke to her mother, and she spoke to yours. Like you, we were all included and we listened with our ears and our hearts. She treasured your son, as she treasured you. What she wanted for him was all any of us ever wanted for you. Zehava and you were both so very young, so very stubborn—what she needed from us was what you needed. Our support.”
“Do you wish you’d talked her out of it?”
Did he? And could he ever stop punishing himself for not figuring out a way?
“No.” Nona’s answer surprised him. “Isaac, you love that boy even though you have never seen him, don’t you?”
His chest hurt to even think of the baby, so he only nodded.
“And that is as it should be. No, I do not wish I had talked her out of it because I trust that God has a plan. He sent Moses to a pharaoh to be raised, and Esther was taken in by her cousin after the death of her parents. You were not ready for your son, nor was Zehava, yet you both loved him and entrusted him to the care of those who were. Those are not acts of selfish love, only of good faith, compassion, and trust. Do not regret what was. Embrace what you can have and stop being a pigheaded fool about Zehava.”
“This pigheaded fool loves you, Nona.” He gave her a hug, careful of her stature, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”
“Of course, and do not be so late tomorrow without calling. I am not so old that I won’t thrash you for worrying me.”
She lightened the bruise on his heart, and he smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
It took everything Zehava had to get out of bed the next morning, shower, dress, and go to the community center. Standing inside with the doors thrown open and everything half-set up, it occurred to her that it was Thanksgiving. The likelihood of any of her kids showing up before sundown seemed very slim. Barely nine a.m., the empty day stretched out in front of her like a gaping wound.
She’d waited for an hour after Isaac left the night before, but when he didn’t return, she locked up and went home. She’d talked on the phone with her brother, her sister-in-law, and her mother for a couple of hours.
“Good. You’re here.” His voice crashed into her, and she jumped. Relief flooded through her. After the way he’d left, she hadn’t expected to see him again.
“Where else would I be?” The hardly welcoming, tart reply earned
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