Kraven Images by Alan Isler

them. Could it be that the events of the past hour had unhinged her, had shaken her loose from the plane of reality and precipitated her into a scene from a three-handkerchief tearjerker of her impressionable girlhood? Was she some sort of schizophrenic? Did that delicious body harbour a host of differing personalities? The wild amoralist of his Thursday-night amours had long since given him reason to question her sanity. He had paid too little attention, perhaps.
    Stella turned to Widerschein. ‘Rabbi?’
    Widerschein stroked his beard gravely. ‘As I see it, we deal here with a question of adultery.’
    Stella flinched.
    ‘To solve a problem, first you must identify it. The Talmud says, “The man who calls a date a fig, except he wants to save a human life, is a no-goodnik.” And Rabbi Gamliel comments, and again I translate, “Don’t make hanky-panky with the truth.” We’re talking maybe from pinochle here? I don’t think so. No, we’re talking from adultery. You don’t like the word is one thing, the truth is another. Listen, to make you feel better, Bathsheba probably didn’t like it either. About her you know. So, any questions? No? Good. We begin.’ He turned to Stella. ‘You Jewish?’ The question was punctuated by an upward corkscrew motion of the right forefinger.
    ‘No, rabbi, I’m not.’
    ‘Your husband, could be he’s Jewish?’ The identical gesture, now with left forefinger.
    ‘No.’
    ‘Okay, you were perhaps married in a synagogue, under a
chupa
, a rabbi officiated?’ Both fingers at once now, spiralling upwards in complementary directions.
    ‘No, no, and no.’
    ‘Aha!’ Widerschein smacked his fist into the palm of his hand. ‘Then there’s no problem.’ He saw the puzzlement on their faces. The simplicity of these laymen! The simplicity, especially, of gentile women! He leaned forward, both hands open, palms upward, as if revealing something fragile and precious. ‘Turns out, you’re not married, don’t you see? Not married, no possibility of adultery. No adultery, no problem. It’s simple. You thought you were talking from a fig. Wrong. You were talking from a date.’ He sat back, satisfied. ‘Hoo boy, are you lucky!’
    There was a moment of utter silence, and then Kraven began to laugh. Early cut him off. ‘Rabbi, you as crazy as
he
is.’
    ‘Thank you, rabbi,’ said Stella. ‘Mrs Byrd?’
    ‘Honey, ’fore you does anything, you best choose up which of ’em you wants.’
    Kraven’s stomach began a slow churn complicated by delicate lateral flutters.
    ‘I must tell Robert the truth.’
    ‘Stella, don’t react too hastily, for pity’s sake. Have you considered –’
    ‘I realize now I’ve been considering it for months, ever since I began noticing your little slips. For example, the time you phoned when he was still home.’ It had been after eight. Poore-Moody should have been well on his way to Brewster by then. ‘The time you had the bottles of wine delivered in mid-afternoon.’ He had given a clear order that they not be delivered before eight-thirty. ‘And today, not waking me up. That’s what I was thinking about while I was inside dressing. I don’t doubt, darling, that consciously you were motivated by concern for my honour. But subconsciously you were forcing the moment to its crisis. What you wanted from me was a decision. And that is Early’s point too. She knows I must decide.’ Stella stiffened her back. ‘Nicholas, I can’t, I won’t, give you up.’
    Early and Widerschein simultaneously released a sigh.
    Kraven’s stomach gave a sudden lurch. ‘Stella, be very sure –’
    ‘Darling, darling, I
am
.’
    ‘Stella, I –’
    ‘No need to say it, my precious one, my own dear Nicholas, I’m as happy and, yes, relieved as you are. In the long run, it’s a kindness to Robert too.’
    Kraven admitted himself baffled. This was a Stella beyond his ability to interpret. What was it she contemplated? Separation, divorce, remarriage?