Blues in the Night Read Online Free PDF Page B

that’s what I missed most about you, Molly. Your subtlety.” He was smiling, too, apparently amused. “I think they saw me as a challenge.”
    I decided to let that pass. “How long were you there?”
    “Three years. I loved every minute. The learning, the rabbis, the guys, the environment. The falafel,” he added, probably fending off some smart-ass comment from me.
    “The falafel’s great,” I agreed. “And the schwarma.” Ribbons of succulent lamb sliced off the meat as it’s roasted on a skewer over a grill. “I spent a year there, too.” Studying in a girls’ seminary, touring, like most of my classmates. “Funny that you and I didn’t bump into each other.” I wondered what direction my life would have taken if we had.
    “So you know Yerushalayim,” Zack said, using the Hebrew for Jerusalem. His voice was wistful, as though he were talking about a lover, not a city. “It’s like no other place in the world, isn’t it? I didn’t want to leave.”
    “Why did you?”
    “My parents were pushing. Time to come back, figure out what to do with my life.”
    After returning to the States, he’d received rabbinic ordination and had been assistant rabbi in a large synagogue near Philadelphia for two years when the B’nai Yeshurun position became available. He’d missed L.A., smog and all.
    “Your parents must be thrilled to have you back,” I said. “And they must be
kvelling
.” There’s no perfect English translation. Proud as hell comes pretty close.
    “So they tell me.” His smile was becomingly shy and self-conscious. “Although I get the feeling they’re still disappointed that I turned down law school, and they worry about the politics of being a rabbi of a large shul. Three hundred fifty members, according to my dad, is three hundred fifty bosses. Not counting the spouses.”
    “Including the Hoffmans,” I said. “Ron’s parents? Ron and I were married, but we divorced two years ago.” Something Zack no doubt knew, but I felt a sudden need to make sure, don’t ask me why.
    Zack nodded. “I was sorry to hear things didn’t work out.” He paused. “But I guess you and I wouldn’t be sitting here if they had.”
    “I guess not.” For a second I wondered what he’d heard, and from whom—Ron, maybe? his parents?—and I had to stop myself from continuing down this familiar path that led nowhere. “So are you nervous about all those congregants?”
    “It’s the challenge of the pulpit. I figure I’ll win them over one at a time. That should take me about, oh, give or take six years.” He flashed a wry smile, then speared a chunk of chicken cutlet. “Actually, this’ll be my first
Shabbos
officiating, so wish me luck. Rabbi Newman was there over thirty years, and the congregation adored him. It’s hard to compete with a legend.”
    I had vague memories and several wedding-album photos of the pleasant, slouch-backed, gray-haired man who had officiated under my
chuppa
. Ron and I met with him once before the wedding and then two years later, when I received my get, the Jewish divorce that granted me freedom.
    “I’m sure you’ll be fabulous, Zack. You have experience, and you have the perfect rabbi’s voice.” He did—deep and resonant and gravelly. “And if you have problems with the men, you can charm the ladies, just like you did in high school.”
    He laughed. “My reputation was highly exaggerated.”
    “You had a new girlfriend every three months,” I reminded him. “I lasted only two, by the way.” I could talk about it easily now, but at the time I’d been stung, had spent more nights than I care to remember crying myself to sleep.
    “Then I owe you a month, don’t I? I’d like to make amends.”
    His tone was light, but the way he was looking at me, as if I were the only person in the world, made my face feel warm. I’d been taken in by that look before, had practiced writing
Mrs. Molly Abrams
on the inside cover of my AP History folder on the