Betty Deutch shook her head to indicate he was missing the point. "I mean you like this temple, the congregation, the work you're doing."
"That's the best part of all. No problems with the board, everyone going out of their way to be agreeable, and I only do whatever work I care to do. That sermon now. you know when I wrote that?"
"Of course. You used it in your first pulpit in Coventry, Michigan, and again when you first came to Darlington. Connecticut. And I didn't really have to ask if you were happy here." she said with a smile. "I can see that you like it. Have you thought that it might be a good idea to stay on?"
"Oh, that's out of the question. Betty. This is just a temporary job. Rabbi Small will be back in another month. Besides." he said. "I’ve retired. Remember?"
"Yes, I remember, dear. And I also remember that you weren't very happy in your retirement. A man like you, a man in good health and vigorous, you've got to have something to do. You can't just spend your time moping around."
"I wasn't aware that I was moping around." he said stiffly. "I was planning to do some writing, some scholarly work that I’ve had in mind for some time now—"
"Oh, Hugo, face reality. If you had writing to do, you would have started right in doing it. You would have done it while you were still the rabbi of the congregation in Darlington. You certainly wouldn't have spent those months just hanging around."
"I was mulling over in my mind a number of projects." he said.
"No. Hugo. If you really want to write, you write." She shook her head. "Don't you see? The work you're doing here, running a temple and a congregation, that's your work. And you're awfully good at it. So why not continue?"
He turned away, hurt. "Well, I'm sorry you think that my writing plans were just so much make-believe—"
"But they were, Hugo. dear. Don't you remember when you thought the congregation in Darlington was sure to ask you to stay on, and you wondered what you'd do if they didn't. Then you said at least it would give you time to put your papers in order and that you might edit your sermons for publication. But that just meant that you weren't ready to face the thought of retirement. But they didn't ask you to stay on, and you had a few months of retirement—"
"I was sure they were going to ask me to stay on." he said quietly. "They hadn't picked a replacement yet. At least, they hadn't been able to agree on one. But." he said resignedly. "I guess after thirty years, they get tired of you."
"The congregation changed. Hugo." she said in a tone that suggested they had had this discussion many times before. "A different class of people came into power and began running things." She smiled. "Besides, you were getting tired of them, too."
"Yes, that's true."
"But here." she went on. "everyone respects you. If you were to stay on—"
"It would be the same." he said. "Everyone is kind and courteous and pleasant because they know I'm here for only a short while. If I had a regular long-term contract, it would be the same here as it was in Darlington."
"Don't you believe it. Hugo." she said quickly. "You were a young man when you came to Darlington. You had nothing — no money, no reputation. They were in a position to push you around, and they did. until over the veers you gained strength and won their respect. But here, they know you don't need them. Your pension is almost what they're paying you. Nobody here can push you around, and they know it, so they won't try. Oh, Hugo," she pleaded with him. "you could stay on for another five veers or seven years, and then we'd move to Florida or perhaps go to Israel."
"Well, it's not a bad idea. I mean taking another pulpit," he conceded, "but of course, this one is out of the question. You seem to forget that Rabbi Small will be back in another month."
"How do you know?" she said sharply.
"Well, that was the— the general agreement. I was hired for three months because Rabbi Small was due back in three months."
"It's not quite like that. Hugo." Even though they were alone. Betty Deutch lowered her voice. "There are a couple of girls in the Sisterhood that I'm really friendly with, and they let down their hair. Did you know, for example, that Rabbi Small is not being paid while he's on leave?"
"Not being paid?" He was horrified. "You mean they stopped his salary?"
"As I understand it, he refused it. He refused to talk about a contract and even refused to promise that he was coming back here."
Rabbi Deutch found that hard to believe. "He seemed like a very level-headed young man. It seems quixotic for a young man with a family to refuse to take his salary. Of course, it could be the way it was offered."
"But it also could suggest—"
"Let's say, it makes one think about possibilities." He nodded. "Yes, it makes one think."
Chapter Twenty
The Small family settled into a regular routine, and within a few weeks they felt as though they had lived in Jerusalem for years. In spite of her meager Hebrew. Miriam was perhaps the most acclimated, by reason of her busy schedule. After she had got Jonathan off to school, she went to the Hadassah Hospital, where she did volunteer work five mornings a week. She would get home by one o'clock, giving her an hour before the stores closed for the afternoon, to do her shopping. Previously, she had decided what she wanted to buy and had asked her husband for the Hebrew words for the articles or looked up the unfamiliar words in a dictionary. Sometimes she would practice the sentences she might have to use and recite them to the rabbi so that he could correct her if necessary. "How much are these a kilo?"
"Do you have larger ones?"
"Will you please deliver these to Victory Street, number Five? You may leave them outside the door if I am not at home. The milk and butter I will take with me."
Afternoons, while Jonathan returned from school, played with Shaouli. she went to the Ulpan, the special school that gave an accelerated course in Hebrew. In the evenings, after supper, she would prepare her Ulpan lessons for the next day. Sometimes, she and David would go for a stroll in the evening or. on rare occasions, get a baby-sitter so that they could go to a movie or spend an evening with friends they had made.
For Jonathan, there was the happiness of having a number of children of his own age living in the immediate vicinity, quite different from the situation in Barnard's Crossing. And he was picking up the language, more rapidly than his mother for all her lessons and homework. Within a few days he had begun to call her Eemoleh and his father Abbele, the diminutives of Emah zn&Abba, the Hebrew for "Mother" and "Father." He spoke in English to his parents, even when he knew the Hebrew for what he wanted to say, but more and more Hebrew words crept in, and the common short sentences—"I want a glass of milk." or "I want to go outside to play"— were apt to be entirely in Hebrew.
Gittel had chosen wisely in the matter of a school. There were three or four nurseries and kindergartens in the area since practically all the mothers worked, but the one she had selected fortunately had several children who were English-speaking— their parents either were on extended visits from the States or the English countries or were new settlers. So the transition to Hebrew was made easier for him. At first he played with the English-speaking children exclusively, but as he began to gain knowledge of the language, he played with the others as well. Shaouli, the little boy from the upstairs apartment, was of course his most constant companion and his best friend.
As for the rabbi, even though he had no routine to adhere to. time did not hang heavy on his hands. In a sense, he had been master of his time all the years he had been in Barnard's Crossing, too. There had been meetings to attend, committees to consult with, counseling to give, but none of them came at regular hours. He kept no regular office hours and was not subject to a daily routine. So here, his day was not too much different from that at home. In the morning he went to one of the nearby synagogues for morning services, and afterward he might linger on to talk with some of the other worshipers, perhaps even breakfast with them at a handy cafe. He explored the city. And he read much, finding the many bookstores and the completeness of their stocks a constant source of surprise. And of course, he worked on his Ibn Ezra paper.