Rabbi Gabrielle's Defiance (21 page)

"Do family members sue one another?" Gabby
was caustic.

"Excuse me," Stan interjected. "I said this
was not the right time to debate."

"It is the single most important issue facing
this congregation," growled Lucien Belinky. "The urgency will not
bear postponement. We're stuck in mud unless we resolve the matter
of Rabbi Folkman."

"I'm sorry, Lucien," the president matched
his adversary's urgent tone. "I’m invoking the privilege of my
office. Our meeting is closed. The only open question before us is
whether to sponsor the Disney re-enactment and I suggest that,
since this is a religious question, we defer to the views of Rabbi
Lewyn. I'm perfectly willing to go along with her judgment and I
hope you are, too."

Stan paused to look for a rebuttal but there
was none. And to Gabby he said, "Then, Rabbi, the show is on your
stage and that's not meant to be a pun. Please let me know in
twenty-four hours."

"Thanks, Stan, twenty-four hours will do just
fine." She already knew her answer, but given the churlish mood of
the board members, she determined a cooling down period would be
helpful.

***

Two days later, a Federal Express package
arrived from Cook, Melkin & Serinovick, Stan Melkin's firm,
containing two separate letters. The first was addressed to Gabby
and written on Stan's legal stationery. She assumed it was sent by
FedEx in order to obtain a signature of receipt.

Dear Gabby,

I am delighted to learn that you wish to proceed
with the Disney production
From Slavery to
Freedom
. This is just the kind of thing Ohav is obliged to
do for community relations. It will be a grand educational
achievement.

Now, please let me address the bombshell you dropped
into our laps regarding you intention to oppose Toby Ryles in the
Eighth District. First, let me emphasize the fundamental principle
of this democracy that any citizen may seek public office and
represent his/her constituency. However, there is a strong
consensus that Toby Ryles has been a good and loyal friend of the
Jewish community and a long-time supporter of Israel, even in a
time when that support was grudgingly withheld by other Republicans
in Congress.

While we affirm your right to run, we must point out
that a race against Toby will offend many who regard this as an act
of betrayal toward one who has served our interests for many
years.

Gabby, I fear our congregants will interpret your
campaigning adversely, perhaps damaging the enormous good will you
have engendered through your years of service. Within the week, I
will be communicating with the membership explaining matters
dealing with the Morgenstern tragedy and your proposed
sabbatical.

On a very personal note, I cannot think of a more
able individual to help govern this ungovernable nation. I would be
very disappointed to see you leave our pulpit. Though I suspect
most of your congregants will not vote for you in order to keep you
at Ohav Shalom, I pledge my personal vote.

Your plans make this sabbatical a bit more
complicated. I shall do my best to resolve it as soon as
possible.

Best personal wishes,

Stan

The second document was a letter from Marc
Sutterfeld from Morrison and Grant to F. Nelson McKesson,
representing Dominion Mutual, of his intention to depose Rabbi Asa
Folkman at the earliest convenient time. The request, Gabby knew,
was a routine civil action. Normally, she would be amused by legal
machinations, but not when they were directed against her
colleague.

She placed a call to Shirley Delinsky about
the process of depositions.

"Do you know Marc Sutterfeld?" Gabby
asked.

"Yes. We often meet a bar association
meetings. Once we defended different parties in the same
lawsuit."

"I hope he's a gentleman."

"Don't count on it. Marc is an advocate.
Normally, lawyers, especially Jewish ones, have a soft spot for
rabbis. But I'd be surprise if Marc doesn't play the role of a pit
bull terrier."

"Besides the lawyers from Dominion Mutual, is
someone from the synagogue going to be there to assist Asa?"

"I'm sure Stan will. Perhaps Marvin or me. We
can't prevent our client from telling what he knows. Nor can we
counter hostile questions. There's a fundamental law about being
deposed. You can't win; you can only lose. Asa must understand that
this isn't a forum to make a claim or prove a point. It's only
fact-finding. So if Asa says the wrong thing, it could come back to
bite him and us."

"Will he be coached?"

"I would hope so. Counsel for Dominion Mutual
must have something in mind."

"I'd like to be there." Gabby replied.

"If Marc agrees, but I don't think he will.
My suspicion is that he'll want to depose you later and would like
to use your testimony to punch holes in Rabbi Folkman's."

"Asa has no intention to dissemble."

"I would expect nothing less."

CHAPTER SIX

PIZZA ANGEL

Almost every winter, Washington DC is visited
by one or two blizzards. And this February brought a dilly. Snow
began falling just before the homeward bound rush-hour traffic,
snarling workers in the District of Columbia headed home. It took
Gabby an extra hour and a half of hard, nerve-racking,
bumper-to-bumper driving to reach her Bethesda townhouse where a
bitter wind ripped through naked dogwood and cherry trees lining
her street. For some reason, the automatic thermostat failed to
activate her oil-burning furnace and her home was a bone-chilling
cold. Fortunately, a manual emergency switch reset the burner.
While collecting the day's voice and email, she remained huddled in
her heavy wool overcoat and gloves.

Early in her career, she experimented with an
unlisted phone number. On occasion, she would give it to friends,
but before long it became a favorite for many congregants eager to
reach their rabbi in the evenings and on weekends. A new and
heavily-guarded number produced a groundswell of angry mail to the
synagogue's Board of Directors. Members felt entitled to have
access to Gabby 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and resented any
barrier to protect her. The Board passed a resolution affirming the
right of their rabbi to privacy, but simultaneously acknowledged
the corresponding right of members to call when in need and relied
upon their discretion not to abuse the privilege. The result was
that Gabby's private number rang more than the published number.
She had no alternative but to accept the inevitable as an
occupational hazard. Often, when it became impossible to take care
of her personal life, she would let her voicemail collect messages,
then answer them at a more convenient time.

On this occasion, there were thirteen voices and
seven emails – one of which caught her eye because it arrived with
the distinctive logo of the company motto:
Only
Connect
.

Hi, Gabby,

Please come and have lunch with us
tomorrow. My associates were very impressed with you on New Year's
and they think you're an absolute dream candidate for the Eighth
District. We like to think of ourselves as a family and there is
unanimous feeling that you would fit in very well. Lunch here is
informal and not particularly nutritious. Given our financial
condition, we've become reluctant peanut butter addicts. At least
it will give you an idea what we're like when not horsing
around.

Kye

Slipping away from the synagogue to have lunch with
Kye and his associates had definite appeal. She liked what she had
seen on New Year's Day and was intrigued by the dynamism of this
youthful organization, rushing against the clock to bring their
technology to the upcoming congressional elections. This was unlike
any business she knew. The sense of community at
Politicstoday
stirred her natural affinity for
communalism. She couldn't talk in public about this penchant for
communalism because who in these heady days of capitalism wanted to
be mistakenly labeled a socialist or, God forbid, a Communist? Were
she to declare her feelings that God's abundance ought to be more
equally distributed among His creatures, she would be regarded as a
left over from the flower children days of the 1960s. Kye's
organization of shared dreams she found spiritually refreshing.

During the wee hours of the next morning,
warming air replaced frigid northern air, melting much of the
previous day's snow. Heavy rains pattering on the roof woke Gabby
before dawn, promising to melt the snow before the commuter rush
hour to town. Yet on National Public Radio the early morning
forecast remained unfavorable. The Weather Service predicted that
on the tail of the rain a second arctic cold front was sweeping
south from Canada and would turn the newly melted snow into
dangerous sheets of ice. Travel by midday was expected to be
extremely treacherous.

When Chuck Browner entered Gabby's office to receive
his marching orders for the morning, he observed her weariness.
Usually, she managed to sound cheerful and optimistic, but a faint
gargle in her throat and eyes that failed to rise above her reading
glasses revealed an inner exhaustion.

"Know much about
Politicstoday
?" she asked as he stood in the doorway,
watching her from afar.

"Only what I read in the papers. Kye Naah
attracts enemies like Charles Darwin in the southern Bible belt.
Moi
? I think he's on to something with his
e-campaigning. This town needs some shaking up. We've become
complacent about our government being the very best that money can
buy. If Naah's technology can change things, he's got my support.
Unfortunately, I read in the Post that his creditors are ganging up
to topple him."

She was startled that he knew so much, yet
Chuck often surprised her. "He's invited me for lunch today in
Prince George's County."

"You're not going across the street until
this ice melts," Chuck asserted his protection.
"You're probably
right, but let's see how things develop. Major roads will clear as
soon as they lay down salt. Once I get on the Beltway, it's an easy
shot to Lanham. Lot's of heavy trucks to clear the roads."

A small smile parted his lips and his eyes
began to dance. "Well, well, Rabbi Gabby. What are you up to these
days?"

On the spur of the moment she decided to drop
a bombshell. "They want me to run for Congress in the Eighth
District of Maryland. Should I?"

He shot back without an instant's hesitation,
"Only if you'll take me to Congress with you,"

"Whoa, horsey. I'm only running not elected.
But if a miracle occurs, I wouldn't want anybody else."

"Okay, now stop toying with me. You're not
really thinking of it, are you?"

She studied her reddish knuckles before
lifting her eyes to regard him. "I'm not sure. I'm intrigued and
flattered. Don't bother trying to talk me out of it. I already know
it's a dumb idea. Why give up a profession I love for one I would
probably hate?"

"Because you live dangerously," he said. "If
this isn't an oxymoron, you're more comfortable in a discomfort
zone than a comfort zone. But before you think of driving to Lanham
in this weather, I recommend having lunch with me here where we can
work out your mid-life crisis on a full stomach."

"I need a favor, pal," she added.

He eyed her skeptically. A request like that
usually meant something outside his job description.

"Sooner or later, the Fire Marshal's office
will issue an official report of the Morgenstern accident. Most of
what caused it is pretty clear. Still, I'd like you to call the
Fire Department and request a copy of this report. If the
Department won't cooperate, get in touch with Dominion Mutual
Insurance. Harold Farb will give you the contact and phone
number."

"Playing detective… again?" He drew out the
last word for dramatic emphasis.

"No. I want to know what's in store for us.
My hunch is that before we see any daylight on this issue, we're
going to be in a long, dark tunnel for some time."

A few minutes later, he called through the
open door to her study. "I can't get
Politicstoday
on the phone to decline the lunch
invitation. No answer. I just called the phone company. They said
there's a power outage in Lanham – due to ice on the power lines.
Phone lines are also down."

"Please, keep trying. I don't think they'll
expect me in this weather."

Before leaving the office at the end of the day,
Chuck leaned though the door to Gabby's study and shook his head
negatively. "Sorry about not reaching
Politicstoday
. I just learned that power's been
restored to the area; the phone company also admits to loss of
service, but claims all phone lines have been restored. I still
can't get through."

"Thanks for trying," she said, then lowered
her eyes to the desk. Queasiness stirred her stomach and
telegraphed an intuition that this was more serious than it
appeared. She didn't believe in extrasensory perceptions, yet could
not ignore the strength of her intuition, however irrational.
Something was wrong at
Politicstoday
and
there was no way for her to know exactly what without driving to
Lanham. Travel by car in the rush hour was likely to be hell. But
that condition was likely to change in a few hours. She reckoned
that since most employees at
Politicstoday
lived in an adjacent office building, finding Kye after hours
shouldn't be difficult.

In the interim, Asa Folkman weaved his way
through Chuck's cluttered office and found Gabby's door open. She
was at her desk with her rimless reading glasses perched above her
forehead, nestled in wavy brunette hair that was normally allowed
to float where it liked. In a rare moment of idleness, her eyes
were gazing abstractly through the window and, until he stepped
into the office, remained glued on some distant object. When she
finally acknowledged his presence, her dimples rippled. She liked
him to feel free about interrupting her.