Rabbi Gabrielle's Defiance (27 page)

"In a staging room near the operating
theaters on the third floor. I'll meet you in the main lobby."

Gabby looked with exasperation at Kye. "I've
got a friend with me. Can I bring him along?" she asked.

Mild surprise caused Asa to pause. Gabby
almost never mentioned male friends as though the matter was
off-limits. "I guess so. Only, he can't talk about what he will
see."

"Not to worry. My friend's in a business that
requires secrecy. It will take us about thirty minutes to get
there."

When Kye and Gabby arrived at Georgetown Hospital,
Asa was pacing the reception area, not reading a pocket-book, as
was his habit while waiting for people. Gabby had spoken of
Politicstoday
, but had not mentioned its
CEO and president. She reckoned he was too preoccupied with Tybee
to suspect a relationship with a Korean entrepreneur. The
introduction was cordial, almost businesslike.

A few moments later, they rendezvoused with
Anina, dressed in a smart gray skirt, beige lamb's wool sweater and
black leather Italian pumps, outside the Surgical Unit and she led
them to a conference room to view a plaster models of Tybee's face
and sets of X-rays attached to backlit viewing boxes lining the
wall.

Gabby found the life-sized replicas
grotesque. Burnt flesh she would have expected to be hidden under
bandages was naked and exposed. Crenulated ridges imitated Tybee's
cindered skin; an ugly pit with protruding bone represented a
destroyed left cheek. She glanced at Asa to register his horror, an
instant before Anina placed her hands on the plaster deformity as
though a loaf of bread, positioning it for better viewing. "The
first thing we must do in a burn is to stabilize the injury, which
means fighting infection and giving the surgeon a clear view of the
surviving bone and epidermis. What you see here is scarred but
functional skin. Tybee's doctors are planning a series of skin
movements and replacements. A child presents both difficulties and
opportunities. Tyebee's doctors much anticipate the future growth
of her cranium. We need to refashion her facial features so that
her skull can grow into them, so to speak. Here's where science
stops and art begins." Her finger pointed to parts of the model
where acute attention to detail was required.

Gabby attempted to imagine Asa's thoughts. At
the time of the accident, doctors spoke about the complete
restoration of Tybee's face in positive, reassuring terms. But
Anina was now telling a different story. Clearly, the specialists
had exaggerated. Tybee's nose, eyelids, and ears would have to be
re-built from skin transplanted from her limbs and buttocks. A
second smaller model with far less detail represented an
approximation of what the surgeons had in mind for a result. It
looked nothing like Gabby's image of young Tybee.

"The idea is to pull healthy epidermis from
this region," Anina drew a long, artistic forefinger over the
model, "and tuck away loose flaps in this region. To do this I
think Hank Rasknick will make modifications to her jaw. It's
important to understand that scarring epidermis tends to shrink
during the healing phase. It gets tough and unruly. So it must be
stretched often to prevent contraction. At the Hospital Center
we're working with
sterolithography
, a
relatively new method for facial reconstruction." She reached
across the table to a clear plastic mask approximating Tybee's
facial dimensions. "A mask like this forces the disfiguring scar
tissue to conform to our demands, not what nature would like to do
on its own. Her lower lip is going to present the greatest
challenge. The work needs to be staged carefully to allow her to
eat. There are two lip specialists doing innovative work in Sweden,
but they're both tied up and can't fly to Washington for at least
three or four months. We're considering sending Tybee to
Stockholm."

Kye had remained silent during Anina's
explanation, but suddenly came alive. "Why not teleconference the
lip procedure here and connect to the specialists in Stockholm?
That shouldn't be difficult to set up."

Anina angled her face toward him, squinting
through eyeglasses that sparkled with spotless clarity that she
insisted her vision demanded. What Kye suggested was within the
possibility for Tybee's treatment, but would add additional
costs.

"My company does transatlantic networking
regularly," he continued. "Linking people is our bread-and-butter.
We're in the process of downsizing, but I'm certain we could
establish links with our associates in Sweden."

Anina evaluated the animation in Asa and
Gabby who considered any help for Tybee to be worthwhile. She said,
"Is this for real? Because if you're offering, I'll mention it to
my partner and he can approach Dr. Rasnick, who personally knows
one of the Swedish surgeons. I'd do this myself, but Franklin is on
far better terms with Hank Rasnick than I am. I'm sure the
Morgensterns would be delighted."

To Gabby, Kye said, "My group has a generous
pro-bono policy and since I make final judgment on what we
underwrite, there won't be any charge to the Morgenstens, unless
they have deep pockets. These days we're tight on cash, but I can
strong-arm my associates in Sweden who owe me a few favors."

Asa shifted his view from the second model to
Kye Naah as he spoke, "These lips are horrible. I just can't
imagine Tybee going through life with them."

Anina replied. "Would you like her better
without differentiated facial features to speak of?"

"No. That's not what I had in mind. It just
seems so unfair for a beautiful little girl."

"She's only eight," Anina resumed. "In the
course of her life, new techniques will be developed. Often we go
back and make corrections. Keep in mind, what my colleagues are
planning is only the first stage."

To Kye, Asa said, "Thanks for your help. I
sometimes believe technology saves the world, not faith, but just
cold, impersonal innovations in science."

Kye's fingers went instinctively to Asa's
shoulder. "Don't underestimate your value, Rabbi. Doctors do one
thing; technicians another. But it's still the spirit that governs
them both. Not one of us would be any good at innovation without a
feeling of worth and purpose. Besides, what's all our work for
anyway?" Here he withdrew his eyes from Asa and laid them on Anina.
"We'll do what we can."

Kye willingness to help, despite his own
troubles, impressed Gabby. She gave him a squeeze of affection as
they followed Anina and Asa into the hospital corridor.

***

"Tom-tom drums are beating," Chuck warned
Gabby the following morning. He possessed inordinately sensitive
listening antenna for shifts in sentiments around Ohav Shalom and
she had come to rely upon his warnings.

Though early in the morning, when she usually
felt most energetic, she sighed in obvious fatigue. "Don't tell me,
I can guess."

"You didn't expect your sabbatical, did
you?"

"No, but I do expect my contractual
responsibility to be met. The thought of hiring a lawyer gives me
the willies."

"And you don't see how the Trustees are
scared to death about a Morgenstern lawsuit?"

"Whether or not I'm in the saddle doesn't
matter. There will be long delays and I'll be back before it cranks
into full motion. Long continuances are routine."

"That's if you don't win the election. I may
be the only one in the Jewish community who knows that's
not
impossible. You can't fool me – if you
run, you'll win."

She dismissed him with a demeaning chortle.
"Tell that to Toby Ryle's followers. They're never going to vote
for me."

"Jews aren't the only voters, you know. You
underestimate your popularity outside the Jewish community. Once
you announce your candidacy, the press will lionize you. And we all
know how that translates into votes."

He followed her into her study. At her desk,
she pivoted around to regard him. "So what tom-tom drums are you
hearing, friend?"

"You're not going to like it."

What possessed her to pucker her lips like a
young school girl, she didn't know. "Okay, let's hear the bad
news."

"The Board was unhappy with Asa's deposition,
saying he contributed far more than was necessary. They want you to
ride out the Morgenstern monsoon. Stan Melkin's secretary asked me
to clear with you a date for dinner at his home on Tuesday. If that
works in your schedule, he'll invite other members of the Board.
Dottie Melkin will present one of her world-famous
order-up
dinners and Stan will dig deep into his
renowned wine cellar for a fabulous chardonnay. Then they'll
deliver the
coup d'grace
. No sabbatical
for Rabbi Gabby this year."

"Then I must win the election. Want to work
with me in my new congressional office on Capitol Hill?"

"What do I know about politics?"

"You're the savviest politician around." Her
eyes glowed in play as she tilted her head coquettishly.

"I'll give it serious thought, Congresswoman.
Both of us need a change."


***

Before Congress passed anti-discrimination
housing legislation, Stan Melkin's home in Kenwood Park was
off-limits to Jews and Negroes. Known for its cherry blossoms in
spring, Kenwood is an affluent single-family residential community
of Bethesda, just north of the District of Columbia. Naked winter
branches on a stand of cherry trees cast tormented shadows over the
illuminated white brick façade of Stan's home. Dottie Melkin, who
had greatly enhanced her husband's career by being a consummate
hostess, knew how to greet Ohav Shalom's trustees at the front door
as though members of the family. By the time Gabby received her
welcome, seven trustees were well through their first cocktail. As
she greeted them, each recalled one or another personal service she
had rendered during the course of her tenure at the synagogue.

Sensing the guillotine blade would strike
immediately after Dottie's elegant dinner of grilled salmon,
asparagus, and scalloped potatoes, Gabby made conversation with
difficulty. Some people fill their stomachs with food when nervous.
Not her. Her digestive tract shut down. She could do little more
than pretend to eat by pushing morsels of food from one edge of the
plate to another. The fruity California chardonnay Chuck pledged
Stan would serve went down a bit easier. On the surface, Ohav
Shalom's trustees and directors remained cordial and respectful.
Yet with warfare about to erupt, it was difficult for her to regard
them as friendly allies.

After a parfait of mixed fruits and apricot
ice, the party adjourned to the living room for coffee. Joseph
Weinrod, silver-haired and immaculately tailored, asked for
permission to smoke a cigar. Caroline Pryerson, surviving scion of
a philanthropic family who had long seen to the financial needs of
the congregation, proclaimed that cigar smoke made her nauseous,
rejecting the request abruptly. Gabby sat on a piano bench, a few
inches higher than the others sunken in soft sofa pillows. Dottie
Melkin passed among them with a tray of white porcelain coffee
cups, followed by a stainless steel thermos with decaffeinated
coffee.

Stan's commanding look gathered together the
synagogue trustees. One eyebrow invaded the domain of his forehead
before he anchored his eyes on Gabby. "We promised to deal with the
matter of your pending sabbatical. I suspect that we would have
dealt with it earlier had it not been for the Morgenstern tragedy.
Still, we owe you a decision and I'm afraid it isn't the one you've
been hoping for."

Heads bobbed, a concurrence in the judgment
about to be rendered.

"Gabby, please understand that we're
painfully aware of the history behind this matter."

"There were promises made, Stan," she
inserted herself impatiently into his argument, "not on one
occasion, but twice, both by your predecessors as presidents of the
congregation. I brought my notes with me this evening."

By clearing his throat, he prepared for a
plea. "Gabby, please understand that the sole function of the
trustees is to ensure the continuity of Ohav Shalom. In the course
of our negotiations, we've re-read your employment contract and
I've taken the liberty to duplicate the relevant passages. It's
true that we agreed to provide you with a sabbatical of an
undetermined period after your seventh year of service and you are
now in your eleventh. But by the same token, the language is quite
specific about the circumstances under which it is to be granted.
To refresh your memory about this contract I've made copies." He
pressed a stapled photocopy in her direction, then read the
relevant passage, “
That such sabbatical will be
granted only with the specific approval of the Board of Directors
and only after provisions have been made for a qualified
replacement.
Neither of those two conditions have been met.
We do not wish technicalities to divide us."

She said, forcing control into her voice, "If
these aren't technicalities, what are? Since four of you are
lawyers, I would be foolish to argue the exact wording of the
contract. During my tenure not once have I, or any member of the
Board, referred to this contract. We have always operated as though
we had an old-fashioned shake of the hand, a gentlemen's agreement.
Now suddenly, you wave my employment contract before me. What
happened to the verbal promises? Do they just evaporate? In ancient
days, Jews would go to the city gates and make vows to one another
before witnesses. Such vows were considered absolutely inviolable
and the penalty for breaking one might result in death. Are the
words of Ohav presidents inferior to language on a contract written
over a decade ago? Should I have brought a lawyer to represent me
at this gathering?"

"Hold on, Gabby," Stan's palms shot out in
front of him. Additional photocopies of her employment contract
slipped from his lap to the floor and remained there. "We would not
request a postponement under ordinary circumstance. But we're
facing a very taxing and potentially damaging law suit."