Forever, My Homeland: The Final Book in the All My Love, Detrick Series, Page 2

  But what scared him the most, was that Nina had always been the type of person to stay active. Even after she’d left Mossad, she’d found things to keep her busy. She’d gardened, and made curtains, but during the last few months of her pregnancy, she was too lethargic to be interested in anything. She was tired all of the time and never felt well enough to take walks or get much exercise, even at Elan’s insistence.

  Since Nina slept a lot of the time, Elan was often alone. Untrue to his character, he had no interest in looking for other women. The old Elan, the womanizer, had disappeared when he fell in love with Nina. He didn’t miss the wild antics of his youth, but he did secretly miss working. He enjoyed having a purpose and somewhere to go.

  For Elan, there was a special camaraderie and excitement that came with being a part of an important organization, especially one that was essential to the survival of his beloved Israel. And yes, he hated to acknowledge it, but he missed the danger, that moment when he was not sure if he would come out of a mission alive. A strange thing to long for, certainly, but that adrenalin flow that filled his body just after he came within inches of death and survived was like nothing he could explain.

  Well, he’d promised Nina that he would be done with all of that, and he was. But perhaps once the baby was born and Nina was back to herself, he would see how she felt about him going back to work with Mossad. He would not be an agent, of course, but in the office, out of immediate danger, but still a part of the agency that kept Israel safe, the Secret Service of Israel, Mossad.

  Elan Amsel found it difficult to keep himself busy. He had no interest in books or building things around the house. He turned on the television but unless a sports event was being aired, he lost interest quickly. He did the best he could to cook for Nina, hoping that she would eat, but most of the time his efforts failed. Elan considered getting a puppy, a dog he could train. But he was afraid that in its exuberance the dog might jump on Nina and accidently injure the baby and right now they were both being very careful. After the blood spots, Nina had gone to see her doctor who prescribed staying off of her feet. In fact, he insisted that she get up only to shower once a day.

  By February, Nina was in her eighth month of pregnancy. She was bored and depressed with staying in all the time. She was still tired, but she felt as if life was passing her by. She was constantly complaining about how much she hated her stretched-out body and how sure she was that it would never be the same again. Elan shook his head. Women made no sense to him. She’d wanted to have a child more than anything else in the world, and now, he would catch her standing naked in front of the mirror and crying. And yet, when he talked to her about the baby, she was excited and happy. Women!

  One more month until the baby was born, and they still had not agreed on a name. Nina was lying on the bed with piles of books that contained names for babies surrounding her. She had lists of names for boys and more for girls, but she could not come to a decision. If Elan pushed her to make a choice, she snapped at him. So, he stopped trying to force the issue.

  One morning Nina felt as if her bladder might explode. She got out of bed and stood up to go to the bathroom. Her nightgown was covered in blood, and the sheets were soaked with it.

  “Elan…get up…” She pushed hard on his shoulder.

  He opened his eyes to see her standing over him. The white cotton of her night dress stained with red shook him awake instantly.

  “Nina… Oh my God!”

  He was immediately on his feet. Taking her arm he led her to a chair in the living room. “Stay here. I’ll call the doctor.”

  The doctor told Elan to call an ambulance, and he would meet them at the hospital in Tel Aviv.

  Elan was usually calm in a crisis. He’d been close to death more times than he could remember. But seeing his young wife sitting on the living room chair, her face whiter than their bedroom sheets and a pool of blood beginning to form at her feet, unnerved him. It seemed to Elan that the ambulance was taking too long. He would give them another five minutes, and then he would take control and drive Nina to the hospital.

  He knelt at Nina’s side and held her hand in both of his own. Elan was no stranger to death, and because of what he’d seen, he knew that Nina was losing too much blood. At first, his worries had been for the baby, but now as he saw her condition worsening, all he could think of was losing her. He’d endured the death of those he loved before, and it hurt, but he’d never felt such panic and even guilt. After all, even though she wanted a child, it was his sperm that made her pregnant. So the burden of responsibility for whatever happened to her fell upon him.

  The paramedics finally arrived. Elan helplessly watched as they lay Nina’s small frame with her large belly on a stretcher. One of her tiny feet stuck out of the blanket, and just seeing her small toenails painted pink against her olive skin made him want to cry.

  He followed the group into the ambulance and sat beside her, holding tightly to her hand as if he could somehow transmit his strength through his grasp into her. Elan would gladly have traded places with Nina. But of course, Elan knew better than to bargain with God. He’d tried that in the past and he’d never been successful. God had never listened to him.

  The loud roaring of the ambulance siren blared in his ears as Elan thought of all of the men he’d killed in battle and all of the people he’d killed with Mossad. He’d never given a thought to their families until now. Watching Nina, he felt their losses. It was his job to kill when enemies threatened Israel.

  He loved his country, and he understood how important the existence of Israel was to the survival of his people. He didn’t regret having done his duty, and if need be, he would do it again. But if there were to finally be peace, and he never had to kill another person, he would gladly do it. Death had an ugly face and to Elan Amsel, death was no stranger.

  Nina’s hand was growing cold in his. He knew what that meant. He prayed. Even though he didn’t believe in God, not really, still he prayed. There was nothing to do but pray. “God, if you are real as the rabbis claim that you are, and if you are there listening, I am pleading with you to have mercy upon her. I am not worthy of your forgiveness, but she is just a girl. She is so young. Please, God, I am begging you. Please...” Her lips were cracked and covered with a white film. She tried to speak, but her voice was so soft he could not hear it over the cry of the ambulance horn. He bent his head to her lips to hear her, but he still could not.

  When they arrived at the hospital, Elan was pushed out of the way as Nina was rolled into surgery. As the stretcher seemed to fly down the hall, Elan’s eyes caught Nina’s. She smiled at him. She looked unafraid. He began to cry, to weep, to weep as he’d never wept before. He fell against the wall and buckled over at the waist. Holding his face in his hands, Elan Amsel wept.

  He knew that this would be the last time he would see his beautiful wife alive. It was several hours before the doctor came out to tell him what he already knew. His wife was dead. Elan Amsel was a widower, and all alone in the world. Alone except…his child was alive. He had a daughter. Elan could not look at the child. He refused. Instead, he telephoned his brother Aryeh and told him the situation. If Aryeh and his wife Brenda did not come to take the baby, Elan was going to put the little girl up for adoption. The only feelings he had toward the infant right now were anger and hatred.

  Aryeh and Brenda arrived at the hospital a few hours later. Elan signed the papers over to them. They named the little girl Noa, for her mother Nina, and then they took the baby home. Elan never once peeked into the blanket, to see his child. Brenda carried the baby and Aryeh following behind her. They turned the corner at the end of the corridor leaving Elan standing alone in the hall of the hospital. His golden sun kissed skin looked alien against the antiseptic white walls.

  CHAPTER 2

  The day Nina died, Elan lost the will to live. What was the point in going on? Yes, he loved Israel. He’d been willing to fight for her and die for her, but he was no longer the
same man he was before he’d met Nina, his precious Nina.

  Like a tender plant rising from the earth, slowly she’d shown him that the love of a woman could engulf him in an embrace so strong that he would lose all sense of reason. She, with her bright smile and her deep understanding of his very essence, had seeped into the very marrow of his bones. Then slowly, ever so slowly, so that he didn’t even realize the depth of what was happening, she’d become his entire world.

  Once, long ago before he met Nina, he had loved a woman, Katja, but he’d given her up because of his foolish pride. She was not born Jewish. In his youth and arrogance, he was too self-righteous to go forward with their marriage, so he broke off the engagement. It had hurt him more deeply than he could ever admit to anyone. He had loved her, but not the way he loved Nina.

  Nina brought emotions to the surface that lay deep inside of Elan, emotions he had never known he could feel. Maybe it was because she was so much younger than he, and she was so beautiful that he felt in awe of the fact that she could even care for him.

  After Katja, he knew that he had to go forward with his life, somehow. So, he’d made the foolish mistake of marrying an American girl who he had not loved at all. Her name was Janice, and he did her a great disservice. Elan still felt guilty about dragging her into his life just to help him get over Katja.

  The relationship between Elan and Janice was a pure disaster. They were two strong-willed people constantly at odds with each other. There were no tender feelings on Elan’s part to buffer their constant arguments. When she’d finally left him to return home to her parents, he was relieved.

  At that point, Elan was sure that he was done with serious relationships with women. Oh, he still had needs, but that was all they were, just physical needs, like the need to eat, sleep, or even urinate. To satisfy those urges, he had passionate but short term affairs or one night stands that meant little more to him than a quick game of tennis. And strangely enough, Elan thought he was satisfied with his life.

  But then, by some miracle he’d met Nina. Her youthful exuberance, like a crystal pitcher, pure and sparkling filled with sweet wine poured into his worn and damaged heart, filling it with a thirst for more. His heart opened wider than he thought possible and it drank of her spirit as if it were a man parched and dying of thirst in the desert. Then, before he knew it, Elan Amsel was truly in love.

  There would be no shiva, at least not at the home Elan shared with Nina. He didn’t care what her parents decided to do—that didn’t concern him at all. All Elan knew was that he could see no point in having a house full of guests right now.

  Elan’s brother and his brother’s wife came to his house, to help him dress and prepare for the funeral. They rang the doorbell, waited several minutes and then rang again. His brother called out his name while banging on the window. Elan, frustrated and annoyed, finally opened the door, but he ordered them to leave. He would not attend the funeral. He had no desire to see his in-laws or his friends, or to feel their pity. As far as Elan was concerned, he didn’t deserve to be comforted. In fact, he refused to be comforted. It was his fault. He’d made her pregnant, and now he deserved to suffer.

  After Aryeh and Brenda left, Elan was alone. He sat in the darkness surrounded by silence that was broken only occasionally by the sound of an automobile going by outside his window. He preferred the darkness. The light only made his reality more unbearable.

  Oh, Nina. What am I going to do without you? Elan said aloud to the empty room. Everything in the little house he’d once shared with his late wife now held memories that tore him apart—everything: the copper pots that hung above the stove, the extra red and white blanket folded carefully on the end of the bed, Nina’s tiny white slippers. Elan noticed a small gray stain on the front of one of the slippers and just looking at the dark spot, he felt overwhelmed with grief.

  The days passed, and Elan did not dress. He stayed in his underwear, unshaven, with his hair uncombed. In fact, he could not remember the last time he’d showered. After he had plopped himself in his recliner, he didn’t leave his seat unless he had to use the bathroom.

  On the table beside him, a half-full bottle of whiskey kept him company. On the floor in front of him, several empty bottles lay abandoned. This was not the first time in Elan’s life when he’d buried himself in alcohol. He could not even bear to hear the sound of the television set or the radio. So he continued to sit in silence, reliving the memories of his lost love over and over again.

  Sometimes he fell asleep sitting up with his head leaning back on the chair or slumped onto the table. Once he’d knocked the bottle to the floor, shattering the glass. A shard had sprung up to cut his leg, but it had not even awakened him. When he did awaken, he cursed at the wasted liquor, then got up and went to the kitchen where he got another bottle.

  Elan wallowed in self-pity for days and days. Once in awhile he would try to eat, but the food stuck in his throat. Even though he’d done nothing, his emotions had left him exhausted. Finally, he decided to go into the bedroom, to lie down. When he pulled back the blankets, he saw the blood on the sheets and then eyed a strand of Nina’s hair on her pillow. He took the hair into his fingers and held it to his heart. Then, the reality set in again as vomit rose in his throat.

  Nina was never coming home. His beloved wife was dead, snatched away from him, right in the prime of her life. Why had God not taken him? He was a good for nothing, a cad of a man who had plenty of sins under his belt. So what kind of a cruel, merciless God would take a beautiful, kind, loving woman who deserved to live while leaving him to wade alone through the tumultuous waters of life? Damn you, he yelled at God. I forsake you…

  Then Elan sat down, put his face in his hands and wept.

  Several weeks passed. Elan ate very little, but he began to sleep a great deal. He moved from his recliner to the sofa where he lay and let the liquor do its magic. His dreams were sometimes fulfilling. She came to him in dreams. He could see her—touch her. It was his Nina in that white lace dress she’d worn the night they went dancing, her hair loose and flowing in wild curls framing her lovely face. Elan spoke to her, “I love you…Nina…”

  “I love you too, Elan,” she answered him. He felt her soft, featherlike touch on his brow. The only time Elan felt at peace was when he was asleep. Sometimes the dreams felt so real that when he awoke to reality, the pain was even harsher still. His eyes would open to the empty room, and his face would contort until tears covered it. Elan Amsel considered suicide because then he might sleep and never have to awaken.

  But once he entertained the idea of ending his life, Nina began to haunt his dreams. She would not allow him to come to her in peace. Every time he drifted off to sleep in an alcohol-induced slumber, she would return, reminding him that he had a daughter, a fact he was trying hard to forgot.

  He had never even named the baby. Aryeh had called and asked him if it was all right if they named the child Noa, she would be named for Nina. According to Jewish custom, parents often took the first letter of the name of a dear family member who had died, and used it to name the child. It didn’t matter to Elan. But that baby had meant the world to Nina. She began scolding him in his dreams, forcing him to face the fact that their little girl was his responsibility.

  Every time Nina appeared to him in a dream, she reminded him that she’d died to bring their baby into the world, and how he had abandoned the child. Nina threatened to stop coming to him. She would leave him to face the emptiness alone.

  Even sleep would bring him no peace if he did not go to Aryeh’s house and, at least, look at the face of his newborn infant, but Elan could not bring himself to go. He had no desire to see the child who stole his beloved wife from him, this baby demon who had ruined his life and was named for his beloved Nina.

  Elan began smoking again. It had been years since he’d quit, but he’d gotten into his car and driven to the store, just to buy a package of cigarettes. He wanted to hurt himself to punish himself for impreg
nating Nina and killing her.

  Coworkers and friends who knew Elan and Nina from Mossad came to see Elan, but he would not open the door when they knocked. Sometimes, he would look through the peephole and walk away. Other times the doorbell would ring, but Elan would not even get out of his chair to see who was there. He simply ignored them until they left.

  Early one morning in May, Elan noticed that the flowers that Nina had planted outside the kitchen window of their home had begun to bloom. The beauty of the tiny buds made him angry, furious in fact. Because he had been burying all of his feelings in a bottle of whiskey, this was the first emotion that he’d felt in a long time.

  Still in his briefs, without a shirt, and his hair long and disheveled, Elan ran outside. In a moment of sheer rage, he tore the flower buds from the wooden box that Nina had carefully hung on the window sill. He tore them and threw them to the ground. Then he called out to God, “Why God? Why Nina?” But there was no answer.

  He fell to his knees. The concrete of the sidewalk cut his legs, but he didn’t feel the sting because the pain in his heart consumed him and he could feel nothing else. As he looked up at the sky, Elan began to weep. His grief blinded him so that he didn’t notice Brenda, his brother’s wife, walking toward him carrying a small bundle. She came up and sat beside him.

  “Hi, Elan,” she said. “I’ve been coming every day, but you haven’t answered the door.” Her voice was soft.

  Elan got up and headed inside. He wanted to close the door in her face and force her to leave him alone, but Brenda followed him and stopped the door with her foot and entered behind him. Elan glared at her.

  “What the hell do you want?”

  “This is your daughter, Noa,” Brenda said. “I thought you should see her.”

  “I don’t want to see her. I have no desire ever see her.”

  “That’s too bad. She’s here, and I’m not leaving until you look at her.”