Serializing a new novel.
Chapter 10: Esther, Jerusalem July 2000 - Part 1
We leave Fred Smith, Daniel, and his parents in the
Amazon, to meet Esther of Jerusalem.
Esther watched the deep dark blue of night slowly changing to
gray, filtering through the slats of the blinds. Each morning
as she woke, the realization came to her that her days of
school and Seminary lay behind her. Soon she would get up and
go to work. She had trained to be a teacher but when it
proved difficult to find a post as a new inexperienced
teacher, she had looked elsewhere.
She had been lucky to find a post at Ezrat Horeinu an
organization that had begun as a soup kitchen in the early
fifties. Now, besides providing a hot meal each day for old
people, there were a variety of other activities, from
shiurim at their small beis medrash, to lessons
in the afternoon for poor children who were falling behind in
the class work. The secondhand clothing shop provided good
clothing at rock bottom prices. During the summer holidays
they ran a day camp for girls who otherwise would have been
alone at home while their parents went to work.
It was a fascinating place to work, even if her job involved
nothing more than sitting at the switchboard and directing
calls. Esther had tentatively suggested that she help with
the day camp since this was related in some way to her
teaching experience. However she had been told that all the
posts had already been filled. In any case these posts would
end when school began again and if she didn't work at the
switchboard now, then they would have to hire someone else.
That meant that at the end of the summer there would be no
permanent post available for her. So she smiled and said she
saw the difficulties involved and remained at the
switchboard.
The sun was rising now, throwing a reddish gold tint onto the
walls. Soon her younger sisters would wake up. Esther took
her sketchbook from the drawer of the small table next to her
bed and, looking out of the window, spotted an old man
walking slowly to shul. The lines of his tallis
mirrored the lines of the archway through which he had just
passed. With lightning strokes of her pencil, Esther drew the
scene. Just as she was finishing she heard her sister mumble,
"What's the time?"
Esther hastily packed her sketchbook into her purse. No one
approved of the time she spent "scribbling." They hadn't
approved at school, when she sometimes got so involved in her
drawing that she forgot to listen in class. Her mother didn't
approve when she found her "scribbling" in a notebook rather
than doing her homework or helping her younger sisters with
theirs.
Again her sister said, "What's the time?"
With her sketchbook now safely hidden, Esther said, "Shush,
don't wake the others. It's only seven o'clock and there's no
school today. Remember, you're on holiday. Go back to
sleep."
Soon Esther walked through the narrow alleys that took her to
the offices of Ezrat Horeinu. Almost as soon as she sat down
at her desk in the small lobby entrance, the phone began to
ring. "Is it too late for my daughter to attend the summer
day camp? I thought I would be home for the holidays, but
their other cleaner let them down and they insist I come
in."
The young woman who ran the program came in just then, "Speak
to the camp director and see what she says," Esther replied,
thinking of the desperate woman on the line and hoping that
somehow they would make space for the girl.
Esther gave a quick explanation and then handed the phone
over to the girl running the day camp.
The calls followed, one after another. There was one
inquiring when the secondhand clothing shop was open. There
were calls asking if the afternoon teaching program continued
through the summer holidays. A call came from a municipal
social worker about including another family in the food
delivery scheme.
On that particular day all the office staff were out. The
director had gone to Tel Aviv to meet an important American
donor. The secretary had gone to the town hall offices to
file papers for a hoped-for new extension. The deputy
director was negotiating with a supermarket to provide them
with fruit and vegetables at a special rate. So, for many of
the calls, all that Esther could do was take a name and phone
number and give a promise that there would soon be a call
answering their query.
It was midday when a call of a quite different nature came
through. It was in English. Esther drew in her breath and
concentrated. School English had involved more writing than
talking or listening.
"Oh honey, I wonder if you can help me?" the American voice
resounded down the phone line. "Our appointment for this
afternoon has fallen through and my ladies will be so
disappointed. We were supposed to visit a girls' orphanage,
but there has been some mix-up. All the girls are out on a
special trip to the beach. My friend told me about the
interesting time she had visiting your place last fall. By
chance I still had the leaflet in my purse. Can we come to
you this afternoon?"
Momentarily, Esther felt at a loss. Would the director be in
this afternoon? Would his deputy be in if he was not? Should
she suggest another day instead?
"Hey honey? Did you hear me? Can we come? We can be there by
about two o'clock."
Esther heard herself saying yes, asking how many women there
would be, and then, as she put the phone down, she remembered
that both the director and his deputy would be away all day.
The secretary too would in all probability not be
returning.
Esther was thinking about the situation, when the phone rang
again. She picked up the receiver but heard, "Sorry, wrong
number." Esther knew that now she could not get back to the
American woman using the phone system's recall of the
previous call. The women were coming and she could not call
them off.
