Sanctuary. Faye Kellerman
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We have a Shulchan Aruch, a Mishna Torah, Me’am Loez, plus some others. Will that help you out?”
Mendel nodded, but didn’t speak. Yet he seemed more relaxed. Perhaps he finally realized his mother wasn’t taking him to Sodom and Gomorrah.
Honey said, “See, Mendie, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” To Rina, she said, “He’s always afraid he’ll fall behind in his shiur, so he studies and makes himself go ahead. Did I introduce you to my younger daughter, Bryna, who is almost eight?”
“Hi, Bryna,” Rina said.
The girl smiled, showing missing side teeth.
“Are you excited about your vacation?”
The girl nodded.
“And you’ve met my sweetie pie, Pessy, who just turned five.” Honey clapped her hands. “So what should we do first, children? How about the zoo? Is that far from where you live, Rina? We can take the bus.”
“I’ll take you as soon as we unload all the luggage.”
Honey squeezed Bryna’s shoulder. “What do you think about that? Would you like to see real lions and tigers?”
Rina peeked in her rearview mirror. The girl seemed interested. Pessy could hardly contain his excitement.
“I wanna see them, Mama. Can I pet them?”
“You can’t pet a lion, Pessy,” Minda said. “Besides, they’re in cages.”
“How do you know about a zoo?” Mendel asked.
“We once went to the Brooklyn Zoo. We took a picnic lunch and spent the day in the park. Remember that, Mama?”
Honey nodded. “Do you remember that, Bryna? You were about two.”
The younger girl shook her head.
Honey smiled. “Wasn’t that fun, Minda?”
“Actually, I felt sorry for the animals,” Minda said. “All caged up.”
“The animals here aren’t in cages,” Rina said.
Bryna’s expression became petrified.
“They’re in enclosures,” Rina said quickly. “They can’t get out and walk around. But they live in big open spaces that are supposed to be like the animal’s natural habitat.”
Again, the car fell silent. Bryna whispered something in her mother’s ear.
Honey smiled. “How would you translate habitat?”
“The animal’s natural home,” Rina said. “It’s a lovely park. You have to see it to appreciate it.”
“The lions can’t get out?” Bryna said.
“No.”
“What happens if they do get out?”
“They just don’t, Bryna.”
“But if they do?”
“They take a gun and shoot them, Bryna,” Minda said. “And if you don’t behave, they shoot you, too.”
“Minda!” Honey was exasperated. “Your sister’s talking stupid, Bryna. Don’t pay attention to her.”
“I’ll see the lions, Mama,” Pessy said, bravely.
Honey tousled his kippah. “Isn’t he a doll, Rina?”
“Yes.”
“Speaking of dolls, you have a really cute one in front.”
“I love her.”
“What’s her name?”
“Channah,” Rina said, using her Hebrew name.
“Hello, Channaleh,” Honey cooed. “You must be enjoying her so much.”
“Very much.”
“And your husband?”
“He’s in seventh heaven.”
“He wasn’t mad it wasn’t a boy?”
“No, not at all.”
“That’s nice. Some men are real strange that way.”
Rina didn’t answer.
“Every child is a gift from Hashem,” Honey said.
“Absolutely.”
Honey scratched her wig. “Boy, girl? Who cares?”
“I certainly don’t.”
“Of course, husbands do like to learn with their sons. Gershon liked it when Pessy was born. Made a big deal about now having mezuman.”
Rina didn’t answer. Mezuman—a quorum of three men—was needed to recite a special blessing before Birkat HaMazon, the grace after meals. When the boys got big, Gershon could now say the extra blessing each time he ate.
Rina said to Mendel, “Your father must enjoy learning with you.”
Mendel didn’t answer. His expression said it was none of her business. Honey hadn’t noticed, as she was back observing the scenery. Eyes focused out the window widened as the car passed an industrial park, its walkways and parking lots lined with palms. She took her younger children’s hands. “Those are palm trees, kids! Aren’t they just majestic and beautiful? Don’t you feel like you’re in a tropical rain forest?”
Rina re-eyed the industrial park. It took a big stretch to imagine a tropical rain forest, but she said nothing. The kids were also quiet, perplexed by their mother’s enthusiasm.
Honey laughed softly. “I keep forgetting. They haven’t grown up with TV and all those kinds of fun picture books. They have no idea what tropical means.”
10
The recent rains had not only greened the mountains but had washed the rankness from the streets of metro LA. As in most cities, the downtown area was hardly pastoral, but it wasn’t as beaten as others Decker had seen. It was a mixture of gentrification and seediness, a city with an identity problem. Central LA played host to the seat of city government as well as a few fine hotels. In addition, the area had the old, established banking and law firms. But there was more to downtown than just maintaining the past.
Signs of urban renewal—the recently constructed neon-green convention center complex, a top-of-the-line apartment city, a spanking new library. Like the phoenix, the building was resurrected from the ashes of the old one. Decker heard people talking about the city going down the tubes, yet he remained optimistic. Sure he’d seen the worst aspects of human nature. Yet he’d also seen plenty of everyday heroes—ordinary men and women who had risked their lives to help others. He wasn’t just a fair-weather Angelino. He was in it for the long haul.
Today, Decker’s spirits were high. It was the weather. The air was crisp, the sky as soft as cashmere, gauzed with filmy, mother-of-pearl clouds. Tall buildings were bronzed by the low sun, the beams bouncing off glass and metal. The urban decay seemed softened as if photographed through a hairsprayed lens. There was a lot of foot traffic—the business suits, the immigrants, the homeless, the vendors—but it was flowing smoothly. A steady breeze rippled through the parade of clothing.
He negotiated the unmarked through a series of turns until he found the diamond center—a twenty-story monolith of granite near Sixth and Hill. Luck was with him and he found street parking. He eased the Plymouth curbside and shut off the motor, checking his notes before he went inside. Satisfied, he got out and walked through the center’s doors.
The lobby, like the exterior, was fashioned from the same gray granite and presented as hard as a steel vault. The reception area was fronted by a mountainside of stone which held the building’s directory. On either side were banks of elevators. Decker knew the unit number and pushed the