The Darkest Hour Read online

  “I met a guy at the hotel bar.”

  “Good. That’s awesome. Is he cute?”

  “Yes, very.”

  “Better looking than Joel?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  “See, so Joel is not the only man on earth. You going to go to bed with him?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t been with another guy ever. Joel was my first.”

  “I think you should do it. You know what they say. The best way to get over one guy is to get under a new one.”

  “Linda, that’s so vulgar.”

  “Yep, but it works.”

  “I guess. I have to go. He’s waiting.”

  “Call me tomorrow and let me know what happened,” Linda said. “And would you please try to have fun?”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  “Talk to you tomorrow.”

  Shayna returned to the table.

  “Would you like another drink?” Matt asked.

  “No, not for me,” she laughed. “I am way over my limit.”

  “You only had a few drinks.”

  “Why don’t we go up to my room and have a cup of coffee?” Shayna said.

  She was nervous, but she was a single woman now and she felt like she needed to do something to break out of her fear of dating.

  “Sure, I’d like that,” he said.

  They took the elevator to room number 440. Shayna opened the door. Matt followed her inside. Her heart was beating wildly.

  I haven’t even thought about dating another man in ten years, she thought. Matt put his arms on her shoulders and pulled her to him. He kissed her. Then he kissed her again. Shayna glanced at the bed and at the stranger who held her in his arms. She tasted his lips, so unfamiliar. The smell of his cologne was different too. His hair touching her forehead felt intrusive, and as much as she yearned to be a liberated woman, she couldn’t do it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said pushing him away. “You should go.”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, not at all. It’s me. I’m really sorry. I’m going through a divorce and I guess I am just not ready.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, looking confused. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, please, go.”

  After Matt walked out the door, Shayna fell on the bed.

  I just couldn’t. I guess I’m old fashioned but all I could think of was Joel. My sweet, damn, stupid husband. I know every inch of his body like it was my own. I know his stubborn but brilliant mind too. Hell, I can’t even imagine being naked with another man. What am I going to do after this divorce is final?

  Shayna felt tears form behind her eyes. She picked up her phone and dialed Joel’s number, but hung up before the phone rang.

  Chapter 3

  The following morning, Shayna ordered room service—a cup of black coffee and a half of an English muffin. Then she took a quick shower and got dressed. She applied a light makeup and carefully combed through her long blond hair extensions and put them into a ponytail. She hadn’t slept well. The experience of going to a bar and meeting a man should have been freeing but instead it was a reminder of how much she missed her husband.

  At a little after ten in the morning, Shayna called downstairs to the front desk and asked the girl who answered to get her a cab.

  It wasn’t very far from her hotel on the ocean to her mother’s condominium in Misner Park.

  Another pink building.

  Shayna smiled and shook her head as the cabbie pulled up to her mother’s condo. She paid the driver, got out, and took the elevator up to the third floor. Her parents’ condo was a short walk down a covered hallway on the outside of the building.

  This place is so different from Chicago. No wonder Mom wanted to move here. There are palm trees everywhere. It’s the Garden of Eden, she thought as she knocked on the door.

  Anna Solomon opened the door wearing a colorful housecoat. When she saw her daughter, she let out a scream.

  “Morrie, you won’t believe it. Shayna is here!” Anna hugged her daughter tightly.

  Morrie Solomon came out of one of the back rooms; his hands covered in paint.

  “Shaynala!” he said, embracing her with his arms but holding his hands out carefully so as not to get paint on her blouse.

  “What brings you to sunny Florida? Not that we’re not happy to have you. Of course we are. But we didn’t know you were coming. What a surprise!”

  “I’m here to see you and Mom. And of course, I want to see Bubbe too,” Shayna said smiling.

  “We’re so glad to see you. Come in. You should eat something. You’re so skinny. I am afraid you’re going to fade away to nothing,” her mother said, putting her arm around Shayna and leading her to the kitchen.

  “I try to stay thin,” Shayna laughed.

  “Dieting all the time still? Oy, Shayna!” Her mother shook her head. “Well, you’re here now, so you’ll eat.”

  “Dad, what are you painting?”

  “Your father is taking a painting class at the condo clubhouse. He thinks he’s Rembrandt now.”

  “My artwork is not so good,” her father said smiling. “But I’ll show you everything I’ve done anyway. After you eat, of course.”

  Shayna laughed. “Of course. What would a visit with my Jewish parents be without food?”

  Her mother laid out bagels with cream cheese and lox spread, a large bowl of mixed fresh fruit, and a pot of steaming fragrant coffee.

  “How are you, Shayna?” Her mother patted her daughter’s hand.

  “How should I be, Mom? The divorce is underway. I feel sad. I guess that’s the only way to describe it. But,” she forced a smile. “The business is doing well.”

  “Who’s taking care of your clients while you’re gone?”

  “Linda, my business partner, of course.”

  “You should be careful, Shayna. I learned long ago that there are no friends in business,” her father said.

  “I trust Linda. You know how close she is to me, don’t you, Mom?”

  “I do. She is a good friend. I think it’s wise to trust her.”

  After Shayna looked over her father’s paintings, he said he had previous plans to meet some friends by the pool.

  “Do you want I should call Jake and cancel?” Morrie asked.

  “No, you go and meet with your friends. Shayna and I will go and see Bubbe. Is that all right with you?” her mother asked.

  “Yes, Mom. Let’s go. I want to see Bubbe.”

  “I have to warn you, she goes in and out. What I mean by that is sometimes she can’t remember who you are or your name, and other times she is completely coherent. I don’t know how she’ll be today. There is no way to determine. I just don’t want you to get scared in case she’s not aware of what’s going on. Do you want me to call the nurse and find out how she has been this morning before we go?”

  “No, I want to see her. I understand that she might not be herself.”

  Anna Solomon drove fifteen minutes to Highway 441 and then headed north. After another ten minutes, she pulled off the main road and onto a side street. She turned and began driving up a long tree-lined street to the entrance of a white stone building. The landscaping was lush with vivid purple bougainvillea flowers that climbed the building’s walls and hot pink hibiscus. They parked the car and began walking towards the door.

  “The grounds are beautifully maintained,” Shayna said.

  “Yes, this is a nice place. Dad and I aren’t rich by any means but he was so kind and understanding when I asked him if we could take a second mortgage on the condo to pay for my mother’s care.”

  “You should have asked me. I would have helped you,” Shayna said.

  “It’s not right that a mother should take from her child. A mother is supposed to give to her children. And in turn, her children give to their children.”

  “But you’re helping Bubbe, aren’t you?”

  “Bubbe helped us plenty. When you were little and your father a
nd I bought the house in Skokie, it was your Bubbe and Zadie who gave us the down payment.”

  “I never knew that.”

  “My parents were very good to your father and me. My Papa was doing pretty well at the time. Kenahora.” Anna Solomon spit on the ground in order to ward off any evil spirits. “But it was a shame. A few years later, things got rough for them. My Papa got sick and couldn’t work, so he lost his business. Even though my father didn’t have any income and they were living on their savings, my parents always did what they could for your daddy and me. That’s why when your father retired and we moved to Florida, I took Bubbe with us. Your Zadie had passed away the previous year. And I didn’t want to leave her in Chicago alone. I wanted her to be with me. At first, she didn’t want to go. But, as you know, Shayna Maidel, I can be very convincing.”

  “Yes, Mom, I know. And you still call me Shayna Maidel,” Shayna laughed. “I haven’t heard you call me that in such a long time.”

  “You are my Shayna Maidel. You know what your name means, right?”

  “Yes, mother. Beautiful girl.”

  “Right. You are my beautiful girl.”

  Shayna put her arm around her mother as they walked inside. She seemed shorter than Shayna remembered.

  A young sprite of a girl sat at the front desk. Her hair was Peter Pan short and she wore a white polo shirt with khaki shorts.

  “Hi,” she said with enthusiasm. “How can I help you?’

  “We’re here to see Ruchel Pensak. I am her daughter, Anna. This is her granddaughter, Shayna.”

  “Of course. I’m Brenda the activity director.” The girl smiled, her teeth white against her deeply tanned skin. “Mrs. Pensak’s room is right down the hall. I’ll have someone escort you there.”

  “Jeff Michals, please come to the front desk,” Brenda said over the intercom.

  A young man appeared.

  “Jeff, can you please show Mrs. Pensak’s daughter and granddaughter to her room?”

  “Of course.” Jeff smiled then turned to Shayna and Anna. “I’m Jeff; I’m the aide on your mother’s floor for today. Please, follow me.”

  “How is she today?” Anna asked, as they were walking down the long corridor.

  “As we expected, her dementia is progressing. It’s very sad. Some days she is completely lucid. Other days she has no idea where she is. By the way, I have been working on this floor for over a week now and I’ve been meaning to contact you about your mother.”

  “Why? What is it?” Shayna’s mother stopped walking. She looked at the young man in the white uniform.

  “She’s all right, but she has been demanding that we get her something called a Yahrzeit candle. It could be the dementia. But she is so insistent that she needs to have a candle. I thought I should mention it to you.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course. She wants to light a Yahrzeit candle in remembrance of my father who passed away. We light candles to remember the dead. It’s part of our religion.”

  Jeff shook his head. “I’m sorry. The patients are not allowed to have access to fire here. I’m sure you can understand why.”

  “Of course,” Anna nodded. “Of course. But . . . may I bring in a little plug-in light? It is a small bulb that plugs in the wall. It’s sort of like a nightlight. I will bring it tomorrow and say the prayers for my father with her. It’s harmless and it will make her happy.”

  “I don’t see any problem with that.” He smiled.

  The light in Bubbe Ruchel’s room was very dim. It was not complete darkness, but it was as if the light symbolized the old woman’s life—almost extinguished. “Do you think she’s asleep?” Shayna whispered.

  “Who’s there?” The voice of an old woman crackled softly from out of the near darkness.

  “It’s me, Mama. Your daughter, Anna,” she said. “Shayna your granddaughter is here with me.”

  “Shayna, my grandchild. Oy vey. Hurry up, come in, come in and turn on the light so I can see both of you.”

  Shayna’s mother whispered to Shayna softly. “It sounds like she’s pretty lucid today.”

  “Come closer,” Bubbe said. “Let me look at you, Shayna.”

  Shayna sat at the edge of her grandmother’s bed. Bubbe sat up and embraced Shayna. Bubbe felt as light as a bird. Her arms hugged Shayna with the strength of a child. “My beautiful granddaughter. I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve wanted to see you.”

  “You look good, Bubbe.”

  “Do I?” Bubbe laughed. “I’m not so sure. But it’s okay; you can lie to me. What woman doesn’t want to hear that she looks good? Even an old one, right Anna?”

  Shayna’s mother nodded. There were tears in Anna’s eyes. Then Anna’s phone rang. She looked at the screen and turned to Shayna. “I have to take this call. You stay and talk to Bubbe. I’ll give you two a little time alone. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Shayna said.

  After Anna left the room, Bubbe said to Shayna smiling. “She thinks I’m senile.” Then Bubbe took Shayna’s hand and squeezed it conspiratorially. “I might be getting a little aberbuttle, it happens with age. What can I say; I forget things sometimes. But I know what I see. I am looking at you Shayna, and I can see that something is wrong. What is it, Mamaleh? You can talk to your Bubbe.”

  “Nothing, Bubbe. I’m fine.”

  “Eh, you can’t fool your old Bubbe. I can see it your eyes, Shaynala. You’re upset about something. Tell me what it is.”

  “Joel and I are getting a divorce.”

  Bubbe Ruchel nodded her head. “Far Vos? Why?”

  “He wants children. And I have a business that I worked very hard to build. I can’t just walk away from it. I know this is going to sound silly to you, but I am afraid of getting fat and losing my figure. I don’t know, Bubbe; I’m so confused.”

  “It’s all right. I understand how you feel. But I have something to tell you that I think might help. Go to the top drawer of my dresser. The one over there in the corner and open it.”

  Shayna did as her grandmother asked.

  “You see the photograph right there on top?” Bubbe said.

  “Yes.”

  “Bring it to me.”

  “Who are these people?” Shayna said, looking at the photo. “I’ve never seen this picture before.”

  Bubbe smiled. “That’s me.”

  “But that’s not my grandfather, is it?”

  “No. It’s a man I once knew,” Bubbe said. “His name was Azriel.”

  “Azriel? It sounds like Israel.”

  “Yes, and for me, Azriel was a savior just as Israel is a savior for the Jewish people.” Bubbe hesitated. Then she took both of Shayna’s hands in her small cold ones and said, “Now sit down. I want to tell you a story.”

  “A story?”

  “Yes, a story about me. A story about my past, about the war.”

  “You’ve never told me anything about the war before. You don’t have to talk about it now, Bubbe. I don’t want you to get upset.”

  “No, I must tell you. It’s time for you to hear the story before it is lost to me forever. You see, I am losing my memory.”

  “Yes, Bubbe, I know.” Shayna was choking back tears.

  “Oh, it’s all right. Don’t cry, for goodness sake. It’s just that I want you to keep my story safe for me once my memory is gone. Do you have an hour or so to spend with an old woman?”

  Shayna nodded.

  “Then I’ll begin.”

  Chapter 4

  1938 A shtetl, a small Jewish community outside Warsaw, Poland.

  “My mother, Charna Rosenblum, came marching into my little bedroom in our small house where we lived in a little village outside of Warsaw.

  All of our neighbors were Jewish, so I was accustomed to seeing only Jewish people in town. I was lucky to have my own room. So many of my girlfriends had to share a room with their sisters. But I was the only child of Charna and Zindel Rosenblum. I’d come to them late in life. They showed their gratitude to Go
d for blessing them with a child through their kindness to me. My small bed stood in the corner of a sparsely furnished room. It wasn’t much by today’s standards, but I loved it. I made the bedspread and the curtains myself.

  ‘Ruchel, your father is bringing home a Talmud scholar tonight to eat with us. Hurry up and get dressed. Make yourself look nice,’ my mother said.

  ‘Another prospective husband?’ I asked.

  ‘Nu? You’re seventeen, you shouldn’t want a husband? It’s time, Ruchella. You don’t want to be an old maid.’

  ‘Yes, of course, I want a husband, Mama. But the people papa brings home are like little boys. They aren’t men. They sit in the Yeshiva all day and study. Then they come to our house and look at me as if, because I am a female, I am some strange and foreign creature. They talk to Papa, never to me. I feel like if I married one of them I might as well be living alone.’

  ‘Boys grow up and become men. Your Papa was a boy when we got married. Now, sometimes, I wish he still was.’ My mother let out a laugh. ‘Anyway, Ruchella, remember, marriage is not for talking. Marriage is for building a home and bringing good Jewish children into the world to show honor to Hashem, to God. Now, put that book down and get ready. Your father indulges you by letting you read like that. It’s no good for a girl, Ruchel,’ she said as she straightened her shaytel.”

  “Bubbe, what is a shaytel?” Shayna asked.

  “A shaytel is a wig, Shayna. You never knew this, but my parents were very religious; my mother always kept her hair covered. She was glad the Rebbe, the Jewish leader of our village, allowed her to wear a shaytel. In so many of the religious communities, the women were forced to cover their heads with scarves. Here, where we lived, my mother could wear a wig. She would go every five years or so to the Shatel Macher to have a wig made. It was a terrible wig, short scraggly hair with a very unnatural looking part. She only wore it for special occasions. But when she wasn’t wearing her wig, she still never left the house without her head covered by a scarf. Only Papa and I ever saw her hair. That was the way we lived then. On the day after a woman’s wedding, her mother came to shave her head. From that day on, she would not allow anyone outside her family to see her with her head uncovered.