“Mommy does dangerous things. I know it, and what if she… What if what happened to Daddy could happen to Mommy?” Zevi asked.
“Mommy is doing a mitzvah and Hashem will protect her. Daddy is davening for her up in Shamayim and for us.” I tried to reassure him.
Saying it helped me to believe it. I missed Daddy so much. I hated to think of what had happened to him.
There was a knock on the back door.
Mommy rushed downstairs. She turned towards us. “Now, you remember, not a word to anyone about this.” She turned towards Aliza and me.
Aliza and I tiptoed towards the kitchen with Zevi trailing behind us, to see who was at the door. A man wearing a felt brown hat and carrying a briefcase stood at the threshold.
Mommy ushered him in. He followed her down to the basement.
“Who’s that?” Zevi asked.
“It must be the businessman from Syria that Mommy said was coming.” Aliza shot me a warning look. I knew he was probably the contact Mommy was making to help her free Syrian Jews, but I didn’t want to give Zevi too much information. If any of it accidentally spilled out, Mommy would be in huge trouble.
After the man left, Mommy looked happy.
“It was a good meeting?” I asked.
“Yes, Dovid. I have to go somewhere now. I’ll be home later. Don’t let anyone in.”
It was only an hour later, when Zevi, Aliza, and I were playing a card game, that the bell rang. I felt my stomach sink.
“Don’t open it,” I hissed.
Zevi shrank back.
Aliza and I both stood behind the curtains in the living room, hoping whoever it was would leave.
After 20 minutes, when there was no repeat doorbell ring, I cautiously tiptoed towards the door and peeked out the tiny window on top. There wasn’t anyone there, but I glimpsed a large box.
I opened the door and Zevi saw the box. “Maybe it’s a present. Let’s bring it inside.”
“No,” I said, blocking Zevi from the package. “We don’t know what’s in it.”
Aliza’s eyes widened.
It could be a bomb or something else dangerous, I thought.
Chapter 1: Helping (Dovid, April 1973)
“What are Mommy and Daddy doing?” Zevi asked. Zevi, Aliza, and I were standing by the big picture window watching our parents drag huge garbage bags towards the house. Daffodils that lined our front walk swayed in a soft spring breeze.
“They got tons of post cards to send to different leaders in Canada, the United States, and Israel,” I said. I pointed to the first garbage bag that overflowed with post cards and showed Zevi all the different stamps.
“These are from all over the world,” Aliza said. “Look, here’s one from Australia.”
“Why?” Zevi asked.
“Zevi, don’t you remember what they were talking about on Shabbos?”
Zevi shook his head. He is only four.
“Syria. Remember?”
Just then, Mommy and Daddy burst into the house, dragging two huge garbage bags.
“We have six more in the car,” Mommy said. “I’ll take them down to the basement.”
The trunk of our station wagon was open, revealing all the garbage bags. I hurried outside to help my parents.
“We’ve got thousands of postcards in here addressed to all different world leaders telling them about the plight of Syrian Jews,” Daddy said as he dragged another bag into the hallway.
“Do you think this will help?” I asked.
“I hope so.” Mommy sighed. “The Jews in Syria are trapped in a dangerous, horrible situation. The Mukhabarat watches their every move with spies and moles; and if they dare to leave, their whole family is tortured.”
She sighed. “It’s pure evil. We have to fight evil. There is so much anti-Semitism now, since the Yom Kippur War. The Syrians are furious at Israel, and they’re taking it out on the Jews who live in Syria.”
Daddy pushed a garbage bag next to the couch. “After the 1967 War, Jews were forced to live in one quarter of the city that’s walled off. And Jews who worked for the government were fired. There are severe restrictions on work and businesses. If they try to escape the country, the secret police catch them and then they’re put in prison and tortured. They are forced to carry a card that says Musawi (follower of Moses).”
“I got a letter from a girl your age, Aliza, she’s 12 and her father is in prison.”
“We’re meeting with the Canadian Jewish Congress to try to get them to help us get Jews out,” Mommy said.
I felt proud that my parents were doing something to try to help. I wanted to help, too. I was 13 now. I was really almost an adult.
I sat near Mommy and we began sorting the postcards to make sure they all had stamps.
Suddenly, Daddy bent over and gasped for breath.
“What’s wrong, Zellie?” Mommy rushed to his side.
“A pain here.” He pointed to his chest.
“That could be serious.” Mommy’s eyes were wide.
“It’s better now.”
My heart was thudding against my chest. “Daddy, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m okay,” he said.
Only, later he wasn’t…
To be continued…
Susie Garber is the author of an historical fiction novel, Flight of the Doves (Menucha Publishing, 2023), Please Be Polite (Menucha Publishers, 2022), A Bridge in Time (Menucha Publishing, 2021), Secrets in Disguise (Menucha Publishers, 2020), Denver Dreams (a novel, Jerusalem Publications, 2009), Memorable Characters…Magnificent Stories (Scholastic, 2002), Befriend (Menucha Publishers, 2013), The Road Less Traveled (Feldheim, 2015), fiction serials and features in Binah Magazine and Binyan Magazine, “Moon Song” in Binyan (2021-2022), and Alaskan Gold ( 2023-2024).
