Read Online Davita's Harp by Chaim Potok - Free Book Online

Look at your suntan! A Viking with a golden suntan!”
    “Here’s something cold for you, Jakob,” my mother said.
    Jakob Daw took the glass from my mother. He arched his gaunt body slightly forward from the waist, put the glass to his mouth, and drank thirstily. His Adam’s apple moved up and down on his thin neck. His face was wet with perspiration.
    “We have to sit and talk,” my father said. “Tanner wants a report on Canada for Tuesday’s meeting.”
    “There is much to talk about. Canada was—interesting.”
    “How long will you stay with us, Uncle Jakob?” I asked.
    “I do not know.”
    “Will you stay a few days?”
    “Oh, yes. At least a few days.”
    “Can I get you a real drink?” my father asked.
    “No, thank you. Another iced tea would be very pleasant, Channah.”
    “Would you like to see the sand castle I made?” “I will be happy to see your sand castle, Ilana Davita.” “Let Uncle Jakob sit down and relax now, Ilana,” my mother said.
    “Would you tell me another story later?”
    He looked at me, a weary smile on his pale face. “Of course I will tell you another story. Of course.”
    That night he was up late with my parents. I could hear them talking quietly on the screened-in porch. The air was hot and humid. I lay in my bed, moist with heat, listening to the distant roll of the surf. Insects lurched wildly against the screens of my windows; I thought the heat must be driving them mad. I slept fitfully and had disquieting dreams, though when I woke I could not be certain what they had been about.
    Jakob Daw remained inside the cottage all day. From my castle on the beach I saw him talking with my mother on the screened-in porch. My father had gone to work at his regular writing. During lunch, which my mother served us on the porch, Jakob Daw was silent and withdrawn. He ate very little. How pale and weary he looked. My mother moved about quietly. He fell asleep at the table, breathing raspingly, woke with a start, and glanced quickly around, a frightened look in his eyes. My mother put her hand on his shoulder. He slumped in his chair. A few moments later, he went to bed.
    Very late that night—the second Saturday night of July—I was awakened by the sounds of a car pulling into the driveway between our cottage and the empty house across from us. I was bathed in sweat and dazed by the heat. I got out of bed and went to the side window. The shade was up, the curtain open. I peered through the window and saw a long dark car near the side door of the wood-and-brick house that adjoined the driveway. As I watched, the car lights and the engine were turned off. Two men, a woman, and a boy about my age came out of the car. The woman held a baby and went directly into the house, followed by the boy.
    The two men began to move cartons and boxes from the carinto the house. Lights were being turned on in some of the rooms of the house. By the small light over the side door of the house I saw dimly that one of the men was heavyset and bearded and the other was tall and thin. After a while the tall man climbed back into the car and drove off. The bearded man went into the house.
    There was silence. The night pulsed rhythmically with the insect life of the sea’s edge. Then the light on the screened-in porch across the way came on. I heard a door open and close and saw the boy come up to the front of the porch and look through the screen at the dark beach. There was a small high curving sliver of blue-white moon. The deep night was bathed in stars. The boy stood there a long time, gazing out at the darkness. He raised both his arms over his head and moved them back and forth a number of times. It was an odd sort of gesture, a pleading of some kind. He lowered his arms to his sides and stood still a moment longer. Then he turned and went back into the house. The porch light was extinguished. The ocean seemed loud and near in the darkness.
    I went back to bed. The heat was stifling. Insects