Read Online The Outsider by Howard Fast - Free Book Online Page B

pregnant —”
    He grabbed her in a bear hug and cut off her words. “Lucy, I do love you so much.”
    â€œI’m glad. I have a treat for you tonight.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œBlintzes.”
    â€œYou’re kidding. Where did you learn to make blintzes? From your mother?”
    â€œMy mother? I’m not even sure she knows what one is.”
    â€œThen where?”
    â€œMillie Carter,” Lucy said smugly. “You see, you don’t have to be Jewish. She has a Jewish cookbook, and we worked it out together. And Della Klein brought over a quart of homemade strawberry jam. I’ve learned to accept anything given. I guess it’s a rule of the business that preachers must be beggars —”
    â€œLucy —”
    â€œJust kidding, forgive me. A gift of love, and I do love Della. She’s dear.”
    David ate the blintzes. They were very good, as was the strawberry jam Della Klein had provided. As a boy he had lived with a mother who disdained blintzes. They were a product of Russian-Jewish cookery, whereas the Hartmans were of German-Jewish extraction. This only added a pleasant zest to the taste of the blintzes.
    â€œJust delicious,” David said. “The jam too. Della is talented. I’m glad you’ve been able to make so many friends here.”
    â€œOf course, it’s you Della adores. But I do have friends. Do you know why?”
    â€œYou’re a sweet and friendly person. Why shouldn’t you make friends here?”
    â€œNo. You’re not even scratching it, David. We’ve been here two years, and you’re telling me you don’t realize how lonely and miserable most of the women here are, Jew and Gentile alike?”
    â€œI’ve had indications.”
    â€œWe cling to each other.”
    â€œWhat are you telling me?” David asked softly. “That you’re miserable and unhappy?”
    â€œSometimes.”
    â€œWhat does sometimes mean?”
    â€œIt means —” She broke off and rose and went around the table. “The hell with it,” she said. “I love you. I hear the baby crying, and you have a meeting tonight with all the big wheels, and if you want to talk about it, we’ll do it some other time.”
    The meeting with the committee was at Mel Klein’s place, about a mile from the old Congregational church that had become David’s synagogue. It was a lovely spring evening, the new leaves making a pale, lacy froth over the trees, the sky reddening behind thin strips of cloud, the air as sweet as honey. Bit by bit, the place had gotten to David, in spite of intervals of irritation and boredom. He had to admit that for sheer, quiet beauty, Leighton Ridge took second place to no other spot he had known. His work still intrigued him. On the other hand, being here in this old Connecticut town constantly raised the question of why he was here. When he saw himself in the third person, he would argue that this was David Hartman passing through, only passing through. But never permanently. To live in this place, to grow old in this place — that was inconceivable. Lucy might not believe it, but he understood quite well what she was saying. But where was her understanding of him? She had no inkling of the meaning of his desire to be in Israel. He envied her certainty. Her validity was deep inside her and unquestioned, and that perhaps was a quality of being a woman; his own validity was vague and disoriented, changing from day to day.
    Enough of that! It was too beautiful an evening to cloud with vague and unrewarding thoughts. He tried to clear his mind as he strode down the road. He was the last to arrive at the Kleins’ place, and as Della opened the door and kissed him, she said, “The wolves are here in the den. Now don’t be upset, David.”
    â€œWhat makes you think I’ll be upset?”
    â€œI know what’s on the agenda. And I know