From Siberia With Love Read online

  From Siberia with Love

  Book 1

  Ilana Cohen

  Copyright © 2015 Ilana Cohen

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, of the author. The characters and events in this book are figments of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any person, living or dead.

  Contact: [email protected]

  Table of contents

  Chapter 1: New Immigrants

  Chapter 2: A Marriage without Love

  Chapter 3: Ten Years Later

  Chapter 4: At the Gym

  Chapter 5: A Meeting in the Rose Garden

  Chapter 6: Childhood at the Aviation Base on the Island of Sakhalin

  Chapter 7: The New City

  Chapter 8: A World of Ice from the Bird’s Eye View

  Chapter 9: First Steps in Love

  Chapter 10: A Woman Alone

  Chapter 11: Love and Alex

  Chapter 12: Just another Ordinary Friday Night

  Chapter 1

  New Immigrants

  Before going into the house, she raised her head to the sky. From the infinity, countless stars twinkled-winked at her, sparkling stars, thousands of stars. This time, she also counted the ones she’d never counted before. No wonder, it was the holiday season and the skies were wide open, promising her renewal, promising her a different life, promising her love and joy.

  “Lemon on a New Year’s Eve dinner table? Whose idea was it to put lemon?” Edith examined the table she had set up an hour earlier. She returned to the living room after showering and refreshing herself at the end of a long day filled with cooking and preparations for the holiday meal.

  “I cut the lemon, I put some trout on the grill for dinner, what’s wrong with that?” Alex wondered about his mother’s words.

  “My confused little pup, you can’t put lemon on the table for a New Year’s Eve dinner. A jar of honey is what’s needed, so we’ll have a happy and sweet New Year.”

  “Oh, yes, honey, so we’ll have a happy and sweet New Year,” Yossi echoed his wife’s words and continued, “Tomorrow morning you can all put some honey on your bread, now I smell some real food from the kitchen. It’s time to sit at the table. Everything will be burnt by the time you get a move on, come on already, women. Mother, Edith, get up!”

  Amalia, her elderly mother-in-law, took a last sip of the red wine remaining in her cup after the traditional holiday blessings – a thin crystal cup, part of a luxurious set the family used for blessing the wine on holiday eves.

  “You get up as well,” she ordered her daughter-in-law without looking back.

  Edith kissed the silky soft-haired head of her little daughter who was sitting in her lap. She handed the baby to her husband, and without saying a word followed her mother-in-law to serve the festive meal to those gathered round the family living room table.

  Two to three hours later, everyone has gone to bed. Yossi fell asleep immediately next to Edith and within minutes, the regular sound of his breathing could be heard. His monotonous snoring made her drowsy as well and she sank into a pleasant state of relaxation, free from any thoughts.

  Just then, at midnight, music was heard. Loud rhythmic dance music infiltrated the bedroom and the entire house from the outside. The sleepy Edith opened her eyes and looked around her. Yossi didn’t wake up, he simply tossed and turned to the other side of the bed, his mouth mumbling a curse. Edith, on the other hand, woke up completely, elevated her head with an additional pillow and folded her hands beneath her head. With wide open eyes, she listened to the music emerging from the darkness – contemporary hits of the romantic eighties. Sweet songs in which the word “love” was fitted to each note of their melodies.

  Such music had not yet been heard in the neighborhood. Tonight, a different type of opera was being sung. These were not the sounds of Middle Eastern music that always sounded foreign to her ears, music that could often be heard during the summer nights, in the parties held by the Yemenite Jews who dwelled in the rural settlement. Nor were they heard in high school student parties – they didn’t indulge in ballroom dancing, Waltz and Bossa-Nova. And not just that, it was New Year’s Eve, a night of holiness, so what was with them, why were they having a party? Who could indulge in such a celebration among the elderly neighbors in this small neighborhood, in which everyone was familiar with everyone else?

  She looked at her husband who was still sleeping beside her in spite of all the noise, carefully covered by a thin piqué blanket. The autumn nights were slightly chilly and wondrously pleasant, following the footsteps of the still steaming summer. Holiday nights, not yet cold, but enough to allow one to snuggle beneath a blanket and calmly sleep without perspiring.

  Edith lay like that for fifteen minutes then realized the party had just started and she won’t be able to sleep tonight. The room was illuminated by pale starlight that angled and spilled into the room through an open shutter. She carefully rose from the bed, so as not to wake her husband, gathered her clothes, which were spread on the backrest of the chair next to the bed, pushed her feet into light slippers and quietly left the room.

  Cheerful and wonderfully rhythmic dance music was heard all through the darkened house. Strangely enough, no one else had woken up apart from her. The night was luminous; she managed to find her way without turning the light on. The living room was lit by the bluish light of the night coming through the open window.

  Edith wore the same festive dress she’d worn at dinner, a beautiful sporty and elegant dress made of thickly woven decorative cotton fabric. A bright dress in grayish hues, woven with lace, with two knitted large pockets and a hem. She wore a thick leather belt that seemed like a gray snake, a belt that wound its way twice round her waist and closed with a massive buckle shaped like a snake head. The bright dress fitted her well, and gave her a fresh look.

  Edith hurried out to the yard to get some fresh air. The atmosphere outside was drenched with the scent of fragrant blossoms and moist earth. There was hardly any rain in Israel, but during the nights that followed the hot and humid days, dew covered the face of the earth.

  They played Tango and she smiled to herself. Yes, she loved to tango. She pictured in her imagination how she would stiffly straighten up on the dance floor during the first few sounds of the music, raising her chest, attaching her shoulders and the rest of her body to her partner’s. Wrapped in his tight embrace round her narrow hips, she’d raise her head and smilingly welcome the melody. On the dance floor, she would stretch her long legs in sensual steps, spinning in wide circles in the whirlpool of her skirts. She’d be dancing and spinning, round and round, two steps forward, one step back. A light movement of the hips would follow, tightly attaching her hips to her partner’s, who’d be leaning over her.

  She’d close her eyes, flowing with smooth movements, her motions at once sudden and surprising, as daring and provocative as the sounds of the tango. Oh, yes, she loved to tango and could not recall the last time she’d danced. Ah, yes, in the distant past, in the ballroom dancing school’s graduation party, to the sound of the Kiev Orchestra who’d stayed with them in Berno. The world of high school graduates in a communist country had passed and was now far behind her. Here, in the new country, everything was different.

  Her once narrow hips were now full and her slender feet have grown tired, wounded here and there by an ugly painful vein. But even so, she longed to dance in the cheerful party where sounds invited her into the darkness. She hadn’t danced since her own wedding. Yossi wasn’t much of a dancer; he couldn’t dance wel
l, even had he wanted to. On Friday nights and holiday eves, they’d stay home in front of the television. At best, they’d pay a visit to a close relative. She’d never been invited to a real dance party with her husband.

  Edith approached the yard gate and peered into the street. The surrounding houses were dark and quiet. Only a single light from a window of a house across the street could be seen, peeking through the branches, swaying in the gentle breeze. There were others like her, who weren’t able to sleep because of the party. She located the direction the sounds were coming from, the new cottage neighborhood, built in recent years next to their veterans’ neighborhood.

  Edith opened the yard’s heavy iron gate which made a loud screeching sound, went out into the street and turned back to make sure the screech didn’t wake anyone at home, but it remained as it was, dark and silent. She didn’t lock the door behind her, left everything wide open. It was safe to assume that on such a night, a New Year’s Eve night, no one would break in. She continued in the darkness down the street until she reached the empty lot, her footsteps cautious in the lot covering a twenty five acre area, containing nothing but weeds and compacted soil. She had no other choice but to cross it because the lot connected the neighborhoods, the old neighborhood and the new neighborhood, where the party was being held.

  It was the first house on the street – a two-story cottage with a living room that opened into a porch and a garden. The house was illuminated by powerful lighting and a large ceiling lamp that spun round and round, with flashing, colored lights. Edith saw people dancing, jumping to the sound of Bossa-Nova, heard the thudding sounds of the partygoers’ heels, their cheerful chatter and loud laughter. Some joined the orchestra and the singer with their singing. Unbelievable! There was actually a live band there, and the sound of amplified musical instruments was heard throughout the settlement. Edith approached the house. She didn’t want to be noticed. She moved to the sidewalk on the other side of the street and searched for a place where she would be able to sit a while, or at least lean against something so she could comfortably watch. Not far from there, she found a construction site for an additional villa. She sat on a small pile of bricks next to cement and sand bags and watched the wild party on the other end of the street. It amused her to observe the people dancing in the beautiful, spacious living room that opens onto the first floor porch.

  A few minutes later, the music stopped, and one of the attendants took a microphone in his hand.

  “On behalf of all the friends who’d gathered here and were invited to this beautiful house, I’d like to thank the Zuriel family, our royal couple, Janusz and Hanna. We are gathered here to celebrate the New Year and have a housewarming party for the Zuriel family, their first house in Israel.”

  Thunderous applause was heard; everyone appeared to be happy and content. Even Edith, an uninvited guest who was watching from outside, smiled to herself. She was in an excellent mood.

  “We, the members of the Biology Department, have discovered our Hannah banana, is not only a first-rate chemist, but an excellent cook as well. We all agree the delicacies we’ve been devouring here tonight are truly mouthwatering.”

  Someone else took the microphone in his hand.

  “By the way, Hannah, where were you educated in the art of the spicy Middle Eastern cuisine you’ve been serving us in all its glorious piquancy?”

  “What do you mean where? She learned it from the milkman!” someone from the crowd shouted and everyone laughed again. The main speaker reverted back to his polite tone and finished his speech. “Once more, I’d like to thank our nice hosts on behalf of everyone. Now, we’d like to hear our hostess Hannah. Dear Hannah banana, please bless us, everyone who got invited to your New Year’s party here at your home, with a few beautiful holiday words.” Once more, applause was heard. “Happy new year to us all,” he finished his words.

  “Hannah, we want to hear Hannah…”

  Edith was beginning to get bored, a heavy humidity descended on her and she shivered from the cold. ‘What am I even looking for here?’ she asked herself. She suddenly grew tired and yearned to be back in her bed. After her nocturnal walk, she was certain she’d manage to fall asleep in spite of the loud music. She jumped to her feet and rose from the pile of bricks, intending to walk away, when suddenly a large and scary-looking dog came running to her. It approached her until she felt his furry face on her exposed leg. The terrified Edith stood still, afraid to move, and looked at the dog, a huge Swiss collie with a brown reddish coat, who reached her waist.

  “Don’t be frightened, girl, he won’t do anything to you.”

  A man came out of the house where the party was being held, softly whistled and called the dog by its name. “Hey, Bobbie, come here! Come to me, boy.”

  The dog ran round its owner, happy and free then returned to Edith. The man, of an average height and smoking a pipe, walked toward her from the other side of the street, crossed the road and approached her.

  “You’re out to get some fresh air as well? Too crowded in our place today, too many guests,” he said while removing the pipe from his mouth and gazing at her curiously.

  Edith didn’t answer; she was still frightened by the dog and ready to run away at a moment’s notice. When she persisted in her silence, the man asked again, this time suspiciously, “You’re one of ours, a guest, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not from here, not from this house. I’m a neighbor who can’t sleep because of the noise. I came to see what was going on and watch the party. You’re having a hell of a party here. You don’t normally see something like this in our neighborhood.”

  “Thank you,” he thanked her and raised the pipe back to his lips. He inhaled deeply, until the end of the pipe became red-hot and the tobacco in it sprouted a tiny flame.

  “You’re playing new songs, songs after my own heart, the ones I enjoy both listening and dancing to, I suppose,” she admitted.

  “I like the music too,” he supported her opinion.

  It was nice to speak with the man in the darkness. It seemed to her as if they’d both known each other for ages. Once more, he took a long drag from his pipe, raised his mouth a bit and with joy-filled slowness blew out smoke. He smelled of fine tobacco and alcohol. All that time, he didn’t lower his curious eyes from her even for an instant.

  “I must admit we have a very nice woman as our neighbor,” he flattered her gently. “Very nice,” he stressed again, constantly staring at Edith’s beautiful face.

  “Your wife’s name is Hannah, isn’t it?” she cheerfully changed the subject, not wishing to discuss the embarrassing compliments and was relieved.

  “Absolutely right, how do you know my wife’s name?” he was surprised to hear.

  “I’ve heard it on the microphone. After all, you’re having your celebration amplified by speakers and your doors are wide open.”

  He took another step to approach her and extended his arm in invitation. “You came all the way to our party, allow me, my fine lady, to invite you inside, and with your permission, I would like to have the honor of being your partner for the next dance. Tonight, you shall be my guest and I must confess, I’m charmed by your great beauty,” he said with the courage of one who’d had enough to drink.

  At that moment, she was willing to go with him, just like in a sweet dream. She held his extended arm and they crossed the road together. Next to the open gate facing the garden, he suddenly stopped and removed his arm from beneath hers, his face close to hers. She noticed he was about her own height.

  “I’m sorry, we haven’t introduced each other yet, what’s your name, dear?” he asked quietly and politely, a man belonging to a different generation and coming from a different place, so she realized.

  “Edith, my name is Edith,” she answered simply.

  “Edith, pleased to meet you. And my name is Janusz.”

  He offered her his hand and she took it.

  “Doctor Janusz Zuriel,” he completed his full name
.

  At that exact moment, the sound of a police patrol car siren was heard. Suddenly, the place became illuminated by the flashing blue light of the patrol car’s roof-lights. Doctor Zuriel stood still and all that time held her hand in his, looking at the patrol car with concern.

  “You’re right, the neighbors are being impatient with us and called the police.”

  He delayed a bit more and held her with his other hand. For a brief moment, he held her hand in both of his. Then he released her from his grip and walked away without adding a word. He approached the police officer who was already standing at the doorway of his house, and Edith hurried to return to her own home. She hardly even noticed passing through the empty lot she’d earlier been afraid to cross, and stopped only next to her house. The garden gate remained open, just as she’d left it, so as to avoid the loud screeching sound it made when being closed. No one had woken up nor rose from their bed. No one had noticed the nocturnal journey she’d undertaken, as if everything that’d taken place was just a dream. Once more, she heard voices coming from the party, but these were now softer. The sound of amplified musical instruments was gone, replaced by a sing-along. The revelers were singing: “Next year we shall sit on the porch and watch and count the migrating birds…”

  What a strange meeting she’d had with that strange man, a nice man, she smilingly pondered. It seemed as if she knew him already, as if they’d met before. His voice, the way he spoke – she felt like tonight was not the first time they’d met. “I’m coming back home, me and my guitar…” was the next song the revelers were singing in the new house.

  The night was especially beautiful, clear and fair. Even without the moonlight, she could well see the tranquil street, the neighbors’ gardens, and the entire neighborhood. He was interesting, a man in his fifties, a doctor, one that would excite the imagination of any woman. He’d made her night, perhaps even her entire year? It was New Year’s Eve, after all.