Гарри Кемельман - Wednesday the Rabbi got wet

Bill Safferstein entered, glanced around, and strode purposefully toward the proprietor, who was momentarily free. "Look here, Aptaker, I want—"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Safferstein," Aptaker said, gesturing to the customers in the store. "Not now, you can see I'm busy. This is no time to talk."

"Oh, I didn't come in about that. It's my wife, she's sick. Could I get this filled right away?"

Aptaker glanced at the prescription. "It will take a few minutes."

"I don't mind waiting." He looked around. "I see you've put on another pharmacist."

"My son," said Aptaker proudly, and hurried away as a customer called to him.

Jackie had gone to bed with little fuss and had fallen asleep almost before his mother had tucked him in. Leah looked around the room, adjusted the window and put out the light, then she washed and put away the supper dishes and went into the living room, there she consulted the television column of the morning paper, and although no program held much interest for her, she turned the set on anyway, there was a lot of static, and the picture wavered and became snowy, she tried each of the other channels with the same result and finally turned off the set in disgust.

She picked up from the coffee table a book that she had been reading for the last several days, but she could not concentrate and found herself reading the same sentence over and over again. Realizing she was only looking at words, she closed the book and tossed it on the table.

She walked around the room, straightening a picture, moving a chair, she noticed that the barometer on the mantelpiece was low, she tapped it, and the needle moved lower still, she went to the window to stare out at the road and the sea beyond, she was restless and wanting to be doing something and didn't know what.

If it were not for Jackie upstairs, she would not be bound to the house, she could get into her car and drive along the dark country roads until perhaps she came to a diner where she might stop for a cup of coffee, there would be a truck driver who was a college graduate, with a blue denim shirt open at the throat and a cap perched jauntily on the back of his head, who would bring his coffee cup to her booth.... Or she could take a walk along the shore in the darkness, barefooted, and the water would be warm and she would slip out of her clothes and go for a long swim, she turned over on her back to float and she heard the splash of another swimmer....

Suddenly, the room became daylight bright as a jagged bolt of lightning struck the water, the lightning was followed immediately by a crash of thunder, and the house was plunged in darkness, and then the rain came pelting down. Leah ran to the window and saw that the street lights had also gone out, she went onto the porch and looked up and down the street, all the houses were dark, but here and there she saw a flicker of light from a window as people lit candles, she went back inside and felt her way to the kitchen, where she found a stump of a candle. By its light she tried to dial her parents' home, but there was no dial tone, only a faint hum. Back in the living room, she dragged a hassock to the window and knelt on it with her arms resting on the sill, staring out at the raindrops bouncing off the road.

Ross McLane took the call, since his station at the prescription counter was nearest the phone. Because he was hard of hearing, he normally tended to speak loudly, but when he got on the phone you could hear him all over the store. "Town-Line Drugs... Who?... Oh, hello, Doctor. What can I do for you?.... Just a minute, all right, shoot.... Yup.... Yup.... Kestler, yup. What's the initial... J? Got it.... Minerva Road, forty-seven?... Uh-huh.... Okay.... Gee, I don't think so, the boy who makes the deliveries is gone.... I don't think so, but hold a minute and I'll ask." He cupped the receiver and called out, "Say, Marcus, it's Dr. Cohen on the phone, he wants to know if we can make a delivery tonight? Forty-seven Minerva."

"Tell him, no."

Into the phone, McLane said, "Look, Doctor, I don't see how we can, we're awfully busy and we'll be working late, we got a stack of prescriptions for the nursing home, there's just no one here to..." He cupped the receiver again. "He says it's very important, Marcus."

"Look, I'll deliver it if you like," Safferstein volunteered.

"You know him?" Aptaker asked.

"No, but if he needs it.., and I live on Minerva. Forty-seven is on my way home."

"It's coming down in buckets." Dr. Cohen said, staring out of the window. "I wouldn't be surprised if the Kaplans called it off. I mean with a hurricane—"

"I got the news broadcast while you were out," his wife told him. "They said the storm was going out to sea and we're just getting the edge of it, a kind of backlash, they expect it'll be over in an hour or so."

"Whether it's the real thing or just the backlash, it's pretty bad. I think I'll pass up Kaplan's meeting and stay home."

His wife was doubtful. "I don't know, Dan, Al Muntz seemed to think it was important, from what you said."

"Well, what if they called it off? I'd feel like an awful fool coming there in this kind of storm and there's no party."

"Wouldn't they have phoned?"

"Sure, but they may have called earlier, and we've been away all day."

"So why don't you call them?"

"Yeah, I guess I will." He picked up the phone. "No dial tone," he announced, he tried dialing anyway, but there was no answer, he jiggled the hook and then dialed the operator, he listened intently with the instrument pressed tight against his ear. Finally, he replaced it on its hook. "Out of order. Funny, it was all right a few minutes ago when I called the drugstore, maybe that last lightning bolt hit a transformer, or the line may be down."

"I'll tell you what you do, Dan. Drive over there. If the place is all lit up and there are a bunch of cars outside, you'll know it's all right and you'll go in. If it's dark, or just ordinary lit, and there are no cars, you'll know it's been called off and you'll come home."

"Yeah, I guess that's what I'll do."

Safferstein carefully tucked the two small manila envelopes, each with its bottle of pills, into the pocket of his raincoat. It was raining now, so he put up his coat collar and dashed out to his car. No sooner had he set the car in motion when a lightning flash momentarily made everything bright as day, a crash of thunder followed immediately, and then the skies opened and the rain came pelting down in large drops that danced on the black asphalt road, a continuous sheet of water coursed down his windshield, and his wipers were powerless to clear the glass, the windshield began to steam up and he put on the defroster, but to no avail, he pulled up under a lamppost and shut off the motor. This can't last long, he thought.

"Well, that was quick," Mrs. Cohen said as her husband opened the door and wriggled out of his coat. "The place was dark, huh?"

"I didn't get to it, there's a tree lying across the road, right at the corner. I had to back up all the way to Baird Street to turn around."

"Oh, that big old elm? What a shame! Maybe you ought to call the police and tell them."

"And how am I going to call them? With smoke signals?"

"What I'm trying to get is a consensus." Chester Kaplan urged. "Now are we all agreed that it's pointless for the temple to retain and operate the Goralsky property?"

The response was general and immediate.

"Oh, sure. Who wants to be bothered collecting rents?"

"Or making repairs, or renting a vacant store."

"You can always get some real estate company to manage it for us," Abner Fisher pointed out.