opening pages of my work in progress
from "The Helper" by paul andrew skidmore
below is the first draft of the opening for my next book. would love to hear what you think about it so far. it’s not much to go on, but it will give you a taste… i may post some more sections soon for your enjoyment and feedback.
synopsis
one Passover night, patriarch Avi has a dream that he will host a dignitary and his entourage at next year’s Passover. his family dismisses it as merely a dream, but Avi begins spending the family wealth (what little there is) and what should be his granddaughter’s dowry to make his dream a reality. failure after failure divides the family, leaving Avi alone with only his young grandson as a helper. as Passover nears, even Avi doubts his dream will come true…
here’s your first look at the opening pages of my new book, “The Helper” (current title, work-in-progress, copyright 2020):
Avi’s soul ached as his thumb slipped over the stitches in the hem of his wife’s linen shawl. they were like veins in the leaves of their family tree. a simple garment at their wedding, Hannah had added on over the years to include every member of the family, altering it for bar mitzvahs, bat mitzvahs, weddings, and, sadly, deaths. caressing her handiwork was as close as Avi could get to touching her once again. she had been his helper and sustainer, the mother of his children, and his closest love. Avi’s life had not amounted to much — he was not rich, he was not influential — but his life had been very good, and in his heart he owed it all to Hannah.
“my little moonbeam,” he whispered.
he longed for her, and wept.
a thin hand slipped over his shoulder as his daughter-in-law Mary knelt beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. “i miss mama, too.”
Avi nodded. he touched the black linen hem that bordered the whole shawl.
Mary ran her hand over another square of the shawl, a square decorated with tiny pomegranates and dreidels, interwoven with black cloth.
“my son,” Avi sobbed. he grabbed Mary’s hand and squeezed it.
“my husband,” she rasped, squeezing back.
“may we suffer no more!” Avi whispered. Mary gripped his forearm.
“mama?”
Avi wiped the tears from his eyes and turned to the doorway. “come in, little one.”
Mary held her arms out to embrace her little Yochanan. she kissed him hard on his cheek as he recoiled. Avi mussed his hair with his thick, weathered hand.
the little boy reached out to touch the shawl. “what is it?”
“this, my boy, is your grandmother’s shawl. she wore it when she was betrothed to me, your mother wore it when she was betrothed to your father, and now your sister is going to wear it.” the little boy touched the little dreidels of his deceased father’s portion of the shawl.
Avi picked the shawl up and turned it to show him a different square, bright green, adorned with four little dreidels in an arc. “this is your square, my boy. grandmother put a little toy for every year.”
the little boy counted. “one, two, three, four. but papa i’m five!”
Avi laughed and mussed his hair again. “that’s right. well. grandmother didn’t get to see you turn five. we’ll have to take up where she left off.”
“i’ll put another toy on this week,” said the boy’s mother.
“look, they go on in a circle. and when you get twelve all around, we put a letter in the middle the next year, when you become a man.”
“what letter?”
“well it’s the first letter of your name. so, a yodh for Yochanan.”
“where’s your letter, abba?”
Avi slid the shawl across his knees to the center. “i am here. see? aleph.”
“for abba!”
“for Avraham. and it’s here next to the heth for Hannah. that was grandmother’s name. this ribbon woven through it, this shows i married your grandmother.”
“where are you, mama?”
Avi turned the shawl over in his lap, finding his son’s portion once again. “she’s here, with your father. see the shin for Shimon. and then we added the mem during her wedding week.”
“mem,” Yochanan repeated. “for mama!”
Mary laughed. “for Mary.”
“but she’s my mama,” Yochanan said.
“yes,” Avi said. he pulled an arm around Mary and hugged her. “and now, my daughter!”
Yochanan tugged at the black ribbon woven around his father’s letter. “what is this?”
Avi gently pulled his hand away from it. “that is because he is no longer with us.”
“like grandmother,” the boy said.
“yes,” Avi said. “like grandmother.”
“why do you call her ‘little moonbeam’?” Mary asked him.
Avi smiled, bashful. “on our wedding night--“
“never mind!” Mary said, sitting up.
Avi laughed. “no, no, it’s not like that. before... that... she said, ‘Avraham, we must bless The Lord for our marriage, our life together, our future family.’ so we knelt at the window. i fumbled some prayer, typical of a young man. when i was done, i was ready to lie down, but she stayed kneeling at the window. she prayed.”
“aloud?”
“yes, she often would. only when we were alone, usually at night just before bed. and it was the same prayer as she prayed that first night. she would look up to the moon and say,” Avi raised his eyes to the window and lifted his hands. “ ‘Blessed are You, O Lord, King of Creation, Who made the lesser light to shine at night, and the greater light to shine by day. may a greater light shine on us always, amen.’ “
Avi’s eyes sparkled as he stared up at the moon.
more to come…
