The Celestial Gate by Avital Dicker (great novels to read TXT) 📕

Amalia pulled her arm away with force but stayed in her seat.

“The same day you told me you were pregnant, I got a call from abroad. One of the most respected galleries in New York wanted to show my work. It was huge! It was the first time any Israeli student had gotten such an offer. I know it’s no excuse and that it doesn’t justify how I behaved toward you. But, you have to understand that all my dreams were coming true, then shattering at the very same moment! So I got scared and ran.” He took a breath and looked at her.

“Amalia. I’m so, so sorry. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about what happened between us. I signed a major contract with the gallery. I have to get back to New York, but I flew back here specifically to ask you: after you have the baby, please join me there,” he said. Then, in an apparent afterthought, he awkwardly added, “And the baby, of course.”

Amalia looked at him. He’d spoken a lot but not mentioned love even once. His conscience is bothering him, she thought. It’s the last thing he really wants right now – a wife and a baby just as he’s becoming internationally famous. In any case, how could she trust him not to pull another disappearing act, leaving her alone again, but this time in a strange city, with a baby and without a job? No, she didn’t need his handouts, thank you very much.

She wouldn’t let him into her heart again. She had no intention of being dependent on him or anyone else. She’d finish her studies and build a life for herself and her son.

Amalia could feel her tears starting but refused to let Yoav see her cry. She slung her bag over her shoulder with a finite gesture, tossing money on the table.

“Unlike you, I pay my debts. This will cover the latte,” she said, walking out quickly, hoping he wouldn’t see the tears that were now streaming freely down her cheeks. The first powerful contraction caught her in the cab on the way home.

Yam was born at six thirty-one in the morning, in delivery room number seven, at Ichilov Hospital in Tel Aviv. A healthy baby boy, weighing eight and a half pounds.

Amalia refused to hold him. “Don’t worry, babykins,” Grandma Rebecca whispered surprisingly gently to the beautiful newborn, “she’ll get over it. It’s just that you look exactly like your daddy.”

Despite her flair for drama, there was no one like Rebecca in a crisis, and Amalia needed her mother now more than ever. Rebecca placed the baby in the crib and stroked her daughter’s hair. “Your grandfather ran all over town today to get your old room ready for the two of you,” she said. Amalia just buried her face in the hospital pillow.

Chapter 5

Mor

Claudia gazed at the white clouds through the airplane window. She didn’t know much about Israel, only what little she’d seen on the news and the few stories she’d heard from Theo’s parents who’d been born there. She touched her large belly. She’d wanted to have the baby at home with her family nearby, but Theo’s appointment as Italy’s consul to Israel was important. Once he’d filled that position for a few years, the sky was the limit.

She gave her husband a loving look. He was snoring lightly in the wide, business-class seat.

Theo hadn’t been sure about accepting the appointment with his wife in her ninth month of pregnancy, but Claudia wouldn’t hear of him refusing it. Pregnancy wasn’t a disease. She was young and healthy, and Theo’s worrying was pointless; she’d manage in any situation. But the airlines refused to fly her because she was so close to her due date, so the Foreign Ministry had had to intervene and she’d had to sign a waiver saying she wouldn’t sue should something go wrong.

Theo’s parents were Israeli. He’d been born in Italy but had spoken Hebrew from birth. He was perfect for the position and Claudia wasn’t going to be the one to get in the way of his promising career. Claudia thought back to their wedding. Theo was Jewish and she was Christian. Neither had wanted a religious marriage, but for the sake of their families, they’d finally agreed to a ceremony conducted jointly by a rabbi and a priest.

Theo always said that the biggest problem in the world was religion, which led to hatred and wars. Claudia couldn’t agree more. She never understood why people were prepared to die for a cross or any other religious symbol. She was incapable of seeing the logic.

The fetus in her was kicking furiously, so hard it hurt. Mom would know what to do now, she thought with longing. Claudia closed her eyes and decided to sleep for what was left of the flight, but a sharp stab of pain made her double up in her seat. She screamed and Theo woke up.

Anise

Sual lay in the Hadassah Hospital maternity ward in Jerusalem. It was two in the morning and the three women with whom she shared the room were sound asleep, breathing deeply.

Her entire body ached from the birth. She couldn’t find a single comfortable position that would let her sleep. Besides, the mattress was too soft and she was uneasy in the presence of the other women. The constant traffic in the corridor at all hours of the day and night didn’t help.

All day long, the ward was the destination for an endless stream of noisy, cheerful visitors completely oblivious to the official visiting hours posted on the sign at the entrance. Sual looked wearily at the large clock on the wall. There was no point in trying to sleep, she thought. In five minutes, she’d have to drag her exhausted, aching body down the hall to the nursery to breastfeed her baby. Her mattress creaked beneath