Craving Flight (16 page)
He clutches his chest as if it hurts, as if he’s feeling the ache anew and I feel an answering throb behind my breast bone. To hear him say these things is exhilarating.
“I’ve been trying to convince myself that what I felt for you was some mash of duty and defiance and animal attraction. It’s not. Sometimes my love for you is so big I feel that I’m drowning in it. It’s a fearsome thing, to be tasked with caring for a woman like you. So intelligent, so vibrant. I pray every night to be worthy but in the daylight, it feels dangerous to love you so much. It’s easier to be quiet when my family criticizes you. To shrug and let them believe I’ve made a mistake and that staying with you is the honorable thing to do. It’s not. It’s selfish and I owe you more than that.”
I have to scrub at my eyes because I don’t want to mar this moment with tears but I can barely contain myself. He loves me?
“From now on I won’t allow them to speak of you like that ever. Not in my presence. And I promise to give myself to you as you’ve always given yourself to me. Completely. Please have faith in me in this as you have faith in me in everything else. Tzipporah, I love you.”
Before I can leave any room for a sliver of doubt, I fly down the stairs and into his arms. He catches me up as if I weigh nothing and holds me against his body, my feet off the ground. “I love you too, Elan. I’ve just been afraid. That you didn’t think I was good enough. That I didn’t please you and—”
“You do, little bird. You do. I promise you that. Even when you make mistakes, I love you and I’m so proud you’re mine.”
He puts me down and cradles my face in his hands, brushing away the few tears that have managed to escape through my lashes. Tears finally of happiness.
“Now let’s get home so we can observe Shabbos properly. I know how important that is to you.”
“It is,” I sniff and he grins. “Besides, the kugel I made is perfection.”
“I don’t doubt it. Not one bit.”
‡
One Year Later
“T
urn.”
I spin half way around, leaving my arms out so he can see his handiwork. He hooks a finger under a strand of rope and pries it looser, evening out the tension. I don’t know how he does it, but he always seems to know just where these things need to be adjusted.
He looks awfully pleased with himself and I can’t wait to look at his creation in the mirror. It feels good, certainly. A web of rope around my chest, holding me and reminding me that he’s with me even when we’re far apart. He used a vibrant turquoise today, one that complements my hair. Both of them secrets I share only with him.
“Go look,” he says, knowing I’m practically bouncing on my toes with impatience. I want to see too. I flit over to the closet and open it to reveal the full-length mirror on the other side of the door.
“Oh.” I could tell when he was weaving it that the harness he tied around my chest was more intricate than usual. Sometimes it’s just a hastily tied cuff above my elbow, or a single strand belted around my waist. Though it hasn’t been an issue for months, when I’d been niddah he’d leave a bracelet for me on my dresser since he couldn’t touch me to tie something on, but always I have his rope on me when I leave the house.
I knew today’s project was on the fancier end of the spectrum, but I hadn’t expected this. He’s somehow managed to fashion the knots and the strands to look like abstract wings. It’s utterly beautiful and it brings tears to my eyes. Not just the product, but the time and thought and effort that went into creating this for me.
I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.
Of course it doesn’t help that I’m more emotional these days.
He steps closer until his body is pressed the length of mine, his front against my back as his arms come around me and his big hands cup my swelling belly. He has something to hold onto now, with me being seven months pregnant, but even before I’d started to show, he’d done this and it delights me.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful, Elan. Thank you.”
I know well enough by now that his gruff noise is actually thinly masked joy. My opinion of him matters so much to him, as much as his opinion matters to me. I do my best to let him know in words how much I appreciate everything he does for me, how much I want him and need him, though it embarrasses him sometimes.
He kisses the side of my neck and I tilt my head in invitation. He nibbles and sucks at the sensitive skin for delectable minutes until I’ve been reduced to a puddle, but he stops suddenly and swats at my behind.
“No time for that, you temptress. I don’t want you late for school.”
Yes, right, school. I’m finishing out the semester, but then the baby will arrive and I’m taking a leave of absence. We’ve let his parents think it’s permanent and mine believe it’s temporary. In truth, we’re undecided. We’ll figure it out.
My pregnancy has eased things with our families some. My parents are excited to add to their small brood of grandchildren and are crossing their fingers for a boy since they have only granddaughters so far, but I don’t think they really care either way. They’ve also stayed over for Shabbos once. They seemed bemused by it all—the services, the rituals, the restrictions—but they tried and that’s what matters the most.
Elan’s mother clucks over me constantly and my sisters-in-law have been friendlier as well. Everyone loves to talk about babies. I’m sure there’s more conflict to come and I’m not entirely comfortable that it took getting pregnant for them to warm to me, but hopefully over time they’ll value me for more than giving Elan a child. In the meantime, I’ll bask in his love for me.
He helps me dress and watches as I bind up my hair. When I’m presentable, he walks me to the subway stop, his face delightfully covetous as he bids me a simple goodbye. What he’s not saying is that he’ll be thinking about me all day, planning what to do with me tonight, how best to launch his little bird into the sky. He’s given me the gift of flight and a safe place to land when my wings grow tired. My life, my love, my Elan.
**Please note that these are
very
simplified definitions for the purpose of this novella**
Ba’alat Teshuva/BT:
a person who was born Jewish but was not raised as observant who later becomes observant
Chavrusa:
religious study in which a pair of students analyze and discuss a shared text
Chossen:
groom
Dvar Torah:
a talk or essay on a portion of the Torah
Frum:
religious, observant, sometimes used in place of the word Orthodox
Gemora:
a component of the Talmud (a religious text)
Hashem:
literally The Name, an alternate way observant Jews refer to G-d
Kallah:
bride
Kasher:
to render kosher
Kashrut:
the body of Jewish laws pertaining to dietary laws
Kippah:
yarmulke
Mezuzah:
a parchment (frequently contained in a decorative case) inscribed with religious texts and attached to doorposts in a Jewish home
Mikveh:
a bath used for ritual immersion in Judaism
Mitzvot:
the collection of commandments observant Jews adhere to
Niddah:
a term for a woman who is menstruating or who hasn’t completed immersion in the mikveh after the end of her period
Rebbetzin:
wife of a rabbi
Seforim:
religious books
Seminary:
post-high school institution of religious education for women (men would study at a yeshiva)
Shabbos:
the Jewish Sabbath
Sheitel:
a wig worn by some married Orthodox Jewish women in compliance with the code of modesty
Shiva:
a period of formal mourning for the dead
Shul:
synagogue
Tichel:
a headscarf worn by some married Orthodox Jewish women in compliance with the code of modesty
Torah:
Jewish law, the first five books of the Bible
Tzitzit:
fringes or tassels worn by Jewish men as a reminder of commandments
Yeshiva:
an Orthodox Jewish college
Yichud:
the room in which a husband and wife spend their first moment alone together
Thanks for reading
Craving Flight
. I hope you enjoyed it!
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• Reviews help readers discover books. I appreciate all reviews and the time it takes to share your thoughts.
• If you liked Elan and Tzipporah’s story, I hope you’ll give Cris and India a try. Read on for a sample of the first book in my Compass Series,
Personal Geography
.
The Compass Series
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I want to thank AJ and Teresa for their always helpful and honest feedback, and of course the comments that make me giggle. You’re the best CPs a girl could ask for.
A super special thank you to KK for reading several drafts of this story, and for being willing to share her culture and neighborhood with me. Any remaining mistakes or misunderstandings are entirely mine. You have been exceedingly generous with me, and there are no words to express my gratitude. Sweet potato salad and limonana forever!
Another special thank you to Shannon for submitting the original prompt to the Goodreads BDSM group’s Bring Out Your Kink writing event. This has been a huge but delightful challenge, and I’m grateful for the inspiration. While I’m at it, thank you to the Goodreads BDSM group for putting together this event.
Gratitude to the usual suspects: irl friends MTS, EH and LG for listening to my overly enthusiastic chatter, my cover designer Amber for once again saving me from myself while making something beautiful, Mr. Parker who only did the slightest head tilt when I told him what I was going to write about, Nicole the Blurb Queen, and my proofreaders Michele and Christine.
And last but in no way least, to my readers and reviewers: thank you for joining me for something a little different. I hope you enjoyed your time with Tzipporah and Elan as much as I did. Without you, I would be writing into the void. I hope you know how much I appreciate you spending your time and energy on my words.
‡
I
’m sulking with
my head in Rey’s lap after a dinner of the finest sushi and sake San Diego has to offer.