Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 12 of a new online serial novel, Beneath the Surface, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

Copyright © 2011 by Israel Bookshop Publication

Chani finished the conversation with her sister and walked out of the room, passing the nurses’ station. True, she had seen the baby just an hour ago, but even that was too long for her. For her own peace of mind, she had to see how he was doing, up close. She entered the nursery, passing rows and rows of screaming babies.

One of the nurses greeted her at the entrance to the neonatal unit. “How are you Chani?” she asked. “Don’t come every minute! You’ve got to rest!”

“Not every minute…” Chani said with a wan smile as she peeked into the incubator on the left side. “It’s been fifty minutes since I was last here!”

“My, what a long time ago that was!” the nurse said with a laugh and moved out of the way. “Come as much as you want. For the baby, it’s excellent. The question is, what’s with you?”

“For me it’s also excellent,” Chani said and slipped inside. Most of the nurses here knew her well. After all, she’d parted from them tearfully just a year and a half ago.

She bent over the miniscule face, and a wave of love overwhelmed her. The tiny closed eyes twitched for a second, but didn’t open. “Sleep, darling, sleep well,” Chani whispered, stroking the thin wrist with her pinky. “You need to grow, and b’ezras Hashem you’ll have a lot of koach!”

“Oh!” Chani suddenly heard an exclamation to her right. An unfamiliar-looking nurse opened the drawer of cloth diapers. “Is that your son? He’s our ‘giant’ in the ward now! One kilo, eight-hundred-eighty grams—bli ayin hara!” Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 11 of a new online serial novel, Beneath the Surface, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

Copyright © 2011 by Israel Bookshop Publication

“Menuchi? Letter for you!” Miriam tossed the envelope onto the table. “Hey, it’s in English? Do you have a pen-pal from abroad?”

“If you would take a closer look, you would see that it’s not an international letter,” Menuchi said, glancing at the sender’s name. “It says here it was sent from Tzefas. The stamp is local and so is the postmark.”

“That’s all I need,” Miriam said, trying to sound plaintive, “to examine my sister’s mail…”

“I didn’t tell you to look at what’s inside,” Menuchi replied and tore the envelope open. A few stamps fell to the floor. “Just at the address on the envelope.” It was enough that by tomorrow morning four or five of Miriam’s friends would know that she had received a letter from Tzefas. She did not need them to know what it said. But what did it say? She extracted another sheet of paper from the envelope, forgetting about the stamps on the floor.

“And what’s this?” Miriam bent down. “Are you trading stamps with some anonymous person? I thought you’re too old for that. You gave me your collection, if you recall.”

“I didn’t forget,” Menuchi said as she folded the paper. She would read the note when she was alone in her room. “I didn’t forget at all. It shows, by the way, that I’m not such a bad sister, even if I don’t share every last one of my secrets with you, right?”

“Sure, but what about these stamps?”

Menuchi suppressed a sigh. She’d be better off giving an answer now if she wanted to get to her room in the next half an hour. “I lent someone money, and I guess she’s returning it.”

“Returning stamps? Very funny.”

“Not funny.” Menuchi fingered the paper in her pocket. “It’s a pretty accepted way to send money in the mail.”

Finally, she was sitting on the bed in the room she shared with Chaya’le and could read the letter. A dictionary rested on the bed near her, in case she wouldn’t understand something. But the words were quite simple.

Dear Menuchi,

English is not your mother tongue, nor is it my primary language, so I will be brief. I wanted to ask you something. If you remember, I mentioned on our trip (which I very much enjoyed in your company) that Judaism interests me recently and I have a lot of questions. Would you agree to answer me? If so, please send your letter to the address below. And before I forget, thanks for the bus fare. I hope the stamps arrived safely. Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 10 of a new online serial novel, Beneath the Surface, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

Copyright © 2011 by Israel Bookshop Publication

“Jewish law and concepts have really begun to interest me in the recent past,” the foreign girl said slowly. “My fiancé comes from an Orthodox Jewish family. He himself does not observe Jewish law, but I would be interested in becoming a bit more familiar with his background. That is why I came for a visit here.”

“That’s a good idea,” Menuchi said, fumbling for what to say. “It really is.” She suddenly smiled. “I didn’t think you could be engaged already. You look so young!”

“I really am young…” The corners of the girl’s eyes crinkled when her broad smile crossed her face again. “I’m only twenty four. And you?”

“Twenty.”

The bus groaned as it chugged up the bottom of Shmuel Hanavi Street and Menuchi sought out someone who might be able to answer her question. “Excuse me,” she turned to a woman across the aisle. Something about the openness and self confidence emanating from the passenger on her left seemed to have rubbed off on her. “This girl needs to get to…” She peeked at the note the girl had given her, “Epstein’s Bakery in Meah Shearim. Could you tell me when she has to get off please?” Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 9 of a new online serial novel, Beneath the Surface, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

Copyright © 2011 by Israel Bookshop Publication

Half an hour later, a dark-haired figure walked through the entrance of the hotel. She went up to the third floor and knocked lightly at a door. Diana opened the door and proffered her hand. Lara scampered behind one of the armchairs.

“Lara,” Diana said sternly. The light-haired head shook behind the velour chair-back. “Lara, you’re not behaving politely. Miss Rosa only wants the best for you.”

Another movement from behind the chair was the only response. Diana sighed morosely.

“I’m sorry for the bother,” Rosa said, discomfited. “But if the child came back to you after having known you for all of half an hour, that says something. Children know how to recognize a warm heart.” She walked over to the velour armchair tentatively.

“Lara, it’s Rosa. I came to take you back.” She tried to make her voice sound smooth and soft, but a sudden hoarseness roughened it. “I’m waiting for you. Yesterday afternoon you played so nicely with Eva. If we get back early enough, you’ll have time to play some more.”

The child didn’t move.

Diana approached then. “This is not the way to treat guests, child,” she said very firmly, and pulled Lara in her floral dress out from behind the chair. “Miss Rosa is my guest. Tell her ‘hello’ with respect, please.”

The small back stiffened in defiance and the tightly pressed lips remained clamped shut.

“This is the way she’s been all week,” Rosa suddenly sobbed. “Since that dog left, she’s refused to speak to me or any other adult. She plays with the other children, but in almost complete silence.”

“She can stay here with me, until I return to London,” Diana said slowly, surprising even herself with the suggestion.

Rosa shook her head. “You’re really very kind and generous, Mrs. Mollis, but the child has to be among Jews. You understood that right away when you brought her to us. And besides,”—a small, crooked smile crossed her face—“Lara has an aunt. Someone from our office recognized the family name and was able to tell us that her mother had a sister who moved to Britain before the war. A few days ago, we sent a letter to her aunt and we are waiting for an answer. I wish all the children in our home would find relatives so easily.”

Rosa’s dark eyes rested pleadingly on Lara. “Won’t it be wonderful when your aunt comes to take you, Lara?” Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 8 of a new online serial novel, Beneath the Surface, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

Copyright © 2011 by Israel Bookshop Publication

Belgium, 1945

Rosa pulled back the polka-dotted curtain, and pale rays of sun beamed into the large room. “Good morning, darlings!” she chirped cheerfully, gently caressing a small cheek that was not yet dry from the night’s tears.

“How are you? How did you sleep?” She walked over to the second side of the room, partitioned off with a large cupboard. “Girls, it’s time to g—”  Her jaw dropped and then closed right away. The bed right behind the cupboard, which she had assigned to the new girl, Lara, was empty.

“She was here just twenty minutes ago!” Rosa murmured in puzzlement.

“She got up a few minutes ago. Suddenly, we heard barking from the window. She quickly got up and dressed and then left,” eight-year-old Evi whispered in a sleepy voice.

Rosa hastened out of the room and down the stairs. “Mira, please go up and help the little ones dress. One of my girls left!”

Thirteen-year-old Mira hurried up to the children’s room, while Rosa stopped on the ground floor, wondering where to go now. The door to the building wasn’t locked anymore, like it was at night, and she was afraid the girl had simply run away.

“Are you looking for that little girl? From your group?” elderly Mrs. Birenzweig asked from her perch near the table opposite the door, where she sat knitting. She served as the building’s de facto information officer, guard, first aid assistant, and a few other sundry positions. “She’s here, outside, with that huge dog. She promised me she’d stay near the entrance.”

Rosa walked out the door. “Lara?”

The girl did not raise her eyes. Rosa sighed and approached her. “You’re so quick, Lara! You got up and dressed so fast. Now come, we’re going to eat breakfast.”

Lara shrugged.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Rosa asked gently.

“He’s hungry,” the girl spoke for the first time, in a high-pitched voice.

“So come, we’ll go to the kitchen and ask the cook if she has anything for him. Would you like that?” Keep Reading…