Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 24 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’s perspective, continued:

The Sculpey clay was finished to the last crumb. We spent the first half of the lesson learning Orchos Tzaddikim, and then sculpted our figures during the second part. The girls had fantastic ideas and there were some really cute figures, but at the end we had a problem. We had to bake the figures and there was no place to do it. Did the Sculpey create a kashrus problem? In case it did, we didn’t want to use the dorm’s oven. We decided that we’d take care of it the next week. (Shragi would have to come up with a solution) and then we’d be able to play the game. I had to leave by then, in any case.

“Just a minute, Menuchi!”Sandycried. “Don’t go yet! We have to take pictures!” She was busy setting up her camera on the shelf.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Automatic photo setting!” the girls answered almost in unison. They were already posing in front of the camera, each holding her clay doll. “Sandy’s camera takes the best pictures like this.”

“But you don’t need it now. I’ll take the picture,” I suggested, walking over to the shelf. Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 23 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’s perspective, continued:

“I also have good news,” Shragi said after we finished sharing our excitement about Chasya Ehrentreau’s announcement. “Remember I told you about Dan, my uncle fromBelgium?”

I did.

“In the end, plans have changed. He’s not going to marry the gentile girl!”

“Baruch Hashem! Did you meet your mother at home?”

“No, she was at work. Simi told me everything. Did I tell you at the time that the girl’s grandmother helped raise my Savta Weingarten after the war?”

“You mentioned something like that.”

“So now my grandmother sent a fax of something she got a few months ago. They are the memoirs of that girl’s grandmother from after the war. Simi told me that the description of my grandmother as a little girl is very touching.” He took a spoonful of soup (without zucchini).

“Oh, Simi read it already?”

“No, it’s in English. But my mother sat until one in the morning and read it from beginning to end, and I guess she told Simi the gist of it.”

“What a shame it’s in English. If it was in Flemish you would also be able to read it.”

“I can barely speak Flemish. I don’t remember much of the language from when I was little, and I certainly can’t read it. I speak to my grandmother mostly in Yiddish,” Shragi said. “Besides, it couldn’t be in Flemish. The woman was British.”

“And her granddaughter?” My soup was finally cool enough for me to begin eating it.

“Belgian.”

“Well, when everyone finishes reading these memoirs, I want to be next on line. It sounds fascinating.”

“I think you’ll be able to get it very soon, because it won’t take my father—if he’s even interested in it—more than ten minutes to read it, and Simi never liked reading in English. She hates the language.”

A small bird suddenly landed on our windowsill. Her feathers were stuck together wetly and she looked cold. Shragi spooned out a small piece of carrot from his plate and cautiously approached the window. The bird fled. Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 22 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

Simi stepped into the stairwell. She lowered the umbrella and her eyes fell on Morah Yavniel, standing next to a flowerpot, where someone apparently had planned to plant something one day.

“Hello, Sima,” Morah Yavniel said, flashing a friendly smile. “One minute; you girls are sisters-in-law, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Simi replied. “Hello, Morah, hello, Menuchi.”

One last drop dripped from Menuchi’s gray jacket, splashing into the small puddle that had formed at her feet. How humiliating.

“Hello, Simi.” Menuchi decided to use the blessed method of ignoring reality—there was no rain, no puddle at her shoes, everything was dry and gleaming, and the birds were chirping outside. “You bought an umbrella?”

“I did. And I passed here and saw you, so I’ll walk you home with the umbrella. Um…I can walk Morah as well,” she said, suddenly remembering her manners.

Their teacher smiled again. “Thank you, Sima, but it’s fine. I’ll continue to wait here. I’m sure the rain will stop soon.”

They smiled at her and Menuchi bent over to her bag. “Good luck with the kugel,” her teacher remembered. “And you know Sima, you have a special sister-in-law.”

“I know,” Simi said. She smiled and waved the umbrella again. Right. I know. Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 21 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’s perspective, continued:

“Hey!” the girl said. “Hello!”

I turned around. “Hello,” I answered cautiously and looked at her expectantly. What would she think of my negligence? Had she noticed that the key was in the door—outside?

She had noticed. She took it out of the keyhole and placed it—

In her bag.

“I think…I think that that’s my neighborhood’s key, um, Chasya’s,” I said, stammering badly. All of my English flew out of my mind and I had to scramble for each word to form a coherent sentence. “She…gave it to me…and I think…that I forgot it outside.” I knew that I was blushing furiously. I could feel it.

The girl took the key out, looked at it for a minute and then at me, and then stuck her hand into her bag and pulled out another key.

“Oh, you’re right!” she exclaimed. “I’m always the last to leave and almost always leave the key in the keyhole. I thought it was mine!”

I smiled at her, my forehead and cheeks burning, and studied her with interest. She wasn’t tall, although she was still taller than me, and she had dark hair gathered into a curly bun.

“So Chasya gave you the key?” she asked, and I wondered if I should continue sweeping.

“Yes. She doesn’t feel well. She pulled something in her back.”

I went into the kitchen to put the broom away. She followed me. “Wow! You set the table yourself? So nice of you!” She had a pleasant laugh. “But you really didn’t have to bother. We usually just put a stack of each thing in the middle and the girls take for themselves. What’s your name?”

“Menuchi Ostfeld,” I said as I picked up the broom that had decided to fall. “And yours?”

“Adina Baumel, fromMiami.” We exchanged a few more sentences when I suddenly remembered about the lasagna. I dashed towards the oven. It was completely cold. Of course, Madame Ostfeld. If you don’t turn on the oven, it doesn’t usually turn itself on.

Once again the door to the apartment opened, and more voices filled the kitchen. I heard rapid-fire talking as I concentrated on the oven knobs. “This is Menuchi,” I heard Adina say. “Chasya hurt her back. She’s her neighbor.”

A few people suddenly stood behind me. I had no choice anymore. I pasted my broadest smile on my face and turned around. There were five or six girls there. They all said it was so nice to meet me and shared their names before disappearing into their rooms, still chattering loudly.  Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 20 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

The drawer was open, revealing the array of colors scattered inside. The eight-year-old child stood in front of the drawer, deliberating.

“Nu, Nati, have you chosen something?” His mother glanced at her watch impatiently. Her son had been standing there for more than two minutes already.

“It’s fine; let him take his time,” Dr. Chani Ostfeld soothed as she picked up the phone. “I think he deserves it, right, Nati?” The child smiled bashfully, and his new amalgam filling gleamed in the fluorescent light.

He hesitantly fingered a small plastic helicopter, but pulled back. No, he didn’t want that.

“Menuchi?” Chani had hesitated and deliberated before dialing. “Menuchi, do you have any special plans for this morning?”

“No, why?” Menuchi’s voice sounded warm and smooth. Chani liked the tones she heard.

“I’m calling from work. My secretary didn’t come in today and didn’t send a substitute either. Do you think you could come in instead of her? It isn’t hard work and today is not a very busy day.” When she was met with silence, Chani added, “It’s only until one.”

In the small apartment, the onions crackled as they sautéed in the skillet. Menuchi stared in dismay at the small pieces of onion that began to stick to the side of the pan, browning quickly. She tried to scrape them down with a long wooden spoon, but they stuck stubbornly to the pan and she didn’t understand why. She would manage with lunch. She didn’t have all that much left to do. That wasn’t the problem.

“Hold on a second,” she said a bit breathlessly. “My onions are burning.” Keep Reading…