Nine A.M. – Chapter 35

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 35 of a new online serial novel, Nine A.M., by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every week.  Click here for previous chapters.

Copyright © Israel Bookshop Publications. 

Excerpted from “The Kindergarten Book”:

There was a father and mother who lived in Eretz Yisrael, and they had three children. The father went to learn Torah every day in the Beis Hamikdash, and the mother prepared food for the children who came home each day from their kindergarten and ate happily. (Surele F.)

The non-Jewish Hauptmanns did not come to tell them what to do. They would go all day to pick flowers for Shabbos, and they also gave them out to the poor neighbors, so they should be happy. (Chana R.)

Once, a heavy snow fell, and no flowers grew. Outside it was cold, but the children and their father and mother had heavy, thick blankets and lots of clothes that Mashiach gave them all. No one was cold. (Dror E.)


“It’s really nice.” Binyamin closed the thick notebook, whose pages were tied together with a colorful, curly ribbon. “You wrote a whole story together?”

“Each one of the children contributed a sentence when it was their turn,” Naomi said. She was sitting on a small chair in the corner of the clinic. “We made a few rounds, until the whole story came together. Don’t ask, it went through a bunch of different versions of really captivating plots… I just hope the kids won’t talk about it too much outside, and that they have enough brains to realize  it’s not a good idea for the Nazis to read the story. There are a lot of expressions about wanting to get out of here, and to see the beautiful world.”

“And if they do hear about it?”

“So they’ll hear.”

“And let’s say they want to read it?”

“Let them read it. After all, these are children’s fantasies. There’s no violation of the laws here… I’ll leave it here—I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Just take good care of it, of course, and give it back to me when you go home.”

Binyamin placed the book next to his pillow, but after thinking for a moment, he handed it back to his sister.

“I brought it for you to read!” she exclaimed, sounding almost insulted. “I thought things like this interest you.”

“It’s not that,” he said. “It really is interesting. More than interesting—it’s very impressive. On the day that I fell, I heard in the factory that the children from the preschool put paper flowers near the door of all the residents of the camp every Thursday.”

“You never saw that for yourself?”

“No… When did it start?”

“Really, only the last two weeks.”

“I’ve been coming home very late recently,” he whispered. “Apparently, the flowers were inside everyone’s houses already.”

“The story was written following an ‘Eretz Yisrael’ game that we played in class,” his sister explained as she took the notebook back. “Then I decided to turn our reality into a much brighter fantasy. With children, it’s very easy.”

Binyamin looked at her seriously. “I want you to take very good care of this notebook, in your house. And if someone asks you about it, say that it got lost and you have no idea where it is. Don’t let any Gefreiter, or someone of a higher rank, see it, you hear?”

“I hear, my older, smarter brother. But can I know what you are so afraid of?”

“That what happened to Tatte shouldn’t happen again.” He sighed. “It’s true that if I’m right, and he really wrote something terrible that they didn’t like, it wasn’t as innocent as a children’s story. But still, you should always know that you can never be too cautious in this place.”

“Do you mean Tatte’s notebooks?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t find anything special there!”

“That’s right. And I don’t want them to find anything with you either.”

She nodded, a gleam of fear in her eyes. She wasn’t sure she fully understood what he was talking about. She wanted to ask, but just then Dr. Katzburg appeared. “Okay, Naomi, out you go,” she said in a friendly tone. “Your grandmother did not arrange rest for your brother so that people should come and disturb him, right? So please, go now; tomorrow he’ll be going home and you can visit him whenever you want.”

Naomi waved to Binyamin, and without a word, she hurried out of the infirmary, tightly clutching her notebook. Binyamin remained in bed, thinking. He had one last night here.

He’d been resting and resting for four whole days, and only at night did he methodically go through all the drawers, one by one. David Elkovitz sat next to his baby daughter’s bed, completely ignoring what Binyamin was doing, as if they had signed some invisible agreement.

He didn’t find a thing, and that was very strange. His father was definitely hospitalized here before his passing, and it wasn’t possible that with all the perfect organization that reigned here, documents should disappear.

If only he could use these last few hours here to continue his search!

But this morning, two new pneumonia patients had been admitted, and it would not be safe to search for his father’s card in their presence.

Besides, if he didn’t count the locked cabinets that he had no access to, there didn’t seem to be a corner in the infirmary that he hadn’t searched.

What more could he do?

Two hours after Naomi left, night fell, and the infirmary was dark. The wife of one of the patients also left, and only Babbe stood near the open door, leaning on the wall as her eyes studied the place. Binyamin stood up to daven Maariv and then washed his hands and ate supper.

“Binyamin.” Babbe walked over to him, “I’m going home soon.”

“Great. Thanks for everything, Babbe. Have a good night.”

“You too. The two new patients here got sleeping pills, so they should be sleeping deeply for at least the next six hours.”

Her grandson raised his eyes for a moment, and then quickly lowered them. What was Babbe—

“And I’m considering giving you a sleeping pill as well. Not that we have a lot, but for very severe cases, when the body needs absolute rest to overcome an infection, it’s vital. And I’m wondering if you are not classified as a severe case whose body is not able to overcome the curiosity virus, and that’s why it’s not listening to the responsible voice of reason.”

“Babbe…” Binyamin began..

“What did you think? That we leave the patients here alone all these hours? We have permits to be outside so we can check on our patients . And as the oldest person on staff, who doesn’t sleep so well, or for too long at a time, I’m the one who comes most nights, twice a night, to look through the window so I can make sure everything is in order.”

For a fraction of a second, Binyamin glanced at the window on the other end of the room.

“And besides, I’m just wondering about your lack of caution. How do you allow yourself to rummage and search and open closets and drawers, when someone can come at any minute and see you through the window?”

“There’s a curfew at night,” he murmured.

“I told you, the medical personnel have permission to come here.” She lowered her voice: “And because I saw that you accepted my orders—to rest—too easily, I took upon myself this shift four days ago. The situation here didn’t need more than that. I saw that you managed fine with Elkovitz, but tonight, Dr. Katzburg will be coming at least once to check the condition of the new patients, and so, your secret searches are hereby over. Otherwise, I won’t let you go to shul to daven with a minyan in the morning, like I did the other days. Tonight you’re going to sleep and nothing else—is that clear?”

“It’s clear.”

“With a pill?”

“No need.” He knew defeat when he saw it.

“Well, I don’t have any left anyway.” Babbe gave a half smile, but then grew serious again. “And in order that you shouldn’t feel that it’s a terrible waste of time to sleep, instead of using every last minute for desperate searches, I want to tell you that your father’s card is long not here.”

Binyamin was sure that he would not be able to fall asleep after this piercing conversation, but surprisingly he did, and he slept well, making up for the other sleepless nights he’d had.

***

Despite the marked differences in their mentalities, Dena’s mother liked her Viennese mechuteiniste a lot.

“What a wonderful daughter you have!” Mrs. Hanter senior exclaimed now. “So refined, so good-natured and pleasant…the two of us should always have lots of nachas from her and Bentzy!”

“Amen, amen,” Mrs. Weiss murmured.

“It’s wonderful that you called so that I could tell this to you.”

“Yes, yes…and I wanted to speak about something else, too,” Dena’s mother said, clearing her throat. “It’s a delicate subject, and it’s not so comfortable to speak about…but I think it’s important.”

“Yes?” Mrs. Hanter sat up straighter and raised her eyebrows.

“Dena’s mood.”

“She’s always a bit on the quieter side, isn’t she?”

“That’s just it—no, she’s not… Please don’t get me wrong; I’m sure you are doing everything for them. Dena told me what a wonderful shvigger you are, and how much her kids love you. You really are investing so much effort into them, and are doing so much. But Dena still is not comfortable there in Vienna.” At the last moment, she swallowed the words “by you.”

“You know, I’ve noticed. I actually helped her meet a new friend. I think it’s very important for a young woman to have friends her age.”

“It certainly is. Thank you for that.” Mrs. Weiss thought about what to say next. “Maybe we can find other ways…? She’s really…lonely there.” What an awkward conversation! Good thing Mrs. Hanter really was a kindhearted woman.

“Do you think it bothered her that I sent over a cake for Duvi’s birthday?”

“Oh, no, she mentioned how happy she was that you did that.”

“So what does she want?”

Were the reserves of patience that Dena’s shvigger had running low?

“She wants to find her purpose in life.”

“What?”

Mrs. Weiss nearly swallowed her tongue. “Oh, that’s just an expression in our house—we use it when someone is walking around unhappy and doesn’t know what is bothering him or what to do to resolve the problem.”

“So it’s up to her, you mean?”

“Of course it’s also up to her. But on the other hand, I think that maybe it is possible to help her. She is still young and doesn’t always know how to help herself.”

“We’ll think of something,” her mechuteiniste promised. “We’ll think together what it is that she really wants, and how we can make her happy. I’ll tell my son this, too.”

Dena’s mother had a few ideas about what would make Dena happy and help her realize her dreams, but she kept them to herself. And not only because the three minutes she had allotted for this phone call were up.

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