Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 40 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.
Abba comes home. Chana runs to Abba. Nosson also runs to Abba. Abba is happy.
Nosson gives Abba a date. Chana gives Abba a shoe.
Abba says, “Nosson is smart! Chana is smart! Thank you, children, thank you!”
“I’m already a reading expert,” Aryeh said with satisfaction as he put the paper down on the table. “I only had trouble with that last line, but I was able to figure it out.”
“I really wanted the father to tell them something else, but I couldn’t find something with the right nekudos,” Naomi said, taking out a small box of sugar.“If I would be more fluent in Lashon Hakodesh, maybe I would find better words with kamatz and pasach…” She smiled. “And maybe I would also find an idea for something else that Nosson could give the father… But my girls enjoy reading about a tamar,a date. The idea excites them even though none of them has ever seen the fruit.” She stopped and looked at her husband. She didn’t hear anything, but from experience she already knew that his sense of hearing was much sharper than hers, and clearly, he had just heard something.
“Knocking, now?” Aryeh asked.
“Naomi!” a voice whispered from outside.
“It’s Binyamin!” She dashed for the door. Her guess was right, and she hurriedly ushered her pale-faced brother inside.
“Welcome!” His brother-in-law shook his hand, and Naomi quickly prepared another cup of tea.
“No, I have no time,” he said. “Naomi, where is the book that the children in your preschool wrote, the one about Eretz Yisrael?”
“Here,” she said.
“I suggest you destroy it, the sooner the better. Bury it, burn it, whatever—just get rid of it.”
“What?” She left the cup and turned around. “Don’t you think you’re overdoing it a bit, Binyamin?”
“Maybe,” he said. “But the danger is too great to take a chance. Wangel threw a couple words to me about it today.”
“About the book?” Now she also paled.
“Really?” Aryeh turned around and took the bundle of pages, tied together, out of the cabinet behind him. He looked at Binyamin.
“Yes. I’m writing an article for some Austrian paper for them, and he mentioned my sister’s writing abilities…” Binyamin took a deep breath. “He also mentioned a letter or note that Tatte wrote.”
“A letter or note that Tatte wrote,” Naomi echoed hollowly, forgetting about her book for a moment. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that’s what Mamme doesn’t want me to see. He asked me if I’ve read such a thing.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I told him I never knew that my father wrote anything besides notebooks filled with explanations on the Jewish Talmud. I hope he believed me. But Naomi, don’t take my warning lightly. They heard something about the book you wrote, and they might want to see it. It won’t help you to tell them that it got lost if it doesn’t actually get lost.”
“Okay,” she said worriedly.
“I also came to talk about something else,” he said, hesitating for a moment. “Tell me, Naomi. Your friend…the one who is married to Mottel Kush.”
“Elky.”
“Yes. What…is there a problem there or something? Are they healthy? Do they have enough money?”
“As far as I know, they don’t lack for anything,” Naomi said, biting her lip. Not that she was going to say something about the money that Elky wasn’t lacking after she’d arranged the medicine for Zuska, but something about the involuntary motion calmed her.
“Could someone be blackmailing them?”
“Blackmailing!” Naomi swallowed.
“Mottel looks…” Binyamin groped for the words, and then chuckled. “You know, it sounds foolish, but…he looks hungry.”
“Hungry?” Aryeh turned to him.
“Do you think I’m wrong?”
“No, I think you’re right. Just a few days ago I noticed that his face looks different, and now I’m realizing that he looks gaunt.”
“Maybe they owe someone money?” Naomi tried to guess, guilt beginning to pound in her heart. Now that she thought about it, Elky also wasn’t looking good lately.
And she’d been angry at her for demanding such sums… Poor Elky. Nebbach. Who knew what kind of pressure she was under, if they were literally going hungry!
The men spoke quietly to each other, while the wheels in Naomi’s mind whirled in every direction, as she tried to figure out which was the right one.
Her brother turned to her. “Can you look into it, Naomi?”
“Into what?”
“Find out if they have financial problems.”
“Is there something to check?”
“Before I speak with the Rav? For sure,” Aryeh replied. “No one wants someone to put in a request to the tzedakah fund for him based on just one piece of information, which might be mistaken.”
“How can I check?” Naomi’s forehead creased. “Should I come and inspect what she’s cooking for supper?”
“Why not? Go visit her,” her brother suggested, in a typically masculine, naïve way.
“Or go to her at the office and see what she brings to eat,” her husband suggested.
“I’m working then. And besides, who says I’ll get there just when she’s eating?”
“Invite her to a meal together, and share the cooking. Then you can see what she brings.”
That idea didn’t sound so bad, and Naomi turned it over in her mind. “That could be an idea,” she said slowly, “but…when exactly do we have time to meet? Besides…our friendship isn’t as strong as it used to be.”
Why? Because she was angry at Elky, deep in her heart? With all that was coming to light, that seemed so lame now.
Well, in all honesty, it wasn’t only that. Elky was also angry at Babbe, who prevented her from going to the party at the Wangel estate, and anger isn’t always able to compartmentalize in order to avoid the people who it’s not directed at…making Naomi a victim of Elky’s wrath as well.
So no, she really wasn’t that interested in going to Elky and inviting her for a meal together, like they used to do when they were young, carefree girls. But if there was no other way, and the couple needed help urgently…
“I’ll think about it,” she said heavily. “I hope I can come up with a better idea.”
“Great. What’s with the book?” He pointed to the table. “What are you going to do with it?”
“We’ll get rid of it,” Aryeh said firmly.
“When?”
Naomi sighed. “Tomorrow, tomorrow. And until then—” she hurried to say when she saw her brother’s hand start to move—“we’ll hide it well.”
“Good. And keep the kids busy by talking about something else.” He turned to the door.
Naomi nodded, her face serious. She was about to say goodnight, but Aryeh stopped his brother-in-law and cousin with his hand. “Don’t go now,” he said. “It doesn’t sound quiet outside.”
Binyamin stopped. “I don’t hear anything,” he said, after a minute.
“But I do,” Aryeh whispered. “They are not close, but they are in the camp. I think that since the eclipse, they’ve been pretty nervous.”
“Well, of course, an eclipse is a bad omen for the nations of the world,” Naomi said. She thought for a moment. She could spread out some blankets on the floor for Binyamin in the little alcove near the door, but what would happen if they’d come just tonight to search?
Not that she remembered the last time they had searched the homes at night, but her mother had stories of such incidents, and Babbe had even more stories. Apparently, in the early years of Samson Lager, the Nazis were much more nervous and suspicious; with time, they’d relaxed.
But in recent days, they were edgy once again.
“It’s because of those onlookers who came to the area,” Aryeh said. “Maybe the Nazis are afraid that someone on the outside realized that people are being hidden here and are about to report it to the authorities. This is about their lives, Naomi, not only ours. It’s no wonder they’re afraid we’ll be discovered.”
“If someone would have realized something, he wouldn’t have waited until now,” she said. “And they wouldn’t let us go out to work normally. They would keep us in the shelters until the danger passed.”
“That would be a waste of productive work days for them,” Aryeh said confidently. “It’s probably just a niggling suspicion, but they are taking it seriously. Binyamin, can we prepare a bed for you here? There aren’t too many hours left till daybreak anyway.”
***
“I’m preparing a quiche,” Dena said into the tape recorder. She still wasn’t sure she’d send this tape to Israel, but she’d had a sudden urge to record herself. “Onion quiche. Charna, my friend, invited me for an evening with the ladies here. It’s the first time I’m going. Each person brings something she makes, and I don’t want to be the odd one out. I hope they’ll be friendly and nice, because…” She hesitated for a moment. The children were sleeping, the door was locked, and Bentzy wasn’t expected for another hour. But still.
“Because I don’t have lot of confidence when I meet new people and have to deal with new things.” She mixed the eggs and flour, and then added salt, black pepper, and a bit of sugar. “And maybe that is what’s making me feel so stuck here and putting me in such a bad mood all the time.”
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