Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 43 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.
From the siddur that Chani Klein prepared for herself at age twelve:
The boys sing in shul, and the girls next to the candles:
Lecha Dodi likras kallah
Pnei Shabbos nekablah
“Time and again, I’m amazed at the creativity!” Naomi laughed as she returned the siddur to her aunt/mother-in-law.
Her mother-in-law smiled. “All the girls my age had such a siddur,” she said. “The idea, of course, was Babbe’s, she should be well. She announced a competition for ‘The Nicest Siddur,’ because lots of the girls our age didn’t really daven the whole tefillah. Siddurim were in shul, for the men, from the few things the Wangels were able to save from the Nazi plundering. And a few people had their own siddurim.”
“I heard about the competition,” Naomi said. “My mother told me about it. She also made a siddur, when she got older, but it was smaller, and not so fancy and decorated.”
“For the competition, Babbe worked to get us all kinds of materials to make the siddurim beautiful…” Chani got up and put the siddur lovingly in the cabinet. “I think she asked Wangel to get colored paper and stickers, and she paid for it with her vouchers.”
“That’s not something that is usually done, right?”
“What, to ask the Nazis to buy us things? Usually it’s only for very urgent things, like medicines.”
“Oh.”
“You look very preoccupied, Naomi.”
“I guess I am. I’m trying to think what a girl my age could waste money on here, without anyone noticing from the outside.”
“What do you mean?” Chani got up to get the tray of fish from the small kitchen.
Naomi sighed. “I have problem, and I don’t know what I’m allowed to say and what not. I don’t want to tell my mother, because she’ll figure out right away who I’m talking about. So will Babbe, because she’s always been very involved in my friendships…”
“Do you want to tell me? Is it possible that I could help?”
“Could be,” Naomi said. She glanced at the candles flickering on the shelf across from them, and wondered if Elky had money this week to buy candles for Shabbos.
“So tell me without names and details.”
“I know someone…and from what I know about her, she shouldn’t be lacking money.”
Her mother-in-law nodded.
“But she is acting like she doesn’t have anything. We talked yesterday, and twice in the conversation I mentioned buying something. She burst out that she’s wasted tons of money already, and now she can’t buy anything anymore.”
“Is she married?”
Naomi paused for a moment. “Yes.”
“Do you think they’re hungry for bread?”
“It looks like it.” Naomi sighed. “Binyamin came to tell me that he saw her husband collecting old bread that was sent to the animals in the kennels.”
“Oh my!” Chani gasped. “Sounds like the situation is really serious! And you didn’t see her wasting money recently? Special food? Fruits? Clothes from expensive fabrics?”
“Honestly, no, but that doesn’t really mean anything. Because I don’t see her so much.”
“Maybe expensive furnishings?”
“I have no clue. When I visited her, we stood at the door; I didn’t go inside her house.”
“Maybe you need to try and find out, carefully, from Grossman at the carpentry shop, if she ordered any special furnishings… What else could it be? Maybe she asked the Wangels to bring her something from the city?”
“That’s what I also thought. But what could it be? An electronic?”
“She wouldn’t be able to operate it here without the people who operate the generator noticing.”
“So maybe she’s paying them, too.”
“That’s strange.”
“That’s right, because this whole story is strange. And the strangest part about it is,” Naomi blurted out, “that it’s someone who has lots of money. She really does have a lot. Aside for her salary—which is pretty hefty—she has all kinds of…” She searched for the right words. “Income on the side.”
“Maybe they need special medication. What do you know? But there’s no way to find that out, because neither Dr. Katzburg or Babbe will tell you, of course.” Chani was quiet for a moment as she straightened the becher, moving it a millimeter this way and a millimeter that way. “Maybe you do need to take this story to Babbe, Naomi. It sounds to me like lashon hara l’to’eles. And if there’s someone who can help…”
“It’s Babbe,” her daughter-in-law concluded.
“And if, of course, there’s any need for practical help, even in the meantime, until Babbe finds out what’s going on there, you can come to me. I can help with food—Wangel sometimes lets me take some extra products. I don’t usually ask, certainly not for us. But it has happened that I asked for a certain needy family, and Katarina had no problem with me taking.”
The boys came in with a loud, “Gut Shabbos!” and the elusive thought of, What does Elky’s Shabbos table look like? flashed through Naomi’s mind before it was replaced by the shouts of Meir and Eli, Aryeh’s younger brothers: “Mottel fainted!”
“Which Mottel?” Chani asked her husband, Yiddel.
“Mottel Kush,” he answered. Aryeh stood beside his father, his gaze lowered as he stared at his Shabbos shoes, which Naomi had greased to a shine that afternoon.
Naomi glanced at her mother-in-law, her mouth opening and then closing. Was there any connection here?
Based on what Binyamin had related, there certainly was.
“Did they take him to the infirmary? Is my mother there?” Chani asked. “In other words—should I run to call my father to eat the seudah with us?”
“No,” Yiddel answered tersely. “He woke up after a few seconds and insisted that everything was fine.”
“It sounds exactly like what Binyamin had…” Chani murmured. “What’s going on here lately? We finally finished that outbreak of flu and pneumonia, baruch Hashem… Has he also been working too hard?”
Aryeh shrugged, and his father shook his head. “I have no idea,” he said. “Hashem should help him feel better quickly. His father and father-in-law walked him home.”
“I hope that’s responsible.”
“So do I,” her husband said. “But Mottel Kush is an adult, and we can’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to.” He began to sing, and his boys joined him.
Chani was very quiet throughout the meal, and only at the end, as Naomi cleaned the tablecloth, did she call her over to the side.
“Can you take a tray of food over to the Kush family? Maybe they bought medicines for his illness with their money, and they don’t have anything left for food or much else.”
“So why don’t they go eat at their parents’?” Naomi asked. Then, realizing how awful that sounded, she quickly said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that we come here to save money.”
“You come here to give us nachas,” Chani hushed her, and pulled a wooden tray out of the bottom shelf of the cabinet. “Let’s not ask needless questions. This story doesn’t sound good, and we’re going to try to see what we can do.”
She piled two slices of lamb meat, a small challah, some pieces of herring, and some cooked zucchini onto the tray. “Aryeh will wait for you here,” she said. “You’re okay with going, right?”
“Sure,” Naomi murmured, even though going over to Elky now and appearing like the nosiest person in the world was the last thing she felt like doing. But like a good daughter-in-law, she put on her coat, took the tray, and left.
A few snowflakes meandered in the air in the mild wind, and Naomi hoped that if a snowstorm was on the way, it wouldn’t start soon. She drew close to Elky’s house. In dimly lit doorway, she could see the shadow of Mrs. Kush, Elky’s mother-in-law.
“He should rest a lot,” she advised. Naomi froze for a moment and then hurriedly moved behind the nearby tree trunk. To someone who didn’t understand, her action would seem strange. Why should someone who felt ill suddenly on a Friday night need to get basic food for Shabbos? Fruit, special tea, a homemade remedy, or even cake was understandable. But the couple should, ostensibly, not be lacking for food.
She had no strength for questions and surprise, and the tree was the perfect refuge. It also protected her from the snowflakes that were growing heavier now. Her mother-in-law was probably regretting sending her. It was alright; when Mrs. Kush would leave, she’d approach, knock, give the tray to Elky, and go back.
It took almost five more minutes.
“Naomi!” Elky opened the door.
“I came to say good Shabbos.” Naomi proffered the tray. “And…Shabbos hi milizok u’refuah kerovah lavo.”
“Amen.” Elky’s face was turned to the side. “Everything is fine, baruch Hashem. He just suddenly felt weak.”
“Elky.” Suddenly, Naomi felt this urge to just say it straight out. “If…you don’t have enough money to buy food, there are people who can help.” Without looking around much, she could see that the house was furnished very similar to hers. There was nothing luxurious in the big room.
“No, it’s fine,” Elky said flatly, taking the tray. “Tell your mother-in-law thank you very much.”
“How do you know it’s from her?”
“Because you can’t send food like this to other people on a preschool teacher’s salary,” Elky said with the hint of a smile.
“And what can you do with the salary of an office worker?” Naomi stared at her directly. “The doors and windows have to be closed soon, so the Shabbos candles can’t be seen,” Elky said, leaning on the doorpost. Maybe she was also dizzy, and was about to faint? “So you should hurry now, Naomi, before you get stuck outside in the snow. But really…thanks for bring this to us. It smells great.”
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