Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 46 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.
ALT – Alanine Transaminase
AST – Aspartate Transaminase
ALP – Alkaline Phosphatase
Total Bilirubin
Albumin
HB – Hemoglobin
RBC – Red Blood Cells
WBC – White Blood Cells
Glucose
Creatinine
“One who begins a mitzvah is told to finish it, Naomi.” Babbe didn’t expound much. She appeared at the preschool less than fifteen minutes after she’d left, when Naomi came back. Now she was holding a small wooden box and a hastily penciled note.
“What is this?”
“These are the vials,” Babbe said. “And here is a list of the tests we need. I would ask you to ask the Wangels to supply us with new vials, because these are our last ones. But right now, I don’t think you should do it.”
“She’ll think I’m asking for new tests, for someone else,” Naomi filled in.
“Exactly. So, are you going?”
“You’ll stay here in my place?”
“I’m just going to help Dina, Tziporah, and Sima peel some potatoes and turnips, and then I’ll be back.”
“No need!” Katy, the assistant, called from the other side of the room. “It’s okay! Now is the children’s break, and then they do handwork. It’s better that you should help with cooking the food, because owhen you prepare it, it’s very tasty!”
“What kind of handwork?” Babbe inquired. “Maybe I can be helpful with that.”
“The little ones color and paint, and the boys learn to work with a saw and a hammer,” Rivku said as she approached. “The girls sew buttons. You really don’t need to bother. If it’s necessary, we’ll send some girls to you to help them thread their needles.”
“Excellent,” Babbe said. “My friends are always happy to get visits from the sweet girls in the preschool. So we have a deal?”
“Yes, yes!” Katy declared. “I hate working with needles. They always poke me!”
“Is that okay, Rivku?” Naomi turned her head. “Do you mind if I go now?”
“Fine,” her colleague replied. “But come back after lunch, for math class, okay? I don’t have patience for that.”
“For sure.” Naomi took the box and note from her grandmother, and they walked out together.
“Tizki l’mitzvos, Naomi,” her grandmother said, looking into her eyes.
“You’ll keep davening for me, right?”
“And fasting.” Babbe smiled. Naomi didn’t know if it was a joke. She didn’t think so.
“Babbe, you need to have strength.”
“I’m fine, Naomi,” the older woman answered. “I’m going back to the kitchen, okay? When you get back, come in to tell me—and Tziporah—what happened. She’s very worried about her granddaughter’s husband… Did you see Aunt Chani while you were there?”
“She waved to me from the window. She probably didn’t understand what I was doing there. As soon as the workday is over, I’ll run over to explain to her.”
And she continued on the same route as earlier.
The Wangels’ garden gate was open. She stood and rang once again, until someone looked out of the window from the second floor. “Come in, come in!” she shouted. “Go to the garden, next to the bench!”
Obediently, Naomi walked down the pathways of the garden, pondering that her father had walked these same paths when she was a baby. Who tended to the garden today? She’d never thought about it.
She stood near the bench and waited. Within a few seconds, the three ducks approached her. They stood around her, as if waiting for her to give them something. “There are others who enjoy feeding you,” she whispered. “Go to them. I prefer to feed different mouths.”
“Yes, Shvirtz?” The Hauptmann’s mocking voice came from behind her. “You made it really fast, I see.”
“Yes,” Naomi said politely. “Here are the vials, and this is the list of tests that are needed.”
“Put them inside.” The other woman rubbed the palms of her hands. Naomi opened the box carefully. Three test tubes lay there, on some soft material, filled with dark, crimson liquid. She placed the note on top of the tubes and closed the box.
“Alright. You’re free to go. Hmmm…” Katarina smiled. “If you want to visit your husband’s mother in the kitchen, I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you. She tried to find out before what you were doing on our private grounds.”
Naomi looked at her, wondering how sincere her intentions were.
“You can go in, from this doorway. Make a left and go till the end; that’s where the kitchen is. And when you see her, give her a message to hurry up with lunch, because I need to leave soon.” She took the box from Naomi. “But make sure not to disturb her work!”
“Of course. Thank you, Hauptmann,” Naomi said and turned to the doorway the woman had pointed to. It was closed, and Naomi hesitated for a minute. She knocked, and when there was no answer, she cautiously turned the knob.
This wasn’t a trap, was it?
She waited another minute and then two, and then entered and made a left. The strong smell of cooked food hit her nose, convincing her that this was the right place. She crossed through a small, clean, well-heated lobby and advanced, until a short figure appeared suddenly across from her, and cried happily, “It’s Naomi! Mamme, it’s Naomi!”
“Eli, how are you?” his sister-in-law asked with a grin.
“Baruch Hashem, good.”
Her mother-in-law appeared in the kitchen doorway and grasped her ten-year-old’s hand. “Shhh…” she hushed him, tugging him back inside. Then she turned to Naomi with a nervous smile. “What’s doing, Naomi? What are you doing here?”
“They didn’t tell you?” Naomi followed them into the gleaming kitchen.
“No.”
“They are so mean. I came to ask for permission for blood tests for Mottel Kush.”
“You? Why you?”
“Babbe asked me to do it. She and Dr. Katzburg have asked for lots of things this winter…”
“I knew that I had a talented daughter-in-law!” Chani sighed. “And now they send her on complicated missions…”
“Baruch Hashem, it wasn’t especially complicated. I talked and talked, and eventually she agreed.”
“Good for you, tzaddeikes that you are. Meir, where are the serving trays? Good, good, and take out the enamel spoons also.”
Naomi lowered her voice. “I just remembered, Katarina asked me to tell you that she has to leave soon.”
“So here we are, almost finished.” Chani took a big tray from her son. “So she sent you to me?”
“Yes. Nice of her, isn’t it?” She looked around. “Can I help with something?”
“Come, take the silver cutlery and napkins out of this cabinet.”
“They carry the tray themselves?” Naomi looked at her two young brothers-in-law holding the tray together, as their mother loaded a full platter of meat, a pitcher of fresh juice, and a deep bowl filled to the top with a steaming stew of some kind.
“Of course. Do you know what Aryeh schlepped when he was their age? Such a tray, by himself. Their muscles develop, and that’s only an advantage in this place.”
“True,” Naomi said. “But maybe I can help them, too.”
“I think that every additional hand will just hinder.” Chani chuckled. “They’ve only dropped the tray twice since they started working with me, and I always have reserves of everything, just to be on the safe side…”
“What kind of meat is that?” Naomi asked suddenly.
Chani was quiet for a long moment. “Better you shouldn’t ask,” she said finally. “Not something we can eat.”
Naomi’s eyes followed the two children taking careful steps out of the kitchen.
“But it’s fine, according to halachah, right? I don’t cook them meat and milk together—that I know is not allowed.” Something about Chani’s voice sounded vulnerable suddenly.
“Of course,” Naomi said quickly. “It just came to my mind.”
“What did you think until now? That I cook glatt kosher for them?”
“Honestly, I never really thought about it at all.”
“There are kosher pots here, of course, like the ones I used to prepare the meal for Elky’s wedding. But most of the Wangels’ day-to-day food is not really kosher. I don’t make the effort to check their rice, for example. You understand that, right?”
“Of course, for sure.” Naomi looked for a place to fix her gaze. She suddenly felt so uncomfortable looking into her aunt/mother-in-law’s face; Chani’s movements had become faster and bit jerky. “Can I help with anything else?” she asked quietly.
“Yes, thanks. I’d appreciate it if you can put the spice containers back on the shelf. But then go back to Babbe. She’s probably worried and wants to hear that you were successful.”
“Sure,” Naomi said, trying to inject warmth into her voice. She came over to the counter and took the spice containers. “These are different from the spices they sell in our store,” she said, pointing with her chin toward the window and everything beyond.
“That’s right. The lager camp store is stocked with spices from a very cheap company. For themselves, the Wangels buy much higher-quality spices, Hanter’s spices.”
“Looks like good stuff.” Naomi picked up the glass bottle that had paprika in it, studying it closely.
Then she fell silent.
***
Dena walked swiftly without stopping. She’d find a way to find out if Suri was part of this plot. It wasn’t nice to call it a plot, when all they wanted—maybe—was to make things better for her.
But if Suri was in on it, then it was a plot, like it or not.
Her anger fueled her energy, and she discovered that there was something that felt good about being angry at an injustice. Her anger propelled her forward. One street, then another, then a left, and she would be at the factory. She wouldn’t ask Suri directly what she knew and what she didn’t. But she would talk to her now about the list they’d asked her to prepare, and she’d see how Suri would react to that.
Hey, this was supposed to be the street she turned off at.
But if so, where was the factory?
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