Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 75 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. 

We are sorry to inform you of the passing of the ishah tzidkanis, who taught all of our children with love: the preschool teacher, Mrs. Bilhah Shmilevski. The levayah will be at 2:00 p.m., near the shul. The lunch break will be extended by half an hour.

From his bed, Binyamin could not see what was written on the paper someone brought into the clinic, but he definitely noticed the pallor that spread on Babbe’s face, and the fact that she pulled over the nearest chair and sank down onto it.

“When did it happen?” she whispered to Dr. Katzburg, who entered at that same minute, looked sweaty and strained.

“While she was sleeping, apparently,” the doctor said, shaking her head sadly. “She’d become progressively weaker in recent weeks, and her family said that she fell asleep late last night, so they didn’t want to wake her this morning. But when they saw that too much time had passed, and she wasn’t waking up…”

Sarah Liba bit her lip. Outside, agitated voices could be heard, and Sherer’s son-in-law, sitting on the chair across from Binyamin’s bed, like a lion waiting to pounce, stood up. He fixed the boy with a warning glare, and then walked to the doorway. “What happened?” he asked loudly.

“Morah Bilhah passed away,” the doctor replied.

Binyamin, in his bed, opened his eyes wide. Morah Bilhah!

“When is the funeral?” Irwin asked, glancing outside.

“At two,” Babbe replied in a low voice.

“Was she very sick?”

“You could say that,” the doctor replied, blinking rapidly.

“She helped us a lot with our daughter, eleven years ago,” Irwin said. The meaning behind his words was in stark contrast to his ubiquitously accusatory tone, which was present now as well.

“She helped many people,” another one of the patients said, sitting up in bed.

The sad topic instantly took over all conversation in the clinic. Only Binyamin did not take part, both because of Irwin’s constant glares, and because he felt so empty inside. He didn’t know if this emptiness stemmed from Naomi’s betrayal, or the publicizing of the secret, or Wangel’s words. Or maybe it was because of the painful passing of the longtime teacher.

And what would this news do to Naomi?

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 74 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. 

Naomi,

I never want to talk to you again.

Is this how the metzora felt when banished from the camp?

Binyamin sat in the corner bed on the far wall of the clinic, his eyes fixed on the small huddle taking place near the door. Babbe was there, as was the doctor, Leo Sherer, and his older son-in-law. Too bad Leo hadn’t chosen David Elkovitz to send him to the clinic; instead, it was the broad, husky man standing there with an expressionless face and his eyes flitting from one metal bed to the next. Every time they reached the bed in the far corner, they paused for a few seconds, and then moved on, to the window and then to the first part of the room.

Leo was pontificating animatedly, and Babbe listened to him with a somber expression on her face, without so much as a glance toward her isolated grandson.

“Overwork,” Dr. Katzburg concluded aloud. “So we will start with some rest and something to calm him.”

“Something serious to calm him,” Leo said loudly, turning to face Binyamin. The latter turned his eyes to the ceiling. Did Leo really believe that everything was hallucinations, or was this his wily way of silencing him?

Babbe said something—Binyamin couldn’t hear what it was—but after a moment, everyone dispersed, aside for Leo’s son-in-law, Irwin, who approached Binyamin’s bed. He pulled over one of the metal chairs with a grating scrape, and sat down near the facing wall.

“Shhh….” the doctor chided. “He needs to rest. Please, keep it quiet.”

In contrast to the last time Binyamin had been hospitalized here, there was no quiet. Three other patients lay in beds closer to the door, speaking amongst themselves, and Mottel Kush, who came in with his father and the Rav, was not making a particular effort to keep quiet. He sat down near his baby’s cradle, together with the other two men, and began to discuss something with them. Babbe also got involved, and Binyamin wondered to himself with a wry smile what would have happened had he really been suffering from hallucinations, chas v’shalom. Would this bustling clinic have worsened his condition?

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 73 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. 

On brown packing paper, the words etched with a sharp instrument of some kind:

Hebrew Writing Lesson: Months of the Year

My Name: Zuska

Tishrei V

Cheshvin X

Kislev V

Teves V

Shevat V

“You can’t do it now, during your personal break!” Naomi raised her eyes and the pencil from her student’s quiz paper, trying to conceal her horror at her brother’s plans. “And if you want to know what I think, then I think you shouldn’t do it at all! It’s terribly dangerous, Binyamin!”

“It’s not,” he whispered.

“But if they discover that someone got in during these minutes exactly, you’ll be the primary suspect!”

“They won’t discover it, b’ezras Hashem,” Binyamin said, trying not to sound impatient. “I met Mamme on the way here, and she told me that one of the Gefreiters is in the sewing room right now, and her sister went to the city yesterday and is only going to be back this evening.”

“And Hauptmann Katarina?”

“She’s in the bakery. I heard this morning from Zuretzky, who is in charge, that she wasn’t pleased about something relating to the cleanliness yesterday, and she promised to be there today to supervise a thorough cleaning. And she was seen going in there not long ago.”

Naomi glanced behind her; the children were eating quietly. “But you can’t know when she will decide to relieve the workers of her presence!”

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 72 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. 

On brown packing paper, the words etched with a sharp instrument of some kind:

Reb Yosef, at 3. In the preschool.

Yosef Posen washed his hands with soap as his eyes studied the empty paper bag. His six children were sleeping—or in various stages of falling asleep—beyond the wood partition, so he lowered his voice. “Since when is this here?”

“It came with a bit of sugar inside, about half a cup,” his wife replied, a crease in her forehead. “It was tied with a string and hanging on the doorknob.”

“Who owes us sugar?”

“No one. It seems to be someone who didn’t want anyone to notice that there are letters etched into the bag, in the event anyone comes to take a closer look at it.”

“It’s not the first time that someone is returning to you something that they borrowed, right?”

“It’s not. But we don’t usually like to lend expensive things like sugar, which is why it’s suspicious to me. I checked the package when the children were not looking, and when I saw the writing, I hid it right away.”

“I see.”