Shevi Auerbach reviewed the photos she’d just picked up from the developer, for about the hundredth time. The three-year-old Goldschmidt boy smiled back at her from the images; his mother would be very pleased, she was sure.

She took an album off the stack of new albums she’d bought and began sliding the pictures into the plastic sleeves. Mrs. Goldschmidt had said she’d come over later that evening to pick up the photos, and Shevi wanted to have time to show her work to at least one other person before she came.

Should she go downstairs to Chasida? No, it wasn’t nice to disturb her four days before her wedding. Besides, it was impossible to know how her mother would react. Shevi had no idea why, but Mrs. Dresnick did not like photos, especially not of children before their upsherin. Strange, wasn’t it? She’d said it clearly, when Shevi had begun taking photos and had scanned the Dresnick home for studio photos of grandchildren with long curly hair. She would have thought it was so like Chasida’s mother to adorn her home with photos of her grandchildren, but people don’t always turn out to be the way you think they are.

Shevi walked over to her dresser and opened a drawer. Chasida’s engagement photo lay there, and she picked it up, focusing on the faces looking into the camera. Herself, red-eyed, hugging Minda, who, with all her dislike for pictures, could not say “no” to the camera. Shoshi, Chasida’s twin, stood off to the side, and on their left stood Chasida, not looking directly at the camera, but rather trying to soothe Miri. Shevi remembered how the baby, frightened by the unfamiliar scene and not recognizing the festively dressed person who was holding her in the hubbub, was not amenable to being soothed just then. Keep Reading…

Yehuda called to apologize. He said he hadn’t spoken nicely that day on the moshav and perhaps had pressed Zevi a bit too hard.

“Exactly,” Zevi replied. It was quiet in the house. The little ones were sleeping after a tiring trip, the older ones were reading or playing quietly, and his parents had gone out for a walk.

“So…do you forgive me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“I want the truth.”

Zevi smiled. “It’s okay, Yehuda. I know it’s because you care.”

“You sure?” Yehuda pressed.

“Yes.”

“And you forgive me?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?” Keep Reading…

The familiar gate came into view, and just as they approached and were about to enter, someone emerged. Zevi heard his mother politely greeting the man who had come out of the yard, clearing the path for them. And then Zevi saw him: the man who had been following him.

“Hello,” Ima’s cousin said. “Zevi, right?”

“Right,” the boy responded. His mother hung back and didn’t say a word.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Eliyahu.”

Did he sound flustered? Zevi wasn’t sure. He solemnly shook the proffered hand. Here he was. The man who had caused…

Caused?

Caused what?

Have you forgotten again what the doctor’s husband had to remind you?

Zevi leveled his gaze at the man who was still clutching his hand. Eliyahu was of average height, with slight shoulders and a big, brown-orange-reddish beard. He had sparkling brown eyes that seemed to smile all the time, reminding Zevi of his grandfather’s smile. Perhaps he, Zevi, would also look something like that in twenty years’ time. He returned the man’s smile with a small one of his own.

“You’ve sure grown a lot,” Eliyahu said. Then he turned toward Shoshi. “Can I borrow him for a little while? Don’t worry; I’ll give him back soon.” Keep Reading…

Don wasn’t answering the phone again, and Eliad slammed down the receiver after seven rings. If Don wanted to play games—he could go right ahead. But he’d have to find someone else to play with. Why was he taking personal offense for Sol? And how did he dare go and blame his roommate for it?

The lawsuit was being filed by the army, not the soldiers who had been harmed. Don had been questioned once, but was then let go. Sol, by contrast, was deep in hot water. Two hearings had already taken place, and the prosecutor had succeeded in locating three other people who had been harmed by Sol’s fake creams. Reb Eliyahu, his brother-in-law Gavriel’s rabbi, was dealing with one of the claims. His cousin had lost four toes because of one of Sol’s products.

Sol wasn’t being sued now for the forgery, because he already produced the creams under his own name, but rather for producing and distributing medical products in violation of pharmaceutical regulations. And since the minute the lawsuit had gotten rolling, Don had been stubbornly ignoring his and Eliad’s friendship. Aside from that first visit, when Dr. Lorenstein had given him a dressing down and taught him a thing or two about how to speak to other people, as Elia had put it, Don hadn’t visited again, nor had he picked up the phone and called like Eliad’s other friends had. He hadn’t even sent regards—nothing. Eliad was ready to shrug off the whole friendship; it wasn’t like he’d gotten all that much out of it anyway, and he would manage just fine without Don.

Actually, Reb Eliyahu had called him yesterday to ask how he was doing and had described the hearing from the day before. He related that Sol had been asked to describe how he prepared his “wonder-working” creams. Keep Reading…

Shevi opened the door and entered the house; signs of the housewife’s exhaustion were apparent in every corner. The chairs were in disarray, a towel was tossed on the floor, both sinks were piled high with dishes, and a phone book was open on the table that was strewn with crumbs. With a tired sigh, she closed the book and sought the dishrag. She had no energy to do much now, but Gavriel would be back in a few minutes from his mother’s with Miri, and at the very least, he could come home to a clean table, if not a whole supper.

Baruch Hashem, Eliad’s condition had improved drastically, and the doctors expected to release him at the beginning of next week. But it was no wonder she was tired. Since Monday, when Elinor had called in a panic, Shevi had hardly been home, spending most of her time with her family at the hospital, next to Eliad. They had even seen Gavriel’s rabbi, Reb Eliyahu, twice over there.

“You’re very family-minded,” her mother-in-law had remarked to her recently, and it was impossible to discern from her tone if it was criticism or a compliment. Gavriel’s mother had really been very helpful. This was the third time she’d offered to watch Miri during this chaotic period.

Shevi bustled around quickly. As she put up a pot of water on the stove for pasta and lit the gas, the phone rang. It was Gavriel’s mother.

“Gabi just left,” she said. “His father’s bringing him.” She paused, as though waiting for a reaction of some kind.

“Thank you so much,” Shevi said warmly.

“Oh, it’s fine. Listen, Shevi, I asked him if you spoke to your neighbor about what I’d asked, and he said he had no idea. Did you do it yet?” Keep Reading…