Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 70 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.
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This note is personal—please don’t tell anyone else that you got it! The offer is for a small group of people for whom it is noge’a.
If you want to join a group to learn sefer Chovos Halevavos, under the guidance of the Rav, please tell Binyamin Schvirtz. The group will probably gather on Motza’ei Shabbos to learn. Binyamin has more details.
Binyamin swallowed a yawn and read his draft for the eighth time. He deliberated whether or not to erase the secrecy warning at the beginning. Maybe it was better not to make it too mysterious; on the other hand, when their meetings would become known—and they would—it wouldn’t be good for them to be something that was open to everyone.
Some would see it as haughty on his part; others would be offended that he had not chosen them for the learning group. But he hoped they’d forgive him soon. Especially when the day would come—halevai it should be soon!—and they would also understand what was really behind this handpicked group.
He copied the note over five times in his best handwriting and glanced toward the window. Gauging by the darkness, he should get ready to go to Shacharis. Then he would climb up again to his secret place from yesterday and call Hanter. Rabbi Schwartzbrod had also advised him, just to be safe, to try to raise some matters of Yiddishkeit in the phone call, just to make absolutely sure that they were indeed Yidden and this was not some type of trap.
Elimelech Yehuda Kush had entered the shul before him; he was one of the people on the list. The list also included Yidel, Aunt Chani’s husband. Daniel Landau. Baruch Hertzlich. Yosef Posen. If all of them would want to join, of course. It was safe to assume that they would at least come over to him to find out more details, so they could decide if they wanted to join, and then they’d hear that it wasn’t only about learning.
He didn’t count himself, David, and Zeide, who would be giving the shiur.
Or Aryeh.
“Excuse me, Reb Meilech Yehuda,” he said, patting the other man on the shoulder, and without another word, stuck the small note into his hand. Appearing as if he’d long been used to getting secret notes like this, Reb Meilech Yehuda slid it naturally into his pocket and continued walking further inside.
Slowly, the people gathered for davening, including the other four men on his list. One by one, Binyamin slipped them the notes. He purposely did not keep an eye on them after that, and hoped that something about the secrecy in which he’d cloaked his words would make it obvious to them that there was something here beyond a learning group.
After davening, he spotted Uncle Yidel trying to make his way over to him through the other people, but Binyamin did not wait for him. His time was short right now; he had to speak to the man from the spice factory!
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