Faye Kellerman - Day of Atonement

“He’s the absentminded professor, Breina,” Miriam said. “Don’t worry.”

“He’s impossible when it comes to time,” Faygie added.

“Always late,” Rina’s sister-in-law, Esther, chimed in.

Rina didn’t buy it. Even if Jonathan was irresponsible, Peter certainly wasn’t. But she didn’t say anything.

Everyone was quiet for a minute. Ezra broke the silence.

“I thought you were watching him,” he scolded his wife.

“I had the girls,” Breina said. “The boys are your responsibility.”

“Noam’s a year past bar mitzvah,” Ezra said. “I should watch him like an infant?”

“I’m not saying you should watch him like an infant,” Breina said. “But you can keep your eyes open. You know how Noam is. Lost in his own world. Just like Yonasan—”

“So if you know how he is,” Ezra interrupted, “you can’t keep your eyes open?”

Breina repeated, “He’s just like Yonasan—”

Frieda Levine broke in. “Stop bickering, both of you. You’re making all of us nervous.” But Frieda’s sense of dread had started long before this happened.

This was not something that would right itself. This was Yad Elokeem—the hand of God—punishing her, condemning her for not being strong enough. It had taken Him forty-one years, but she’d known that the time would come eventually. And now He had chosen the weakest of her sons, her most vulnerable grandchild, knowing how much it would hurt.

Her lost child—had he come as part of God’s vengeance? Or had he been sent for some other reason? Perhaps the Almighty in His infinite wisdom was also testing her. Perhaps she could earn redemption if she showed herself worthy—worthy of His mercy, worthy of Akiva’s mercy.

Whatever was expected of her, whatever she must do, she would do. She would be strong. To her husband, Frieda said, “Make kiddush. Akiva and Yonasan will make their own kiddush when they come back.”

Alter Levine was sitting at one of the folding tables, a volume of Talmud in front of him. He looked up when he heard his wife speak, but returned his attention to the Talmud when no one else moved.

Ezra gathered his other children and asked, “Who was the last one to see Noam?”

Aaron, the eldest, said, “He walked to shul with us, Abba. I davened after that. I didn’t pay attention to him.”

“He probably went to a friend’s, Ezra,” Miriam said. “He shows up at my house unannounced all the time.”

“He does?” Ezra said. “What does he want?”

“I don’t think he wants anything, Ezra.”

“What does he do then?”

“I don’t know. I give him a snack.”

“He can’t come home for a snack?” Breina said.

“It’s part of being a teenager, Breina. Sometimes a snack at your aunt’s house is better than a snack at home. Maybe he went to a friend’s house for a snack.”

“On Rosh Hashanah?” Breina said.

“Maybe he went to your brother’s,” Ezra said. “If he went to one relative, maybe he went to another?”

“Enough!” Frieda said. She turned to her husband and again instructed him to make kiddush.

“No one is sitting,” Alter said.

“Everyone sit down,” Shimmy said.

“Where should we sit, Frieda?” asked Sora Lazarus.

The next few minutes were spent trying to get everyone seated. Rina instructed the boys to sit at the same table as their cousins. She asked them if they had seen Noam. Both shook their heads no.

Sammy whispered in his mother’s ear, “I didn’t see him in shul today.”

Rina said, “You probably just missed him, Shmuel. Aaron said he walked to shul with them.”

“He wasn’t in shul,” Sammy insisted.

“How do you know?” Rina said.

“Because anytime I’m in town, Noam’ll hunt me out just to bug me. And he didn’t bug me today.”

Rina said, “Maybe he’s bored with bugging you.”

“No way, José. He bugged me yesterday, first thing. He’s a real jerk, Eema.”

Rina sighed. The kid did have problems. And she knew why Sammy was hostile toward him. Behind Sammy’s back, Noam had dubbed Peter and her with crude epithets. Naturally, Sammy had found out about it. There had been a fight, and Noam, being older and bigger, had given Sammy a black eye. At the time, Rina had been outraged, about to make a huge stink. But Sammy implored her not to say anything to Breina and Ezra. She backed off, knowing that her son had been fighting for her honor and her interference might somehow emasculate him. The whole incident eventually blew over, but not without psychological ramifications. She was cool to Breina after that, aware that Noam’s thoughts didn’t originate out of nowhere.

“Any idea where he might have gone?” Rina said.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Sammy said. “Noam’s always getting into trouble. He’s a mental case.”

“Shmuli, try to be charitable.”

Sammy gave her an impish smile. “Is Mrs. Levine serving us kid food or do we get to eat the good stuff like you guys?”

Rina was about to launch into a speech, but Sammy preempted her. “Forget it, Eema.” He kissed her hand. “Go sit down.”

Rina wanted to squeeze him and would have if they’d been alone. But alas, her boys were at that age—embarrassed by her hugs and kisses. So she just smiled at her sons, then found her place at the table. Her seat was sandwiched between her sisters-in-law.

Alter Levine made the ritual blessing over the wine. Following kiddush came the ceremony of the washing of the hands, then the breaking of bread. With all the people and one sink, the washing and blessings took over ten minutes. Finally the meal was about to be served and six women jumped up to help Frieda Levine. Frieda instructed the guests to sit, her daughters and daughters-in-law would help her and there was no room in the kitchen for anyone else.

Esther patted Rina on the shoulder and whispered, “You look pale.”

“It’s been a tiring trip,” Rina said. “And this incident isn’t helping.”

Rina’s other sister-in-law, Shayna, agreed. “Poor Breina. Noam has been giving her such a rough time lately. Not a bad boy. Just doesn’t have any sense. No sechel.”

Esther said, “Remember that fight that he and Sammy—”

“Yes,” Rina said. “He’s a very impressionable kid.”

“A lonely boy, if you ask me,” Esther said. “This thing must be bad news. Why else would Ezra ask Akiva to look for him?”

“Jonathan volunteered to look for him,” Rina said. “Not Akiva. Akiva just went along to keep him company. Akiva doesn’t even know what the boy looks like.”

“Poor Breina,” Shayna repeated. “It’s tough to raise teenage boys.”

Rina said, “Shhh, she’s coming.”

The appetizer was served. Rina was on her second sweet and sour meatball when there was a loud knock on the door. Shimon and Ezra leaped up at the same time. Ezra got to the door first.

Rina studied the men as they came into the room. Jonathan seemed anxious. Peter, on the other hand, was calm, expressionless—his eyes unreadable. His professional demeanor. That was really worrisome. For a moment, she flashed to those young faces plastered on milk cartons. The images were too gruesome to dwell upon.

Ezra said, “You didn’t find him.”

The women came out from the kitchen. Breina’s lip started to quiver. Frieda began to stagger backward. Esther stood up and offered Frieda her chair. Ezra told everyone to just calm down. But he was anything but tranquil.

“He’s probably at a friend’s,” Jonathan said. “I didn’t know all his friends—”

“He wouldn’t go without asking me,” Breina said. Her voice was shrill. “They wouldn’t let him come without asking me. Not on Rosh Hashanah.”