“I do not believe in coddling children. This is a harsh world. The sooner they learn this, the sooner they will adapt”

Fury pulses through him as Eliyahu pounds down the hill and through the town. When he reaches Leonora’s home, he pushes open the door and strides directly to her accounts room. He stands before her, his feet planted on the stone, as if he is a tree that takes its strength from the earth.

He resists the urge to pluck pen and parchment from her fingers. She coolly continues her work while he stands there, catching his breath. He could rein in his anger, but he needs it, for the sake of the children.

“The children.”

“Hmm.” She still does not look up.

“What are they doing working in the wool factory?”

She sniffs. “I believe that they are helping complete a process wherein the wool, which has been washed a number of times, is set on wooden slats to dry and beaten with sticks, to remove foreign matter and to separate the wool which has become tangled in the process.”

She reaches over to a parchment on the side of her desk and unrolls it, following the text with her finger. “A summary of the process. The wool will then be dyed blue, a process which takes three days. I will need no additional workers during that time. For the combing, it is possible that some of the older children will be required to help.”

How can she be so oblivious to the wrong she is doing? “Would you do this to your own children?”

“I do not believe in coddling children. This is a harsh world. The sooner they learn this, the sooner they will adapt.”

There are so many ways to respond that his mind reels. The harshness of the world. Our task in caring for our children. Unbidden, the image of his lost baby’s soft blanket comes to mind. A baby feels hunger. But its world is not harsh, for it is wrapped in soft, warm arms. He does not finish the thought.

Bewilderment at her reaction dissipates the anger, and he is surprised by the pain that overcomes him, in his chest and shoulders, in the place where his heart should be, an ache so great that he can think of nothing else.

“This is not merely working hard,” he finally says. “This is work that would exhaust a man, with a man’s strength.”

His words do not move her. The anger returns.