“I’m sorry,” her mother said. “There were so many times I wanted to tell you about Chaya, but I just couldn’t"

The thick, cream envelope Rikki had seen in the pile of mail was out on the kitchen table. The name and logo instantly grabbed her attention. Happy Vistas. The bright yellow sun set atop vivid green meadows looked more like an ad for a Chol Hamoed trip then a residential childcare institution.

Her parents hadn’t answered any of her questions yet. Maybe the letter inside would.

Her mother was outside with the boys waiting for the school bus. Her father had already left for the office. The coast was clear. It would take her only a minute to read.

She stared at the logo until it blurred into a haze. Then in one swift movement, she turned the envelope over on the table. Her hand shot back as though it had been singed. The flap opened revealing the letter inside. Rikki knew she shouldn’t, but curiosity overpowered her conscience.

She looked over her shoulder. No one was there. Her mind shouted no, but her hands seemed not to care. Holding her breath, she reached for the envelope and pulled out the letter. Her eyes quickly scanned the typed words. Dear Mr. and Mrs. Levy, As administrator of Happy Vistas, I regret to inform you… Rikki stopped. The sound of the front door opening made her tongue go dry.

Fumbling now, she folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope.

“Rikki,” her mother called, “ready to go?”

Rikki stepped away from the table, disappointed that she was none the wiser. The one thing she did know was that she would never be the same. It was as though a part of her identity was missing. How do you get that back?

She rushed into the hallway. “Yes.”

“I’m glad I’m able to drive you to school,” her mother said once they were in the car. “Looks like it’s going to rain.”

Rikki looked out at the gloomy sky. Seemed like the sky understood her pain.

Her mother backed out of the driveway, and they drove for a few minutes. Mrs. Levy stopped at a red light and turned to Rikki. “After I drop you off, I’m going to finalize the discharge arrangements. Chaya will be coming home on Sunday.”

“Fine.”

“There’s a lot to do to get the house ready.”

“Okay.”

“Rikki, I know we sprung this on you suddenly, but it’s going to work out. You’ll see.”

“Right.”

“I know you’re upset.”

Upset? More like betrayed, worried, and terrified of the unknown. “Yeah.”

“I know you have some questions.”

Some? Millions. “I do.”

“We’ll speak tonight when Tatty comes home.”

“’Kay.”

Her mother clucked her tongue. “Rikki. I know you’re upset, but your one-word answers aren’t helping me.”

Rikki looked out the window, unsure how to respond. She wasn’t only angry at her parents, she felt disillusioned. Maybe that was worse.

“I’m sorry,” her mother said. “There were so many times I wanted to tell you about Chaya, but I just couldn’t. It was hard keeping her existence a secret. Almost as hard as telling you about her.”

“It would have been better if you had told me.”

“I’m not so sure. You’re too young to understand this, sweetie, but we had your best interests at heart. We kept Chaya a secret to protect you.”

“To protect me? From what? From who?”

An impatient beep from behind prompted Mrs. Levy to step on the gas. When Rikki climbed out of the car a few minutes later, she realized her mother hadn’t answered her question.

(Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 782)