Chava tried to ignore her hurt. Shloimy was asking logical questions. “She said she’s looked into me.” She gave a short laugh. “These types of people do their research very thoroughly.”

Shloimy’s smile showed he conceded that last point. “So you’ve decided to take the job?”

“Nooo, I didn’t say that. It sounds exciting. But …” She untwisted the napkin from around her finger. “It would mean cutting back drastically on my Shvilei hours.”

“Why would you want to do that? You love the seminary teaching.”

“Right.” She folded the napkin into a small square. She’d already tried sharing with her husband some of the angst she’d been feeling this year, but he hadn’t seemed to appreciate her concern.

“This would be a nice bump up in salary,” she said instead. Even before she saw him shaking his head, she knew that this wouldn’t speak to her non-materialistic husband.

“We have the money we need,” he said. “You have to do what you enjoy.”

Chava looked at the tiny square of napkin in her hand. What did it matter what she enjoyed, if she wasn’t giving the girls what they needed? Besides, did she really enjoy feeling like an old fogey whose time had passed?

“Seminaries today favor the young, cool teachers,” she said slowly.

Shloimy snorted. “You’re worried they’ll get rid of you? You’re the best teacher they have.”

“No, I’m not,” she murmured.

Her husband waved a hand in the air. “Go tell Rabbi Freund you’re thinking of leaving and see how hard he begs you to stay. The star teacher at Shvilei! So many mothers send their daughters to the school because they remember you from back in their own seminary days!”

Chava’s face grew warm. “You’re exaggerating.” Still, she couldn’t help grinning. “I guess you’re right. Rabbi Freund wouldn’t be happy to see me go.”

“Are you kidding?”

Suddenly lighthearted, Chava felt the clarity that had been eluding her. “I don’t want to give up my seminary job. I wonder if Tirtza would let me do some sort of part-time consulting work?”

Shloimy nodded approvingly. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

She laughed. That was her husband’s life motto. She, on the other hand… there was a part of her that found the idea of trying her hand at starting a new program really tantalizing.

But not enough to leave the world of seminary teaching. That was where she belonged.

Tammy hummed softly to herself as she walked toward Shvilei. Over dinner she’d told Yehuda about her tutoring at Yad b’Yad, and he’d seemed to appreciate this new position.

“Sounds like you’re doing choshuve work,” he’d said, and she’d beamed at the approval in his voice.

“Even better, I’m not allowed to invite these girls to my home!”

“Exactly.” He’d winked and she’d laughed. It had felt like they were back to their old, pre-Shvilei days.

What he didn’t say, but what Tammy still knew he appreciated, was that this new income was also filling in some of the gap between her old salary and her current one.

She smiled. After the past few rocky months, things were finally looking up. Even her supervision sessions, which had felt so humiliating at first, had now changed in tone and felt more like the seminary’s investment in her professional development than her last chance before being given the boot.

Thinking about that reminded her that Mrs. Edelman had tried calling her this afternoon. Shimmy had been in the middle of an insanely cute attempt to walk, and Tammy hadn’t wanted to stop the video.

Mrs. Edelman picked up on the first ring. “Tammy! Thanks for calling back. How’s the new job going?”

“Fine, baruch Hashem.” Tammy hoped the small talk wouldn’t last long. She’d be at Shvilei in five minutes. “What’s up?”

“Do you have time to meet tomorrow afternoon? I’d like to speak with you about something.”

No, she didn’t have time. And yet, her instinct was to say yes, and simply brush aside every other obligation — cooking, Shimmy, Yad b’Yad, Yehuda.

She heard a voice — boundaries, Tammy — which sounded suspiciously like Rikki Klein’s. She took a breath. “Sorry, but tomorrow doesn’t work for me. Can we just talk by phone?”

Mrs. Edelman seemed to waver for a moment and then said, “Have you heard about the recent incident with ZeeZee Keller?”

“ZeeZee?” Tammy said slowly. “No, I haven’t heard anything, although I, uh, kinda guessed something was going on.” The words ZeeZee had shouted at her yesterday — “I’m not allowed to touch the place anymore with a ten-foot pole, but you can get a job here” — were still ringing in her ears. But ZeeZee had run off and Tammy hadn’t had a chance to speak to her since. “What happened?”

“What happened was that ZeeZee’s mother discovered that ZeeZee’s been hanging out for months at a center for at-risk girls. She was furious. So was Rabbi Freund.”

Tammy felt a hunk of lead drop into her stomach. So ZeeZee’s secret was out. What did this mean for Tammy?

Mrs. Edelman was speaking slowly, as if carefully choosing her words. “We were all shocked, of course. But ZeeZee claimed you knew about this and had even gone to the center to check it out. I told Rabbi Freund that this couldn’t be true. That I was confident you had nothing to do with this.”

Despite her rising panic, Tammy was touched that Mrs. Edelman had defended her.

“But then,” Mrs. Edelman continued, “I found out that you actually are connected to this institution. So can you give me some clarity about what’s been going on?”

“Of — of course,” Tammy squeaked. She tried to swallow her terror. Yes, this looked bad for her — really bad — but she was innocent here. “I had nothing to do with this. I just found out myself recently.”

“So you knew about this?”

“Yes… I mean, not really…” She’d reached the school building; she didn’t want to end the conversation on this terrible note, but she really needed to go.

“Listen, I promise I can explain everything, but I need to get started on my night duties now. Can we talk tomorrow?”

After she hung up, she took a few deep breaths. It would be okay. This time she really wasn’t at fault. Feeling somewhat calmer, she walked inside for her nightly curfew check.

“Hi, girls!” she called out as she walked into the lounge, making an effort to sound like her usual cheery self. “How’s it going tonight? Everyone here and accounted for?”

Rusi, who was reading on the couch, looked up. “Not everyone. ZeeZee isn’t here. In fact, I haven’t seen her all day.”

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 763)