Yet by the time she finally left the room after the long meeting with the social worker and the follow-up discussion she’d stayed to have with the couple, Ayala found herself staggering down the corridor, utterly drained. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself. Surprise, surprise. You’re up past midnight every night making them dinner, you’re making the trip into Yerushalayim every day to deliver it, and now you ran here for this meeting without eating lunch  — and you wonder why you’re feeling weak?

Her phone rang and Ayala felt her stomach clenching. She’d already received two calls today from new cases; the thought of how Chesed Tzirel’s reputation was spreading made her glow with pride — but how much more work could she take on alone?

She was relieved to see it was only Bracha. “Hey, there,” Bracha sang. “I just remembered I have a chasunah tonight and no babysitter! I hear it’s parent-teacher conference night at the Bais Yaakov, so you need your sitter, too,  but, lucky for me, you have a spare! Do you think one of your girls would mind coming over?”

An announcement over the hospital’s PA system made it hard to hear, and Ayala put a hand over her ear to concentrate better.

“Parent-teacher conference?” she asked blankly. “What are you talking about?”

“Isn’t it tonight? That’s what my neighbor Chana Baila told me.”

Ayala felt dread wash over her. “I didn’t hear anything about this,” she faltered. Was that true? Had her girls said something and she’d been too distracted to pay attention? But no, they would have given her a paper with her assigned time slot, and she certainly would have noticed that.

“Maybe it’s just for certain grades,” Bracha said after a pause. “Anyway, about the babysitting…”

Still feeling unsettled, Ayala said, “Sure, I’ll call and ask the girls. I’m not at home right now.”

Bracha’s voice suddenly hardened. “Don’t tell me you went to that family in Yerushalayim again.”

Ayala frowned. “I just left a meeting with their social worker at Hadassah. Is that a problem?”

“No, but don’t act stupid, you know what I’m talking about. Making and delivering their meals singlehandedly every single night? Hello, this is the type of thing you’re supposed to find volunteers for! That’s like, Chesed Organization Administration 101, no?”

“Ha ha,” she said, because, honestly, she had nothing better to retort. Bracha was right; what she’d done this past week had been ridiculous.

“Who, exactly, are you being a martyr for?” her friend pressed.

Ayala flinched. “I need to go now,” she said coldly. “I’ll call back to let you know about the babysitting.”

She increased her stride. PTA tonight? But her girls would have reminded her, wouldn’t they?

Her temple began to pound. Would they have?

Quickly, she dialed her home.

“Hi, Ima!”

Tziri sounded upbeat as usual, but Ayala could hear crying in the background. Chesed starts at home, chesed starts at home. She held a hand to her throbbing forehead.

“Hi, sweetie. How are things going over there?”

“Great. Everything’s under control.”

Sure, except for a wailing toddler. “Is that Levi crying?”

“It’s nothing. He wanted a cookie, and I didn’t let him. He already had three.”

Ayala winced at the defensiveness in her daughter’s voice. Wonderful. Now Tziri felt criticized by her absentee mother. Good job, Ayala.

“Thanks, I know you always do a fabulous job holding down the fort.” She hesitated for a moment and then plunged forward. “Tell me, I know my head’s been all over the place this past week, but… is there an asifat horim in your school tonight?”

There was quiet on the other end of the phone.

“Tziri?”

“Yeah… Yeah, there is.”

Oh, no. She glanced at her watch. Depending on traffic, and if she skipped dinner as well as lunch, she could be at their school by seven thirty or so. She took a breath. She could still salvage this.

“Was I totally spaced when you told me? I’m so sorry. What time is my appointment for your teacher and for Layale’s?”

There was an even longer pause. “Um, you don’t have an appointment.”

Ayala blinked. “Huh?”

Now Tziri’s words came out in a rush. “Layale and I both told our teachers not to give you a time slot, ’cause you wouldn’t be able to make it. They said you can call them a different night instead.”

Ayala’s heart plummeted to her stomach. She sat down on a nearby bench. “Why—” Her voice wasn’t coming out.  She cleared her throat. “Why did you tell her that?”

But the sudden siren wail of an ambulance pulling up to the hospital drowned out Tziri’s answer, and, on second thought, Ayala wondered if she really wanted to hear it.

“Listen, I have to go catch my bus,” Ayala muttered to Tziri. “I’ll be home in a little while.”

She ran across the street, her thoughts in a whirl. She’d just spent the past few hours — no, the entire past week — providing genuine support to a couple going through a terrible medical crisis.

But her daughters were convinced she had no time to go to their PTA meeting.

 Who, exactly, are you being a martyr for?

Ayala came to a sudden halt. She stood still for a minute, staring unfocused at the cars driving past. Then, squaring her shoulders, she called Naftali.

“I know you’re in the middle of seder,” she said in a rush. “But I just had a quick question. Tell me the truth: Do you think I’m copping out if I drop my speech job and accept Dini’s salary? Or is that the responsible thing to do?”

“This is a quick question?” Naftali laughed and Ayala couldn’t help but laugh, too.

“But if you want my quick answer,” he continued, “then I have absolutely no question it’s the responsible thing to do.” He paused. “But you already knew how I felt.” It was a statement and a question.

Ayala took a deep breath, as she suddenly felt a gigantic release of tension. “Yeah, I did. But now, finally… I think I know how I feel.”

Dini stared open-mouthed at Ayala standing in her doorway.

“Can I come in?”

Blinking rapidly, she said, “Of course, of course.”

She stepped aside, conscious of the fact that today had not been one of the cleaning lady’s days, and also that the dinner dishes had not yet been cleared. Her friend Yaffi had told her that she had a girl come every night to wash dishes and straighten up. Dini kept meaning to ask Yaffi if her girl had any friends.

She removed the bag of potato chips that somebody (probably Shuki) had left on the couch and gestured for Ayala to sit down.

“Wow, what a surprise! What are you doing here?”

Ayala seemed nervous; her hands were clenched around the plastic bag on her lap. “I was already in Yerushalayim, so I thought I’d stop by so we could speak in person.”

Dini tensed. Already in Yerushalayim. Tzadeikes Ayala must have been making her nightly delivery to the Schwartz family.

Still, at least she was finally acknowledging that they needed to speak.

Dini glanced toward the steps; her kids were upstairs, getting ready for bed. Surely Ayala realized this wasn’t the greatest time for a sensitive discussion?

Ayala noticed Dini’s glance. “Don’t worry,” she said quickly. “I won’t be long; I also need to get home. Parent-teacher conferences tonight.” She looked down briefly at her hands as she said it, and seemed to notice the bag she was clutching, which was from Olam Habayit.

She cleared her throat. “For you,” she said, handing the bag to Dini.

Dini’s eyes popped out. Inside was a set of small, decorative porcelain candy dishes.

“What’s this for?”

Ayala’s face reddened and she shifted her legs. “You worked hard to raise money just to make things easier for me, and I didn’t thank you properly.”

Dini’s heart melted. Beaming, she reached out and put a hand on Ayala’s arm. “It was really my pleasure. That’s what friends are for, right? Even though you decided not to use it.” She gave a little laugh to show all was forgiven.

Ayala twisted her ring around her finger. “Actually, I’ve thought about it some more, and I’ve decided that I will take you up on the offer.” She looked up with a sheepish smile.

Dini paled. “Really? What made you change your mind?”

“I never said a definite no. I just said I needed to think about it. And I came to realize that you’re right. Chesed Tzirel has been growing, and the only way to do it properly without driving myself and my family crazy is for me to work at it full time.”

Ayala’s eyes twinkled. “What do you say, partner? Are you ready to take this to the next level?”

The candy dishes rattled in Dini’s hand. How could she tell Ayala that she’d given away her salary?

“Absolutely,” she croaked. “I’m totally psyched.”

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 866)