Daina thinks she can recognize some of the faces from her welcoming party not that long ago. And Tzippy, of course, is a regular visitor here, being married to Leah’s son. As for ...
“To the music room. Just as soon as they let us out of here. No one’s going to notice we’re skipping class after this balagan”
At the squelch of mud, she starts. She peeks over the wall. A police car is parked by the curb, two uniformed men beside it
Tzorty. The only other seamstress in the neighborhood. Funny, that. What are the odds they would live so close, all these years later?
She is assaulted instead by the smell of frying onions and faint undertones of bleach. Ah, well. This is Jerusalem, not Teplidskai
“Okay, I get it.” Baila’s voice is shrill. “Sooo exciting, having this girl from the middle of nowhere move in”
Leah stops, keeping her distance from the grubby banister. The girl has her arms crossed. Her hair hangs loose around her neck. She needs a haircut
All Yisrael… A tentative voice springs from the corner of her mind. That would mean the scholar and the shochet. The butcher and candlemaker
Leah wonders where all the people are hiding in modern-day Lithuania. It is a far cry from the jam-packed highways leading in and out of Yerushalayim
“Yay, Daina! You haven’t been here in, like, foreverrrr!” Daina smiles and edges her way past the intimidating woman at the door
When asked to repeat it, she sings a second time, then a third. Until the man raises his palm. They’re done