No, she would not sit down. She simply could not grasp, she said, how anyone could be so insensitive, although nothing surprised her any more. She had come to demand that I do something, or, as she put it, that “you make this your business right now!”

“Excuse me,” I said, “but exactly what is it that I’m supposed to make my business right now?”

“Srulik,” she snapped, as if my name were a dirty word, “would you tell me whether you’re a complete numbskull or just pretending to be one? Or is this simply your sick sense of humor?”

“That could be,” I said. “Anything is possible. But I can’t give you an answer until I know what the question is. And I suggest that you consider sitting down after all.”

“Do you really mean to tell me you know nothing about what’s happened? That you’ve seen no evil and heard no evil? That while the whole kibbutz has been talking about nothing else, Your Royal Highness has been spending his morning on the dark side of the moon?”

The two of us were staring at each other across the desk. I couldn’t suppress a slight smile.

“Something terrible has happened,” said Hava.

I apologized at once. I explained to her that I truly had no idea what she was talking about. The fact is that for the past several years I’ve been skipping breakfast in the dining hall and getting by until lunch with tea, crackers, and yogurt in my office. Was anything, God forbid, wrong with Yolek?

“He’s next!” said Hava, bubbling with venom. “Troubles always come in pairs. But this time it’s Yoni.”

“Hava,” I said, “I’m not clairvoyant. Please try to tell me exactly what happened.”

With a sudden, jerky motion, as if she were about to scatter my papers or slap my face, she collapsed into the chair I had offered her, shielding her eyes with one hand.

“I don’t get it,” she whispered. “You’ve got to have the heart of a murderer to treat me like this.”

I couldn’t understand who was the murderer—her husband, her son, or me—or why I put my hand on her shoulder and called her softly by name.

“Srulik,” she said, looking up at me, “will you help?”

“Of course I will,” I said. And though, for many years now, physical contact with anyone has been difficult for me, I left my hand where it was. I may even have touched her hair. I wouldn’t swear to it, but I think I did.