“Well, about herself mostly. She wonders if what her mother suffered from, that disease, is inside her, too, and if she gets married and has children, if the same thing will happen to her.”

“HaShem Yishmor!” What was there to say? Of course, it should have been obvious. But then everything should have been obvious. His young wife’s depressions after each birth and their escalating nature. Why, any educated person would have known it for what it was immediately! But he along with his community were too ignorant, too backward, and too primitive, he thought bitterly, getting a dark satisfaction in choosing the harshest words possible, not only to recognize it but to find her the help she needed in time.

“But what does this have to do with the boy? The lying? The trips to the city?”

She exhaled, lacing her fingers through his. “I don’t know, really. I can only tell you what she told me. She said she was afraid that she would never want to be together with a man and that she was encouraged when she found she liked this boy and wanted to be with him.”

“But what of all the rules of modesty we taught her? What she knows from living in a religious community all her life? What about the dangers? She knows better than anyone what will happen to her and her brothers if this gets out. Better than anyone!” he repeated with savage satisfaction. “Wasn’t she the one who was most upset about us getting married? And just because she thought it would hurt her shidduch chances? Hysterical enough to run away and plan to get engaged before it happened, when she was barely sixteen?”

“Please, lower your voice.”

Yaakov leaned back, removing his hand and using it to cover his eyes. All his good intentions!

“Yaakov, she was absolutely clear about understanding that what she did could have terrible consequences for herself and for the family. She was not confused about that at all. But you are talking about a young, troubled girl. Someone who lost her mother and blamed herself.” Should she tell him the rest, about her loss of faith? About how far it had gone with Duvie? How can I? How can I not? It’s his daughter, after all. He has the right to know. He has to understand. She inhaled sharply.

“There is something else.”

He looked up at her, frightened now. “There’s more?”

She nodded, taking both his hands in hers. “She is questioning everything she’s ever learned or been taught right now. Even”—she hesitated—“her faith.”

He flung himself off his chair and paced the room frantically. “Even that,” he muttered to himself. He looked at Leah. “And what did you tell her?”

She didn’t like his tone of voice. Was that an accusation, a reprimand?