Good for Jerry! And for Tom, Dick, and Harry who would surely come along if Jerry didn’t pan out. Which was fine, Leah supposed, with grudging admiration for her mother’s resiliency. Strangely, Leah sort of missed Ravi, although theirs had not been the most wonderful of relationships; he had practically thrown her out when she’d wound up at her mother’s doorstep after losing her job and being betrayed by her cheating boyfriend. In fact, it was his “What are your plans?” that had propelled her to get involved with a Chabad summer program, her first step in abandoning a secular lifestyle for a religious one. Ironically, it was in Ravi the lapsed Sikh that she’d found an unlikely ally. He understood about religious obligations and guilt and family, something her mother had always refused to do. She wished him well in Punjab with his dark-eyed bride.

“I’ve got to go, Mom. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I’m so glad you called! I’m sending you a big kiss and a hug, honey. And think about that vacation. I’d love to see the little rug rats. They’ll have a blast in the pool.”

“I’ll think about it.” Probably way too much since it was impossible, Leah thought, sighing. “Take care of yourself. And send me a selfie. Dying to see the hair!”

Long after she’d hung up the phone, she lingered prone on the couch, unnerved by the strange, incomprehensible irony that her mother, Ms. I-Don’t-Believe-in-Anything, was now comforting her in her religious doubts and encouraging patience!

“Please, God, don’t punish me. I know I’m a wretched ingrate. But just between the two of us, why would You let me meet the love of my life, experience the love of children, and then not allow this marriage to give me children of my own? Please, please give us a child, our own child!” She found tears rolling down her cheeks. “And please help me to understand my husband better, to make him happier. I know he also works so hard.”

She got up looking for a tissue. She blew her nose and wiped the moisture from her face before straightening her aching back and heading determinedly into the kitchen, where the grimy pots awaited.

But before she could even turn on the hot water, she heard the front door bang open and saw Shaindele walk in and head directly for her room. Even for Shaindele, who was not the president of her fan club, Leah thought, this was a bit extreme. She wavered between resentment, curiosity, and real concern. “Okay, okay, HaShem. I hear you,” she whispered, going to the teenager’s door and knocking. If you ask for chesed for yourself, you must first bestow it on others.

“Are you okay, honey?”