It all went through her head, an avalanche of words, impressions, and feelings: the way she felt splayed out on his couch. The way he’d brought his chair close to hers. How she’d blushed when he told her he “wanted to be her friend.” How he touched her skirt when he’d said, “I want to know every detail of what you did with him.” The threat: “Get comfortable!” The things she’d told him about Duvie and how he’d said, “You need someone more experienced.” The way he’d pulled the pins from her hair …

And then the word came to her, the perfect word that explained what was wrong with Yoel Grub, what was unacceptable and unspeakable. “When I’m there with him, it’s not tzniusdik.”

Leah looked at her blankly, trying to remember exactly what that word meant to haredim. You used it to describe clothing, which was either tzniusdik and acceptable, or not tzniusdik and wanton. You used it to describe a person’s behavior among other people, to describe a loudmouth, an exhibitionist, as opposed to a modest, shy person. And then it dawned on her, tznius, tzniusdik: that also described physical relations, situations, between the sexes. Stunned, she looked into her stepdaughter’s young, frightened eyes.

“Are you telling me that this psychologist, this Rabbi Yoel Grub, hasn’t behaved in a tzniusdik way with you?”

The girl nodded, relieved.

Leah’s head was spinning. “Are you sure it’s not just a misunderstanding? Can you give me some details?”

“The first time I went to him, he had a picture of women at the beach in bathing suits on his wall. He asked me why I kept looking at it, and I said I didn’t think rabbis had pictures like that on their walls. And when I came back the next time, it was gone.”

“So you told him you didn’t like the picture and he took it down. That was nice of him, right?” Leah said, bewildered.

“And whenever I told him about what I did with Duvie, he never said what any rav would say, that it was wrong, that I shouldn’t do such things. Instead, he seemed to like it! Something’s wrong with him!”

“Maybe he was just being understanding, trying to help you.”

“No, no! I can’t explain it. With the picture, it was like I caught him and he was trying to cover up. And with Duvie … he was demanding details. He got all excited, Leah.”

“But that could just have been your imagination, honey.”

“He keeps touching me!”

Leah’s mouth opened in astonishment.

“He touched me over my skirt, and then he reached over and took my hairpins out, told me to dress younger. He gives me the creeps, Leah.”