And your mameh would be, too, was at the tip of Leah’s tongue, but she held back. Was that true? Would she be? Really? Or would Zissele, the perfect product of her haredi upbringing on the streets of Boro Park, be absolutely appalled that her daughter had gotten herself into a situation like this in the first place? Would she be one of those people urging her to hold her tongue at all costs? Considering Zissele’s own behavior, it wasn’t a stretch.

Or maybe, Leah tried to convince herself, if Shaindele’s poor mother had survived postnatal depression by getting the help she needed in time, instead of being pushed to suicide by the paralyzing “shame” of needing psychiatric help, she would have been a different person, one capable of truly cheering her daughter on right now.

“And I think your mameh would be, too,” Leah added solemnly.

The girl sobbed twice, heavily, then inhaled, controlling herself. Leah pulled a tissue from the glove compartment and passed it to the girl. “Now wipe your eyes and pinch your cheeks to put in some color. Hold your head up high. You are a hero, remember that. You not only saved yourself but who knows how many other innocent girls from being sent to that monster’s office.”

They walked in together. “You go to class. I’ll deal with this. Where is the principal’s office?”

Shaindele showed her, then waved a small, hesitant goodbye as she went off.

Leah knocked on the door. When she heard nothing, she opened it. A bewigged matron sat behind a cluttered desk, looking up briefly with a glance that computed Leah’s worth with lightning speed, the algorithm no doubt a certain combination of the length of her sleeves and skirt, the thickness of her stockings, and the modesty of her head covering. A frown was the final sum, Leah realized, wondering which element had pushed down her score.

“Yes?”

“I’m Leah Lehman, Shaindele’s mother … stepmother … and I’m here to see Rabbi Halpern.”

One brow shot up. “Shaindele Lehman,” she repeated slowly with a slight shake of her head. “He knows you’re coming?”

“I’m sure he’s expecting one of Shaindele’s parents this morning.”

“Oh yes? And why is that?”

“I’d rather talk to him about it personally.”

“Well, he’s not in yet.”

“When do you expect…?”

The woman shrugged.

“I’ll wait, then.” Leah looked around for an empty chair and sat down in it.

The secretary ignored her.

It was more than a half hour before he turned up, lumbering into the office with slow, heavy steps, not bothering to look around or even greet his secretary. He disappeared inside, slamming the door.

Leah heard the intercom buzz and saw the secretary answer, cradling the phone between her chin and shoulder, all the while throwing surreptitious glances in her direction as she listened. “Hmm, well, okay.”