He sat down next to her, a flash of fury and anguish in his eyes as he looked at her wounds. He reached out for her unbandaged hand, kissing her fingers. “You look beautiful. Leah, Leah, why were you walking? Why didn’t you take the car? We spoke about this!”

“Yaakov, the tires were slashed.”

His shoulders slumped, and his face stiffened furiously.

“And, Yaakov, I’ve lost all my customers. The Bobelger threatened them.”

He turned away from her, looking at the ground. “My boss called me in, too. Told me he’d had complaints about my work from clients, people I don’t even work for, Hasidim. I tried to explain, but he doesn’t want to hear. They can’t afford to lose customers, he says. He wants me to deal with this or he might fire me.”

“Deal with this? What, send her back to Grub? Apologize to him? Pretend we were mistaken?” She searched his face, holding her breath.

“Never!” he said emphatically, and her heart filled with love for him, for this brave, upright, kind man.

“Oh, what are we going to do? This is what it must be like to live with the Mafia in places like Sicily or Naples.”

“And this is how criminals spread their evil and torture the innocent. Whatever happens, we can’t give in!”

Then she thought of something. “Did Shaindele get home all right?”

“Fruma Esther took a taxi. Picked up all the children and took them home. She’s waiting for us.”

“What would we do without her, Yaakov?”

He nodded. “She’s a blessing.”

“When are they releasing me?”

“I think they want we should wait another hour, just to make sure you aren’t dizzy or throwing up.”

And then, there was nothing left to say. She closed her eyes, giving him her hand. He sat by her bedside holding it like a precious jewel.

Help me, he prayed. Dear Lord. Help me.

32

GOD’S MESSENGER

When they got home later that night, Chasya was still up, sitting in the living room with her sister and Bubbee.

“Mommy!” Chasya screamed, running toward her. Yaakov smiled at her but held up a hand, cautioning her not to get too close. After he helped Leah walk toward the couch and sit down, he lifted the child in his arms.

“You were worried about Mommy,” he said gently, and the child nodded.

“The rosha knocked her down—his head should only crack open like an egg! And someone should steal his bicycle!” she added for good measure.

“Come here.”

Yaakov sat the child on the couch next to Leah, who wrapped her uninjured hand around the little girl’s shoulder, pulling her close. She brushed away her silky dark hair from her forehead and kissed her.

“Why did he do it, Mommy?” the child asked, putting her thumb in her mouth and leaning her head against Leah’s shoulder.