Two weeks. Day after day. Night after night. And her looking at him across the kitchen table every morning and turning to face him in bed every night. And the children playing alone, all by themselves like outcasts. And nothing. Not a word. He felt the fury explode in his brain, at his neighbors, at the community, and, yes, at her. He was devastated. He wanted to smash something. But more than that, he was gripped by a cold fear. In this state, he was afraid to say or do anything.

The minutes ticked by as he composed himself. And in that interval, Leah saw her new life dissolving, all she had achieved becoming flotsam, wreckage floating out on the edge of complete devastation.

He sat down again. “You’ve never been afraid to tell me anything before. So what is happening now, my love?” he asked as gently as he could.

Hope flashed through her. But still, she did not have the courage to tell him the whole truth, finding it hard to face it herself. So she took the easy, convenient way out. “I don’t know, Yaakov. I think … I think I’m just tired.”

He was immediately sympathetic. Of course! How had he not realized that? The house, the children, the business. And no money for a cleaning girl or babysitters! But that was going to end. He was going to be bringing in a salary, a paycheck that would make her life easier. He suddenly forgot the dreariness of his day, his longing for his old life. If he could make her life easier, it was all worth it!

“We will find someone to help out.”

“But the expense…”

“I will bring home my first paycheck soon. That is the first thing we will spend it on. Help for you, my dear Leah-le.”

She studied his handsome, kind face, flushed now with the effort to be understanding, to reach out to her, to make things better. Her whole body tingled for his touch, wanting to kiss him, hug him. But the enforced physical separation could not be breached. This was the halacha. She wanted to cry with frustration.

And so they patched things up. But it was not over, she knew. It was just beginning. One day, she would be forced to tell him everything.

“Shoshana, it’s me. Are you busy?”

“Leah, how are you? It’s been so long.”

Since her marriage, Wednesday nights at the skating rink had been put aside along with her Rollerblades. There was simply no time.

“How are the wedding plans going?”

“It’s … complicated.”

Oh no! Leah thought. Like her, her friend Dr. Shoshana Glaser had crossed a minefield to achieve her engagement to the man she loved, a fellow medical doctor, newly divorced and undergoing the conversion process to Judaism. “I thought you were all set!”

“Nothing is ever easy, is it?” She sighed. “But let’s not talk about that. How are you doing?”