This was not something that would right itself. This was Yad Elokeem—the hand of God—punishing her, condemning her for not being strong enough. It had taken Him forty-one years, but she’d known that the time would come eventually. And now He had chosen the weakest of her sons, her most vulnerable grandchild, knowing how much it would hurt.

Her lost child—had he come as part of God’s vengeance? Or had he been sent for some other reason? Perhaps the Almighty in His infinite wisdom was also testing her. Perhaps she could earn redemption if she showed herself worthy—worthy of His mercy, worthy of Akiva’s mercy.

Whatever was expected of her, whatever she must do, she would do. She would be strong. To her husband, Frieda said, “Make kiddush. Akiva and Yonasan will make their own kiddush when they come back.”

Alter Levine was sitting at one of the folding tables, a volume of Talmud in front of him. He looked up when he heard his wife speak, but returned his attention to the Talmud when no one else moved.

Ezra gathered his other children and asked, “Who was the last one to see Noam?”

Aaron, the eldest, said, “He walked to shul with us, Abba. I davened after that. I didn’t pay attention to him.”

“He probably went to a friend’s, Ezra,” Miriam said. “He shows up at my house unannounced all the time.”

“He does?” Ezra said. “What does he want?”

“I don’t think he wants anything, Ezra.”

“What does he do then?”

“I don’t know. I give him a snack.”

“He can’t come home for a snack?” Breina said.

“It’s part of being a teenager, Breina. Sometimes a snack at your aunt’s house is better than a snack at home. Maybe he went to a friend’s house for a snack.”

“On Rosh Hashanah?” Breina said.

“Maybe he went to your brother’s,” Ezra said. “If he went to one relative, maybe he went to another?”

“Enough!” Frieda said. She turned to her husband and again instructed him to make kiddush.

“No one is sitting,” Alter said.

“Everyone sit down,” Shimmy said.

“Where should we sit, Frieda?” asked Sora Lazarus.

The next few minutes were spent trying to get everyone seated. Rina instructed the boys to sit at the same table as their cousins. She asked them if they had seen Noam. Both shook their heads no.

Sammy whispered in his mother’s ear, “I didn’t see him in shul today.”

Rina said, “You probably just missed him, Shmuel. Aaron said he walked to shul with them.”

“He wasn’t in shul,” Sammy insisted.

“How do you know?” Rina said.

“Because anytime I’m in town, Noam’ll hunt me out just to bug me. And he didn’t bug me today.”

Rina said, “Maybe he’s bored with bugging you.”