An Observant Wife

by Naomi Ragen

  Yaakov jumped to his feet, his fists clenched and murder in his eyes.

  Grub stood up, swiftly opening the door to the waiting room and backing out as quickly as possible into a room full of mostly Orthodox Jews waiting placidly to talk to someone about their aching backs or their sore feet.

  28

  THE RECKONING

  Yaakov opened the door, quietly putting his briefcase down as he awaited the standard rush of greeting from the little ones. To his surprise, it didn’t come.

  “Yaakov! How did it go?” Leah asked him, putting her arms around him and pulling him close.

  His face was pale, his eyes listless. “Where are Icy and Cheeky?” he asked her, concerned.

  “In their room. I told them not to jump all over you when you came through the door. To let you catch your breath.”

  Only now, in the quiet of the house that had all but ignored his return, did he realize how precious that moment was and how he couldn’t live without it. He walked down the hall and opened the door to their bedroom. They were sitting on the floor playing. They looked up at him with big, sad eyes.

  “Who is going to guess what I have in my pockets?”

  They jumped up and ran to him, hugging him and digging their small hands into his pockets, pulling out little handfuls of candies in cellophane and foil-wrapped chocolates.

  “Tateh, Tateh, Tateh!” they screamed in joy, practically knocking him over.

  He sat down on the floor, letting them climb all over him.

  Leah hung back at the door, watching them, happy. “But you can’t eat all that stuff now before your dinner,” she cautioned, smiling. “Give it to me, and I’ll put it away for you in a magic box, and once a day, you can pick one to eat, all right?”

  Quickly, Chasya opened a few chocolates, stuffing them into her mouth. Mordechai Shalom tried to follow suit, but he wasn’t fast enough. Yaakov compassionately helped him open one before Leah collected the booty.

  “Come, wash for dinner,” she told them as Yaakov got up and dusted himself off. They ran off into the kitchen.

  “I have to talk to Shaindele,” Yaakov whispered. “Is she home?”

  “Yes, in her room. She’s afraid to come out and face you.”

  He shook his head. “My poor little girl.”

  “You’ve changed your mind? What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you everything after we put the kinderlach to bed.”

  He knocked softly on Shaindele’s door. “It’s Tateh. Can I come in?”

  He heard a barely audible yes.

  She was sitting at her desk, books and notebooks opened, a pen in her hand. Could she really concentrate on homework amid all this turmoil, or was it a pose?

  “How are you, maideleh?”

  She was struck by the compassion in his voice, which she had not heard for a long, long time. She put down her pen, closed her book, and swiveled to face him. “I don’t know, Tateh. I really don’t.”

  “I went to see Grub today.”

  She was shocked, steeling herself, just about imagining the show that pervert had put on. “And?”

  “And now I know that everything you told Leah is true.”

  Shaindele stood up and walked to him, throwing her arms around him.

  He hugged her, smoothing down her hair. “My lovely girl, my Shaindele,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

  She wiped the tears from her eyes. “What’s going to happen now, Tateh? Are they going to throw me out of school?”

  “Of course not! Why would they? It’s Grub who has to be worried, not you. What was your aveira? That you told the emes? That you stood up to that chazzar, that bulvan? I’m very proud of you. Not all young girls would,” he murmured.

  “I was so afraid you wouldn’t believe me! I wouldn’t blame you.”

  “I never want you to be afraid to talk to me again. You can tell me anything. Anything. Please promise.”

  “Bli neder.”

  Leah stood outside the door watching. She, too, was close to tears. All the memories and longings of her journey toward a deeper life, a richer happiness, built on the firm foundations of love for a husband and children in a place where good was sought, and evil and corruption exposed and destroyed came flooding back to her. At this moment, in this humble little apartment in Boro Park, she saw it, a place where God’s light flooded in unimpeded, warming her soul.

  “Leah!” Shaindele called out to her. “Thank you!” Slowly, they came together, hugging long and hard, finally bridging all the emotional and cultural gaps that had so long plagued their relationship.

  “Come, let’s eat. I’m starving,” Yaakov said, smiling as he looked at them, treasuring the moment even as he struggled against the fear that still lingered in his heart, a fear that this was not yet over. But he was not too worried. Despite Grub’s ugly threats, as a man nourished by decades of learning the laws of goodness in the Torah, he simply assumed that he lived in a place that had internalized those laws as he had and that he would surely be believed.

  As soon as he explained the situation to the school, he told himself, they would apologize and thank him, making sure they never sent Grub another young girl. Not only that, but they would help him to inform the parents of Grub’s other young patients of the dangers and the need to switch their daughters to another counselor, as he intended to do immediately with Shaindele.

  As for the girl whose name he held in his pocket, he would discuss the matter with Rav Alter. If her family was part of the Bobelger community, it would be best if Rav Alter informed the Bobelger Rebbe, giving him the opportunity to deal with Grub and all the other terrible things going on in his community right under his nose. Loss of the rebbe’s support would be the most devastating blow they could inflict on Grub. He and his family would be shunned, banished from their place in the community. While he felt sorry for the man’s wife and children, it was a punishment Grub himself richly deserved.

  As all this flashed with lightning speed through his consciousness the way thoughts do, he found himself almost buoyant with a newfound peace. You can never know if something is a good thing or a bad thing, he thought, smiling at his lovely young wife, who smiled back. Instead of destroying them, all these difficulties were just bringing them closer, exposing their hidden wounds to the healing sunlight of truth. God of the Universe, thank you! You are so good to us in so many hidden ways, he prayed with exultation.

  Later that evening, they all sat around the dining room table enjoying tea and some of the rugelach Fruma Esther had sent.

  “But what did he say, Tateh?” Shaindele probed.

  “What you would expect a rosha to say!” he answered, frowning. “Shameless.” He shook his head in disgust.

  “You mean he denied everything?” Leah asked.

  “Nu? You think he beat his breast and said, ‘Guilty’?”

  “So, then, Tateh, why are you so sure? Why do you believe me and not him?”

  “Because I saw it with my own eyes! I went to the back door near the service elevator and waited. A young girl, no more than thirteen, was running out, but he grabbed her. Only when he noticed me, he let go. Later, I spoke to her. I can’t believe he’s gotten away with this behavior for so long and that prominent rabbis—the Bobelger Rebbe himself!—back him up, send him other young girls. He is a very good liar! But now it’s over for him.”

  “But what about my school?” Shaindele asked. “Rabbi Halpern?”

  “I’ll call him tomorrow from work and go in to see him when I get a chance. I can’t take off any more time.”

  “But I missed today’s appointment. What if Grub called the school? They won’t let me in tomorrow!”

  “I’ll go with you and talk to Halpern,” Leah offered.

  Yaakov thought it over. “Yes, thank you. And maybe you should take Fruma Esther with you.”

  “That’s a good idea. But you’ll have to call her and explain first so she knows what’s going on.”

  “Do we hav
e to, Tateh?” Shaindele gnawed on her lips apprehensively. She was terrified of her grandmother finding out about Duvie.

  “She already knows most of it.”

  “Really? About me and Duvie, about the trips to the city?” She couldn’t believe it. And Bubbee hadn’t said a word! She’d been so nice to her! Quick tears sprouted in her eyes, and her throat grew a lump. “You are all so good to me, and I don’t deserve it. All I do is make trouble for everyone all the time.”

  “No one ever lived a life without mistakes, even the biggest tzaddikim,” Yaakov assured her. “Look at Moses. He forgot to give his son a bris and was almost punished with death! And then Aaron, the High Priest of all Israel, made the Golden Calf! And the great Rabbi Akiva believed Bar Kochba was the Messiah, and because of that, thousands of his students died in the revolt against the Romans and our Holy Temple was burned to the ground, and we Jews were exiled from our land for three thousand years!” He had begun with the intention of comforting her, but was comforted himself by this realization. The entire book of Leviticus was filled with instructions on how to atone for sin, assuming mistakes would be made by everyone, no matter how wise and exalted.

  “So I guess going to a jazz club with Duvie wasn’t so terrible, after all.” She smiled through her tears. Yaakov shook a finger at her in mock anger. Leah reached out, squeezing her shoulder encouragingly.

  “You are a good girl, Shaindele,” Leah told her, “but you have suffered, and suffering brings out different qualities in people, sometimes their weaknesses and sometimes their strengths. The important thing is to understand where your behavior is coming from. Once you understand yourself better, you’ll be able to cherish all HaShem’s gifts to you and to figure out how to use them to have a good and happy life, full of chesed to others.”

  “It’s going to be fine, you’ll see,” Yaakov added in all innocence, looking at his wife and daughter—two people he loved with all his heart and would do anything to protect—honestly believing what he was saying was true.

  It wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

  * * *

  “Maybe you don’t have to come, Leah,” Shaindele protested as they drove to drop off her siblings and then on to her school. “Maybe nothing will happen.”

  “I promised your father, and it’s better than sitting at home worrying.”

  Shaindele exhaled slowly, immensely relieved. “Thank you, Leah. And, Leah?”

  Leah glanced over at her briefly. Shaindele seemed curled up, tiny, and very young. “Yes?”

  “I’m so sorry, for … everything. I really … love you.”

  Leah’s heart expanded. “My dear Shaindele, I love you, too. Like Tateh said, none of this is your fault. You can’t imagine how proud I am of you for sticking up for yourself!”

  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.”

  “Good that you’re here. You can take her home with you.”

  “What?” Leah jumped up.

  “Rav Halpern just told me to have Shaindele sent home immediately.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Leah shouted at her, striding past the startled woman and slamming open the door to the principal’s office. “I’m here to talk to you, Rabbi Halpern. Don’t look so surprised! Did you think throwing my daughter to the wolves was going to be easy? How dare you! Who do you think you are?”

  He hardly moved, looking her up and down contemptuously. “Tell Hyman the mashgiach to get here immediately,” he called through the open door.

  The secretary poked her agitated head in, pulling her wig down over her forehead as if it was about to slide off. “Should I call Shomrim, too?”

  At the mention of this private haredi police force that patrolled the neighborhood, ostensibly to protect its citizens from unwarranted anti-Semitic and criminal attacks, Leah momentarily froze.

  “Just Hyman. For now,” he added ominously.

  “Why are you doing this? Did Yoel Grub call you? Well, you should know that he is a sex pervert and abused Shaindele in his office. And she’s not the only one. We have proof—names and addresses,” she bluffed. “And unlike you, the police won’t be impressed by Grub’s Boro Park credentials. But you can bet they’ll be extremely interested in him—and in you—for sending young girls to him. How many exactly have you sent?”

  With surprising agility and speed, he suddenly went to the door, poking his head out. “Wait with the girl,” he told his secretary.

  “So you don’t want I should send a note to the teacher?”

  “Wait!” he shouted, slamming the door behind him. He sat down heavily behind his desk, facing her. “Sit down,” he ordered.

  Leah sat down.

  “First of all, it wasn’t Grub that called me. It was the Bobelger Rebbe’s nephew. He called to tell me that the Bobelger Rebbe himself told him Shaindel Lehman is a danger to the other girls.”

  “Based on what? They’ve never even met her! Just because Grub told him? Did you, or the Rebbe, or the Rebbe’s nephew ever visit Grub’s office? The ‘counseling’ comes with a big bed in a tiny room with no windows and two locked doors decorated by pictures of practically naked women.”

  His mouth fell open
slightly. Then he gathered himself together, pressing his lips closed. “I understand you’re a baalas teshuva? From California? And how long have you lived here with us?”

  “Close to three years. But what does that—?”

  “Rav Yoel Grub has lived here all his life, as did his father. He has been a respected counselor in Boro Park for twenty-five years and a close friend of the Bobelger Rebbe. But you wouldn’t know that, being who you are.”

  “Twenty-five years!” The implications were staggering. “And how many other girls has he done this to?”

  “Done what?”

  “Sexually groomed, touched, used for his own sexual gratification?”

  “We’ve never had a single complaint from a parent or a child about Grub.”

  “You’ve never had a complaint because everyone is afraid to open their mouths, afraid they’ll be treated the way you’re treating me and my daughter, pressuring us to keep quiet!”

  “Pressuring you? What pressure? How dare you make accusations against innocent, respectable people. You have no proof. Nothing. ‘You shall not a talebearer be among your people,’” he said piously in Hebrew.

  “Oh, so we’re playing that game? Okay, fine. And what about ‘Justice, and only justice, shall you follow,’ or ‘Let justice be done though the heavens fall’?”

  “I see you took many shiurim,” he said sarcastically.

  “And I remember them all, everything I was taught about how good and holy a person becomes when he follows God’s just laws.”

  The door opened. A burly man in his fifties with a large black skullcap burst in. “You called me? There’s a problem?”

  Rabbi Halpern exhaled, making a dismissive hand gesture. “It’s all right, Hyman. She’s just leaving.”

  “If I do, I’m going straight to the police. So you might want to think about this a few minutes longer. And it won’t just be about Grub either but about your son Duvie, too.”