too. We’ll buy them a small desk, and we’ll paint it maroon to match their beds and dresser.” “You have the energy to do it all? Then be my guest. I’m sure they will love it,” Elisheva said. Again, something clenched in her heart when she saw her daughter’s eyes light up with joy. She and Eliyahu, with all of their love and goodwill, had never been able to allow themselves to spend “a few hundred shekels” so easily, with hardly any thought. And Riki and all of them knew that now everything had, baruch Hashem, gotten easier — but it was not because of their father or mother, but rather because someone was giving it to them, tzedakah or not, raffle win or not. Whatever it was, it was because someone from the outside was succeeding where she and Eliyahu had failed. For all of their efforts, with Eliyahu’s tea, the work she had taken on, everything — money had still always been a struggle for them. Perhaps she should hang a sign on their new door: “Here lives a couple who could not provide for their children’s needs on their own.” “I don’t understand the problem,” Eliyahu said quizzically later that evening, when the kitchen had emptied and they sat down to a quiet supper. “The children know that the lifestyle we prefer — and always have preferred — is solid but not grandiose. At the same time, they realize that there are things we were not able to do, not because of principle, but because of our limited means. Now that we can do it, we are giving them these things. What can be simpler than that?” “I always tried to make sure that they’re growing up happy…” Elisheva spoke slowly. “Even if there wasn’t much, they should never feel a lack. But… but I don’t know how successful I was. And I’m sad that my children know that now when I have the ability to give
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them things, it’s not even from me.” “But why do you think that the money you’re giving them for the cubbies, or whatever they are, is from someone else?” He moved his roasted pepper salad around his plate. “I can understand that about the beds and dressers, but why do you feel the same about the items you’ll be buying for them?”
“It’s totally kosher. Let the girls buy their cubbies, and some buckets of paint in green or purple, or whatever they want.” “Because putting aside the raffle win, you can’t ignore the fact that the financial reprieve that we are now experiencing, baruch Hashem, is because of what happened with Tzippy’s wedding and with the strange buyer of the cuckoo clock.” “So decide that the money that you’ll use for these things will be from your salary instead.” “You know that my salary gets used up even before we finish paying the bills, Miri’s mortgage, the summer clothes that we just began to buy…” Eliyahu chuckled and stood up to hang the towel on its hook. “It all goes into the same account, Elisheva. And, baruch Hashem, there is money in there right now, and even if some of it got to us in strange ways, it’s totally kosher. Let the girls buy their cubbies, and some buckets of paint in green or purple, or whatever they want.” Elisheva nodded quietly. Eliyahu suddenly changed the subject. “I asked the Rav about the yad.” “And?” “I told him that we don’t know how it got to us, or where it’s from, and that nothing came out of the
signs that we hung around the neighborhood.” “I think I know exactly how it got to us,” Elisheva said, playing with the edge of the tablecloth. “I mean, not exactly ‘how,’ but at least where it’s from.” “Are you speculating again about the anonymous benefactor?” She smiled and stood up to clear the table. “Yes.” “So as long as we haven’t discovered the guilty party, we have no way of finding out if you are right.” His smile rose from his lips to his eyes. “But in the meantime, we are allowed to lend it out for a mitzvah. I think that the best thing would be to lend it out together with our sefer Torah.” “You mean, to the same shul?” “Yes.” “How is the sefer Torah coming along?” she remembered to ask. “Baruch Hashem. The writing is almost finished, except for the last amud, which will be completed at the hachnasas sefer Torah.” He went to the sink. “And there’s the work of sewing together the panels… But that’s also almost done.” He washed his hands under the stream of water, and droplets splattered all around him. She wondered if that was why his eyes suddenly seemed to sparkle. ***** “What’s doing, Ma?” Blumi leaned over to her elderly motherin-law and gave her a kiss. “We missed you!” “Good to see you,” the other woman answered. “What will you have to drink, Blumi? Gideon?” “He’ll have some soda,” Blumi said gaily. “And I want your tea. But only if you have the energy to prepare it for me,” she added hastily, when she saw what an effort it was for her mother-in-law to get up from the couch. “I have the energy, don’t worry,” Gideon’s mother said. “And sweet-