Sotah by Naomi Ragen Page A

when”—not if … when, she insisted to herself—“Dina marries, half of her mortgage.”
    Rabbi Breitman shook his head mournfully. “You have to understand. We are not asking for luxury. We just want to make it possible for our son to go on learning as long as he can.”
    “Dina will work. She will teach,” Faigie Reich said eagerly. “She’s a bright girl, a hardworking girl. All of my daughters have been brought up to give much and take little. Another kind of wife, used to luxury, might be more of a burden in the long run to an ambitious, pious scholar like your son,” she pointed out shrewdly.
    “A teacher’s salary,” Brindel Breitman scoffed, ignoring her. “A chicken a month and watered-down soup!”
    “This is not it, not it at all,” Rabbi Breitman said, staring coldly at his wife. “We are not talking about luxury. Dina will work. But then comes, G-d willing, the children. Then what?”
    There was silence. Brindel Brietman got up and cleared away the dishes. Faigie Reich pulled down the corners of her wig, feeling the blood pounding in her temples. Rabbi Reich ran his delicate, gentle fingers through his beard.
    “Well, sometimes the boy’s parents are also willing to help,” Rebbetzin Reich said finally.
    “Yes, yes,” Rabbi Reich exulted. “This is the answer. We must both help when the children come. I will get another job. I could work evenings, late, as a mashgiach.” His eyes lit up.
    “Rabbi Reich, my dear friend …” Rabbi Breitman laid a heavy hand over the other man’s. “We are also not wealthy people. Abraham is our eldest. We have five other children. All girls, all in their teens. We must provide for them. We were counting on Abraham marrying a girl with means. If he doesn’t, it will make it difficult, if not impossible, for us to provide for our girls when the time comes.”
    “Let me understand this, Rebbetzin—”
    “Brindel, please,” the other woman corrected her.
    “Yes, well. Brindel. I want to be very clear. So you are not willing to help with their parnosa at all?”
    “It’s not that we are not willing,” she answered uncomfortably. “Everyone who knows me knows the kind of person I am. I live for my children. I think only of their welfare. And not only my own children, but all our children. All the children of Israel are precious to me,” she said piously. “But think about it. What a burden for you! And for us, of course, this other offer, it would make a difference. He could have a real parnosa, not just handouts from his family. He would be able to help his sisters, too …”
    “I understand,” Faigie Reich said, the pounding in her head growing worse, her heart feeling a sudden sharp, debilitating stab of pain. She grew pale and poured herself a drink from the pitcher of juice.
    “And your daughter is so young yet. I am sure she will have many offers. Such a lovely girl, such a wonderful family,” Brindel Breitman said expansively, wallowing in generosity now that she saw it wouldn’t cost her anything. “It will be better for you also, if the boy’s family is more able to help.”
    “I don’t understand. I don’t understand why it has to be this way.” Rabbi Reich shook his head in sorrowful confusion. “But perhaps in this case, it is not meant to be after all.”
    “This is what seems to be the case. G-d works in his own ways,” Brindel Breitman said almost joyfully, pouncing on the opportunity to align herself with G-d in this delicate case.
    The two men shook hands sorrowfully, Rabbi Breitman avoiding Rabbi Reich’s eyes. “I wish Abraham and the whole family a long, good, healthy life. May we see peace in our land, and Jerusalem rebuilt speedily in our days,” Rabbi Reich said. His eyes watered with pain.
    “May your daughter find her beshert soon and get married in a good hour.” Brindel Breitman smiled, the warmest smile of the evening, the polar cap melting and little laugh and pleasure lines running like swollen