Sweet Sanctuary by Kim Vogel Sawyer Page A

feisty old bird, but she possessed a heart of gold. Even so, she might turn up her nose in distaste if she knew of his package retrievals.
    He moved along briskly, glancing once in a while at his watch. He had to reach the synagogue before seven if he wanted to speak with Rabbi Jacowicz. He could make it in plenty of time if he drove, but he’d made it a habit to save his gas ration coupons for emergencies—such as making Jeremiah’s deliveries. Walking was good exercise, anyway. If he increased his pace, he’d get there in time.
    Arms swinging, heels pounding the pavement, he blew out a breath of frustration. What was the dockworker thinking to pass that message off to Stan? Micah had given all of the men strict instructions to give every communication directly to him. Anger propelled by worry rolled through his chest as he considered the possible consequences of the breach of confidence. Anger faded to guilt when he remembered taking his frustration out on Lydia. He shouldn’t have been so abrupt with her.
    He turned a corner and was forced to slow his speed as he weaved between evening shoppers returning home with their supper fare. The sight of food in baskets made his stomach growl. He hadn’t had his supper yet—getting Lydia settled had taken the place of eating. Of course, she hadn’t eaten, either, to his knowledge. Maybe he should pick up something—sandwiches from a deli and fruit from one of the vendors—and take it to her when he returned to the apartment. It would be a gesture of goodwill after his grumpy attitude earlier.
    What on earth was she doing here? She’d never mentioned her father having business associations in New York. He would get to the bottom of her “business” later. For now, making arrangements for his package took priority.
    He jogged the last few steps to the solid doors of the synagogue. The hinges released a low-pitched moan as he pushed the door inward. Micah entered the cool, dark interior. Two men with long beards, skull caps, and black sidelocks framing their cheeks, looked up from a table where they read together by candlelight. They nodded in a solemn fashion and went back to their book. Micah passed them and entered the small room at the back where he knew he’d find Rabbi Jacowicz.
    â€œHello, Micah, my friend,” the rabbi greeted when Micah entered the room.
    The combination of words brought Nicky fleetingly to mind. Micah swallowed a smile and focused on the purpose of his visit. “Package arriving this evening. Should be here around ten.”
    â€œSo you will bring it here by eleven?”
    â€œBetween eleven and twelve,” Micah corrected. “Can you be ready?”
    â€œHow many?” the man asked.
    Micah shrugged. “I’m not sure. At least two, probably. To be safe, we should make preparations for twice that number.”
    A single nod acknowledged Micah’s request. Then the man smiled, his beard lifting at the corners and his eyes crinkling. “I will be ready.”
    â€œAs will I.”

    Lydia washed down the last bite of her sandwich with a swallow of milk, then wadded the empty wax paper wrap. She tossed the crumpled paper onto the table, releasing a sigh. Her tummy was now comfortably full thanks to Micah’s delivery of a cheese sandwich, two wrinkled apples, and a pint-sized bottle of milk half an hour ago. But the empty room closed around her.
    Why hadn’t he stayed to eat with her? She would have liked his company at the scarred kitchen table. This aloof, seemingly uncaring Micah was not the man who had sat across her own kitchen table and presented a way to help Nicky two weeks ago. He hadn’t even questioned her reason for being in New York. His preoccupation raised a dozen questions in her mind.
    Picking up the coarse white sheets Mrs. Flannigan had loaned her, she moved to the corner of the room. She flicked the sheets, one at a time, onto the contraption