The Smallest Crack

by Roberta Kagan

  THE SMALLEST CRACK

  By

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  ROBERTA KAGAN

  Copyright © 2018 by Roberta Kagan

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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  DISCLAIMER

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  A SMALL CRACK

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER FIFTY NINE

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  CHAPTER SIXTY ONE

  CHAPTER SIXTY TWO

  CHAPTER SIXTY THREE

  CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR

  CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE

  CHAPTER SIXTY SIX

  CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN

  THE SMALLEST CRACK

  Berlin, Germany

  Spring 1932

  Eli Kaetzel paced on the stone steps outside the yeshiva and took a deep breath. He loved the freshness in the spring air as it filled his lungs. Everything about spring made him feel as if the world around him was born anew. The tiny blades of new grass, the flower buds, the crystal-blue cloudless sky. He sighed and looked around. He felt a sense of well-being wash over him. And to make things even better, it was Tuesday, his favorite day of the week. On Tuesday afternoons, when the weather permitted, he and his best friend, Yousef Schwartz, went to the park to study. Instead of being cramped up inside the yeshiva until late afternoon, they sat on a park bench where they ate potato knishes that Eli’s mother packed for them and had stimulating discussions about Talmud stories. But that was not the real reason that Eli was so elated and anxious to get to the park today. The real reason was her, the girl in the park. Since the first time he saw her, three weeks ago, he’d thought of little else. She was playing ball with a group of her friends, and when he saw her for the first time, he thought that she might be the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. All that week he’d hoped to see her on the following Tuesday, and then he thought his heart would burst with joy, when he and Yousef went to the park the following week, and she was there: then, again, the week after. He was mesmerized by her. And even though he knew for certain, by her clothing, that she was not Hasidic, he hoped that at least she was Jewish. Not that his family would have been pleased with him for being attracted to a girl who was not Hasidic. But in his mind, he began creating all kinds of possible scenarios. Perhaps, she is Jewish, assimilated, but Jewish. He thought. And, if by some wonderful miracle I met her and she decided she liked me, she might be willing to join the Hasidic community.

  Today, Yousef was late, but that was nothing new. Yousef could easily get caught up in a heated conversation with his teacher about a story in the Talmud, and a half hour might pass before he realized he’d left Eli waiting. Eli smiled and shook his head thinking about how absentminded his good friend could be.

  “Eli!” Yousef called out as he was coming out of the building. “Were you waiting long? I’m sorry. I got tied up discussing today’s lesson with the teacher. And you know how intense he can be. Oy! He gets on a subject, and there is just no stopping him. I am so sorry I kept you waiting.”

  “Don’t worry. I wasn’t waiting long. And besides, it’s so beautiful outside today that I didn’t mind at all,” Eli said, but he wasn’t telling the truth. Inside he was a trembling nervous wreck. He tried to appear calm in order to hide his deepest secret, his attraction to the girl in the park, from Yousef

  Eli had known Yousef since they were young boys, and he knew his friend’s shortcomings. If he had to place a bet, he would have wagered it was probably Yousef who had been the one who kept the conversation going with the teacher, which made him late. Yousef loved having discussions about Torah.

  “Come on, let’s go” Eli said.

  “Oy, I forgot one of my books. ” Yousef looked down at the pile of books in his hands,

  “Leave it, you’ll get it tomorrow. Let’s get going, We want to have time to study don’t we? At this rate we won’t get there until it’s dark.”

  “I’m sorry Eli. But, I want to read you an important story from this book. I was hoping we could take some time to discuss it. So, I can’t leave without my book. I’ll be right back. I promise not to get involved in any long conversations with anyone. If anyone tries to stop me to talk I will tell him that Eli Kaetzel the son of the rebbe is waiting and I can’t keep him waiting any longer” Yousef winked.

  “Stop joking and go and get the book already.” Eli said

  Eli shook his head. Yousef should have been my father’s son. He’s so dedi
cated to studying. Sometimes I wish I were more like him.

  The two boys, Yousef and Eli, met as seven-year-old children in the yeshiva, their religious school. When they turned thirteen, their bar mitzvahs were a week apart. Even now, memories of Yousef and himself sitting on the hard chairs in the rabbi’s study, trying hard to memorize the Torah portions they would recite for their bar mitzvahs, could make Eli smile. The three of them had been so young and so nervous. They knew that everyone in the entire shul would be watching them when they stood up to read their portion of the Torah. Everyone would know if they made a mistake. For Eli, the son of a very well-respected rebbe, making a mistake was just unacceptable. He had to study extra hard so as not to embarrass his father. Each boy would have his own special bar mitzvah day. Following the service, there would be a big celebration, because after all, on the day of their bar mitzvahs, they would become men within their community. It was a very important day indeed. And soon, very soon, they would be expected to take their places in the community as husbands and fathers.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Eli said when he saw Yousef strolling casually out of the building.

  “All right, I’m coming.” Yousef said, straightening his kippah, the little head covering he wore out of respect for God, and although he pinned it, was always sliding around on his fine hair. He put on his customary black hat and twisted his long payot around his finger, forming curls.

  The two boys walked together toward the park, each carrying a pile of books, their identical, long black coats flapping in the warm breeze. The park was on the outskirts of their neighborhood. Dressed as they were, anyone could easily see they were very religious and came from the Jewish side of town. As they entered the park, a scrappy, young man with blond hair and a strong jawline, wearing a brown leather jacket, was leaning against a tree. He sneered at Eli and Yousef. Then he said loudly, “Dirty Jews.”

  Yousef and Eli shot each other a quick glance but kept walking. They were not permitted to start a fight even if someone insulted them. The Hasidic way was one of nonviolence. Since he was a child, Eli was taught that even if he were attacked, he was not to fight back. Eli’s father would have been furious if Eli came home with evidence that he’d been fighting.

  “Eli, perhaps we should leave. It’s been getting more and more dangerous at this park for us. They used to whisper the insults about Jews under their breath. They are not hiding their hatred of our people anymore. Maybe we should just go home and stop coming here.”

  Eli’s heart sank. Leave, now? He couldn’t leave. He had to see her. He’d waited all week to see her. A wave of guilt came over him. He knew Yousef was right. They should probably go but he couldn’t. “Yousef, don’t worry so much. It will be all right. Come,” Eli said smiling. “Sit down; it will be fine. You’ll see. Now, let’s eat.”

  Yousef gave Eli a look of concern, but he nodded and followed his friend.

  The two boys sat on the bench under the tree and took off their coats. Underneath, they wore white shirts and black pants. They lay their piles of books on the bench beside them. Eli took out the grease-stained paper bag that held the knishes and handed it to Yousef. Yousef took one then gave the bag back to Eli. Eli bit into the knish and closed his eyes. It was delicious—the crispy dough, the soft potato insides. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and glanced across the park and saw a group of girls playing kickball. Eli quickly lost interest in the food as his eyes searched frantically for the girl. Yousef was speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear what Yousef was saying. Where is she? Is she here? And then he saw her. She was tall and slender with hair the color of rose gold that was blowing in the wind like the mane of a wild lion. As she was running after the ball, he felt dizzy with desire as he caught a glimpse of her thigh. It was as white as his mother’s porcelain china, and in that instant, his heart skipped a beat. She laughed, and he heard her laughter twinkle in the spring air. He thought if the stars in the sky could talk that is how they would sound.

  Eli’s heart was beating loudly in his throat. He felt had never seen such a free-spirited creature, and her natural beauty left him breathless. Her body was slender and agile, not womanly. She had very small breasts, and her hips were straight rather than curvy. As he watched her playing kickball, he realized that she could run faster and kick harder than any of her teammates.

  “What are you looking at?” Yousef asked. “You haven’t heard a word I've said since we sat down.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Good, and make sure you are not looking over there.” Yousef indicated toward the girls playing ball. “You know better than to be looking at them. That is forbidden.”

  Eli nodded as Yousef handed him his book on Talmud. “Come on, open your book, and let’s do some studying,” Yousef insisted.

  Eli opened his book halfheartedly, then when he was sure Yousef was busy turning pages, he glanced back up at the girl.

  “She’s pretty, don’t you think?” Eli asked. He hadn’t meant to say it. Somehow he just blurted it out.

  “Prost,” Yousef said. “She’s prost. Not at all refined.”

  “She’s not prost, not vulgar or cheap. She’s lovely and graceful.”

  “Eli, what’s the matter with you? Have you lost your mind looking at a shiksa? Are you looking for trouble? If your father knew, he’d be furious.”

  “How do you know she’s a shiksa?”

  “It doesn’t matter. She’s not one of us. She’s not Hasidic. So, she’s not for you.”

  “I’m sorry, Yousef. You’re right; we came here to study. And we should stick to strictly business, isn’t that right?”

  “No, of course not. We’re best friends. We can talk about anything. So, since we are taking a little break from studying, I do have to tell you something,” Yousef said. “My father wants me to meet this girl. Her name is Miriam Shulman. Do you know her?”

  “She’s a prospective bride for you, I assume?” Eli asked.

  “Yes, why?”

  “I met her.”

  “Your father was considering her for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you said no?”

  Eli nodded.

  “Why? Is she ugly?”

  “No, not at all. She’s very pretty. And she was nice and refined,” Eli said. “I am just not ready to get married, Yousef. It’s not that there is anything wrong with Miriam Shulman. She’s modest and from a good family. It’s just me. I can’t see myself as a husband and father yet.”

  “When, then, will you be ready, Eli? You’re seventeen. You’re a man. It’s time to start your family. And I hate to say it, but if you were married and had a wife to go home to, you wouldn’t be so tempted to look over there at the wrong girls.”

  “But the truth is, I would. I would be looking over there and thinking things I should not think. I would be sinning, committing adultery in my heart. And that’s why I should not get married yet. It would be worse,” Eli said, feeling a wave of guilt come over him. Why can’t I be more like Yousef? He should have been the son of a rebbe not me. He would have made my father proud.

  “What am I going to do with you? Oy, if you don’t stop yearning for forbidden things, you are going to get into trouble for sure.”

  “Nu? So what should I do? I can’t change the way I feel. I try, but I can’t,” Eli said.

  “And it’s worse for you because your papa is so important in the community. So, of course, everyone is watching everything you do. Everyone wants you to marry his daughter.”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true. Not only is my father a rebbe, but we are Kohanes. So, yes, all the old women want me to marry into their families.”

  “Maybe you should talk to a rabbi. Not your papa, of course. Maybe a rabbi could give you some advice that would help you.”

  “I doubt it. He’ll tell me to follow the rules, and everything else will fall into place. I know because that’s what my father tells everyone who comes to see him about their problems.”

&nbs
p; “Then maybe that’s the answer. Maybe it’s what you should do,” Yousef said.

  “Maybe it is. But I can’t. I can’t just marry some girl and spend the rest of my life with her. I’m just not ready.”

  They sat in silence for several moments. Yousef put the food down on the bench and stared out looking at nothing. Then he turned a serious face to Eli, and said, “You know that fellow who called us dirty Jews outside the gate to the park today?”

  “Yes, what about him?”

  “Well, that sort of thing has been happening to me more and more often. And I am quite sure that this Jew-hating sentiment is getting stronger in Germany.”

  “It’ll pass. My father says it will pass.”

  “You believe him? You think he’s right?” Yousef asked.

  “I don’t know. If it doesn’t pass, what are they going to do to us?”

  “Who knows? But it scares me. They hate us,” Yousef said.

  “My father says that pogroms have been going on since the beginning of time, and Jews have always been targeted. This is nothing new; they’ve always hated us.”

  “Does he say why?”

  “He thinks it’s because we are the chosen people.”

  “Chosen for what?” Yousef said sarcastically.

  “I don’t know. It’s just the way it is, and the way it’s always been.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.”

  “No, it doesn’t, but he says you can’t change it either.”

  “How bad do you think it will get?”

  “Probably some destruction of our homes and shops and, of course, looting. Then it will be over. It’s always been this way for Jews. I hate it too, but I don’t know what we can do to stop it,” Eli said, shrugging his shoulders.

  “I hope you’re right. I hope it will be mild and then be over,” Yousef answered. “Sometimes, I wish my family would leave Germany but they won’t.”

  “I know. I have felt the same way. I’ve talked to my father, but he too refuses to leave. He says Germany is as much our country as it is theirs. He was born here, and his father was born here. He says he won’t be driven from his home by a bunch of hoodlums.”