“Just fine. Hannah’s dressed and ready to go.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Cindy was trying to make eye contact with her father, but he had busied himself with flower arranging. “Koby needs candles.”

“Of course,” Rina said. “Do you want to light, Cindy?”

“Yes, thanks.”

Rina went into the pantry and brought out four tea lights. Decker was looking at his daughter with deadpan eyes.

Cindy said, “I found the baby’s mother, you know.”

“Congratulations,” Decker said. “I should have told you that right away.”

No one spoke for a few moments.

“I’d like to talk to you about it,” Cindy said. “I have some concerns.”

Curiosity flickered in Decker’s eyes, but he kept his equilibrium. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“I don’t think this is the right time. It may take more than a few minutes.”

“Okay. Why don’t you give me a call tomorrow night?”

Cindy knew her father was giving her the brush-off. But she proceeded as if she didn’t know better. “Actually, if you have time, I’d like to meet with you on Sunday. Could you come out to my place?” She tried a sheepish smile. “I’ll even cook you breakfast.”

Decker remained expressionless. “I told Hannah I’d take her to the movies.”

Rina said, “There’s a two o’clock show. You could probably make it back in time.”

Decker raised a disapproving eyebrow at his wife. But she was right. If he didn’t back off, he’d deserve what he’d get. “It’s important to you, Cynthia?”

“Kind of, yeah. I’d really appreciate your help.”

He gave a forced smile. “Sure, honey. Around nine, then?”

“That would be perfect.”

“Here you go.” Rina handed her the tea lights. Cindy thanked her and they all left it at that.

14

When I came backinto the living room, Hannah was seated next to Koby, the two of them turning the pages of an oversize art book entitledSolomon’s People.The tome was almost as big as she was. She looked splendid in a lime green dress and matching jacket that magnificently offset her red hair. She was learning the tricks of being a carrottop at a very early age. “What’s that?”

Koby said, “A book of Ethiopian Jews. I know several of the people.”

“Who?” Hannah asked.

“This lady here,” Koby said. “She was a very good friend of my older brother Yaphet. She married a rabbi and lives somewhere in the Negev.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Oh yes, very, very beautiful. I had a terrible crush on her. Alas, my affections were not returned.”

“Then she’s stupid,” Hannah said.

“No, but I thank you for the support. It was more like she was seventeen and I was thirteen, though I was as tall as she. For an Ethiopian, I am very tall.”

Hannah stared at him. “I thought all Africans were tall.”

“Hannah!” I scolded.

“It’s fine.” Koby smiled. “No, not all Africans are tall, especially North Africans. Most Ethiopians are Coptic Christians… more like Egyptians than anything else. I just happen to be tall because my parents are tall.” He looked up at me. “Would you like a hand with the candles?”

I had forgotten I was holding them. “I’ll just set them next to Rina’s candles. That’s where I usually light.”

Koby stood up. “I think you’d better put on your shoes, Hannah.”

“Should I wear my boots or my high heels?” she asked me.

“What’s more comfortable to walk in?” I said.

“The same.” She shrugged and turned to Koby. “What do you think?”

“With that dress and jacket, heels, definitely.”

“I’ll be right back!” She rushed off to her room.

“She likes you,” I told him. “You have a way with kids.”

“I work with kids.”

I hit my forehead. “Uh, yeah… duh!”

Koby caught my eye. “How’d it go in there?”

I shrugged, trying to act indifferent. “He’s still talking to me.”

“A good sign. I like your stepmother. She seems… genuine.”

“She is genuine.” Just then my two stepbrothers appeared. Sammy had reached the benchmark age of twenty. Jacob had attained the majority of eighteen. They were tall, good-looking guys, both of them in suits with their hair still wet from recent showering. They came out chattering about something, and when they saw me, they stopped talking. First they looked at me, then at each other; then their eyes went to the floor and back up again.

Sammy was trying to stifle a grin. He extended his hand to Koby.“Shabbat Shalom.”

Koby took it, then shook hands with Jacob.“Shabbat Shalom.”

Sammy said, “My father said you were Israeli.”

“Yes, but before I was Israeli, I was Ethiopian.”

“I see that,” Sammy answered. “Jewish Ethiopian.”

“Yes, Jewish Ethiopian.” A pause. Koby said, “If you have doubts, you can check mymillah.”

The boys burst into laughter and so did Koby. I didn’t get the joke, but I smiled anyway.

Sammy said, “I think I speak for my brother when I say, we’ll pass. Since Cindy’s not bothering to introduce us, I’m Sammy. He’s Jacob.”

“You didn’t give me a chance,” I told him. “This is Koby.”

“Also a Yaakov,” Jake said. “Where did you live in Israel?”

“My family still lives in Petach Tikvah.”

“That’s near Kfar Saba, right?”

“Yes, it’s the next town over.”

“I have a ton of friends from yeshiva who live there and in Ranana.”

“Yes, both those places are very American.”

Sammy said, “You want something to drink before we go to shul?”

“No, I’m fine.” He checked his watch. “It’s time to light thenerot.I need a match, please.”

“In the breakfront,” I said.

Koby and I lit our respective candles, both of us saying the blessing, although he understood the words that I mouthed. When we were done, we wished each otherShabbat Shalom.Rina lit candles for her household. Within a few minutes, we were on our way to synagogue.

One good thing about my stepbrother Sammy. No one could talk as much as he could. When we reached the tiny storefront that acted as the neighborhood Orthodox temple, I knew we wouldn’t be sitting together. Right before we parted ways-men on one side of the wall, women on the other-I asked him what the word“millah”meant. Straight-faced, he told me it meant circumcision.

I waited until I was on my side of the fence, then I broke out into laughter.

?

Orthodox Judaism was a religion of routine, and at the dinner table, the first order of business was always welcoming the metaphorical Sabbath Bride in a song called“Shalom Aleichem.”This ode was followed by a tribute to the real woman of the house-a poem from Proverbs called“Eshet Chayil,”or “Woman of Valor.” I’ve read the English a couple of times, and the gist of it centered around a woman slaving away without complaint to support her husband and family, words that seemed quaint and a bit shallow in the postmodern feminist world. I’ve had many a Sabbath dinner with my father’s family and when it came to this part, Dad, who hadn’t been blessed with a natural singing voice, always mumbled his way through the stanzas.

Tonight was a different story, however. My father sang, of course. But this time, the Loo was joined by my stepbrothers, who were fluent with the Hebrew text and sang with grace and meaning, their voices ringing clear as they smiled at Rina. But it was Koby who gave me pause, his voice deep and crystal, singing along note perfect with my stepbrothers in crisp, beautiful Hebrew. Here was a black man from Africa sitting with my white family from Los Angeles, people he had known less than two hours, and he was more integrated than I was. It brought it all home, that a traditional Sabbath cut through cultural lines. When the chorus came and the men broke into spontaneous harmony, an involuntary lump formed in my throat.

Within a short period of time, everyone at the Friday-night table appeared relaxed, eating great food and swapping stories of the week. My father’s family was a noisy bunch and with my stepbrothers’ swiftness of speech and Hannah’s relentless interruptions, it was sometimes hard to keep up with the conversation. If anything, I was the least comfortable person there. Though I was family, there were times when I was the odd person out with all the Hebrew, Israeli, and religious references flying around. Koby, however, appeared totally at ease. He was a good storyteller because his life had given him lots of raw material to work with.