It was quarter to three. I had some time before Arik and Shuki would get home, so I used it to do my homework. At four-fifteen they burst into the house like a cyclone. "Tammi, Tammi, do you know what happened?" When they realized they weren't the first to tell me the news, their disappointment was tremendous. I was happy to find that they obeyed me and did everything I asked them to do, without the usual remarks of, "What's going on here? Just because you're older than us you think you can tell us what to do?" Or: "Why are you bossing us around? You think you're our commanding officer?" They understood that at present, with Mother gone, it was my job to make sure they did everything they were supposed to. If Boaz had been there, I'm not sure he would have let me perform this task so easily.

"Tammi, can I go out to play?" Shuki asked. "I already went over everything I learned in school today. Itzik checked me."

I shot a quick glance out the window. The sky was knotted with dark clouds, and a strong wind was blowing. It looked like it could rain any minute...

"You'd better stay in, Shuki. It's cold outside. And it's already getting late."

"It's not late at all. It's only five-thirty. I know because Arik told me. We're always allowed to stay out until seven." He was thinking of the long days of summertime. It was hard for him to get used to the fact that the summer fun was over. He continued trying to talk me into letting him go out. "And it's not cold out at all, either. What do you think I did at Itzik's house after we ate and studied? We played outside the whole time. And we weren't cold at all!"

"If so, then you've played outside enough. Now you have to play in the house, with Natti. Maybe you could, um...maybe you could teach him aleph-bet? You can be his rebbe!"

To my great joy, the idea appealed to Shuki and he set about putting it into action right away. Arik turned to me with a mischievous smile in his eyes. "I have to admit, Tammi, you're doing a good job of being the mother. Listen, maybe you'd like to get married? There's a boy in our class, a real genius..."

I almost walloped him one. Fortunately for him, I managed to control myself. Seeing how mad I was, he hurried to apologize. "Sorry," he said. "Actually, he's only ten, same as me, and you're already fourteen. It wouldn't work out."

That's how it is when you have to live with brothers. You have to put up with all their stupid nonsense. If only I had sisters... but I'd long ago given up that hope. I was going to have brothers only, and that was that. I would just have to accept it.

To tell the truth, it wasn't too hard to be in charge of the house for a few hours, although it was a responsibility I would gladly have passed up if I had had the choice. All the same, I made an effort to do everything right, so that Mom would be satisfied. No doubt she would be all worn out when she got back from the hospital.

At eight o'clock she returned. "Father is sleeping at the hospital tonight, to be near Boaz," she explained. "Let's hope he'll get a good night's sleep, so that he can open the store tomorrow morning as usual." She threw a rapid glance around the room and then gave me a beaming smile. "Tammi, you're great! The house is so neat and clean! And the children are all bathed and in their pajamas. I can see they were good children. Did you do your homework, children?" she asked the boys, who had gathered around her, waiting to hear some good word.

"Yes, we did. I even learned Mishnah by heart. And Shuki studied with Itzik. Tammi made us a very good dinner."

"With a lot of fried potatoes!" Shuki broke in. "She gave me as many as I wanted."

"And I did homework with Lego!" Little Natti wasn't about to be left out. Mother picked him up and hugged him.

"Mommy, do you know who cleared the table tonight? Me!" Shuki revealed. "And Arik washed the dishes. We all wanted to help Tammi. And in the meantime she gave Natti his bath. We wanted to be good children and surprise you. Tammi said you for sure would be a little sad because Boaz is in the hospital and you would be happy if we gave you a surprise."

"I am happy, my children," Mother said. "I'm really delighted. You are wonderful children!"

She gave everyone a kiss. "What's this, Shuki?" Mother's face darkened a little. She kissed Shuki again on his forehead. "You're warmer than usual. Aren't you feeling well?"

"I feel fine. Mom. Nothing's hurting me..." Shuki seemed taken aback that Mother was so worried about him. "Boaz is the one that's sick, not me!"

"In just a minute we'll take your temperature. Come, Natti. You get a good-night kiss too, and then off to bed... 0y vavoy! What's happened to my children? Natti has a fever, too! Just the right time to get sick! Trouble always comes in bunches," she murmured, smiling a little nervously. She quickly felt my forehead and Arik's. "Thank G-d, at least you don't have fevers!" she sighed in relief.

The thermometer showed that Shuki and Natti did have low fevers. However, they didn't complain of any special pains and didn't feel bad, so Mother felt calmer. She gave them something to bring down their fever, and then put them to bed.

In the middle of the night the ruckus started.

"Mommy!" a yell was heard. "Mommy, come fast!" It was Shuki.

I cocked an ear. Mother jumped out of bed and hurried to him. "What happened, dear?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm on fire... I'm burning up with fever! And so thirsty... My throat is dry. And my head feels heavy. Mommy. Mommy, I'm afraid to touch my hand. It's burning like fire... am I getting sick, too, like Boaz? But I didn't fall off the bomb-shelter at all...!" He burst out crying.

"Calm down, Shuki," said my mother's voice. But I was still too lazy to get out of my bed. I heard her tell Shuki, "I'll bring you something to drink right away. You're flaming with fever... I'll give you some medicine, too." Mother went into the kitchen.

Should I get up, or not? I fought with myself. Outside, a fierce wind was blowing. It was so nice to lie under a warm blanket and listen to the howling of the wind... A flash of lightening penetrated the cracks of my shutters and lit up the room for a second.

"Mommy, what is that light?" Shuki cried, startled. I jumped out of bed to calm him down, but I was too late. A deafening peal of thunder exploded, and Shuki burst out in terrific shrieks that woke up little Natti, who also started yelling. It was a real hullabaloo. I took Natti in my arms. He too was burning with fever! What was happening to my brothers? I sat beside Shuki, on the edge of his bed, took his hand, and tried to calm him down. His hand was so burning hot that I let go of it fast. Natti broke out into prolonged coughing that took his breath away and made him start crying again.

I summoned every bit of patience that I had. To take care of two children who are screaming, and sick into the bargain - it's not so simple. Fortunately, my mother returned from the kitchen quickly. She gave Shuki some medicine, and then immediately helped him drink. He drank two full glasses with noisy slurps, as if he hadn't had a drop of water for at least three days. Apparently the high fever had dehydrated his body.

"Mom," I said, "Natti has a fever, too."

"I thought so," she answered with resignation. She felt Natti's forehead. He was still screaming and throwing a fit. Without saying a word, my mother gave him a spoonful of that same cure-all for reducing fever. But the fact was that they had both already had a spoonful of that same medicine before they went to sleep, so why hadn't their fever gone down, and in fact even gone up? Mom always says that at night a fever goes up. Well, I suppose she's right, but I claim that those medicines are mostly worthless. Personally, I don't believe in medicines. Especially the ones that are supposed to bring down fever.

Shuki was totally unwilling to let Mother return to her bed and leave him alone. "I'm afraid. Mommy. Sleep by me tonight," he pleaded. After repeated efforts to persuade him to sleep by himself, she realized that she had no alternative, so she picked Shuki up and carried him into her room, tucking him into my father's bed. I tried putting Natti back into his bed, but he cried and protested so violently that I soon gave up. I put him in Shuki's bed and tried to get him to fall asleep. I stroked his forehead, sang him lullabies, held his hand - what didn't I try! That little tyke lay with wide-open eyes, not even giving a sign that he was trying to fall asleep. Every once in a while he would break out in a hacking cough, accompanied by a couple of howls. I was already sick and tired of sitting by him, and almost fell asleep upright. I was cold, and so tired!

"Tammi?" I heard my mother's soft voice. "Maybe you'll go back to bed?"

"And what about Natti," I almost burst out crying. "He doesn't want to sleep!"

"I'll stay with him myself, Tammi. It's too hard for you." "But who will stay with Shuki?"

"Shuki's already asleep. Let's hope he won't wake up for the rest of the night. Go to sleep, Tammi."

"I can't. Mom. You're the one who needs to sleep. Tomorrow you have to go to the hospital to see Boaz. Dad can't stay with him during the day. Someone has to be in the store."

"You're right, Tammi. But all the same, I'll manage somehow. Mothers have to cope with any situation."

"No!" I insisted stubbornly. "I'm staying with Natti. You go to sleep. Mom."

Mother stroked my cheek. "Do you know what, Tammi? Pull out the sliding bed underneath Shuki's, and sleep in it tonight. Natti can stay in Shuki's bed. Maybe when he sees that you're near him he'll relax."

I pulled out the sliding bed. Mother brought my blanket from my room and I fell into bed with my last ounce of strength. I was completely exhausted. Natti stared at me in silence. But apparently when he saw that I had been permanently stationed by his bed for the duration, he calmed down. He rolled over onto his stomach, his eyes still open. I pulled my blanket up over me and rested one hand on Natti's back, so that he would know I was constantly by his side, and wouldn't start his terrible screaming.

Mother said good-night to me and went back to her room. I must have fallen asleep. But it was a very light sleep, interrupted from time to time by little Natti's coughing, which was usually accompanied by a few wails. Sometimes, too, a kind of choking scream escaped him, which startled me and woke me up, and also made me angry. I had forgotten that he was sick. Why did he have to yell like that, for no reason? Or maybe for some good reason, by that time it was all the same to me.

The next morning I woke up tired and weak, with burning eyes and heavy head. But there was no choice. I had to get up and help my mother. Our two little patients were already awake. Natti had managed to get up and crawl into Mother's bed, and I hadn't even noticed. Mother reassured me that he had left Shuki's bed only a short time ago. The two boys' faces were not normal, and appeared very strange. Their cheeks were red and their eyes bulging.

"What do you think they have?" I asked my mother. "They look terrible!"

"I'm sure it's nothing serious, it must be because of the change in weather. All the same, we have to take them to the doctor. Shuki's complaining of an earache, and Natti says his throat is sore, hey might have an infection that needs medicine. You heard Natti's coughing last night."

"But how can you take them to the doctor. Mom?" I asked. "You have to visit Boaz!"

Mother looked at me, and I saw an apology in her eyes. I could see she felt uncomfortable, "I thought of that, Tammi. I don't have any choice but to ask you to stay home from school today. You'll have to take the boys to the doctor instead of me."

I frowned, but didn't say a word. One of the places I most hate to go is the doctor's office. But this time I had no alternative.

Arik went to his Talmud-Torah. He asked simply, "Did something happen last night? I thought I heard voices."

He thought he heard, lucky boy! How could he have slept through an uproar like that? Mother went to visit Boaz, and I set out on my way to the doctor's office.

The pediatrician confirmed my mother's fears. Shuki had an ear infection and would have to take an antibiotic, as well as eardrops. For Natti she prescribed cough syrup. Natti was very happy, for it was a sweet syrup that he liked very much. If he could have got permission, he would have downed the whole bottle in one gulp.

"It's the weather," the doctor told me. "That's one of the signs that winter has arrived. Sick children."

How I managed to get through that day, I'll never know. I was so tired I almost fell asleep on my feet, my head was spinning like a top, and besides, I had to take care of my two little invalids, who took advantage of their situation to nag and nudge me mercilessly. All I remember is that it was very hard, and that I was a bit irritable.

At two o'clock that afternoon, I heard a knock on the door, and there stood - Anat.

"Tammi!" She seemed shocked. "Are you sick? You look terrible!"

"Shuki and Natti are the ones that are sick. Boaz, too. He's in the hospital." I was trying to explain everything quickly in shorthand. "I'm just tired. Come in, Anat. It's nice of you to visit me." She came in, we sat down, and I gave her a more detailed report on the situation.

"You've got to go to sleep, Tammi!" she decided in an instant. I looked at her skeptically. "And who's going to take care of my little brothers? Who's going to make sure they get their medicine on time?"

"Why, do I look like a dummy to you? Just tell me everything I have to do, and you'll see that everything will be taken care of first class."

I tried to correct my blunder. "My brothers don't know you. It would be hard for you. You have no idea how they can nag..."

"Leave those problems to me," Anat interrupted. "You go to sleep immediately. No excuses!"

I was urgently in need of sleep, so I gave in. After bringing out all the food I could find in the house and setting it in front of her on the table - against her numerous protests - and after telling her to feel at home and act as if it was her own house, I went into my room. Within two minutes from the moment I touched the bed, I was unconscious. At five o'clock I woke up, feeling like a new person. I jumped out of bed. I had slept two and a half hours, leaving Anat alone with my brothers...! I hadn't meant to sleep more than an hour, but my great weariness had made that time more than double itself.

Outside, it was already getting dark. I went into the children's room. Arik was sitting in his corner doing his homework. Shuki was sitting up in bed; from his expression he seemed to be feeling better. Next to him sat his good buddy Itzik, and the two of them were chatting excitedly. But - wonder of wonders - the best news always comes in the form of a still, small voice - Natti was sitting on the carpet, playing with his toy cars! I was amazed. I didn't know I had such good, well-brought- up brothers.

"Look, Tammi woke up!"

Shuki looked up. As soon as he saw me, he broke out in a cry of glee: "Now we can yell and run around!"

"What do you mean?" I didn't understand him. "And where's my friend?"

"Anat's sitting in the livingroom," Shuki explained. "She asked us not to make noise, so you could sleep."

And these little guys had obeyed her! I wondered how she had talked them into it, but of course, I had forgotten. Anat's power to influence...

"What nice stories she told us!" Natti exclaimed. "I asked her to be my nursery school teacher."

"And did she agree?" I asked, chuckling at the idea.

"No," he said in a tone of disappointment. Then he perked up immediately. "But she said she would come here a lot to play with me and tell me stories."

I went to Anat. She was deeply absorbed in reading a book she had taken from the shelf. At the sound of my footsteps she looked up from the book and smiled at me. "Did you get a good sleep?"

"Excellent! How did you manage to keep them quiet?"

"I just explained to them how tired you were. You'll be surprised to hear that children are willing to listen and obey, if you just know how to talk to them. I told them stories until Arik got home, about four-fifteen. That was about an hour ago. A few minutes after him, Itzik arrived, and then I got some time off."

"I don't know how to thank you," I stammered.

"So don't thank me! Don't tell me you're starting to get like those grown-ups, who act so polite!" she teased. This was a new Anat I hadn't met yet. Apparently it was going to take me some time to get to know all the hidden sides of my friend's personality that she hadn't yet revealed to me.

"Won't they worry about you at the dorm?" I asked. "Won't they be mad at you?"

"No. I managed to run over to the dorm and get permission from the madrichah. She understood the situation and said it was alright for me to come back late."

They wouldn't have given permission like that to just anyone. Only to Anat...

We went into the kitchen to make dinner. In spite of my protests, Anat helped me with everything. "Do you have brothers and sisters?" I asked. Strange as it may seem, Anat had never told me about - had never even mentioned - her family. She always seemed to avoid the subject. "You managed beautifully with my brothers," I said, as if to explain why I had asked the question.

"No," Anat answered. "I'm an only daughter."

"I'm also an only daughter," I wisecracked. "But all the same I have four brothers."

"I don't have brothers or sisters," Anat explained patiently. She didn't seem interested in discussing the matter, and I didn't know what to say, how to continue the conversation.

"You did a great job of keeping my brothers busy, they like you."

"True. But do you know, up until recently - until about two years ago - I didn't have any idea how to act with little children. For me they were troublesome creatures, it was better not to be around them. That was until I got to know my cousins. Then I learned to understand the world of these little people, and even to like it. Ever since then, I've known how to spend time with young children, and I even like it."

"But..." I was a little shy to ask, but the question was bothering me. "You don't live with your aunt, do you?"

"Certainly not! Thank G-d, I have good parents who love me, and I live with my own family. But I've become very close with my aunt and her family."

"Does she also live in Rechovot?" I inquired. "Yes," she answered briefly. She didn't add any details.

I jumped to a hasty conclusion. "I suppose they must have moved to Rechovot just two years ago."

"No. What makes you think that? She lived in Rechovot long before I moved there. She was born and grew up there. This aunt of mine is my father's sister."

"It's just that you said you only got to know your cousins two years ago. That's why I thought they had recently moved there. But maybe it was your family that moved to Rechovot two years ago."

"Ahh." An unexpressive reply, from which I learned nothing. Anat bit her lower lip and silently continued cutting vegetables for the salad.

I felt very uncomfortable. There was something strange about Anat's expression. I wanted to go on asking questions, but couldn't bring myself to do so. Anat apparently noticed my uncertainty. "Some other time I'll tell you everything, Tammi," she said hastily, but with a touch of softness in her voice. "Maybe... maybe even tonight. I got permission to go back to the dorm late. They turn off the lights there at ten, so I'll have to be back a little before that. You're planning to feed me dinner, I hope?" She smiled mischievously, camouflaging her tenseness.

We sat on the enclosed balcony of my house, Anat and I had opened the shutters, but left the windows closed, so that the very cool wind of Jerusalem at the end of fall couldn't get in. Through the windows we could see the dark, partly cloudy sky, and hear the whistling of the wind that was even now bringing more clouds with it. Tonight it would probably rain. That year, Anat and I were together on many evenings like this one. Whether it was a summer night or a winter one, each was an experience all its own.

"What about your homework, Anat?" I asked, when I could no longer stand the silence between us.

"Most of it I already finished during the breaks. After all, you didn't come today, so I didn't have anyone to talk to. For algebra I haven't yet solved all the exercises, but I'll do it tomorrow morning early."

One question had been bothering me for some time. Why had Anat chosen me in particular to be her friend? True, she had other friends in the class, but she had formed her, closest tie with me. I was happy, but also surprised. What had she discovered in me that she didn't see in some other girt in our class? I dared to ask her.

"You're different," Anat declared decisively. "As a matter of fact, you're like all the others, but at the same time, you're not like them. And that's what I like about you. If you were completely like the others, or else extremely different. I'll use an extreme expression: If you were starry-eyed - like me, for example..." She smiled naughtily. "I wouldn't want you for a close friend. And also if you were an ordinary, superficial girl like any other, I wouldn't be especially interested in you. But you are a combination of same and different; that's what appeals to me."

Yes, and it appealed to me to hear Anat praising me, despite the fact that I hadn't understood exactly what she was praising me for. I asked her to explain.

"You're an ordinary girl, it's true. You like to fool around, you don't make special efforts to study. You aren't always careful to make sure that you're doing the right thing. And yet, all the same, when someone criticizes you, you're willing to accept the criticism with understanding and admit when you're wrong. There aren't too many like that in this world. People don't like to hear criticism or reproof. They prefer to get compliments."

"Do you think I'm not one of those who prefer to get compliments?"

"You prefer, yes. But you don't get angry at me when I reprimand you honestly, with good will. Someone else in your place would never look at me again."

"Don't exaggerate."

"But that's how it is, you'll be surprised to know.You see, I have the feeling that when I tell you something, you understand me, not just the ordinary kind of understanding, the meaning of the words and the sentences. But an understanding that is a feeling. You feel what I feel."

I liked this revelation of her inner thoughts, which was spoken with great simplicity. Without beating around the bush, she said what was in her heart. She was probably right. But since I was more inhibited, I didn't reply.

Anat went on heaping compliments on me. "You are thoughtful and you use your judgment, and you're intelligent, even if you sometimes hide those qualities behind a mask of naughtiness."

I reddened. I hadn't been prepared to be exposed so openly. "I'm not brilliant and intelligent like you, Anat." I felt I had to return her compliments. "I don't even come up to your ankles."

"That's your good luck," she said with a short laugh. "I'm just a strange girl."

"In my opinion, you're something special."

"You think so, because you don't know me yet."

"And what makes you think you know me?" I asked.

"On the contrary. If I'm wrong, just tell me."

I didn't answer, and my silence was an admission that she was right. Anat's definition of my personality had hit the mark - even if to some people that might sound like boasting. But every once in a while I'm in the habit of admitting the truth about myself, even if that includes good qualities. I never claim to be what I'm not. I can't stand people who act with unnecessary humility just to seem modest and humble. In my opinion, that's plain hypocrisy.

My mother came out onto the balcony. "Tammi," she said, "I'm going up to the neighbor's apartment for a minute. I've just been to the post office. A letter came from Aunt Shirley in America. I want to ask our neighbor Esther to translate it for me. I'll be right back. Just keep an eye out in case one of the children wakes up and wants something."

"O.K., Mom." Anat made an almost imperceptible gesture as if she wanted to say something. But since she didn't say anything, I thought that my eyes had tricked me, and I didn't pay any attention. ' After about a minute and a half, my mother returned. I heard the door open, and then her footsteps. "It was such a short letter?" I called from the balcony.

"Esther's not home. She went to a wedding."

"Tell your mother that if she wants, I can translate the letter for her," Anat said, trying not to speak too loudly.

"You!" I asked skeptically. "You can decipher a letter in English? And you know all the hard words?"

"First of all, not every handwriting is necessarily difficult to decipher. And not every letter has hard words in it."

"You don't know Aunt Shirley's letters. She writes even the simplest things in fancy language. The ordinary English we learn at school isn't enough to translate her letters. If that were possible, I'd do it myself."

Anat shrugged. "Not that I have any special interest in reading your aunt's letter. I just wanted to help your mother. We speak English at home, my parents and I. English is my mother- tongue. Before I even started to study English at school, I already spoke and read it fluently."

I opened both eyes wide in amazement. "But you study English with us at school!"

That's true," she smiled, "and not true. I do sit in class like any other student. But usually there's nothing for me to learn. Except for the rare times when the teacher teaches an unusual verb, I sit and daydream. Even I have a right to daydream for one class, don't I?"

I was surprised. And how could it be none of us had ever noticed that Anat spoke English? "Mom," I called, "Anat can translate the letter from Aunt Shirley."

Our aunt wrote the good news that she had a new grandson, just born to her oldest daughter: She also told us that she planned to visit Israel at Channukah time, and it seemed she would be staying with us for a while. She went on to relate new and not-so-new events - a normal letter from a good aunt. "Why do you speak English in your home?" I asked, after Mother had thanked Anat and left us to ourselves.

"As I told you, English is my mother-tongue. Until the age of five, when I entered kindergarten, I didn't know a word of Hebrew. My family came to Israel when I was four and a half."

"You weren't born in Israel?" I was completely amazed. "You have such an Israeli accent! It's impossible to believe that you came from a different country. Where were you born?"

"In the United States. Don't forget that I arrived in Israel ten years ago, at a relatively young age, so it was easy for me to pick up a 'Sabra' accent."

"Wait a minute." I didn't understand yet. "You told me before about your aunt, your father's sister, who was born and raised in Rechovot. So where was your father born?"

"He also was born in Eretz Israel." "So how did he..."

Anat took a deep breath. "All right. We've arrived at the suspense story I promised you this evening. I'll start from the beginning. My father works for the Israeli Defense Department, some secret job that even I don't know what it is. Something to do with atomic physics, research, in the past I've tried to look into it, but I ran into a blank wall and gave up on the idea of finding out more, that is, more than I already don't know. About sixteen years ago, or a little less - my father was twenty-five then - he was sent to the States by the Defense Department for study, professional training - I'm sure you've heard of things like that. There he became acquainted with my mother, a typical American, and that acquaintance led to their marriage. My father's stay in America, originally planned for three years, dragged out to more than five. My mother wanted to finish her degree in computer science. In the meantime, about a year after the wedding, I was born. When my mother had finished her studies, and my father couldn't extend his assignment in America any more - and besides, he missed Israel very much - we came here, the whole family. So there. That's the story."

"So your father is Israeli and your mother is American, a strange combination."

"Strange, perhaps, but not rare. Today you'll find a lot of couples like that."

"You're right. And what was it like coming to a foreign, unfamiliar country?"

"The truth is that I was still little, and adapting to a new society wasn't especially hard. My mother suffered more than I did. To be more exact, to this very day she hasn't got used to the lifestyle and atmosphere here in Israel. Unlike me, who wouldn't trade Eretz Israel for any other country in the world, she would gladly pack up her things and go back to the land where she was born. It's only because of Father that she stays. And because of me, of course."

"But the family... your father's family. You told me that they live in Rechovot, too. They must have tried to make it easier for your mother to get adjusted, and to help her like the country, didn't they?"

"That's the problem," Anat sighed. "We don't have any connection with the family. For a long time I didn't even know that I had a grandfather and grandmother, uncles and aunts, cousins..."

I tried to conceal the unease that came over me when I heard about her family problems. "Until two years ago you didn't know," I said, recalling what she had told me. "Then, according to what you said, you first got to know your aunt's family."

"Yes, and through her, the rest of the family. You can't imagine how angry my father was when he found out that I had made contact with his family, whose very existence he had tried for years to hide from me. In the end he accepted the situation, he didn't have any choice. But the connection remains with me alone. My parents aren't willing to hear even about a telephone conversation with someone from the family. It's so painful for me..."

"It's a very unusual situation. What could have caused such a stand-off? They must have had some kind of a fight," I suggested. I felt that Anat was waiting for some kind of verbal-emotional participation on my part, that she wouldn't feel comfortable if I remained just a passive listener. And even though it wasn't particularly pleasant for me, because for me this felt like an intrusion into the territory of her personal and family problems, a territory where I had no right to enter - still, I felt obligated to do so. Besides, it naturally interested me to learn as many details as I could about this strange story.

"Well, at a young age my father left his parent's home and began his own independent life. The reason he did that..." She paused a moment, took a deep breath. "He didn't like the way of life in which he had been brought up, and which he was forced to follow in his parent's home... My grandfather is a religious man, who observes Torah and mitzvot and is strict about every detail, minor or major. And my father wanted to throw off that yoke. At the age of eighteen he left the yeshivah where he had been studying and enlisted in the army. Since he had no other aspiration in life, he made his own personal advancement his exclusive goal. That was what he decided to achieve, and that was what he pushed himself to reach. And he succeeded. He chose to serve the government of the state of Israel. His brilliant mind, the many talents and abilities with which he was blessed - he turned everything to the service of the Defense Department. And it must be said that he succeeded beyond all expectations. That is the life in which he is totally immersed, and he's not willing to hear about any other way of living."

"You grew up in a non-religious family," I noted. I began to understand a number of things that I had wondered about. Until now, I had found no explanation for them.

"I grew up in it, and I'm still in it. Don't make any mistake, my parents, as human beings, are wonderful people. My father is a little more closed and introverted than my mother, but he has always been extremely devoted to me. He's given me more than a daughter usually receives from her father. Especially from such a busy father. And as for my mother... my mother is really marvelous. We've always been good friends. For years she was my very best friend. I told her all my secrets, shared all my experiences with her. Whenever I was uncertain what to do, I went to her for advice, and I was never disappointed. There was always friendship and understanding between us. Until... until I met Batyah. It's true that even after that we continued to be, and we still are, very close to each other. But something changed... it's not the same thing anymore. I feel it's really too bad that I've lost my mother in the way she was before I met Batyah."

"Batyah? Who's that?"

She had been expecting the question. "Batyah is the one who changed my whole life. It was really a case of divine intervention. Maybe you'll laugh when you hear how I met her. I was in seventh grade then. That was two years ago..." She made an effort to remember. "Yes, it was right at the beginning of the school year, the end of summer, and the days were extremely hot. I was travelling by bus - I don't remember where I was going, even though it's pretty rare for me to go anyplace by bus. Usually my parents drive me everywhere. My father and mother each have their own car," she said without boasting. She just mentioned it as a fact. "Maybe I had decided to go by bus just for the experience. It's more interesting, you meet people..."

"As I mentioned, today I realize that it was the hand of Providence that led me there. Sometimes we find ourselves doing things that seem at first sight completely unnecessary. We don't understand why, what's the sudden impulse to act a certain way and not some other way. Sometimes heaven helps us and we discover the meaning of certain surprising things. Many other times, we never find out what it was all about, because we look at every event as if it were just 'accidental.' We've already got used to accepting whatever happens, without trying to understand what each event is meant to teach us, whether it concerns us personally, or our surroundings.

"On that particular summery day, I was sitting on the bus. As I said, it was extremely hot, and of course I was dressed accordingly..." Anat stopped for a moment. Her cheeks turned red. "Today I can't understand how in the very recent past I used to go around like that, in short pants and a shirt even more skimpy than a T-shirt... All that came from the upbringing and the lifestyle I'd been accustomed to. I didn't know any other life. And I didn't have the necessary data to begin thinking along the lines that would have led me by myself to the conclusion - the intellectual conclusion, I mean, not an active decision to change my way of life - that, even aside from matters of religion, Mitzvot, or transgressions, this kind of clothing doesn't honor a person. This was the way my friends dressed, and I dressed the same. This was also the kind of clothing I saw around me on the bus.

"Until... until Batyah got on the bus. Just at that moment, the seat next to me became vacant, and Batyah sat down beside me. A girl a few years older than me. Afterwards I found out that she was - at that time - seventeen. Five years older than me. Of course I didn't yet know her.

"I stared at her in amazement. I couldn't believe my eyes. In the middle of summer a girl was walking around in a long- sleeved blouse, buttoned right up to the neck, and she was even wearing long tights.

"Apparently my stares didn't escape her. After the bus had driven on for a few minutes, during which I could not manage to take my eyes off her, she turned to me with a smile.

"Something wrong?"

"I was confused, and felt very uncomfortable, but she continued in a natural tone, as if we were old acquaintances:

"Don't be shy. Tell me..."

"When she saw that I didn't utter a sound, she told me with a smile:

'You know, your wondering glances remind me of something... Once I was walking in the street and a strange boy, whom I didn't know, asked me: 'Hey, girl! Why do you have only one earring?' I almost raised my hand to feel my ear, but at that moment I saw the teasing look in his eyes and realized he was only making fun of me. That's exactly what he was hoping I would do, check my ear. I told him, 'Pardon me for touching on a sensitive point, but it just looks that way to you because you're cross-eyed.' He stood still, with the wind knocked out of him, and I continued on my way. I assumed that both my earrings were in their usual place, but all the same, when I got far enough away from that boy that he couldn't see me, I checked my earlobes. Just as I had thought, both earrings were in place.'

"We laughed together, Batyah and I, and my tension and discomfort dissolved. When she saw that her story had had the desired effect, she asked again: 'But you seem to be genuinely surprised. What is it about me that bothers you?'

"It's...nothing," I stammered. "No doubt you're not feeling well... sick..."

"Do I look to you like I'm sick?" she laughed. "Thank G-d, I'm at least as healthy as you. Why did you think I was sick?"

"It's - because of the clothes you're wearing. Long blouse... tights... I thought you had a fever, felt cold..."

"This time she didn't laugh. She didn't smile, either. She just looked at me with an expression in her eyes that was sort of - kind. I can't define it any other way. She was quiet for a long moment, as if choosing her words. She was searching for a way to explain the matter to me without offending me. I could see that it was hard for her.

"Is this the first time that you've seen someone dressed like me?" she finally asked.

"In the summer...yes." I admitted. "That's really too bad."

At that time, I didn't know what she meant by those words. Later, she explained to me. It was too bad that people, even if not brought up according to the Torah, didn't at least have a positive awareness that a different way of life existed. Like myself, for example, who when I saw her for the first time, thought that she was sick. To tell the truth, my first thought had been that she wasn't in her right mind; that she was simply crazy. How could anyone go around in clothes like that on such a hot day?

"And Batyah - during the conversation I had learned her name - continued: "You see, I'm Jewish..."

"I'm also Jewish!" I interrupted her, rebelling. Was she trying to take away my Jewishness just on account of my clothes which were shorter and more sensible than hers?

"G-d forbid, I didn't say you're not Jewish. You're undoubtedly just as good a Jew as I am. But I'm a Jew who knows that my people, the Jewish people, are a special people."

"I was curious. 'Special in what way?'

"In that they received a certain thing that was not given to any other people."

My curiousity grew. "And what is that thing?" "Torah."

"One short word. It was familiar to me from somewhere or other, but only as a blurry concept. Batyah noticed my hesitant expression and explained: 'The book of Mitzvot and laws that was personally given by G-d to Moshe Rabbeinu so that he would pass it on to the Jewish people."

"But I don't believe in G-d!" I was repeating a well-known, familiar statement.

"How can you say that you don't believe in something if you don't have any idea what it is? If you don't understand the word, or know what it stands for?"

"I thought about her words for a minute. 'But I do know! G-d is something invisible, which no one has ever been able to see, but which they claim created the world. It's not realistic at all!'

"She wasn't flustered by my attack, and explained to me patiently: 'Let's say we were talking to someone who lived two hundred years ago. Assume we found a way to talk to him, and we told him: 'Let's go for an airplane ride!' He would ask, 'What's an airplane?' and we would tell him, 'It's a machine that flies in the air.' 'I don't believe such a thing exists,' he would answer. 'It's not realistic!' Now, what do you think about that?' she asked me.

" 'You'd have to show him,' I answered without thinking twice. Then he'd believe.'

" 'Of course you're right. We'd have to show him, and we could show him. Because an airplane is a realistic thing, as every child knows. And today we know that even hundreds and thousands of years ago, when airplanes didn't yet exist, the idea of an airplane was realistic. It's just that its reality hadn't yet taken on a physical form that anyone could see. Therefore it was hard to believe that such a thing could exist...' She was silent for a moment, giving me time to think over what she was saying - and I was thinking, believe me! Then she continued.

" 'Now I'm telling you that G-d, too, is realistic, exists. And you'll answer me, 'I don't believe.' Therefore, you have to be shown... but not visually. There are things that can only be seen by the eye of the intellect. Intellect itself, for example. Such seeing is possible, but more difficult. But the day is coming, and we hope it will be soon, when the reality of G-d will be clear and obvious for all to see, so much so that people will be surprised at themselves: 'How is it that we didn't see before?' Just as today people wonder, 'How can it be that in the past no one believed in the possibility of a machine that flies in the air, an airplane?'

"It was this conversation with Batyah, during a bus trip, that opened a door for me into a new and unfamiliar world, the world in which I now exist. At that moment, in the bus, I wasn't yet convinced, of course. But she had succeeded in awakening my curiosity and stimulating me to think and meditate on the subject.

We weren't able to continue our conversation. I reached my destination and had to get off the bus. We parted, but not before she had taken my phone number and promised to give me a call.

"She kept her promise. When she called the next day, I was very happy. I had a lot of questions to ask her. Since we had said good-bye, I had had quite a bit of time to contemplate our conversation, to think, to understand - and also to raise questions. I was also happy to know that she had not forgotten me, that she had thought to call me.

"During that phone conversation she also invited me to be her guest for Shabbat. It wasn't easy to get my parents to agree to that. But since it had always been hard for them to say no to me about anything, they gave in to me this time, too. I'm sure that if they had been able to foresee how things would develop, and what would come of it, they would have firmly insisted that I break off all connection with Batyah immediately, before the relationship could get started. But, fortunately for me, things turned out otherwise. And when I got to Batyah's house on Friday afternoon, dressed modestly - more or less - the surprise of my life was waiting for me!"

I was in suspense. Anat took a breath. Maybe she was deliberately delaying, to increase my suspense? She glanced at her watch. I, too, looked at my watch. How I wished that time would stand still, at least until Anat could finish her story! The watch, of course, paid no attention to my wish, and its hands continued racing ahead.

"I have a little more time," Anat said, to my great relief. "I'll try to finish my story quickly.

"Batyah's family received me with great friendliness. Later on I found out that the strange, almost astonished glance which Batyah's mother fixed on me when she first saw me had not been a figment of my imagination. In spite of that, she didn't hold herself back, and welcomed me heartily, with really motherly warmth. We sat down in the guest room and had an ordinary, routine conversation. You can imagine what we talked about. What school I went to, and which grade I was in, if I liked it, and what my hobbies were. Today I know that Friday is a day when it's hard to sit down and talk to guests. At the time, I didn't realize that. For me, Friday afternoon was just a day like any other. In Batyah's house I didn't at all feel that her family were nervous or under pressure to get ready on time. Everyone was so calm and relaxed... as if the mother of the house had nothing else to do but sit and chat with me on Friday afternoon - and that, despite the fact that the home was blessed with eight children, may they be well.

" 'Your first name is Anat, that I know. But what is your family name?' Batyah's mother asked. She asked me to call her by her first name, Hadassah.

" 'Zahavi,' I answered.

" 'Zahavi?' She thought for a moment. 'Certainly that's not your family's original name. Perhaps your father 'hebrew-ized' the name?'

" 'True,' I said. The name was originally Gold.'

"Again I felt that strange glance directed at me, as when I had first come in. Hadassah asked me in a slightly trembling voice, 'Tell me...what is your father's first name?'

" 'Eli. Elitzur.' I was surprised at her unusual behavior and strange questions.

" 'Elitzur Gold!' she exclaimed. For some reason she used the old name instead of the present one, and I still didn't understand why. 'How old is your father? Tell me. I have to know! Forgive me, but it's important!'

"I looked at her closely and, perceiving that she was very emotional, decided that nothing terrible could happen if I gave her the information she was asking for.

" 'My father is thirty-nine.' I remembered his age, because his birthday was coming up soon and I had been racking my brains to find the right present for him. 'But,' I added, 'our family name is Zahavi, not Gold!' She ignored these last words.

" 'Elitzur...' my hostess murmured, 'Yes, by now he would be thirty-nine. In about another month, or a little more. He was born the day after Simchat-Torah...' " 'Who do you mean?' I was brave enough to ask. 'Who are you talking about?'

" 'Elitzur...my brother!' she answered, her eyes still fixed on me with a strange expression.

" 'Ahh,' I said, pretending to understand. 'Your brother is also named Elitzur?' Then suddenly the questions started pouring in on me like a flood. 'Was your father born in Rechovot? Did he work, maybe still works, for the Defense Department? And he went overseas about thirteen years ago on a government assignment? Did he meet your mother in the United States and marry her there?'

"I nodded my head. That's all I could do, just sit and nod my head up and down, again and again. I didn't understand where she had uncovered all these details about my family. Then suddenly she stood up, came over to me, took my hand in hers, put her other hand on my shoulder, and told me in a soft voice:

"Anat. My niece... Yes. You are the daughter of Elitzur...of Eli. I'm so happy to know you!'

"And that's how I first met my aunt.

"Afterwards we sat and talked, the whole family. We spoke, told stories, discovered details we had never known. Now I understand why she had transfixed me with those strange glances as soon as I came in.

" 'One can't say you resemble Eli,' Hadassah declared; and I confirmed the fact: 'That's right; everyone claims I very much resemble my mother.' And she continued: 'But the expression... that same look in the eyes, that same line of the mouth... when one looks carefully at the details, it's impossible not to see that you're the daughter of Eli... your father, I mean.'

"She told me that since my father had left home, he had broken off all contact with the family. Everything they knew about him they had gleaned indirectly, through common friends, and these pieces of information were not exact.

'Only once did we get a letter from him, from America, in which he informed us that he had married. He didn't send us an invitation... and he didn't give details. I didn't know he had a daughter. Do you have other brothers or sisters, Anat?' I shook my head no, and she continued, 'We also didn't know that he had returned to Israel...'

"As soon as we got over the shock of our meeting, my Aunt Hadassah phoned my grandfather and grandmother. What can I tell you? Do you know what it is to speak with your grandfather for the first time in your life when you're twelve years old? With a grandfather who lived not far from your house, and who you never even knew existed? The excitement was mutual. They phoned all the uncles and aunts, and all those who lived nearby were invited to come over on Shabbat afternoon to meet their long-lost niece.

"That was a very emotional Shabbat. Besides the fact that until then I had never experienced the taste of a real Shabbat. The following night, I was in a state of confusion and amazement, but also delighted - though I can't say the same about my parents. When I came home all enthusiastic and told them that I had met my Aunt Hadassah, and Aunt Margalit, and Uncle Shaul, and Uncle Mordechai, and even Grandpa and Grandma - for a moment I thought my father was going to have a fit. Afterwards began what I call 'operation persuasion.' In a nice way, my parents tried to explain to me that it would be better for me if I didn't maintain contact with that old-fashioned family. But what could I do if I just happened to like all my relatives? I couldn't agree to my parents demand. Even when they tried to threaten me, that only made me more stubborn. I insisted on my right to stay in touch with the members of my family.

" 'But don't you show up suddenly with a prayerbook in your hand, understand?' my father cried angrily, when he understood that he couldn't force his attitude towards the family on me. 'I'm not willing to hear a single word about Mitzvot and Torah! I left all that so I could start a new life. Don't you start bringing home the things I ran away from!'

"And my mother nodded her head in agreement and said in a slow, quiet voice: 'You're not allowed to be religious, Anat. You must remember what I'm telling you. For your own good, listen to me. Stay away from traditional Judaism. It will only make life hard for you.' "

Anat sighed. The memories were very painful for her. "I didn't stay away from Judaism. I got closer, much to my parents dissatisfaction. The truth is that at the start I didn't believe it would happen. And it didn't happen all at once. It was a period full of crises. Fights, battles, confrontations, situations that I had never imagined could take place between me and my parents. To this day I don't understand the reason for their stubborn opposition. After all, it was my private life, which I had a right to live as I saw fit. I didn't try to force my new ways on them. Why was it permitted for my father to run away, but forbidden for me to go back?

"In the end, my parents gave in. And when they agreed - an unstated agreement - the war between us died down, and that truce was enough for me. They began, without my requesting it, to meet me halfway. The kitchen in our house was koshered. They are careful that any food that comes into our house meets the highest standards of Kashrut. They don't openly desecrate Shabbat, and there are other things, too. Little things, but highly significant."

"You went through a difficult period," I remarked, after Anat had remained silent for a moment.

"Yes. Today the situation is much better. At Sukkot my father built a Suckah, just for my sake, he didn't use it himself. And even though Jewish law exempts me from the Mitzvah of the Suckah - besides the fact that my father knew I'd be spending the holiday evenings with our relatives - it was nice of him to think of me and want to give me the feeling of the holiday at home as well. On Yom Kippur, for example - do you think my parents go to the synagogue? They also don't consider it necessary to fast on Yom Kippur. My parents have disconnected themselves completely from Jewish tradition."

I began to understand. That was why Anat had asked to be my guest for Yom Kippur, and that was the reason for her sad smile on wishing me a happy holiday when we parted for Sukkot vacation.

"You must be a real heroine, Anat, if you managed to stand up under pressures like those and not break."

She didn't reply to my comment. She thought silently for a moment and then said, "Yet, all the same..."

"All the same - what?"

"All the same, it's still hard for me, the psychological pressure... I can't ignore it. Every once in a while my mother tells me, 'You'll see yet, Anat, one day you'll drop all this... you'll throw these old-fashioned customs behind your back... you'll understand that all these things are irrelevant to you, and you'll regret these days, in which you unnecessarily burdened yourself with a pointless yoke...' "

"Of course she would say that. She doesn't want you to be religious. Your mother is angry that you observe Torah and Mitzvot."

"That's true, and yet there's something else hidden behind her words... something that I, too, don't understand. She says these things and others like them with great seriousness, and with complete assurance. She's convinced that she's right!"

"To me it's quite clear," I answered. "Your mother is incapable of understanding your way of life. Why live a hard life, hemmed in at every step, when an easier way is available? And since she truly loves you and worries about you -in her own way, of course - she's interested in persuading you to adopt the outlook which she is sure is right and true, and, most important of all, the easiest and most convenient!"

"That's probably the real reason, and it's only my imagination... but all the same I have the feeling that something else is hidden behind these predictions of my mother's. She has some secret intention - and it bothers me that I don't know what it is!"

The hour was late, and we parted. It's not hard to believe that I had a hard time falling asleep that night. After all, I had slept until five in the afternoon! But that wasn't the main reason for my sleeplessness.