Everything was ready for Mother's birthday party. The table in the livingroom was decoratively set, a big bouquet of flowers stood on it next to Mother's place. The boys were dressed in holiday clothes, and so was I. Shuki and Natti had prepared a surprise for Mother. Shuki had written on a nice piece of paper all the letters of the alef-bet, which he had recently learned to write. And Natti had drawn her a picture. Both of them had put their gifts on the table, next to the bouquet of flowers. Boaz and I took up our positions beside the organ.

We had talked in secret with Aunt Shirley and let her in on our plan. At noon she had suddenly "decided" that she wanted to pray the afternoon prayer at the Western Wall, and had asked Mother to join her. Mother had agreed, of course. What doesn't one do for an aunt who has come to visit from America? In the meanwhile, we had had time to get organized. Anat helped us, as did Father, who had decided not to go to work that day. Mother had taken a longer vacation, in honor of our important guest. A festive lunch was all prepared, waiting on a low flame so that it would stay warm.

A low knock was heard, the handle turned, the door opened. Arik stood beside Boaz, and Shuki at my side. Natti stood on a chair in the center, and all together we greeted Mother and Shirley with a melodious round of, "Welcome in the name of Hashem." The two of them surveyed us with obvious pleasure. Aunt Shirley happily, and Mother with emotion. She even passed her hand over her eyes - to wipe away, it seemed to me, a tear of excitement.

We finished singing, but remained standing in our places, positioned like a smalt choir. The little boys showed extraordinary maturity by staying in their places, too, rather than pouncing on Mother. It was not for nothing that we had spent so much time practicing with them. Not in vain had been our warnings - and even more, our promises that whoever behaved right would get a prize.

"Will the guests of honor please be seated!" I announced. I had taken upon myself the task of master-of-ceremonies. "Mother at the head of the table, opposite Father. Aunt Shirley, your place is beside Mom."

"On the right side or the left?" our Aunt asked with feigned innocence.

"If you prefer to stay hungry," Arik clowned, "sit at the place where there's no plate. But if you want to receive lunch like everyone else, choose the place where a plate is set."

Aunt Shirley waggled a finger at him in mock warning, and took her place.

"The members of the choir are requested to stay quiet!" I announced with great importance, staring at Arik. Now came the main part of the program. I stepped up to Mother and presented her with the sheet of paper containing the words of the song I had composed in her honor. Mother studied it, her whole face filled with wonder, astonishment - and deeply-felt pride. I strode importantly back to my place, and Boaz softly cleared his throat, which was the signal for all of us to break into song. We sang the "Song of Mother."

We sang energetically, enthusiastically, and with feeling. Shukt and Natti were so sweet! They sang with a truly holy awe, as if it were some exalted prayer. Mother couldn't restrain herself. Completely breaking all the rules, she jumped up from her place, ran to us, hugged and kissed us. "My children..." she said joyfully.

The performance concluded; the choir disbanded. Everyone sat down around the table, except for me. I started towards the kitchen to serve lunch, in accordance with the time-honored tradition of giving mothers a complete vacation on their birthdays. Anat joined me. When she walked toward me from the corner into which she had tucked herself until now. Aunt Shirley noticed her for the first time. She stared at her in astonishment, her lips and eyebrows puckered in an espression of bewilderment. She started to say something, then changed her mind, and we went into the kitchen.

"How was it?" I asked Anat.

"Wonderful!" she said with feeling. "Extremely successful! But... did you notice that your Aunt looked at me strangely?"

"Yes, I noticed. I wondered about it very much." "Why do you think she was so surprised?"

"I have no idea. Perhaps she didn't understand what you were doing at a family party. It's too bad I didn't introduce you to her a day or two before. Then it wouldn't have seemed so strange to her."

"Do you think that's the reason for her amazement?" Anat asked skeptically.

"Can you think of any other reason?"

She didn't answer, but immediately picked up the tray of salads and went out of the kitchen. When she returned, she was very upset. "Again she stared at me in amazement, studying every line of my face! What does she want from me!"

"Don't get excited, Anat," I tried to calm her. "Look, the plate is almost falling out of your hand. In just a minute I'll find out for you what it's all about, O.K.?"

"You go and serve," she said. "I'll set the things out on the plates."

I agreed willingly. When I put a plate down in front of Aunt Shirley, she still looked troubled.

We finished serving, and joined the family at the table. "Aunt Shirley," I said, "let me introduce Anat, a friend of mine from school - a very good friend. Our whole family is very attached to her. She helped me very much in getting ready for the party."

"Very nice to meet you," Aunt Shirley said politely. But she couldn't take her eyes off Anat.

"What's the matter. Aunt Shirley?" 1 asked, completely astonished. "Why are you looking at Anat that way?"

"Her face is familiar," Aunt Shirley explained. "You're friend very closely resembles someone I know, a neighbor of mine..."

Anat nearly jumped out of her chair. "A neighbor of yours there? In America? Who is this neighbor?" Anat demanded. I put a calming - but trembling - hand on her shoulder. I, too, felt tense.

"I'm sure the resemblance is only coincidental," my Aunt said in an apologetic tone, "but all the same, it's amazingly close!"

"Please, tell me her name!" begged Anat.

"Why are you interested in her? Just because she resembles you so much? She's a girl of about twenty, named Maggie Ford..." She hadn't imagined the outburst her words would provoke.

"Tell me! What else do you know about her?" Anat insisted.

All of us had put down our silverware and were listening to this strange dialogue.

"I told you, Anat, the resemblance between you is merely coincidental. What connection could there be between you and a non-Jewish girl?"

"What!" Anat leaped from her place, knocking her chair over backwards without even noticing it. "Maggie isn't Jewish? That's impossible! Maggie is... she's... my sister!"

Aunt Shirley looked at her in wonderment. "Undoubtedly there's some misunderstanding here. Apparently we're talking about two different people," she tried to reassure her.

"But Maggie Ford! That's exactly the name of my sister... and she's also twenty!"

Aunt Shirley was bewildered, but immediately recovered her composure. "Do you know how many girls named Maggie Ford there are in the United States? In a country of hundreds of millions of people, it's not rare to find a number of people with identical names, especially when the name is such a common one."

"And what about the resemblance between us?" Anat didn't give in. "Purely by coincidence there's a girl aged twenty, named Maggie Ford, who looks just tike me?"

Aunt Shirley bit her lip worriedly. Not knowing what to do, she looked from one to another of us, silently asking for assistance which we were unable to offer her.

"What a silly old fogie I am!" she scolded herself. "At my age I should have thought a little before opening my mouth! Why cause you girls needless worry?" She got up and stood by Anat. "Come, sit next to me on the couch." She pulled her along. "I'm sure you're worrying for nothing. Tell me again. Why do you think the girl I mentioned is your sister?"

"Because I have a sister in America," said Anat in a trembling voice, "who resembles me very much, and she is the same age and has the same name as the girl you mentioned!"

"It's a coincidence, nothing but coincidence!" Aunt Shirley insisted stubbornly. "You can't be her sister. It's impossible!"

Mother also stood by Anat, looking at her worriedly. "The girl is too pale," she murmured to herself. "Tammi, please bring Anat a glass of water."

Wordlessly, I did as she asked.

"Maybe you should go into a side room?" Father suggested. "That way you can talk undisturbed. It doesn't help to have all the children around you."

"Father's right," Mother and Aunt Shirley agreed unanimously, and they went towards my room, which was presently serving as Aunt Shirley's, too. Anat walked after them as if dreaming. I joined them. To my great relief, no one ordered me to stay in the livingroom. Mother's birthday party, which had started out so successfully, was suddenly over.

"Do you hear!" Aunt Shirley practically shouted. "This Maggie Ford, who lives next door to me, isn't your sister! Just a minute. How is it that you have a sister in America?" she asked, apparently hoping this would make it easier for her to find a satisfactory solution to the mystery.

"She's my half-sister on my mother's side," Anat explained reluctantly. "Tammi already knows about it. My mother was married before. I'm her daughter from the second marriage, and Maggie from the first. We have different fathers, but the same mother."

"Impossible... impossible," Aunt Shirley muttered over and over. I sat next to Anat. "Calm down, calm down," I kept whispering, not knowing what else I could say to her.

"Maybe, after all, you're right, and she's actually your sister?" Aunt Shirley said as if to herself. "If so, it's a terrible thing!"

"Tell me everything now!" Anat begged. "Don't keep me in suspense. I can't stand the tension!"

"If it's true, you have to know about it," Aunt Shirley suddenly decided. "Perhaps you can do something."

"Tell me now!" There were tears in Anat's eyes. "Why do you think that Maggie isn't Jewish?"

"Because her parents are Christians. Her father - he's her real father, and he's Christian, a devout Catholic. His wife is only Maggie's step-mother. Maggie even calls her by her first name, Carolyn. She's also Christian."

"That Carolyn doesn't interest me at all!" Anat cried out impatiently. "Are... are you sure he's Maggie's real father?"

"Without the slightest doubt!" Aunt Shirley answered definitely. "She came to live with him when she was five. Until then she was with her mother. Afterwards, when her mother decided to remarry, she gave Maggie over to her father's care. The whole neighborhood knows the story. Maggie never tried to hide these facts. She talks about it very freely. This Carolyn is a wonderful woman! She accepted her into her home with love and warmth, and treats her like a real daughter."

"Maggie's father isn't a Jew? And he was always a non-Jew?" Anat had not yet managed to absorb the new information. She still seemed to hope it was all just a nightmare from which she would wake up.

Aunt Shirley didn't say anything, just nodded her head affirmatively.

"How could my mother have agreed?" Anat stormed. "I don't understand... no! I don't understand what's going on here!"

Suddenly she leaned back against the couch cushion. Her hands drooped at her sides, her eyes opened wide, staring straight ahead without consciousness. They were two green circles against the background of her pale, almost white face.

"Water!" I heard my mother yell. "Tammi, water! Quickly... Anat has fainted!"

I ran to bring a glass of water. Aunt Shirley snatched it from my hand and began moistening Anat's forehead, her cheeks, her throat. Anat rolled her head from side to side. I stood in front of her in total panic. I felt the blood had left my face.

"Go out of the room, Tammi!" my mother told me. "I don't want you fainting on me too..." I didn't leave. My legs wouldn't obey me. Poor Anat... less than a week ago she had sat with me here, in this room, and lectured to me and Chagit about the unique quality of our people, Am Yisrael. With great fervor she had labored to convince Chagit that Am Yisrael is the chosen people, and that despite the resulting obligations - or perhaps because of them - it was a tremendous privilege to be a Jew. What a terrible shock it was for her now to find out that her sister, her own flesh and blood, lived in the home of non-Jews, as a complete non-Jew!

Anat didn't return home that day. My mother didn't allow her. "First you have to calm down," she told her, "and that's not something that's going to happen so fast. You've had a real shock."

"I planned to go home this evening," Anat protested in a weak voice. "All the girls in the dorm already left this morning."

"And you're staying here!" My mother repeated her former words, this time in a tone that didn't leave room for argument. "You can go with Tammi to the dorm to get your things. But to your house you're not traveling until tomorrow."

"I must go as soon as possible," Anat tried again. "I have to find out if this is true."

"No tragedy will happen if the situation that has continued for more than ten years continues another day," Mother stuck to her position and argued reasonably. "First you have to calm down. I can't allow you to travel in your present condition. You do look much better than before, but you're still not yourself yet."

Mother was right. I didn't recognize Anat. She was always so quiet, so calm, so relaxed. I once heard - or maybe I read it, I don't remember which - that people who are too calm by nature tend to have a much more severe reaction than the average person in time of crisis. The transition from one psychological extreme to another makes the shock greater.

Anat gave in to my mother's persuasion. That night she slept at our house. We went to sleep quite late. The four of us - Mother, Aunt Shirley, Anat and I - sat and talked. Aunt Shirley told us about the frightening extent of assimilation in the United States and in the world at large.

"Fifty percent, forty percent, eighty percent - the number doesn't matter. Am Yisrael needs Mashiach to come now!" Mother sighed. "Every day that passes without Mashiach, dozens of Jews are lost to Am Yisrael!"

"I won't be surprised, Anat, if it turns out that your mother married a non-Jew," Aunt Shirley said. "As much as it may shock us and give us cold chills - it's a common and accepted occurrence in America."

"But... to leave Maggie in the care of her non-Jewish father, who is married to a Christian. No doubt Maggie is convinced that she herself is Christian!"

"That's how it is!" Aunt Shirley raised her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "If your mother had realized and known, as you do, how important it is to guard the uniqueness of Am Yisrael, she wouldn't have married a non-Jew. Now that she did marry him, no doubt she believes that their daughter belongs just as much to her father as to her. In your mother's opinion, Maggie is just as much a Christian as your mother is a Jew, and it makes no difference in what religion she is raised."

"But according to the Torah she is Jewish!"

"You don't have to convince me of that." Aunt Shirley was tired. Her eyes were drooping, and from time to time she tried to hide a yawn. "I know that. Unfortunately, there are Jews who don't know. They're the ones who need it explained to them, they're the ones who have to be convinced."

"You're referring to my parents... my mother! I'm not going to leave her alone until she agrees to bring Maggie to our house. Father, too, will have to agree. She's my sister, she's my mother's daughter - and she's Jewish! Jewish!"

The next morning, Anat left our house.

"Thank you for everything," she told me. "Give my thanks to your whole family. This evening, with G-d's help, I'll phone you and let you know what develops."

She didn't phone. That evening, just as we were all standing in readiness beside the Channukah menorah, and father, with the lit shamash-candle in his hand was about to begin reciting the blessings for lighting the Channukah lights, a hesitant knock was heard at the door. And there stood...

"Anat!" I shouted in surprise. "What are you doing here? Didn't you go home?"

She didn't answer. A large tear trembled on her eyelid, then another, and another...

"Tammi!" my mother reprimanded me, suddenly appearing at my side. "Come in, Anat. It's cold outside. You came at the right moment, just in time for lighting the Channukah lights..."

While the lights were being tit, Anat managed quietly to wipe away her tears. Her eyes were still red, but she seemed much more relaxed.

"Do you want something hot to drink?" my mother asked her in a soothing voice.

"No, thanks," Anat answered. With a trembling hand she stroked Natti's curly hair. He had come over to cling to her and stare at her with his large, childish eyes. He didn't understand what was happening, but sensed that his big friend was in trouble, and he wanted very much to comfort and encourage her.

"I'd like to speak with Tammi," Anat said.

Mother felt uncomfortable. "Don't you think it's better if I also hear what you have to say?" she asked hesitantly.

"No. Please." Anat's voice was quiet, perturbed - but nonetheless decisive. "Don't worry," she added, "I'm not going to faint again..." She smiled apologetically. Her smile was sad.

Despite Anat's dark mood, I couldn't deny that I was filled with a sense of importance. Anat preferred me over adults! I was the only one with whom she was willing to share her private problems. But her next sentence brought me back down to earth. "I don't mind if Tammi tells you afterwards what I said. It's just hard for me."

My mother understood. She brought to my room a plate piled with sweet-smelling pancakes and dark brown, jelly-filled sufganiot. "In just a minute I'll bring you a cup of hot tea," she told Anat gently. "You too, Tammi?"

"Thanks, Mom, but I'm not thirsty." My mother left the room.

"Can you believe it?!" Anat burst out. Yes, an outburst from Anat! At this point I was no longer amazed to see such a thing. "It's the same Maggie - my sister, just as I thought." She was still in an emotional turmoil, but not to the extent that she had been last night. "I showed my mother the name and address that your Aunt Shirley had written down for me, and I asked her: 'Mother, is this Maggie's address?' My mother snatched the paper from my hand and asked: 'Why do you need her address?'

" 'I only want to know if this is the street and the house number where she lives,' I explained.

" 'Yes, that's the address. Where did you get that piece of paper?' For some reason, my mother was a little gruff with me.

" 'I ran into a neighbor of Maggie's...' I began.

" 'A neighbor of who? What are you talking about?'

" 'A neighbor of Maggie's,' I repeated, trying at least to keep my voice calm, even if I myself wasn't calm. 'Someone who's visiting relatives here in Israel. As soon as she saw me, she noticed the resemblance between me and Maggie. When she found out that we were sisters, she told me everything!'

" 'Told you... what? Tell me what she told you!' my mother cried out with terrible anxiety. At that moment there was no longer any doubt in my heart that it was all true...

" 'She told me that Maggie's father is not Jewish!' I was trying to be brave.

"My mother lowered her head, and for a few minutes didn't answer me. Afterwards she sat down in a chair, buried her face in her hands, and remained silent. Her silence frightened me.

" 'Mother!' I pleaded. She raised her eyes to me.
" 'Mother!' I begged again, 'Say something to me, please...'

" 'Well...' she began, weighing every word. 'It's true. Stewart - Maggie's father - is a Christian...'

" 'Mother!' You married a Christian?' It was hard to believe.

"'... Yes...'

" 'Mother, how could it be?'

"'...That's how it is!'

" 'Mother, I won't interfere in your personal life, but Maggie is Jewish! She's your daughter, and according to the Torah, the Jewishness of the child depends on the mother atone!'

"My mother looked at me with a sad, sad glance. 'Stewart is her father, just as much as I am her mother!' she said briefly, her tone a tittle dark.

" 'Mother, but she's Jewish!' I didn't know what else to say.

"My mother thought a little before answering me. 'At present, since her father is taking care of her, she has to be Christian.'

" 'But that's impossible!' I couldn't believe that my mother was capable of talking this way. 'There's no way to stop being Jewish. If she was born Jewish, she will always be Jewish!'

" 'You don't understand, Anat.' My mother became impatient. 'The moment I decided to remarry, and gave up my rights to Margaret, she went to the custody of her father, and he has the right to bring her up as he sees fit.'

" 'No, no! You're the one who doesn't understand that Maggie will always be Jewish!' At this point I burst into tears. 'You have to tell her everything, and invite her to come and live with us here! Father will also have to agree. It's impossible to leave her under the mistaken belief that she's not Jewish!'

" 'Don't talk nonsense!' my mother scolded me. 'Your idea is impossible. Maggie herself wouldn't agree!'

" 'She wants to visit us!' She said so in the letter she wrote you.'

" 'That letter... too bad you ever saw it. It's all because of it that this trouble began. Maggie does want to visit, but she'll never agree to be Jewish!'

" 'Because she doesn't know what it means to be Jewish!' I claimed heatedly. 'I'll persuade her. You'll see!'

" 'Perhaps you'll also influence her to repent and become a baalat teshuvah?' my mother mocked with dark cynicism.

"I realized that I had run into a dead-end. 'Maggie is Jewish!' I cried, "and if you don't tell her so, I will do it myself!'

" 'What will you do?' A note of worry had crept into her voice.

" 'I'll write her a letter!'

"My mother stood up, put her hand on my shoulder, and said: 'Calm down, Anat. You're too upset. You must calm down, and then you'll see for yourself that you're talking nonsense. Maggie will never agree, I'm telling you!'

" 'I'll persuade her!'

" 'You won't succeed. Nothing will help, I can promise you. It won't help! It's best for your own sake to forget the whole thing. Don't get mixed up in things that can only cause you pain and needless troubles.'

" 'What troubles?' I was a little taken aback.

"My mother hesitated slightly before answering. 'Maggie belongs to her father!'

" 'But she's already twenty! She has the right to choose her own way of life.'

" 'And she will choose to remain a Christian, Anat.' My mother sighed in frustration. 'And you will cause yourself suffering, for no purpose.'

"My father came home. I ran to him.

" 'Father, do you agree that Maggie can come and live in our house, so that she won't have to be a Christian?'

"My father was startled. 'What are you talking about, Anat?'

"My mother filled him in briefly.

" 'Forget the whole thing, Anat!' my father said angrily. 'Maggie will never agree to it. And even if she would agree, I don't permit her to live in my house!' With that he closed the conversation and went to take a shower...

"That was more than I could bear. I took my suitcase, which I hadn't even unpacked yet, and escaped from the house. At first I didn't know where to turn. I thought about going to Batyah, to talk with her mother, my aunt. Afterwards I changed my mind and decided that was too close to my parent's home. That would be the first place they would took for me. And what if they decided to call the police to force me to return home? I don't want to get my aunt's family mixed up in a scandal! It will never occur to my parents that I'm with you."

"Poor Anat! What do you plan to do now?"

"I love my parents," Anat wept. "But I have no choice. I'll tell my mother that if she doesn't need Maggie, she doesn't need me either! She'll have to choose - both of us, or neither one!"

When I told my mother Anat's story, she nodded her head and said compassionately: "I don't know how it can help, but if Anat feels more comfortable with us, of course I don't object to her staying." However, my mother claimed that it was unreasonable not to let Anat's parents know where their daughter was.

"They must be very worried," Mother told Anat. "They are your parents, and they love you! True, it's hard for them to understand you in certain matters, but that doesn't mean that you're allowed to cause them worry."

Anat was concerned about the police. My mother calmed her fears and assured her that her parents undoubtedly would not resort to such a step. They certainly had no interest in seeing their names splashed on the front pages of all the newspapers. After a prolonged effort of persuasion, Anat agreed .that my mother could phone her parents and tell them where she was.

"But don't forget to emphasize to them that I'm not going back home unless they promise me explicitly that they agree that Maggie can come and live with us!" Anat "warned" my mother. My mother wrote down on a piece of paper the telephone number Anat gave her, and went into her bedroom. Within less than five minutes, she called to Anat.

"Your mother wants to speak with you," she said. "Come into my room. No one will listen to your conversation, so you can talk freely."

With a slightly shaky hand Anat took the telephone from my mother. We went out of the room.

"What was your conversation with Anat's mother?" I probed my mother curiously.

"She is a very wise woman, Anat's mother," she said admiringly. "Can you believe that it was not I who phoned her?"

"What do you mean?" I didn't understand.

"Just as I was about to lift the receiver to dial the number, the telephone rang. I let it ring just once, and then picked it up, so you probably didn't hear it. It was Mrs. Zahavi, Anat's mother..."

"She knows Anat is with us?" I cried incredulously. "How could she know?"

My mother smiled. "She phoned the principal of your school - this is what she told me - and said to him that she wanted to speak with the mechanechet of her daughter, Anat Zahavi, who was in Class 9-1. Of course, she was given the telephone number of the mechanechet. She told her that Anat had gone to stay for a few days with her best friend in the class, and that she - Anat's mother - had suddenly remembered something important she had forgotten to tell Anat... she had misplaced the piece of paper on which Anat had written the name and address of her friend, so she wondered if the mechanechet would mind telling her the name and address - and, if possible, the phone number, of Anat's 'best friend.' That's how she located us.

"Something else became clear to me. I was right when I said that Anat's parents are not interested in a scandal. They are being very careful not to arouse any suspicion that something is wrong. When she spoke with me, too, she said: 'I imagine that Anat is at your house now...' I replied: 'Why do you think so?'

She answered me very naturally, 'As far as I remember, Anat told me she was going to visit her good friend, Tammi Har-el...' She didn't mention anything at all about her daughter's running away from home. Only after we talked more, and she realized that I knew more than she had thought, did she put her cards on the table. She's an excellent actress! If I had told her that she was mistaken and Anat was not at our house, she no doubt would have said: 'Excuse me, I must have made a mistake. I probably got the name mixed up. Perhaps your daughter is home and can tell me where Anat is likely to be? It's very important...' "

I looked at my mother in wonder.

"Don't be so amazed," she explained. "It's not the most pleasant thing for strangers to know about a family quarrel."

"Now she realizes that we know everything!" I said with a certain amount of regret. It must certainly be a very unpleasant feeling. Without knowing Anat's mother, I felt sorry for her.

"Not everything... in any case, what's done can't be undone. At present she has no alternative. But if it's possible to keep the matter from becoming known, it would be better. No doubt Anat, too, is not exactly delighted with the situation, you have to understand her, Tammi, and treat her with patience and consideration."

"Don't worry. Mom!" I was a little insulted, and didn't try to hide it. "I'm not a baby!"

My mother probed me with a penetrating glance, as if trying to find out with her eyes what else I knew and was hiding from her. I suddenly thought of Chagit, and took advantage of the opportunity to ask my mother if she would agree, she and Father, to employ Chagit in our store. I didn't tell the whole story, but just made it clear that the help was very much needed. My mother thought for a moment.

"In principle, I don't see any reason why not," she said, and I was filled with a feeling of tremendous relief. "From what you say, Chagit is a good, intelligent, hard-working girl... of course I'll have to consult Father, but I think he'll O.K. it."

Anat came out of the room. Her face was shining with happiness.

"She agreed! They agreed!" She practically started dancing in the middle of the livingroom.

We asked to hear the details.

"My parents talked it over and decided that Maggie could come and live in our house! That's what my mother told me just now," Anat explained. "But..."

My little brothers had already gone to bed. Father had left the house for his nightly Gemarra session. The four of us - Anat and I, my mother and Aunt Shirley - sat in the livingroom, and Anat told the story excitedly. "The main thing is that they agree! Of course, my mother told me, it will take a little time until Maggie arrives. She certainly won't agree to come unless we talk her into it. She has it good there in America with her new father and mother. My mother doesn't think a letter will be enough to persuade her. My parents are going to make a special trip to the United States in order to bring Maggie back!" Her eyes sparkled. "Of course they can't just pick up and go tomorrow. My father will have to get vacation time from his work, and Mother from hers. All that will take some time. It may be that my father's office will take advantage of his trip to the States to give him some assignment there, in which case they'll have to prepare the necessary documents. That's also something that's not done overnight. They'll be leaving in about a month. The only condition my mother made is that during this time I won't make contact with Maggie on my own. 'Let us take care of the matter as we see fit,' she told me. 'You're only likely to complicate things. It's a delicate matter, which must be approached carefully.' I agreed. My mother no doubt knows more about it than I do. I would have been willing to agree to any condition, just so they come back here with Maggie, my sister. The main thing is that she will be here in our home in Eretz Yisrael and know that she is Jewish!"

I was relieved, both for the happy ending to the story, and fof Anat's sake. It was hard for me to see her suffering so much.

"All's well that end's well!" my mother repeated the old saying. Aunt Shirtey nodded her head energetically and stroked Anat's hair.

None of us knew that we were very far from the end of the story, nor could we imagine how shocking that end would be.

Anat's mother requested that she return to her home the next day. Since her parents had agreed to her condition, she promised to fulfill their request and go home the next morning. Anat asked me to join her.

"That will solve all your problems. You won't have any trouble finding my house, you won't be bored - and you won't have to come with Peninah!" She winked mischievously. Her mood had changed from one extreme to the other.

My mother agreed to let me visit Anat. In any case, she wouldn't have objected in principle to the idea, but the recent events made her all the more quick to agree.

"There won't be any problem about eating," Anat assured me. "Did I tell you that, especially for my sake, my parents keep the highest standard of Kashrut?" I nodded my head, and Anat went on: "Yes, I have wonderful parents... they love me so much! They're willing to do anything for me, whatever will make things good for me!"

The next morning we both got on the bus to Rechovot. To our great joy, it was a very sunny winter day, the kind of day when it is a pleasure to set out on a trip. We sat near the back of the bus and gazed excitedly at the wonderful landscape of Erez Yisrael which sped past our eyes at sixty miles an hour. I opened the window next to my seat and gulped in Erez Yisrael's pure, clean air, freshly washed and brightened by the recent rains. Anat shared my marvellous feeling, for I suddenly heard her say in a voice of yearning: "What a wonderful land! Erez Yisrael!" Her eyes longingly took in the view, her face shone with an exalted expression. It was apparent that no other feelings clouded her good mood, and I was happy that she had so quickly returned to her usual self.

During the trip - which was quite long - we didn't talk at all about the subject that had so occupied all of us the day before. As if by silent agreement, we did not mention Maggie or Anat's parents. As a matter of fact, we hardly conversed on any subject. We simply sat, enchanted by the view, most of the time in silence.

"Whenever I see the landscape of Erez Yisrael it takes my breath away," Anat told me. "It makes no difference that I'm seeing this view for the hundredth time... every time, I get excited all over again. But most of all I love Jerusalem."

I agreed with her whole-heartedly.

From Rechovot's central bus station we took another bus to Anat's house. We got off in a quiet neighborhood with a suburban atmosphere. Anat led me towards her house, and I followed along behind her, enchanted.

"Here we are," she said, stopping. I looked around me in amazement. "This is where you live?"

"Here," she repeated. "We're early. My parents aren't home yet, so you can feel more relaxed and free. You can get used to the place, and by the time my parents get home, it already won't be strange to you."

Anat opened the gate to the front yard. At the sound of the gate's metallic clink, a large dog jumped up and ran to us, barking. I'm not used to dogs, so I shrank back a little. Anat wasn't startled by the familiar beast.

"Come here, Karli, say Shalom to Anat!" The dog stood up on its back legs and stretched out its right front paw to Anat, who took hold of it jokingly and said to me: "Karli is well trained. Don't be frightened of him. He only looks scary. He's really gentler than a sheep. Karli's incapable of attacking anyone. But he's excellent for scaring away thieves, who don't know him and his gentle nature. Go back to your place, Karli!" She pushed away the dog, who had jumped on her, trying to lick her and get her attention. "You know I don't like to be licked, right? At the moment I have a friend here, and she's more important than you." To my surprise, the dog backed away, and with a disappointed whimper turned around and went towards the back of the house. Anat closed the gate and said to me: "In a place like this we have to keep a dog. Most of the day no one is at home, and that's a situation that invites burglars."

I stopped and looked around me. The house we were heading towards was a real house. Not just an apartment in an apartment building, but a private home with a giant yard. A marble path led from the gate to the front porch. Carved marble pillars decorated the facade of the house, and big, stylish lamps were scattered throughout the garden. On the large expanses of green lawn, drops of moisture from last night's rainshowers sparkled like diamonds. Fragrant flowerbeds, lawn furniture - these were the things I noticed in my first quick survey.

"Come, let's go inside," Anat urged me. "After we've had something to drink and settled down from the trip, I'll take you for a tour of the house and yard. You've probably never seen a house like this from inside. In back, in the part you can't see from here, we have something like a little fruit orchard. There, under the trees, I like to sit or stretch out and read. We also have a swimming pool there. Afterwards you'll see everything."

"Even a swimming pool?" I was astounded. "It must be tremendous to live in a house like this!" I thought about my little house - wow, how small our apartment in Jerusalem suddenly seemed, with its three bedrooms and three balconies, of which I'd felt so proud until this moment! I thought of it, and felt how insignificant it was compared to Anat's home.

And Anat? She studied me for a long time with sad eyes, and as if reading my thoughts said to me: "It really would be a wonderful house - if anyone lived here!"

I understood what she meant. Most of the day, this house stood empty. Again I thought of my apartment, so clean, simple, and orderly, the apartment Mother had put so much effort into fixing up, and which was always full of the joy of life, the voices of children playing and rumpussing, and the people who lived in it in happiness and contentment. All the same, when we went into Anat's house, my eyes were blinded by the wealth that was revealed in front of me. The floor was completely covered with expensive carpets, and the walls with impressive paintings. The furniture, the bowls and vases, the works of art - I was spellbound! But this time, too, Anat guessed my thoughts and dismissed them with a wave of the hand.

"Don't take all this seriously," she told me indifferently. "True, these are beautiful and nice things, which give a pleasant feeling, but that's just a framework, for decorative purposes only. If all this is filled with real content - all the better! But if the essence is missing, all these things are of no value!" From the kitchen, Anat took me to her room upstairs. In our apartment I also have a room to myself, since I'm the only girl. The boys all sleep in one room. We call it "the big room," or "the boy's room." My room is small, about a third the size of the boy's. I'm very proud of it, despite its tiny dimensions. I make sure that it is always clean and neat, and try to decorate it with pictures and attractive items - most of them things I myself made. My brothers envy me my room, but they understand - since they have no choice - that I'm already too big to sleep in the same room with them, and that since I don't have any sisters, I live in my room without roommates. The truth is, sometimes it's a little dull, there's no one to talk with at night before I fall asleep, no one to tell the day's events to. Sometimes I more enjoy sitting in the "boy's room" with my brothers, taking part in their fun-filled games, rather than sitting in my own pleasant, pretty, but so quiet room.

Now, when I entered Anat's room, which was giant in comparison to mine, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was perfect! The furniture, all of which matched, was splendid. A junior sofa, of very special and original design, stood against one wall. The other wall contained a fine bookcase, complete with writing desk and chair. Next to it snuggled an extremely comfortable-looking reading chair. On the floor was a beautiful carpet, which matched the curtains covering the large window. In a corner of the room stood a very special chest of drawers, this was topped with a mirror, flanked on both sides by shelves holding small decorative objects. Besides these, the whole room was decorated with drawings, pictures, mottos, and striking quotations. A side door, which stood open, led to an attached bath.

Anat waited patiently so that I could survey the room in detail. No doubt she was reading my thoughts, for she again told me with complete seriousness: "Believe me, Tammi, I feel much more comfortable sitting in your little room, so full of warmth, and listening to the laughing sounds of your brothers that waft in from the next room, than sitting in this big, beautiful, luxurious room listening to the annoying silence which is the most permanent resident of our house.

"My parents have money, even a lot of money," Anat continued, "and of course they have to do something with it. So they try to make life pleasant for themselves with luxury items. But I'm convinced that they don't feel all that good and pleasant, they're not as happy as your family, or as my relatives on my father's side, Batyah's family."

Batyah! Yes... I wanted very much to get to know her. Anat knew that, but now, since she had mentioned her name, I asked her again: "Anat, when can I meet Batyah?"

"I planned to take you to visit her today, after you rest a bit."

"But I'm not at all tired!" I protested. She gave a little laugh. It was impossible to recognize in her the Anat of the past two days.

"O.K., O.K. We'll leave our bags here." To my surprise, she pushed a recessed handle in one of the walls, and a hidden door opened, sliding into the wall.

"What a special house!" I said enthusiastically. "It's just like in books. Secret doors..."

"Cut it out, Tammi!" Anat blushed slightly. "There aren't any secret doors here. This is a closet door. Instead of having a standing closet, and all kinds of other objects that don't have a definite place in the room and give it a messy look - there's a built-in closet, which I call the 'confusion room.' Come in, and you'll see why."

I followed her into the closet-room, where complete disorder prevailed. I was shocked. "It's not like you, Anat!" I cried unbelievingly.

She winked mischievously. "You thought I was an angel that accidentally came down into this world, huh? I really should have brought you here a long time ago, so that you could sober up from your prejudices about me."

The clothes were in fact arranged nicely on shelves and special baskets, or hung on clothes hangers. Most of the books were also in order. But a few books were lying where they had been tossed onto the floor, along with some old notebooks, and odd shoes seeking in vain for a match. Various wrappings stuck out from under a small bed, and were piled on top of it as well. All kinds of games were scattered around the floor. My brothers no doubt would have been delighted with them.

"What's that?" I pointed to something over to one side. It was a black case, like a guitar-case, but smaller.

"That's my mandolin."
"Do you play?" I was surprised. "You never told me!"

"There are other things I never told you..." I interrupted her. "What a faithful friend!" But she ignored my protest and continued: "True, I never told you that I like very much to play my mandolin... and in general I love music. That's why it was so hard for me to see you give up the present from your grandfather and grandmother in order to donate the money to Peninah and her family. At that moment, I came to a decision..." She stopped in mid-sentence.

"What decision?" I asked curiously. When she didn't reply I added: "Why don't you answer me?" To tell the truth, I had long ago forgotten the whole affair. Boaz allowed me to play the organ whenever I wanted, and in fact after a while I had got tired of the instrument. It wasn't as exciting as I had imagined before we had one in the house.

But Anat didn't continue. "Nevermind. Some other time," she said evasively. "Want me to play something for you?" she changed the subject.

From past experience, I knew there was no point in pushing her to tell me until she was ready. Anat was not one of those girls who let out half a sentence so that their friends will beg them to say the rest, and who thus feel themselves, for some reason, more important and honored. When she decided the time had come, she undoubtedly would tell me on her own.

I gladly accepted her offer. But first we went back down to the kitchen and drank some juice, and Anat served me cookies. I won't attempt to describe the luxurious kitchen. Try to picture it yourselves... maybe you'll succeed.

We sat on the sofa in Anat's room. She took the mandolin out of its case, tuned it here and there, tightened a string or two, tried some experimental sounds - and then began to strum. The very first notes captivated me completely. I sat as if in a trance, not moving a muscle. I looked enthusiastically at Anat. What a marvellous melody!

Anat too, from the moment she touched her mandolin, forgot the whole world. She played with concentration and exaltation, and I was spellbound. I didn't want her to stop playing, and she didn't stop. She played continuously for about a quarter of an hour. She played with refinement, with feeling, and with such talent...

When she finished, I was at a loss for words to praise her.

"Do you like the mandolin?" she asked when she saw that I remained silent.

"Very much! It's - really tremendous! Such a delicate instrument... I've never heard such a wonderful melody."

She looked at me for a long time - one of those thoughtful looks I knew so well. "I thought you'd like this instrument," she said, taking her time. "I thought you'd like it better than the organ. The organ is a nice instrument, but extremely artificial. On the other hand, the mandolin is full of feeling - when you know how to play it, of course. Whenever I'm sad, I take out the mandolin and play it. Through it, I pour out my heart, until I feel better. My parents don't like it that I've become so attached to the mandolin. They would prefer that I play the piano - a much more artistic instrument, in their opinion. I play the piano, too, but I prefer my mandolin a thousand times more!"

I listened with interest to Anat's revelations. What other aspects of her personality would I discover as time went on? Every now and then she would surprise me with new discoveries, and each discovery was more fascinating than the one before.

"If you want, I'll teach you to play the mandolin," she said, as if as an afterthought.

If I wanted! I was delighted, and didn't conceal it from Anat. At last my dream would come true, and I would learn to play an instrument.

For the next half hour, Anat played the mandolin, producing sad and happy melodies, full of yearning and awakening - and I couldn't hear enough.

I sat there fascinated, my eyes fixed on her in admiration, totally enraptured. We had no sense of time passing, until we heard a light knock on the door. It opened, and there stood a very beautiful and well-groomed woman whose features resembled Anat's. Anat looked towards the door, and immediately put down the instrument and ran to her mother.

"Mother!" she cried out, hugging her. "I'm sorry for what happened... so sorry! But you understand me. Mother, don't you?"

Anat's mother hugged her in return, murmuring in English:

"My little girl..."

"I'm sorry I made you so angry," Anat said.

"From now on," her mother answered, "everything's going to be fine."

They made peace between them, completely ignoring my presence, and I felt a tittle uncomfortable. But Anat rescued me. "Mother," she said, turning to me, "This is Tammi, my good friend. You called her house yesterday and spoke with her mother."

Anat's mother came towards me, extended her hand in the most polite manner, and said to me in a quiet refined voice, speaking Hebrew with a noticeable foreign accent: "Very nice to meet you. I'm Jenny, Anat's mother. I'm happy that my daughter has such a good friend."

Embarrassed, I shook her hand, not knowing what to say. I tried to smile. Wasn't she angry with me about the fact that Anat had let me in on their family problems? She didn't show any signs of such a feeling. Probably she wasn't angry. Or if she was, she knew how to hide it very well.

We went downstairs to have lunch. Anat's father was already sitting in the dining room, reading the newspaper. When we came in he looked up, measured Anat with his glance and said: "So you decided to come back home, huh? Very nice of you..." The hardness in his voice did not succeed in disguising the real worry that could be seen in his eyes. He was acting like a typical born and bred Israeli - tough and prickly on the outside, but soft inside.

"Don't put on an act, Father!" Anat put her hand on his shoulder. "Admit that you're happy I'm home!"

"Of course I'm happy, what do you think? I have only one daughter, and she runs away on me..."

It seemed that this sentence made Anat want to react, but she stopped herself in time. Anat's father turned to me.

"And you're Tammi!" he said flatly, without any superfluous overtones of politeness. "If you don't know yet, my name is Elitzur. But everone calls me Eli, and you can do the same. Used to be that Anat called me Eli, and her mother. Jenny. Until she went nuts and did teshuvah. Then she decided that it wasn't in keeping with the mitzvah of honoring one's father and mother, so she started calling us officially Mother and Father. Nu, sit down, you two! What are you waiting for? Aren't you hungry? Everything's kosher here, Anat, as you well know. Didn't you tell your friend? Oh, sorry, I forgot - you're invited to wash hands for bread."

"It's a sign that my father's excited," Anat whispered to me, without any effort to conceal it from her father. "Usually he's the silent type. But when he's very excited, he talks and talks, so that no one will notice how he's feeling. But I've gotten to know him and recognize the signs."

"Stop playing psychologist!" her father scolded her, holding back a smile. Go and wash hands, Nu! That way you'll have to keep quiet, at least for a few minutes... and what about you, you're not excited?"

She threw him a smile. We washed hands, said the blessing, and sat down at the table.

The meal passed pleasantly and comfortably. At first I felt a little shy, but when I saw that everyone acted completely natural, and weren't keeping me under surveillance at all, my tension went away. We conversed a little, mainly about school, teachers, friends. The subject of Maggie was strictly avoided. Anat told her parents that in the afternoon, when they went back to work, we were going to visit Batyah. They didn't show any reaction, either positive or negative, from which I gathered that they hadn't completely accepted Anat's friendship with her relatives.

"We'll stay there for the lighting of the Channukah lights, Father." If Anat was trying to hint something to him, he showed no sign of taking a hint. "We'll probably be back late in the evening. We may want to spend some time with Batyah's family. Don't worry if we're home late."

Batyah's family were warm and friendly, exactly as Anat had described them. Anat's Aunt, Hadassah, received us with her usual cheerfulness, serving us warm drinks and home-baked sufganiot as soon as we came in. The little children immediately swarmed over Anat, who had remembered to bring a little "surprise package" for each of them. To her Aunt's protests she replied, "Is it Channukah today, or not? On Channukah we give 'Channukah gelt' right? So these presents are instead of cash." Aunt Hadassah relented.

"I'm happy that Anat has a good friend," said Batyah, a young woman of about nineteen who sat next to me on the couch. "Anat's a wonderful girl!"

"You're telling me!" I answered.

She smiled and continued: "Anat has told me a lot about you. She likes and appreciates you very much."

I threw a glance at Anat, who was on all fours on the carpet, with a child aged one-and-a-half riding on her back, and a gang of yelling kids of various ages clapping hands around her. I replied to Batyah: "I'm happy to hear that." I was reminded how quickly Anat had become great friends with my little brothers. In the presence of small children she became a different person... she shed her precocious maturity and allowed herself to romp like a little girl...

I soon found out that Batyah was a very intelligent girl. "You taught Anat everything she knows?" I asked. "She knows so much!"

"I explained a few things to her," Batyah admitted, "but Anat is a very strong-willed person. When she wants something, she achieves it! And she wanted to know. So she investigated, asked, read, studied - and now she knows! True, at first I directed her, but she very quickly caught on and learned how to find answers for herself. With a mind like hers, that's really not so hard to do."

Anat hadn't told her relatives about her newly discovered sister. Before we left her house, she had warned me not to let slip a single word on the subject. She did mention her parent's forthcoming trip to the United States, but explained it as being purely for business reasons. This wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the whole truth. I understood her feelings, and guarded my words.

Late that evening, we took leave of this well-loved family. "We're happy to have met you, Tammi," Hadassah told me. "Please drop in on us whenever you're in the area, O.K?"

"I'll be happy to do that," I replied, though I couldn't imagine when I might be "in the area" again.

"If you ever have any problem," Batyah added to her mother's words, "if you need help, advice - or just for no reason at all, you can always get in touch with me. I'm your friend exactly like I'm Anat's friend."

"And what about me?" Anat said, pretending to be insulted. "It looks like you've fallen in love with Tammi and forgotten about me."

"G-d forbid! It's just that we've already told you thousands of times what we just told Tammi, so we thought it was self- understood."

"Ah," I said, trying to be clever, "So you say this to everyone who comes to your house - meaning I don't have to take it seriously!"

Hadassah wagged a finger at me in mock threat, and Batyah said: "We mean it seriously, Tammi. Come whenever you want, with Anat or not, we'll always be delighted to see you."

"Can you fathom my father?" Anat exclaimed to me on the way back to her house. "How could he give up a family like that?"

That night I slept at Anat's house. The next day I returned by myself to my home in Jerusalem. But it wasn't so bad. In a few days school would start again, Anat too would return to Jerusalem, and we would be together again.