Murder At The Mikvah (15 page)

 Nineteen

The three Orenstein boys were engulfed in a sea of black Legos when Lauren arrived at the Orenstein home late Thursday afternoon.

“Lawen!” The nervousness Lauren had felt during the entire ride dissipated at the sound of the three year old. Yitzi always wore his heart on his sleeve. Excited to see her, he popped up and ran over, sliding into her open arms.

Lauren squeezed him tightly. “Yitzi! I missed you so much!” She peered cautiously over his head, almost expecting Hannah to come flying into the room and yank him away from her.

“Uh, hi guys.”

Yitzi's brothers hadn’t seemed to notice her. Were they giving her the cold shoulder intentionally? “Hi guys,” she repeated, a bit louder and waving an open hand.

“Oh, hi Lauren,” David and Eli said in unison, without looking up from their creation.

They were just concentrating, that's all.
“What are you building?” she asked.

“Come see!” Yitzi said. He tugged at her sleeve.

“It’s a
Star Wars
ship,” Eli said with obvious pride.

“Hmm, looks challenging…”

Eli smiled. “It’s not hard for me. I’m good at these.” He held up a colorful booklet with a picture of the finished model on its cover. “See? This is what it’ll look like when it’s all done.”

David panned the floor, ever the reliable assistant, searching for a particular piece. “Are you sleeping over?” he asked.

“Uh huh. I’m staying for a few days,” she said.

David found the piece he was looking for and handed it to Eli.

“Your Abba asked me to come.” For some reason, Lauren felt inclined to add this piece of information.

“Mommy’s in the hospital,” Eli said, in the same way a person might say
it looks like rain
.

“She’s sick!” added Yitzi, puckering his lips and showing more concern than his older brother.

“Yes, your Abba told me…”

“Hey!” interrupted David. “If you’re staying with us for more than one night, does that mean…”

Lauren smiled. “It sure does! In fact, I’m going outside to get her right now.”

Yitzi ran to the bay window and pressed his hands and face against the glass, watching as Lauren retrieved Rosie from her car.

“Rosie!” they all shouted, running over to the cage. Rosie cringed at the far end, nearly tipping the carrier out of Lauren's grasp.

“Hold on guys. Back up, we don’t want to scare her.”

Yitzi tugged on Lauren’s sleeve. “She wemembas us, wight Lawen?” he whispered. He had a concerned look on his face. Lauren tried not to laugh, which was difficult since he looked especially adorable when he was being serious. “Yitz, after Rosie has a chance to look at you and smell you, she’ll remember.”

Yitzi looked doubtful. Lauren got down on her knees to look him in the eyes. “I promise,” she said.

At that moment, Yehuda walked in holding a cell phone against his ear. Lauren popped up and he acknowledged her with a little wave. She forced a polite smile in response, while avoiding his eyes. Her heart pounded a mile a minute, she felt so exposed.
He doesn’t know,
she told herself.
Remember, he doesn’t know.

“Yes, okay, I understand… I’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Thank you doctor.” Yehuda shoved the phone into his pocket and smiled wearily at her. Lauren was startled at his thin and haggard looking appearance. She wanted to reach out to him at that moment—give him a hug, or at least a reassuring squeeze of the hand—but she knew the rules. Orthodox men did not touch women who weren't their wives, mothers or daughters. Hannah had explained that since our society had become so desensitized to touch, this was a way of preserving that special physical bond between husband and wife.

Then why had he shaken her hand at The Jewish Learning Center that first night? Lauren had wondered about this before Janine explained that Yehuda made an exception when meeting women who were not familiar with the custom.

Yitzi hopped up and down excitedly. “Abba, look, it’s Wosie!”

Yehuda stared at him like he was speaking a different language.

“You said it would be all right if I brought her,” Lauren said, more for Yitzi's benefit since he seemed startled by his father's lack of response.

Yehuda snapped out of his trance. “Yes, right. Thank you for coming, Lauren.” He turned to his son, “And yes, I see… Rosie’s here.”

“Abba, can Mendel come over?” Eli interrupted.

Yehuda struggled to switch gears. “Uh, sure, how about after lunch?”

He turned to Lauren. “Lauren, Eli can invite Mendel over after lunch.”

“Oh… okay, sure,” Lauren said, carrying on as though she had not heard him say the exact same thing less than five seconds before.

Suddenly Sonia Lyman appeared, making her way quietly down the stairs. “Baby is sleep now,” she told Yehuda.

“Thank you Sonia. You've been a tremendous help.”

Sonia looked at Lauren, avoiding her eyes. “Hello,” she said, curtly.

Lauren forced a smile and gave her a little wave. Yehuda did not appear to notice the tension between the two women. Instead, he turned to his sons. “Boys, I have to speak privately with Lauren now, and in a few minutes I'm going to go visit Mommy in the hospital.”

“I go now?” Sonia asked. She cast her eyes downward. “I'm sorry I cannot stay… Gary… He wants me home…”

“It’s okay, Sonia… Lauren's able to help us.” He turned to her for confirmation. “You
are
planning on staying over, right?”

Lauren nodded. “I can stay through the whole weekend if you need me.”

Sonia hastily grabbed her coat from the closet and said her goodbyes—which included a long hug from Yitzi—before slipping out the front door.

Lauren followed Yehuda to the kitchen, dodging tiny game pieces, which were sprinkled along the hallway like breadcrumbs. They passed the rabbi’s small study, with it’s sturdy desk and built in bookcases, each brimming with scholarly texts. When they reached the kitchen, Lauren was taken aback at the sight. Matchbox cars, puzzle pieces, books, and—Lauren wouldn’t have thought it possible if she was wasn’t seeing it with her own two eyes—
more
Legos were scattered everywhere. The counter was cluttered with plastic containers, open cereal boxes, and paper plates with half eaten sandwiches. One look at the garbage pail and Lauren understood why. The lid was resting high above the container, balanced on a two-inch layer of garbage that clearly exceeded its intended capacity. The thing probably hadn’t been emptied in two days. Evidently Sonia hadn't been here long enough to start cleaning.

Forty-eight hours without Hannah and the place was in shambles.
Lauren might have joked out loud about this if only Hannah was away at a spa, rather than in intensive care.

As if reading her mind Yehuda said, “Hannah always keeps this place together. I’m afraid I haven’t been able to measure up.”

They were about to sit when Yehuda noticed a long smear of peanut butter on the table. He grabbed a wet paper towel and began wiping.

“Looks like Yitzi was doing some finger painting,” Lauren said, lightheartedly. She expected at least a smile from Yehuda, who normally saw creative potential in just about everything his kids did. But he seemed not to have heard her and continued wiping the mess in a dazed and automatic manner. Lauren smiled sympathetically as she watched him. It was clear she had made the right decision by coming. He was in no condition to keep things together by himself.

“Uh, it looks like you got it all, Yehuda.” She reached out her hand. For a moment he just stared at it, as if he wasn’t sure what it was or what he was supposed to do.

“I’ll take that now,” she said.

He stared down at his own hand, gripping the crushed paper towel. “Right… Thanks Lauren.” He took a seat, leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples while Lauren carried the sticky towel to the garbage pail. She took one look at the volcanic eruption about to happen, and instead, shoved it inside an empty milk carton, which lay sideways on the counter. Lauren washed her hands, then joined Yehuda at the table. She hadn’t noticed just how gaunt his face was until now. It reminded her of how he looked on Yom Kippur, when after twenty-four hours of fasting, he appeared to have dropped a significant amount of weight.

“I suppose you want to know what happened,” he said.

She couldn’t help but notice how red his eyes were. He looked exhausted—probably hadn't had a good night's sleep since God knows when. “Well, only if…”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. “On Monday night, Hannah was at the
mikvah…
”

Lauren’s heart sped up.

“She and Estelle Ginsberg—the
mikvah
attendant—were attacked,” Yehuda continued, looking down at the table.

Lauren braced herself.

“Estelle didn’t make it,” Yehuda said.

Lauren's hand dropped away. “Are you saying…?”

He nodded. “She was
nifter
—she died,” he said softly, his eyes wet.

Lauren stared at him, shocked.

“She was…” But he started sobbing before he could get the words out. Lauren had never seen Yehuda cry before. For a split second she forgot herself and instinctively took his hand. It seemed like time stood still at that moment while he stared at their joined hands, tears falling from his eyes. Suddenly, she realized what she had done, and pulled back, embarrassed. “And what about Hannah?”

He shook his head. “Hannah’s been in a coma ever since.”

“A coma?” Lauren repeated in disbelief.

He swallowed and nodded. “The doctors say it could be days, weeks—even longer before she wakes up.”

Lauren chose her words carefully. “If she's been asleep the whole time, then she hasn’t been able to tell you anything that happened that night.”

He grabbed a tissue, and wiped his eyes. “No. She hasn’t spoken a single word.”

Lauren leaned back and exhaled. Why did she need reassurance? They hadn't spoken.
He didn’t know
.

“How did it?… I mean, does anyone know
anything
?” she asked after a moment of contemplation.

Yehuda looked away. This was so hard to talk about. Thankfully, the police were adamant about keeping details of the incident quiet—at least for now.

“There aren’t a lot of details yet,” he said. This was the canned response he had adopted.

What about memory loss? Was it possible that Hannah would have no recollection of what happened?

“But they must know
something
about that night!” Lauren insisted.

Yehuda just stared at her for a moment. It was odd; he had never known Lauren to be so pushy. She probably just wanted answers, like he did.

“They have someone in custody,” Yehuda said. “That’s all I can tell you… Now you said something on the phone earlier…”

She cut him off. “Sorry… did you just say they have someone in custody?”

He nodded.

“Who?”

“A man… from the church… they just identified him… but he's not talking.”

Lauren leaned back, taking this information in.

“The police may want to speak to you, Lauren,” Yehuda said suddenly. “It's just a formality,” he added, noting her concern. “They're interviewing everyone who came in contact with Hannah and Estelle that day.”

He stood and walked slowly to the sink. “Water?” he asked, filling a plastic cup.

She held up her hand. “No. I’m fine, thanks.”

“Baruch ata Hashem Eloheinu melech…”

Lauren listened respectfully as Yehuda sanctified the water before lifting the cup to his lips. Orthodox Jews always recited blessings before consuming food or drink. Even little Yitzi knew the blessings for each category of food.

The police… What would they ask? More importantly, how much would she tell them?

“It’s odd. I tried to call you that night,” Yehuda said, “the night it happened…but there was no answer.”

“Oh, I… uh…I must not have heard it ring,” Lauren replied, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Yehuda set his cup down on the counter and scanned the disarray around him. He shook his head, as if answering his own personal question. Was he suspicious about her not answering the phone that night? No, she reminded herself, he was probably just thinking about Hannah, or the chaos right here in the kitchen… Whichever it was, it saddened her to see him so troubled.
If only she hadn't gone to the mikvah that night and confronted Hannah!
What would have happened if she had just driven straight home instead? Would things have turned out differently? Poor Yehuda. He didn’t deserve to suffer like this! That was the last thing she would ever want. But at the same time, he didn’t deserve to be deceived either. Should she just tell him? Just blurt it out right here in the kitchen and wait for his reaction? Or maybe not say anything and just take off—grab her bags, grab Rosie and head for the door.
Something suddenly came up… Sorry Yehuda, I can’t stay.
No, it was too late for that. He needed her now. Was it possible she could redeem herself by taking care of him and the kids during this difficult time? Maybe then he wouldn’t hate her. At the very least, he would know she wasn’t a terrible person, that she never meant to lie…