“H e’s not dead.”
Her voice was flat measured absolutely empty.
She’d read the telegram handed it to her father. Then picking up her little boy who’d been impatiently pulling at her skirt she made the announcement.
“I know he’s not dead ” she said again.
Papa’s eyes she noted were full of tears and he gently pulled her and Mutty toward him in an embrace. Strange that she should be so much in control of herself while Papa seemed overwhelmed with emotion.
Her father collected himself. “You’re right Chanaleh. Hashem is good and we mustn’t give up hope. We must believe he will come back to us safe and sound.”
