“If Gabe’s genealogy project has revealed that he isn’t a Kohein, then I believe him”
Gabe turns the fake medal over and over in his hands, staring down at it as though it might give him some guidance. His fingers trace the MG, and he wonders what Abba would think now. He had always liked Penina, hadn’t he? He can imagine Abba, his slow, sad voice, a hand resting on Gabe’s shoulder. You finally have the chance to undo the past.
No. Abba had tried his hardest to undo his own past, had given himself a new life and a new name, and it hadn’t worked. Even after his death, the truth was coming out.
He straightens his white shirt. It’s actually Ezra’s, because he doesn’t have enough Shabbos shirts to wear a fresh one on a Sunday. Gabe is a little more wiry, and the shirt is a bit loose on him. “Think I’m ready?”
“Just about.” Ezra looks guarded, unsure about this. Gabe hates that, because he could use someone in his camp. Rivi certainly isn’t.
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