Ernst is still treating her like a china doll, and Emmy is distant
Friday morning, her first week home, and Hannah has decided to make Shabbos the way it should be made — the way Mama makes it. No Viennese pastries. No French-roasted chicken.
With Dr. Werther’s voice ringing in her ears — no one can be well in their psyche if they have spent 20 years denying all that is dearest to them — Hannah pours the potato kugel mixture into a broiling pan. It spits and fizzles and already there is something of that Shabbos aroma.
Gertrude appears in the kitchen with an armful of clean linens. “Should I be doing that for you?” she asks.
Hannah smiles. “So solicitous.”
Gertrude winks. “I’ve got my instructions.”
Ernst is still treating her like a china doll, and Emmy is distant. Not that they’ve ever been close, but it seems like she has to win her back, all because of her illness. Weakness. Frailty. However Emmy has categorized it in her mind.
This one’s in print. Some of our best stories live in the magazine — subscribe to get Mishpacha every week.
