“Is that you, Edie?”

Eden came into the kitchen. “Hi, Mom. Any milk left?”

There always was ― more than she could drink. The question was a ritual.

“The Rabins want you over for dinner in their sukkah again. Esther called.”

“Great!” Eden’s face lit up. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow night. She said sorry for the short notice, but they just got back from a trip.”

Eden was a month into eighth grade, Debbie in ninth, Josh in eleventh. Dinner in the sukkah was a tradition the Rabins would not be celebrating together for many more years. First Josh would be off to college, then Debbie. Eden wondered if the Rabins would eat in the sukkah without their children. She went upstairs and sat down at her desk. Dinner was at least two hours off, enough time to read up on coal mining in northeast Pennsylvania. But what caught her eye was a far cry from coal. Side by side, two leaves were floating down from the old Norway maple by the fence. Over and over they turned. A gust briefly blew them sideways before they continued their choreographed downward journey, hitting the ground together. Eden looked at the tree. At the top most of the remaining leaves were red, at the bottom most were green. How fascinating!

“Where are you going?” her mother called.

“Into the yard.”

“Oh.”  Eden was glad her mother’s questioning stopped there. She wanted to indulge her curiosity, not explain. She picked up a leaf, then a second, then a third, examined them as if she had never truly seen a leaf before. In fact, she hadn’t. Sixteen autumns in this place, and she had never looked. Just like the spider at the Rabins’. She wouldn’t have looked twice at that either if Josh hadn’t made such a fuss over it. The colors! Some were green, or yellow, or red all over; some half red and half yellow; some green at one end, red at the other, shades of yellow and orange in between. To her left was a Japanese maple. Its delicate leaves outdid the others, displaying a spectrum from dark green to crimson lobe by lobe. She selected a few to show her mother.

“Look, Mom!” She held them out, turning them over to leave no nuance hidden.

“They are beautiful,” Karen said. “Isn’t it sad, though? Just when they’re at their most colorful, they drop off and die.” She smiled at her daughter and went on peeling a potato.

“I’ll put them on the windowsill and see how long they keep their colors,” Eden said.

Watching her go up, Karen let her mind roll back, to a time when Eden had never known serious illness. How she had taken her daughter’s health for granted! Then the thunderbolt had struck. Miraculously, Eden had escaped intact. Intact while waiting for the complications to unfold. She’d wanted Eden to have penicillin. Alan had said penicillin’s no good for viruses. But it wasn’t a virus, it was strep. Again and again she had tried to justify his diagnosis even though it turned out wrong, while hers was an uninformed guess that chanced to be right. But logic made a weak stand against reality. She wondered if Alan ever thought about it. Maybe he’d want to talk someday, but it would have to be his initiative. If she brought it up, he might take it as a veiled accusation. Her job was to give the shots. The past was beyond her control.

She wondered what had provoked those thoughts. Certainly nothing Eden had said. Why, just last week she’d lain on her bed as usual, bared her bottom, and gone on reading as Karen recharged the antistrep battery. After almost three years, all conversation accompanying that ritual had been exhausted .

The catalyst that reconnected this undramatic routine with the drama of Eden’s life was a handful of leaves. “Look, Mom!” Here was a fifteen-year-old girl who would have charmed her even were she not the girl’s mother. Would the fall colors still excite her twenty years from now? Would she pass that trait to her children? Would Eden live to have children?

Eden wasn’t thinking about her prognosis as she returned to her room. She put the leaves on the windowsill behind the desk and turned her attention to this week’s quota of French irregular verbs. She didn’t care that much about coal mining anyway. But in Eden’s case attention was a relative concept. No sooner had she come to the future tense of venir than the wind dislodged a hundred more leaves from their worn-out moorings, and Eden’s eyes from her text. Her teachers would have shaken their heads and said, See?

She felt an urge to show her find to someone. What a shame Debbie didn’t get excited over such things. Maybe Josh would, even if they weren’t in the same league with maggots.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sukkoth, the weeklong harvest festival, is one of the truly joyous events in the Jewish calendar. Observant Jews with a yard build a hut, or sukkah, cover it with a roof of twigs and leaves, and decorate it with fruits and vegetables. Some live in it, others take their meals there. The Rabins always invited Eden. It was like camping out at Christmas, so redolent was the atmosphere. For her, too, it was a joyous event.

When they had taken their places ― Max at the head of the table, Esther at the other end, Josh on one side, Debbie and Eden on the other ― Max rose, silver cup in hand, and recited the kiddush, or sanctification. This was followed by a special blessing for the occasion:

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Haolam, asher kidshanu bemitzvotav vetzivanu leishev basukkah.

Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has commanded us to dwell in the Tabernacle.

“As you see,” Max said after he had drunk the sacramental wine and invited all to follow suit, “we don’t actually dwell in the sukkah; we just eat here.”

“Mostly because it’s fun,” Debbie added. “Or is it really because God commanded us, like the blessing says?”

“That’s a matter of belief,” Max said. “There are Jews who take these things literally, both as to origin and as to duty. We do it as a custom. . . . And because it’s fun.”

“I don’t understand how anyone can take it literally,” said Josh. “If God were really commanding us, who are we?”

“The Jews,” Esther answered.

“Why should only the Jews do it? Why not Catholics, Protestants, and everyone else?”

“This gets tricky,” Max said. “If you took it literally, you’d also have to believe that the Jews are a chosen people, that God likes us best and so He gives us special things to do. But not to worry; we have no such illusions.”

“Thank goodness,” Josh said. “I’ve heard that some orthodox Jews won’t go inside a church.”

“Afraid of defiling the church?” Debbie asked.

“No, dummy, afraid of defiling themselves. But look what they’re missing. All those magnificent cathedrals, with their tall columns, stained-glass windows, candles, incense.”

“How about the statues? The idols?” asked Debbie.

“I’m not too crazy about them. But I guess they’re OK, if you need them to remind you of who you’re worshipping. The Christians think that Jesus is God, or at least God’s son—”

“Which means he becomes God when his father dies,” Debbie explained.

Josh fixed his sister with an ominous stare. “You’re going to get roasted for blasphemy.  Don’t expect me to come to the rescue.” Debbie was duly humbled. “All I’m saying is these people have their beliefs, like we have ours. Nobody has a shred of evidence for whatever deity they believe in, but they’re all convinced theirs is the only truth. And one kills the other for daring to doubt his particular version. They call it holy war. If you ask me, it’s genocide.”

“My dear Josh,” Esther said, “countless scholars have spent lifetimes grappling with those problems. We’re not going to solve them before dinner gets cold.”

“We’ll solve them right after,” Debbie said, bouncing back.

“Mom, can you stuff a potato in her mouth so we can have a meaningful conversation?”

“Let’s all stuff potatoes in our mouths,” Max said. “Religion whets my appetite.”

“How come—” Josh began after a short pause.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Debbie said through a mouthful of meat and gravy.

Josh made a gesture as though emptying his mouth across the table, drawing a severe look from his mother and a smug grin from his sister.

“How come,” he continued after swallowing, “if Jews are God’s favorites, so many non-Jews are much nicer than Jews?”

His gaze was fixed on the space between the girls. Still, Eden felt as if the question was asked for her benefit. Maybe Josh was simply using her to take another poke at Debbie, but what if he really meant to flatter her? And why would that be so important, coming from a boy she’d known more than ten years? Luckily, Max came to the rescue.

“I don’t know how come, but I wouldn’t argue with the premise. Edie, can you explain?”

All laughed. Max continued, “Seriously, do you have an opinion? All the stuff we’ve been talking about.”

Eden was relieved. “I don’t know. We don’t talk much about religion, and we don’t go to church. Sometimes I wish we did. I think worshipping brings people down to the same level, and for a while at least they stop putting each other down—”

“If you exclude church or temple politics.”

“Please, Max, let her speak,” Esther said, looking with approval and interest at Eden.

“Sorry. Go on, Edie.”

“Well, I do think that truly religious people try to do right, because the Bible tells them to love their neighbors and not to steal, murder, or lie. Stuff like that. Christians, Muslims, Jews, and all the others agree on those things, don’t they? So why can’t we all be friends?”

“Good question,” Debbie agreed. “But some Christians blame the Jews for killing Jesus. Jews say Christians worship a human being as if he were God. The Bible says, love your neighbor and don’t commit murder; and in the name of that same Bible they hate their neighbors and murder them.”

“That’s right,” Eden said, comfortable now. “I don’t get it. You and I, we’re not the same religion, but we’re friends. I’m here celebrating your holiday with you. Nobody’s trying to change anybody, much less kill them. Why can’t the world be like that?”

“If only it could,” Esther said. “But at this very moment, while we sit here in friendship and peace, parents around the world ― including America, and including Jews, sad to say ― are teaching their children to hate and, if they feel their faith threatened enough, to kill. Just look at what’s going on in Israel ― what’s been going on for decades, and no end in sight.”

“It’s not just religion,” Max said. “It’s land, social status, political power, economics.”

“OK,” Esther said, “but the basis of it all the way back in history is religion.”

“Some people might say,” Max suggested, “that land, power, et cetera is the basis, that religion is nothing but an excuse to legitimize murder for the acquisition of those things.”

Esther sighed. “That’s too cynical for me. But there don’t seem to be any easy answers, do there? I like Edie’s approach. Can you imagine the Israelis and Arabs shaking hands, being each others’ guests on religious holidays, living together in peace?”

Max looked affectionately at Eden. “Let’s put our hopes in the younger generation, and let’s have dessert.”

Josh didn’t notice the pie placed before him, so intently was he looking across the table.

“What’s wrong, Josh?” asked Max.

“Wrong? Nothing. I can’t believe it. Debbie actually said something I don’t categorically disagree with, and my integrity forces me to admit it. Must be Edie’s influence.”

“On me or you?” Debbie asked with a wicked grin. This time Josh came to Eden’s rescue.

“You, of course.”

Eden tried to help with the dishes, but Esther stopped her. “That’s for later, dear, and not for you. Go back to the sukkah and talk with the others. I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.”

Eden retrieved an envelope from her purse. “If you’re about to pay for the meal,” Max said, “put it away. We don’t handle money on holidays. Look for your bill in the mail.”

“No,” Eden said, laughing, “I’ve got something more interesting, though it wouldn’t pay for dinner.” She scattered an assortment of leaves on the table.

“Oh! They’re pretty,” said Debbie.

“I found them yesterday,” Eden said, apologetic and proud. “I was sitting by the window, supposedly doing homework but really watching the leaves fall, so I went out for a closer look. Funny how you see the same thing year after year, then all of a sudden you really notice. I never knew that a single leaf has all these colors at the same time. Aren’t they beautiful?”

“You know,” Max said. “I’ve seen more than twice as many autumns as you, and if you’d asked me how you got all those colors, I’d have guessed some leaves were red and others were yellow. Not that that’s any more logical. I just never bothered to look. And I should know better, after working with Josh on his project.”

“What project?”

Josh answered. “I’m now an expert on chlorophyll and what makes the colors change.”

“Oh, then this is old hat to you,” Eden said sheepishly.

“It definitely is not,” Josh said, looking at her with admiration. “Talk about not seeing the forest for the trees. I couldn’t see the leaves for the trees. There I was on the Blue Ridge, being swallowed up by all that color, and it never occurred to me to pick up a leaf!”

“Maybe the state lines go right down the middle of the leaves,” Debbie said helpfully.

“Hah—hah,” he answered. “But seriously, Edie, do you always notice things like this?”

“No, it was just a whim.”

“I have to pay more attention in the future,” he said resolutely. “This really is something.” He picked up a leaf and turned it this way and that. “Now, is that a work of art or isn’t it?”

Eden, borne in barely a minute from fear to elation, cast a grateful smile at Josh.

“Don’t you think, Josh,” Max asked reflectively, “that’s true of chemical formulas too?”

Josh thought for a moment, then turned to his father and nodded his head. “Yes,” he said simply. “Did I ever tell you about the dream I had after we stopped at the overlook?”

“No. Must’ve been good, because you were pretty chipper the next day,” Debbie said.

“I dreamed I was in a planetarium and the ceiling was covered with chemical formulas. I couldn’t make out what they were, but they were all in bright colors, like a huge painting.”

“I thought people only dreamed in black and white,” Debbie said. “You were probably awake but you thought you were asleep.”

Everybody laughed except Josh, who said in mock exasperation: “You dream in black and white, but that’s because you’re colorblind and you have no soul. I told you that before.”

“OK, OK, now, it’s Sukkoth, and we have a guest,” Esther said. “Show some respect.”

Josh and Debbie tried to glower at each other, but their mirth defied suppression. Eden didn’t even try to hide her amusement until she realized she might have offended Esther.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Rabin, I didn’t mean to laugh.”

“Like hell you didn’t,” Debbie said, laughing openly now.

“But I should be going,” Eden said. “I have homework to do. Thanks ever so much.”

“Before you go,” Esther said, casting a sideways glance at Max, “there’s something we have to say. Do you want to, Max?”

“No, you go ahead.”

Esther took a breath and looked at Josh. “By this time next year Josh will be scouting for colleges, and one of us will be going with him. Who knows whether we’ll even have Sukkoth together?” She reached across and put a hand on Josh’s arm. “It won’t be the same. . . . I don’t know of any special prayer for an occasion like this, so let’s all link hands and close our eyes for a minute.”

Eden had put aside her thoughts of his leaving until now, and a hue of sadness colored her image of the Rabin home without him. Typical of precious things taken for granted, it was the impending loss that brought home to her how invested she was in them. To be sure, Debbie was the focus of her friendship and her link to the family. But Debbie was not an isolated individual; she existed in that context, enhanced by them as a picture is enhanced by its frame.

After a minute, all eyes had to be wiped dry. Esther was the first to rise.

“Edie, it was nice having you, as it always is. Give our love to your parents, and right here and now we’re inviting you back for next year. Maybe that’s a way to make sure we’ll all be together.” She took Eden by the shoulders and kissed her. “Debbie and Josh, it’s such a beautiful night, why don’t you walk Edie home? Dad and I’ll do the pots and pans while you’re gone.”

“I really can’t, Mom,” Debbie said, as apologetically as she knew how. “I know I’ll just get stuck there, because Mrs. Avery will invite us in. And I also have work to do.”

“We certainly don’t want to stifle such industry.” Max knew how to solve a problem. “You go, Josh. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

Josh bowed to Eden and said: “My pleasure, mademoiselle. I shall endeavor to see that no passing carriage splatters mud on you.” Eden blushed.

It was a cloudless night, and the moon was full. As they entered a stretch with no street lamps, Josh looked skyward. “Just look at that!” She followed his gaze. “Do you realize that’s been up there, just the way it is now, since time immemorial?”

“It’s amazing,” she said. “A hundred years ago most of these houses weren’t even built.”

“Three hundred years ago there were no houses here at all.”

“Five hundred years ago no white person lived anywhere on this continent—”

“And a couple of million years ago no person of any race lived on any continent—”

“And the stars and moon were there just the way they are now,” Eden continued in what began to resemble a responsive reading.

“Except,” Josh raised a cautionary finger, “we can’t be sure they’re still there. The light we see tonight started from the stars light years ago. Some of them could have gone out next day.”

“Does that mean that if we looked tomorrow we might not see them?”

Josh thought for a moment and, with admiration, said: “That’s right!”

They looked at each other, laughing at the absurd turn their conversation had taken. After their laughter had subsided, their eyes remained fixed on each other for the briefest moment.

“Let’s go,” she said, “I have to get home.” They walked the rest of the way in silence.

“Want to come in for a minute?” she asked when they arrived.

“Only to say hello. As Dad would say, it’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

Karen greeted Josh. “It must have been beautiful in your sukkah. The weather’s perfect.”

“Oh, it was, Mom,” Eden said. “You should go out and look at the sky.”

“I can imagine. The moon’s full. And with the humidity so low, the air’s really clear.”

“One of the nice things about Sukkoth is that the moon’s always full,” Josh said.

Karen looked puzzled, till understanding dawned on her. “Of course. The Jewish holidays go by the lunar calendar, don’t they? So any date is always in the same phase of the moon.”

“Only trouble is, the bright moon drowns out the stars. It’s natural light pollution.”

“I think we can all live with that,” Karen said.

Eden escorted him out. With a reluctance that escaped Karen, she closed the door after him and went to her room. She sat at her desk and reached for her French text. Involuntarily she let her eyes wander to the window. There was the moon, staring at her. She stared back unblinking, as if in a trance. After an eternity of half a minute, she turned off the light and resumed her vigil. Her mind was blank and her eyes were fixed as if the muscles were frozen. Slowly the shadows on the moon rearranged themselves into the features of a human face—

“Are you still up?” her mother asked through the closed door.

Eden hastily turned on the light. “I’m up. Should’ve done these verbs the other night.”

Karen looked in and frowned. “Are you OK? You look as if you’d had a scare.”

“No, Mom, I’m fine.”

“I was worried. I thought you had work to do, but I didn’t see light under the door.”

Karen closed the door behind her and turned off the stairwell light. Eden’s light showed under the door. Karen wondered what she’d been doing in the dark.

Josh didn’t really have work to do, but to have said so as Debbie was excusing herself would have made him sound too anxious. In truth he welcomed the chance to walk alone with Eden. If it looked like a favor — the gentlemanly thing — so much the better. Their exchange about the night sky had reinforced his impression at the dinner table. Eden was turned on by the same things as he. As he walked home, he mentally scripted a conversation with Debbie.

JOSH: Just look at that!

DEBBIE: You mean the moon?

JOSH: Doesn’t it do something to you?

DEBBIE: Probably blind me if I keep staring at it.

JOSH: I mean, emotionally.

DEBBIE: It is nice on a clear night.

JOSH: Do you know how far it is to the moon?

DEBBIE: About 230,000 miles, something like that.

JOSH: And how far to the stars?

DEBBIE: Oh gosh, light years. Why are you asking all these questions?

JOSH: Can you imagine, some of them might not even be there any more.

DEBBIE: Of course. It takes years for the light to get here. Let’s go on.

Josh loved his sister. He would miss her more than his parents when he went to college. But there were some things he felt no urge to share with her. He had taken a risk with Eden. It was not a question of whether she would appreciate his observations. The leaves dispelled his doubts on that score. Vanity was the issue. He had been inclined to worry lately that people might question the masculinity of a guy who felt a glow when looking at a sunset, listening to the song of birds at daybreak, or smelling hyacinth or orange blossom. He didn’t question his sexual orientation, but he had no desire to be the object of schoolyard homophobia. The idiots who got their kicks from name-calling didn’t care whom they victimized.

Eden’s response to his moon gazing convinced him that he had no cause for worry where she was concerned. If she had questions about him, she didn’t let them show. The object of his awe was what interested her. He could easily imagine making a habit of conversations like tonight’s. But Debbie and his parents would notice. Which wouldn’t bother him as long as he didn’t fall on his face. And that is exactly what would happen if Eden, two and a half years his junior, turned out only to have been carried along on his enthusiasm ― maybe wanting to impress him. He needed to be very analytical, very cool. The problem was that he wanted to see more of her, undistracted by Debbie. He even enjoyed looking at her, though she was not particularly pretty.  In fact, she was rather plain. It was the look in her eyes, and an energy that seemed to radiate from her.

What to do now? There was only one answer: Ask her out.

Feeling like one who has finally solved a vexing math problem, he looked around to be sure no one he knew was walking the same block, and went home with a noticeably light step.