The Lord Is My Shepherd (22 page)

“Are you all right?” Jeremiah asked.

Cindy nodded, still coughing. “Sorry, just swallowed wrong.” The truth was she wasn't used to alcohol, and she had almost gagged on it. “I'm fine, really,” she told the concerned faces around her.

Eric indicated a bowl and a pitcher. “It's time for the washing of the hands,” he said, pouring a small amount of water over his hands into the bowl. Each person took their turn doing so with Cindy going last.

Eric picked up the Karpas and dipped it into a small bowl of salt water sitting nearby. Everyone did the same, including Cindy. She tried not to wrinkle up her nose as she did so. Parsley had never been her favorite thing, and adding salt did nothing to improve it for her.

After they had all eaten it in silent reflection, Eric picked up a plate that was covered with a towel. “Matzoth,” Jeremiah said softly. “The unleavened bread. There are three on the plate.”

Eric broke the middle one in half.

“Half will be hidden for later as the
afikomen
, the dessert,” Jeremiah explained.

“This is the bread of affliction,” Eric said as he completely uncovered the plate. As our ancestors were slaves, so are we. We know their enslavement, but we also hope for our freedom. Let any who are hungry or in need join us in this Seder dinner.”

There was silence and for a moment Cindy wondered if as a guest she was expected to respond that she was hungry. She looked quickly to Jeremiah but he was looking contemplatively at the bread. She turned to look at the bread, and her stomach growled noisily.

Embarrassed she placed both hands over it.
Like that will actually help,
she scolded herself. And then suddenly, she had an insane urge to laugh. There was a serial killer running around loose. Her life could well be in danger every moment, and yet she was worried about a noisy stomach? It amazed her how she had been so caught up in the moment and the ritual that she could have forgotten for even a second the dangers lurking in the dark. She couldn't help but wonder if that was the secret of survival for the Jewish people. Did their ritual allow them escape from time to time from the horrors of the world they lived in?

She glanced at Jeremiah. He had grown up in a country where violence was a part of everyday life. And yet he seemed so serene most of the time. Was this somehow part of it, this idea that everything had a proper time, place, and way of being done? She glanced around at the others, each with the same contemplative look on their face.

“And now we will have the telling of the Passover story,” Eric said.

“The story is told four different times, in four different ways,” Jeremiah explained.

Cindy's stomach growled again. She smiled faintly. Apparently, she didn't need to worry about a serial killer. It was more likely that she would die of hunger first.

Greta stood up, her tiny face solemn. “The youngest child asks the four questions,” Jeremiah explained.

“
Mah nishtanah ha-lahylah ha-zeh mi-kol ha-layloht, mi-kol ha-layloht,”
Greta said.

“How different is this night from all other nights!” Jeremiah translated in a whisper.

“
She-b'khol ha-layloht anu okhlin chameytz u-matzah, chameytz u-matzah. Ha-lahylah ha-zeh, ha-lahylah ha-zeh, kooloh matzah?”
Greta asked.

“Why is it that on all other nights during the year we eat either bread or matzah, but on this night we eat only matzah?” Jeremiah whispered. “The answers are found in the Haggadah,” Jeremiah said, indicating a book sitting next to Eric. “He will read from it.”

Cindy struggled to pay attention as each of the child's four questions was answered. Finally Greta sat down and Cindy wanted to applaud her for being able to make it all the way through. A quick glance around the table convinced her, however, that it would not be appreciated.

“Now do we eat?” she whispered to Jeremiah as quietly as she could.

He smiled. “Not for a long, long time.”

Mark raced into Harold Grey's home, gun drawn, expecting the worst. Instead, he saw Harold and his wife, laden down with grocery bags, heading toward the kitchen.

He quickly holstered his weapon as they turned to look at him. Sweat poured off of him, and his heart still pounded.

“I'm sorry, Detective,” Harold said. “My wife forgot her key. It was her at the door. I was planning on calling back as soon as I finished helping her carry everything in.”

“It's okay,” Mark said, struggling to compose himself. He had thought for sure that he was going to find the couple dead and the killer gone. He wiped at the sweat that trickled into his eyes.

“The church directory's on the couch there if you want to look at it,” Harold said.

“Thank you, I will,” Mark said. He flipped open his phone and called in the false alarm. He sank down onto the couch and snatched up the directory. Just because the Greys were alive didn't mean everyone else was safe. He tried to go quickly, but he read every entry, afraid of missing the one that he would need.

When his phone rang, he grabbed it.

“They're still pulling up records at the paper, but it's looking less and less likely that there are any other Olivers to be found there,” Paul said without preamble.

“I've got my hands on the church directory right now. I'll call you back as soon as I have something,” Mark said.

The first telling of the Passover story was over, and the second one was just beginning. Jeremiah smiled encouragingly
at Cindy, realizing that the distress she felt was his fault. He should have warned her to eat something before they came.

For the second telling, four “sons” were chosen to ask, each in a different way, about the meaning of the Seder. Josiah played the role of the wise son and had asked in length about the Seder and been given a response detailed enough and long enough that Jeremiah's stomach was also starting to growl. Erica then had the responsibility of asking as the simple son, a role that he could tell from the look on her face she did not appreciate.

“What is this?” she asked.

“With a strong hand the Almighty led us out from Egypt, from the house of bondage,” her father answered.

Jeremiah had taken upon himself the task of asking as the evil son. “What is this cult of yours?”

Asking the question demonstrated isolation from the Jewish people and prompted the response, “It is because God acted for my sake when I left Egypt.”

Finally, Greta was tasked as the son who was too young to ask. To her Eric responded, “It is because of what the Almighty did for me when I left Egypt.”

He turned to Cindy. “The third telling will probably be most familiar to you as it is the story from the book of Exodus.”

She smiled and sat up straighter, and he did his best not to laugh.

“And then comes the fourth telling?” she asked.

“Not exactly. Before we get to the fourth telling we will sing some praise songs including one called
Dayeinu
. It says that if Adonai had performed only one of the many deeds that it would have been enough.”

“And
then
the fourth telling?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Mark made it through the directory and felt sick. He couldn't find anyone else who might have a name similar to Oliver. That meant there was no way of telling where the killer would strike in the next few hours. Reluctantly, he called Paul.

“I've got nothing,” Mark said after Paul had answered. “You?”

“More of the same.”

Mark took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was go home and go to bed, but somewhere not far from where he sat people could be dying at that very moment. He took a ragged breath.

“Then I guess we wait,” he said.

“Yeah. Mark?”

“What?”

“Go home. I've had more sleep than you. I'll call you when something happens.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Cindy felt bad about it, but her mind drifted during the fourth telling, which consisted of questions and answers about the customs of the Seder. The hungrier she became the more she felt uneasy. The outside world began to creep in again, and she couldn't help but wonder what the killer was doing while she sat there trying not to disrespect her hosts by going after the food early.

There was an invitation to see herself as being liberated from slavery and instead of being a beautiful moment, it angered her. She knew she was a slave to her own fears, but
if she had to wait much longer she was going to be a slave to the needs of her body as well. The small amount of wine from her first glass was sitting in her stomach with only the parsley to keep it company. She felt slightly nauseous.

“And now we have completed the four tellings,” Jeremiah said suddenly, turning to smile at her.

“Oh thank heavens,” she said.

Eric raised his second cup and the others followed suit. “With the second cup of wine we celebrate our redemption!”

He drank it, and Cindy thought she might cry. She tipped the glass back and tried not to focus on the burning sensation in her throat.

She put the glass down and realized it was time for another ceremonial washing of the hands.

“Food next,” Jeremiah whispered.

Thankfully, the blessing over the bread was shorter than she had imagined. Before they could eat it, though, they first had to eat some of the bitter herbs. Then they combined the herbs with the matzah to form a sandwich.

Cindy was pretty sure she had entered into her own personal nightmare. At least she was getting to eat, though. After that was finished they ate the rest of the meal. As the food hit her stomach she began to relax considerably.

When the time came for dessert she was enjoying herself again and laughed as she watched the children searching for the piece of matzah that Marie had hidden quite a while earlier. When it had been found and eaten, a blessing was said for the food they had consumed. Then Eric led them in the drinking of the third glass of wine.

“I had no idea Jewish children partook at such a young age,” she confided to Jeremiah.

He began to laugh. Then Eric and the children did too. Marie just rolled her eyes.

“What?” Cindy asked.

“The children are drinking grape juice,” Jeremiah said at last. “Although, whether they drink wine or grape juice is a choice left up to the parents.”