Wednesday the Rabbi Got Wet by Harry Kemelman Read Free Book Online Page A

to the phone in the hallway. It occurred to him that his wife must be feeling really ill not to put up a fuss at his calling the doctor.
    He was back shortly. “Al has gone to some conference in Boston and will be away all afternoon, but his wife promised to tell him, she’s sure he’ll be able to look in on you sometime this evening.”
    “I don’t think I really need a doctor,” Mona said, but without conviction.
    “Maybe you don’t, sweetheart, but I’ll feel better if Al Muntz checks you out.” He went to the hall closet for his coat.
    “Do you have to go now?” she asked plaintively.
    “I got an appointment at the bank. Look, I’ll try to get home early.”
    “Yes, but then you’ll be going to Chefs for the evening,” she complained.
    “No, I’ll stay in tonight.”
    Instantly, she was remorseful. “Oh, you don’t have to because of me.”
    “But I want to.”
    “But you enjoy the Wednesday evenings at Chefs,” she insisted, “and you say they help you. I want you to go.”
    “No. Chet will tell them about my offer for the Goralsky Block tonight, and it would be better if I weren’t there. Besides, I’ve got a hunch that Aptaker will call tonight and I’d like to be around so that I can run right over and get his signature on an agreement.”
    “You and your hunches! How about his son?”
    Safferstein laughed joyously. “His son is like my brother-in-law.”
    She managed a smile. “But he has got a son.”
    “Sure, but he’s in Pittsburgh or Philadelphia or someplace. If he were interested in the store, he would have come back long before this.”
    “But if he does come back?” she persisted.
    “He won’t. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever tried. It’s got to work.”
    “It isn’t too big for you, is it, Bill?” she asked anxiously.
    “You’re not overextended, are you?”
    “Don’t worry about that,” he said, a little too quickly. “I’ve got a hunch, I tell you.”

Chapter Eleven
    Akiva spent the afternoon tramping from one end of the beach to the other, renewing his acquaintance with the shoreline, the tide was out and after a while, he took off his boots and socks and slung them over one shoulder by their tied laces, he walked along the water’s edge, wriggling his toes in the wet sand, luxuriating in its soft coolness, he came to the rocks of the Point, smooth rounded loaves of pudding stone split here and there by deep narrow channels where the water, even at low tide, rushed in and then was sucked back reluctantly by the receding ocean, the water left little pools in the rocks’ depressions where a tiny minnow might be entrapped and dart from side to side until a wave came that was high enough to free it.
    Akiva sat at the edge of one such pool and dabbled his feet in the water to wash off the sand, then he held them straight out in front of him so that the sun could dry them and he could put on his socks and boots, as he leaned back on rigid arms, staring out at the horizon, he felt a peace that he had not known for a long time, as far as he could see, he was alone on the beach.
    It occurred to him that it was a good time to practice meditation, undisturbed as he was within and without, he sat up and maneuvered his legs into the lotus position. It was not easy for him, but with a little trouble he succeeded in tucking in his feet against his thighs, with arms outstretched and thumbs touching forefingers, he let his eyes fall closed. Images came flooding into his mind, and then as his breathing became slow and regular, he saw nothing except a kind of warm luminosity, the effect of the bright sun on his closed eyelids.
    “Hey, whatcha doing?”
    He opened his eyes and saw a small boy – five or six years old? – standing in front of him, a sandpail in one hand and an old spoon in the other.
    Akiva smiled. “Just thinking,” he said. “Whatcha have your hands out like that for?”
    “I guess it’s because it helps me think. You live around