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

here?”
    “Uh-huh, over there,” with a nod at one of the houses on the other side of the road that paralleled the beach. “Say, will you take me across? I’m not allowed to cross alone.”
    “Sure. You just wait a minute while I get my shoes and socks on. How’d you get across in the first place?”
    “My mommy brought me.”
    “And what would you have done if I hadn’t been here?”
    “Oh, my mommy comes and gets me after a while.”
    Booted once again, Akiva stood up and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go.”
    The boy took his hand confidently and together they clambered up the rocks to the side of the road, where they waited as a succession of cars whizzed by, then, during a lull, they started to cross the road just as a woman came out of the house opposite.
    “Why didn’t you wait, Jackie?” she called. “I was just going to get you.”
    “The man said he’d take me across,” he shouted back. Releasing Akiva’s hand, he ran across the road and up the porch steps, Akiva lounged after him.
    The woman looked at Akiva in momentary suspicion, then she smiled absently. Turning to the boy, she said, “All right, dear, thank the man and go inside and take some milk.”
    The youngster held out his hand and Akiva mounted the steps to take it. “Thanks,” the boy said, and turned and ran into the house.
    “He’s very well behaved.” said Akiva.
    “Yes, well –”
    “You’re Leah Kaplan, aren’t you?” he said wonderingly.
    “Oh, do I know you? Kaplan was my maiden name.”
    “We were in school together,” Akiva said. “One year I sat beside you in French class.”
    She looked at him uncertainly. “Oh, are you – you’re Aptaker, Arnold Aptaker.”
    He smiled. “That was my maiden name,” he said. “I’m Akiva Rokeach now.”
    “That beard. I would have recognized you right away if it weren’t for the beard. What are you hiding?”
    “Who’s hiding anything? A beard is the natural thing; it’s shaving that’s unnatural.” It was as though the years had fallen away and they were back in high school where derisive sallies were the pattern for conversation.
    “Just because it grows doesn’t mean you don’t have to cut it,” she said tartly. “How about toenails and fingernails? I always feel that a man with a beard is hiding something, either a weak chin or a scar, or an inferiority complex.”
    “Well, I’m not. It’s – it’s religious.”
    Then she noticed the yarmulke he was wearing. “Oh, you’re one of those.” She looked him up and down, taking in the boots, the patched jeans and the denim jacket. “The rest of you doesn’t look very religious.”
    “Religion isn’t a matter of costume,” he said loftily. “Just of hats, eh?”
    “That’s different. It’s a head covering, any hat will do, but this one shows that it’s for religion and not just to keep my head warm or the sun off it.”
    “I see, well, I’ve got to see to Jackie. Come in, if you want to.”
    “Well I –” but he followed her into the house and on into the kitchen, where Jackie sat at the table drinking a glass of milk. “Taste good, Jackie? You like milk?” he asked, making conversation.
    The youngster nodded shyly and drained his glass as if to prove it.
    “Now upstairs for your bath,” she said. Obediently, the boy rose from the table and started for the stairs. “Aren’t you going to say good-bye to the man?” she called after him.
    He came back and went over to Akiva, he held out his hand again and said, “Good-bye.”
    “Gee, you sure got him trained,” said Akiva admiringly.
    “I do my best. Say, would you like some coffee? It’s all ready. I usually have it while Jackie is having his milk.” She brought two cups to the table along with a plate of cookies. “Go on, take one,” she urged. When he seemed reluctant, she smiled and said. “It’s all right, they’re kosher. I made them myself.”
    “Oh yeah?” He reached for a cookie. “How come you keep a kosher