APRIL 1945
ESTHER LAID THE NEWSPAPER she had just purchased on the dining room table and went into the living room to turn on the radio. Spring had finally arrived, and events in the world were happening so rapidly that she had fallen into her old pattern of listening to news broadcasts every morning and night and reading every newspaper she could get her hands on.
Two weeks ago it had been Easter Sunday, and she and Peter had eaten the dinner Penny had prepared at the Goodrich house. Grandma Shaffer had come to church with them and even came next door for Easter dinner, too. The Sunday newspaper had carried huge headlines that day: American Troops on Okinawa. Mr. Goodrich explained that the tiny island was part of Japan, which meant the war was one step closer to being over.
Ten days after Easter, on April 11, Allied soldiers had liberated a Nazi death camp called Buchenwald. Eyewitness descriptions of the horrors they had found appeared in all the newspapers. Esther had gone downstairs to console Mr. Mendel.
“Thank you for thinking of me, Esther,” he had said. “But you must promise me that you will stop reading about these atrocities. If you look at these images, you will never be able to erase them from your mind.”
The very next day, news of President Roosevelt’s sudden death from a brain hemorrhage shocked and stunned the nation. He had seemed like a beloved grandfather to Esther throughout the war, coming into her living room each week to encourage everyone with his fireside chats. And now, just when victory was within sight, the president wouldn’t be here to celebrate it with them.
Esther spread out her latest newspaper on the dining room table. She was scanning the headings, searching for new articles to clip, when a photograph of a burned-out building caught her eye. She had stared at the ruins of the synagogue across the street for so many months before they rebuilt it that she recognized the photograph immediately.
“Hey, Peter, come look! There’s a story in the paper about the fire across the street. The caption says, ‘Trial Set for Man Charged in Synagogue Fire.’ ” Peter and Penny both hurried into the dining room to peer at the picture over Esther’s shoulder. “Did you see this article, Penny? I didn’t know they had arrested someone, did you?”
“No, I haven’t heard anything about it,” Penny said. “I’m surprised Mr. Mendel didn’t mention it.”
Esther read the article out loud to them: “ ‘The trial is set to begin on Monday, April 23, for the man charged with arson in the fire that left a Brooklyn synagogue severely damaged eighteen months ago. Police arrested a former member of Congregation Ohel Moshe last December after two witnesses to the crime came forward. The accused man, Jacob Mendel – ” Esther halted, staring at the name in shock.
Jacob Mendel.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t utter a sound. It couldn’t be true. Someone had made a terrible mistake. As she stared at her friend’s name in disbelief, Esther heard a strangled cry behind her, in her ear.
“Noooo!”
She whirled around. The cry had come from Peter.
“Noooo!” he said again. The harsh sound squeezed from his throat as if ripped out by force. His entire body writhed as if in terrible pain as he tried to squeeze out more words. “He d-d-d-didn’t . . . !”
It took Esther a moment to realize what she’d just heard – Peter was talking! He was talking again after all this time!
“We know he didn’t do it,” Penny said, trying to soothe him. “They’ll find out that he didn’t do it.”
Esther could only stare at her brother. F inally, after all these months, he was no longer silent. But it had taken a terrible catastrophe to bring it about. Mr. Mendel had been arrested!
Peter flailed wildly as he squirmed out of Penny’s arms. He staggered to the front door and thundered down the stairs. Esther heard him pounding on Mr. Mendel’s door as she and Penny hurried after him.
“I s-s-saw . . . !” Peter stammered when Mr. Mendel opened his door. “I-I know!”
“He’s talking,” Esther said in wonder. “Peter’s talking!”
Mr. Mendel held Peter’s shoulders to steady him. “What are you trying to say, son?”
“The f-f-fire . . .”
“We just read about it in the newspaper,” Esther said. “Is it true? Did the police really arrest you?”
Mr. Mendel nodded. “The trial begins on Monday.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Esther cried out. “This is awful!”
“I have been hoping that it could be avoided. My lawyer has been working to get the charges dismissed, but – ”
Peter gripped the front of Mr. Mendel’s shirt. His face turned red with effort as he struggled to say more. “What is it, Peter?” Mr. Mendel asked. “Take your time. It’s okay.”
“You didn’t do it! . . . I know! . . . The f-fire . . . I was there! Jacky did it.”
“Jack Hoffman? He is one of the witnesses who is accusing me.”
Esther recalled Jacky saying that they should tear down the ruined synagogue and make a ball park. And she remembered how he and his brother, Gary, had laughed and splashed in the puddles as they’d watched the building burn. “Why would he accuse you?” she asked Mr. Mendel. “Why would he lie?”
“Because he knows that I was the one who made you stop seeing him.”
“Oh no!” Esther felt sick to her stomach. Mr. Mendel was in terrible trouble, and she was to blame. She never should have trusted Jacky Hoffman. “Did Jacky really set the fire?” she asked her brother.
“Y-yes,” Peter said. “Yes. Him and Gary . . . and . . . and me.”
“You?” Esther breathed.
Peter began to sob, making it hard to understand what he was saying. “I found the kerosene . . . I went inside with them because I was mad at Daddy for going away. . . .”
“No,” Esther murmured. “Oh, Peter . . . no.”
“And . . . and when it started to burn, they . . . they told me to keep my mouth shut or . . . or else . . .”
“That’s why you couldn’t talk all this time?” Esther remembered how Peter had run into the bedroom as Daddy was packing to leave. Peter had clung to him, whimpering, just as the fire sirens began wailing in the distance. Peter hadn’t said another word since.
“I didn’t mean to . . .” he wept. “I’m sorry!”
“Shh . . . shh . . .” Mr. Mendel soothed. He held Peter tightly, consoling him. “I know, I know, Peter. It will be all right.”
“No it won’t! . . . T-tell them it wasn’t you!”
“You poor child, holding on to such a terrible secret all this time. No wonder . . . no wonder . . .”
“Will Peter be in trouble with the police?” Esther asked.
“He is just a child. Surely the older boy will be held responsible.”
“What should we do now?” Penny asked.
“Let him grieve. And then, when Peter is ready, I will call my lawyer and let him hear what Peter has to say.”
They all sat down in Mr. Mendel’s apartment, and by the time the lawyer, Mr. Stein, arrived, Peter had calmed down. Esther listened in disbelief as Peter explained how he had found the can of kerosene in the basement by the washtubs. He had been angry with Daddy and had wanted to do something drastic to convince him to stay home. The two Hoffman brothers had come along just then. The three of them had crept into the synagogue while the back door was unlocked and hidden in a stairwell until after the men finished their prayers and went home.
When the boys came out of hiding, Jacky found a room filled with books, and they’d emptied the shelves, ripping out pages and making a huge pile in the middle of the room. Gary poured the kerosene over them while Jacky handed Peter a box of matches. “You want to light it?”
Peter had been afraid. All of a sudden it hadn’t been fun anymore, and he wanted to go home. They called him a chicken, then tried to force him to light it. Peter had tried to run away, but Jacky caught him and held on to him and made him watch while Gary lit the match and tossed it onto the pile. The paper ignited with a whoosh.
“You’re guilty now,” Jacky had told him as the books began to smoke and burn. “You better keep your mouth shut, because if you tell anyone, we’ll set you and your house on fire next.”
Jacky had held Peter’s arms behind his back and made him watch as the flames grew higher and higher, the smoke thicker. Peter had been terrified. He tried to scream but nothing came out. When the fire spread to the curtains, Jacky pushed Peter to the ground and ran. Peter scrambled to his feet and ran out of the synagogue, not stopping until he reached home.
Esther stared at her brother when he finished his story. He was guilty of arson. She was astounded, grief-stricken. Everything was falling apart. She had wanted to get Mr. Mendel out of trouble, but not this way. “Are they going to arrest my brother?” she asked the lawyer.
“I already looked into the backgrounds of the two so-called witnesses in preparation for the trial,” he replied. “Jack and Gary Hoffman have a record of vandalism and other delinquent acts. Your brother doesn’t, does he?”
“No, he’s a good kid,” Esther said. “He didn’t mean to do it.”
Mr. Stein had been taking notes on a tablet, which he now stowed in his briefcase, snapping the latches shut. “I’ll need a few days to file some motions and bring this new evidence to the police. I don’t want to get everyone’s hopes up prematurely, but I think we can get this case closed and the charges against Mr. Mendel dropped.”
“What about Peter?” Esther asked.
“He is a minor. I will do my best to ensure that he isn’t charged.”
Mr. Stein left a few minutes later. Mr. Mendel, Penny, and Peter sat looking at each other as if numb with shock. Esther couldn’t move, either. “I wish I had never trusted Jacky,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Peter murmured. “I didn’t mean it . . . I’m sorry.”
“Listen to me, both of you,” Mr. Mendel said. “We all make mistakes, every one of us. But we Jews believe – and I think you Christians do, too – that if we confess our sins to Hashem, if we repent of our wrongdoings and promise to turn away from them and go in a new direction, then He will forgive us. We should make restitution for what we have done whenever possible. And sometimes there are natural consequences from our actions that must be faced. But the Scriptures say that as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is Hashem’s mercy toward us. As far as the east is from the west, so far has Hashem removed our sins from us. We can be forgiven. And then we can begin to live new lives from that day forward.”
Esther knew he was right. She had just listened to the Easter message in church earlier this month. Her sins were forgiven because of Jesus’ death. Peter’s would be, too.