Thomas had worked with Ruth to get everything laid out for the holiday. He had picked a few outfits on his own, but Ruth—ever the seasoned planner—had reviewed his choices and made adjustments she felt better suited the weekend’s tone and events. By Tuesday night, everything was packed and stacked by the door, ready for a quick departure as soon as he returned home from work on Wednesday.

  When they arrived at the Mendelson home, Thomas barely had time to open the car door before Shoshana came sprinting full-speed out the front of the house. She launched herself into his arms, knocking him flat onto the ground and sending all his bags flying in different directions. Laughing, she gave him a quick kiss and a tight hug, then flopped down beside him in the grass, her curls spilling in all directions.

  From somewhere near the porch, Tamar’s voice rang out. “I suppose we should just be grateful she’s not dry-humping him. Lying on the lawn is… well, that’s a new one.”

  Thomas and Shoshana ignored her. They stayed there a few minutes, side by side, soaking in the sky, the green, the closeness.

  Eventually, Thomas sat up and pulled Shoshana gently to her feet. He gave her a playful smile and kissed her forehead. She let out a little huff, then followed him as he gathered the bags and headed inside.

  They brought the luggage to their respective rooms, then settled side by side on the living room couch, their fingers laced together, sitting close but not tangled. Comfortable. Present.

  A few minutes later, Tamar swept in and dropped herself onto the couch, shoving Thomas aside without asking.

  “Tzuriel,” she began in mock seriousness, “I hear rumors that you’ve been stirring things up in our community. How do you plead?”

  Thomas chuckled. “Guilty, I guess.”

  Tamar nodded as though she were a judge. “And now, for the juicier bit of the confession. I’ve heard rumors—shocking rumors—that you two managed to spend an entire weekend in the same house without even brushing up against each other. Is that true?”

  Thomas and Shoshana exchanged a glance and answered together. “Yes.”

  Tamar stared at them like they’d admitted to eating raw potatoes. “Why in the world would you agree to that?”

  Shoshana answered first. “To prove we could. And because—honestly—it was intense.”

  Tamar frowned. “Intense? How can not touching each other be intense?”

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  Shoshana’s voice dropped slightly, serious now. “Because all we wanted to do was hold each other. And we didn’t. We could feel it, though. The wanting. It was like… it created a kind of sacred space between us. I liked what the rabbi’s wife said—it wasn’t just restraint. It was honoring each other’s soul.”

  Thomas nodded. “And because we kept a little distance, we found other ways to connect. Face to face. Soul to soul. No one would admit this, but… I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her. We’re not physically all over each other, but we’re for each other. Always.”

  He turned and gave Tamar a hug. “Does Tamar need a hug?”

  Tamar made a dramatic face. “What have you been learning from Veronica? I didn’t expect you to get all… profound.”

  Shoshana grinned. “He’s been getting more confident. Still pleasantly humble.”

  Thomas, still smiling, said, “Did I tell you I was asked how I’d feel about receiving a special dispensation to take part in lodge as a probationary member?”

  Shoshana blinked. “No. I haven’t heard anything about that.”

  Tamar tilted her head, intrigued. “There’s only one reason they’d do that. They either think you’re ready, or they think they’ll gain more by letting you in than by keeping you out. Let me guess—you said you didn’t need to start early.”

  Thomas nodded. “Yeah.”

  Tamar groaned. “Boy, boy, boy. I’ve got so much to explain to you two.”

  At that moment, a man approached with a warm smile and an outstretched hand. “Hi. I’m Zeb. Short for Zebulon. Yes, I used to get teased. And yes, I’m the elusive husband. She promised she’d spend the weekend with some man—either me or her sister’s boyfriend.”

  Tamar gave him a look. “Finally.”

  Thomas shook his hand. “What do you do?”

  “I’ve got a B.B.A. in Supply Chain Management,” Zeb said. “Also certified in Management Accounting. Basically, I help make sure the SBSO has the supplies it needs when it needs them.”

  “Sounds… fun?” Thomas offered.

  Zeb laughed. “Depends if everything’s in order. It’s a nerdy profession, but I hate just saying I’m an accountant.”

  Thomas chuckled. “I had a foster father who was an accountant.”

  Zeb raised an eyebrow. “Small world. Anyway, want to come to shul tomorrow for morning prayers?”

  Thomas nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  “Good. You’ll help us make minyan.”

  Thomas blinked. “What makes you think I qualify?”

  Zeb smiled. “I know you go to church. But I also know—because Mom told me—that you’re all in. Which means Iona did his job and let you know: if you’re going to be with Shoshana long-term, you’ll be Jewish, too. And lucky for us, your denomination actually recognizes Jews as Jews.”

  “I wasn’t sure about that.”

  Zeb turned to Shoshana. “Did you show Tzuriel your virtues book yet?”

  Shoshana shook her head. “We haven’t had time.”

  Zeb grinned. “I know you showed him yours last week, but now it’s your turn, Tzuriel.”

  Without thinking, Thomas bolted upstairs and returned with his worn notebook. He handed it straight to Zeb, who passed it to Shoshana.

  “Take a look at this.”

  Shoshana flipped through the pages and gasped. “No way. He’s doing two virtues a week? How did you know?”

  Zeb smirked. “I did the request form for Bumsburg. He does fine work.”

  Tamar rolled her eyes. “Tzuriel, do you have to show off with your virtues?”

  Thomas opened his mouth to explain, to offer something self-deprecating—but Zeb cut in.

  “Sweetheart, every time they think they’ve got him figured out, he does something that makes them rethink the whole plan. That’s how he ended up with his list.”