Ethan wanted to protect their vision—this modern intimacy course that gave people an open forum to talk about the evolution of relationships. But as much as he wanted to preserve the cozy, unconventional sense of community they’d developed, he also wanted everyone to feel safe.
He crunched on another saltine, the cracker drying his mouth out like the desert. Yeesh. Under a pile of paperwork, his phone vibrated.
A text from Jonathan:Emergency board meeting. Need you in my office ASAP
Ethan sighed and sent back the hand making an “okay” sign emoji. Emergency board meetings were not that irregular at Beth Elohim. They had a run-down synagogue on the brink of closing. They’d had an emergency meeting last week when the pipes in the basement had burst, for example.
Ethan stopped to grab some water on his way to the meeting room, shooting Naomi a message to say he might be a little late to the JCC but that Julia (the guard) should know to ask for her at the front desk.
She sent back:sounds good. see ya soon. thinking about your
He grinned down at his phone and thought about her lying tangled in her sheets this morning. When he’d gotten up to say his prayers, she’d sighed like it was fabulous that he was leaving and stretched out like a starfish. But then just when he’d gotten to the door, she had whimpered a little, eyes closed, until he’d come back and kissed her for a minute. After that she’d smiled, cat-with-the-cream, eyes still closed, and gone back to sleep.
Jonathan’s office smelled musty, like the old radiator in the corner had been working overtime, even though it was spring in L.A. and the thing definitely hadn’t been turned on in the last five years. Ethan thought about moving to open a window, but figured he should wait until things got going and it was less conspicuous. There weren’t enough chairs in here for everyone crowded inside, so Ethan leaned against the back wall.
He knew he’d lost a lot of the goodwill of the board. In hindsight, he could see that when they’d hired him and said they wanted results, what they meant was they wanted results accomplished in ways they were accustomed to.
In the early days, they’d smiled down on him, doting and indulgent, but with each new idea he brought, each change he proposed, each convention he broke, their smiles got a little tighter, until they’d stopped smiling at all. He’d received a few concerned calls over the last few months, in addition to Ira’s careful warning. His inbox held a few chiding, carefully worded emails. Occasionally he caught a pointed look from the pews during services. But he’d let it all roll off his back.
It just didn’t make sense to him, how anyone could see Naomi and not recognize her as a blessing.
The board couldn’t deny that Ethan’s updated programming and partnerships had gotten results. Attendance had hit a three-year high last Friday night. They’d had enough in the bank to call a real plumber last week, instead of Mrs. Glaser’s son, who mostly watched tutorials on YouTube. Not to mention the fact that thanks to Clara, Beth Elohim had gotten more press in the last few months than in the shul’s hundred-year history.
No one liked change. Ethan understood that, but surely they’d see soon that this new direction was for the best.
Except...
“Ethan, we’re getting threats,” Jonathan said from behind his desk,without any attempt at his usual preamble. Every head in the room turned to stare at Ethan, who stopped leaning immediately.
“I’m aware,” he said carefully, hand tightening around his water glass.
“We’re getting threats,” Jonathan said again, this time hitting all theTs extra hard, “specifically related to your personal relationship with Naomi Grant.”
Ethan knew that too.
“We manage any threat against the synagogue through our security team.” According to his records, the synagogue had seen a four percent uptick in hate mail in the last five weeks. Some of it did call out his private life, though more of it objected to the seminar in concept, and neither of those kinds made up the majority of the correspondence that contained the same censure and objection that any synagogue in the country received on a day-to-day basis, unfortunately.
Jonathan and Ira exchanged a long look. “We believe these specific objections are not wholly unfounded, and they’re not just coming from outside the shul. We’ve received significant complaints from members.”
“Excuse me?” Ethan’s mouth went dry in a way that had nothing to do with the crackers he’d eaten earlier.
Jonathan gave him a look—aDon’t make this harder than it already islook. “It’s not suitable, Ethan. You’re meant to set a model of Jewish values, and you’re out here in tabloids with a woman who doesn’t even attend services, not to mention her background is... shall we say... less than ideal.”
There was so much wrong with that last sentence. Ethan put down the water glass he’d brought on the windowsill, because his hands had started to shake. “If you’d like me to continue to sit in this room, you’ll refrain from veiled maligning of the woman I love.”
He said it without thinking. Without considering that probably he should have told Naomi how he felt about her before he told this mantrying to condemn her—but, well, he’d never had great timing, as it turned out.
“Love?” Ira covered his mouth with his hand. “Ethan, you love this woman?”
He nodded because his throat was too tight to speak, but it wasn’t enough. “Yes,” he managed, and then “yes,” again, but louder. At some point Ethan had put his hands behind him and started gripping the windowsill. He noticed because flecks of paint were coming off against his palms.
Ira shook his head, making his wrinkles stand out sharply in the topography of his face. “Jonathan, who are we to stand in the way of love?”
Jonathan’s mouth remained a thin line. “She’s not Jewish.”
Ethan laughed because it was ridiculous. “Of course she is.”
Why were these people all looking at him with a terrible combination of pity and anger?