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Marvin K., he’d be on his way.

6
    Somehow Rina caught Frieda Levine before she hit the ground. Just as Peter predicted, she’d looked, she’d seen, she’d gone out cold. Through all the noise and confusion, Rina’s first thought was: Get the woman alone for Peter’s sake, for everyone’s sake, before she blurted out something she’d regret.
    She tried to shout over her mother-in-law’s shrieking. She wanted Eema Sora out of the room and Mrs. Levine alone with her and Peter, but it was too late. A dozen adults swarmed around Frieda.
    “Give her some air, for goodness’ sake,” Rina yelled.
    Frieda’s older daughter, Miriam, screamed out Mama, Mama. Shimon, her oldest son, grabbed his mother from Rina’s arms, patted her face. The second son, Ezra, yelled to the younger daughter to fetch some water. The youngest son, Jonathan—the Conservative rabbi—suggested they call a doctor. His father said it was yom tov and if they needed a doctor he’d run down to Doctor Malinkov’s house rather than violate the holiday. Jonathan answered that was ridiculous, that saving a life took precedence over the violation of a law and he’d call the paramedics if his father had difficulty with it. Rina interrupted the hysteria, yelling out that Frieda had just fainted, what she needed was air and a place to rest.Bring her into the other bedroom and give her a little breathing room.
    Miraculously, they listened to her. Frieda’s three sons carried their mother into the master bedroom, laying her on one of the twin beds. As soon as her head hit the pillow, Frieda opened her eyes and groaned. Rina sat down beside her, stroked her face. Miriam ordered her mother not to talk.
    Frieda’s husband said triumphantly, “See, there was no reason to break yom tov —”
    Jonathan said, “Papa, she still could need a doctor—”
    “She’s up!” insisted the father. “She’s up. She’s up!”
    Jonathan realized his father was trembling, that he was just spouting religion out of force of habit and was as shaken as the rest of them. He said, “Papa, sit down. You’re pale.” He turned to his sister and said, “Miriam, take Papa downstairs.”
    Miriam took her father’s arm, but he pushed her away, then stumbled. Miriam caught him. Rabbi Levine announced he wasn’t going anywhere and his children should stop ordering him around as he knew what was best.
    The younger daughter, Faygie, returned with a sodden washcloth. Rina took the proffered cloth, dabbed Frieda’s forehead, and gave a quick glance around the room—a wall of faces. Rabbi Levine’s skin had taken on a grayish hue. Rina managed to catch Jonathan’s eye.
    “I don’t think your father looks well,” she said.
    Jonathan threw his arm around his father. “Let’s go downstairs, Papa. Mama will be fine.”
    The old man was too weak to argue.
    Rina continued to bathe Frieda’s face. The woman’s eyes were still unfocused and Rina began to worry. Maybe something more serious had occurred. But a moment later, Frieda grabbed Rina’s hands, and within seconds, her eyes became puddles of tears.
    “What is it, Mama?” Faygie cried out.
    “You overworked yourself,” Miriam scolded. Her voice had panic in it. “You don’t let me help you. You’re gettingtoo old to do all this cooking by yourself. Why don’t you let me help you—”
    “Miriam…” Shimon scolded.
    She fell silent.
    Frieda continued to cry. Rina brushed away her tears, told her everything was all right. But Frieda shook her head, violently.
    “Talk, Mama,” Shimon said.
    “What is it?” asked another voice.
    Rina felt her stomach turn over. Her sisters-in-law had come up. And their husbands. And some of the children. The room was so hot and stuffy it would make anyone a nervous wreck. With as much authority as Rina could muster she informed the group that Frieda needed quiet and not everyone fretting over her. It was just sudden exhaustion and would everyone please leave so the woman