Free Acts of Faith by Erich Segal Page A

the after-dinner discussion, and the Chicagoan’s explication of the Torah portion was yet another demonstration of his fitness to be the Silczer Rebbe’s son-in-law.
    Asher scarcely looked at Deborah. Outside of “Nice to meet you,” in Yiddish, he had not addressed a single word to her.
    They spoke of Jeremiah’s warnings to the sinners, whose misdeeds were “written with a pen of iron, and with the point of a diamond.”
    At which point Deborah interrupted and recited the next verse. “It is graven upon the tablet of their heart.…”
    All faces suddenly fixed upon her, wide-eyed with astonishment.
    She had done some preparation too.
    At long last the great moment arrived. The entire family went for a stroll in nearby Prospect Park. Rabbi and Mrs. Luria kept a careful and discreet ten paces behind “so the children can get to know each other.”
    Asher was desperate to make a good impression on Deborah. Not only because Chicago was counting on him, but because he genuinely liked her.
    At first sight he had been taken by her large brown eyes and sultry aspect. He had genuinely admired her voice when they had sung the Grace After Meals, and the pluck with which she had entered the men’s conversation.
    “They didn’t exaggerate,” he remarked.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “My parents told me all these wonderful things about you and your family. For once it wasn’t false advertising.”
    He paused, hoping she would reciprocate.
    She sensed this, and finally said, “And you—you’re just as tall as they told me.”
    Is that all? thought Asher to himself.
    “I hear you’re a real
eshes chayil
,” he said, tossing her the ultimate accolade for a Jewish girl.
    “In other words, ‘good wife material,’ ” Deborah replied tartly. “Actually, it depends how you translate the Hebrew term. I mean, if
gibor chayil
means a hero in battle, why couldn’t
eshes chayil
mean a
woman
in battle?”
    Asher wrinkled his forehead and shook his head, inwardly deliberating whether it would be wise to engage his bride-to-be in a semantic quibble. He decided it was best to placate.
    “Can we change the subject?” he pleaded.
    “I don’t know anything about basketball,” she replied.
    “Well then, do you want to know about my prospects?”
    Deborah merely shrugged.
    They walked along for several minutes, each pretending to admire the foliage.
    Then Asher spoke again. “Well, just in case you’re interested, I’m not going to be a rabbi.”
    “Oh?” she replied. “Is your father upset?”
    “Not really. I’ve got two older brothers who’re already leading congregations of their own. Anyway, I just thought you might like to know that I’m going to be a doctor. What do you think of that?”
    “I think that’s wonderful,” she answered sincerely and then after a moment added, “Do you know what I want to be?”
    “A wife, I hope.”
    “Oh, I will eventually,” she replied. “But I’d like to be something else as well.”
    “What else is there?” he asked.
    “I’d like to be a scholar.”
    “But you’re a woman.”
    “So I’ll be a woman scholar,” she replied.
    Exasperated, and feeling the clock running down, Asher put on a full-court press.
    “Deborah, do you mind if I ask you a simple question?”
    “Not at all.”
    “Do you like me?”
    “Yes,” she replied uneasily.
    “Well, do you want to marry me or not?”
    “A simple yes or no answer?” she said.
    “Yes,” he replied.
    Deborah looked up into his hazel eyes, and uttered, “No.”

11

Deborah
    I t was a few minutes before eleven on Friday evening.
    Deborah Luria sat alone in the living room reading her Bible. As always, she had left the Song of Songs for last.
    She was so engrossed that she barely heard the key turn in the front door lock. Even then, her reverie was broken only when the new arrival murmured shyly, “Good
Shabbes
, Miss.”
    She looked up. It was the gentile boy her family and the neighbors had engaged to