Free Ring of Fire III by Eric Flint Page B

himself?
    “Come,” Sibylla waved at Shabbethai and Shabbethai walked toward her as she opened the door to the kitchen. “Show me what you can eat and I will make it for you. Gabriel can watch, for all I care.”
    Were Jews truly welcome in Grantville? Would his welcome change if they discovered he was the son of God? But there was no son of God? Was there?
    “I don’t care if he’s a Jew,” Dorothea offered. “Can I eat too? I’ll eat what he can’t eat.”
     
     
    Former IOOF Building, Grantville, 24th of Av, 5394
    (T minus 4 minutes 32 seconds)
     
    “I don’t care if he is the Messiah! Get those yahoos off the street!” Julie watched as Press tried to place the radio back in its holder with one hand and rub his forehead with the other. “We got a bunch of drunks wandering around with crosses made out of pool cues looking for the Messiah. We got a full house at both the Catholic and Protestant churches. Are you sure Blaise is at your house?”
    “I don’t think it is fair to blame the boy for everything. Besides, he’s Catholic. Blaise wouldn’t be playing at being the Messiah, Chief.” Julie smiled at Rabbi Fonseca who was a few feet away listening politely to Jacqueline Pascal who was trying very hard to speak to the man. Julie wasn’t so far away that she couldn’t hear Jacqueline trying to speak Hebrew.
    “What does Blaise being Catholic have to do with this?” Press demanded.
    “Exactly, Chief. Exactly.” Julie turned to Chana and Gertrude, two of the women in her Flying Mothers Squad. “Any word?”
    “No,” Chana sighed. “There is no sign of the boy. I am most appreciative of the help we have received. I can think of few places where a lost Jewish child would have this effect. People want to find him to protect him.”
    “We have seen the effect of religious bickering, Chana. I have lost family trying to find refuge in religion and being dragged out and killed anyway. Protestants killing Catholics. Catholics massacring Protestants and both killing Jews. Grantville has taught many the lessons we should have learned.” Gertrude crossed her arms and dared any to argue. “If the boy is to be found, we will find him. Being Jewish will not stop us. God help the one who might harm the boy!”
    “I better go and save Rabbi Fonseca.” Julie sighed. “Hopefully her Hebrew is better than her Russian was at the beginning.”
    Rabbi Fonseca was listening politely as Jacqueline tried to hold open a book and speak in broken Hebrew to him.
    “Jacqueline has not said something wrong?” Julie asked as simply as she could. The Sephardic community in Grantville was quite young and its rabbi was not much older. Rabbi Fonseca spoke many languages but English was still new to him.
    “No,” Rabbi Fonseca smiled at Jacqueline and gently pulled the soft covered book from her hands and looked at it. “Cannot think English word...Chana...”
    There was an exchange of Hebrew and when it was over Chana nodded and turned to Julie.
    “The rabbi is amazed to hold in his hand a book to teach Hebrew that was written many centuries from now. It gives him hope that great things can be done. He asks me to thank you for the things you have helped to be done. The idea of having a special place in the...synagogue for non-Jews was a good idea. Such a thing has helped much in bringing all together. He cannot think of a place in the world where a Jew can walk so freely amongst those who are not Jews,” Chana translated.
    “And the boy?” Rabbi Fonseca asked, with what little English knowledge he had, giving Jacqueline the book back.
    “You didn’t check the book out of the library, did you?” Julie sighed, looking at Jacqueline.
    “We were in a hurry and I meant to. I will, Julie. I am sorry.” Jacqueline clutched the book to her.
    “The boy will be found,” Julie assured Rabbi Fonseca.
    “He knows where to come at sunset,” Chana translated for the rabbi. “He is a good boy and will find his way here if