He seemed very pleased with his find, grinning widely, those bright white teeth on full display. He handed us a box containing about twenty photographs. They were photos of the Rabinovitches’ house, photos of the Rabinovitches’ garden, the Rabinovitches’ flowers, the Rabinovitches’ animals. My mother, I saw, was reeling. I felt sick. The presence of the piano behind us was almost unbearable. “I have a framed one, as well. I’ll get it.” At the bottom of the box, my mother saw a photo of Jacques, taken in front of the well during the summer when Nachman had come to help plant the garden. Jacques
...more
