FINGERS TRACED across his chest over and over. Rough fingers—not a scholar’s, but those of a man who worked with his hands. And the voice that chanted the blessings was rich and deep. “Blessed art thou, Lord our God.” Emet knew those words even in Hebrew, because Jakob had explained them to him. He didn’t understand the words that followed, but then the singing stopped, replaced by a hoarse murmur:
The Lord sends death and life;
He brings down to the netherworld and brings up from it.
He heals the brokenhearted
And binds up their wounds.
He will utterly destroy death forever,
And the Lord God will wipe away the tear from every face.
He opened his eyes to see wooden beams and smooth plaster. He recognized those beams. He’d hauled them up the hill and held them in place.
“Emet?”
Emet turned his head slightly. Jakob had new lines on his face, new depths of sadness in his warm brown eyes. But he was smiling hesitantly. “Maybe we should change your name. The word is different.” He settled his palm on the center of Emet’s chest.
“What does it say?” Emet was surprised when his voice was smooth instead of jagged.
“Ahava. It means love.”
Emet looked down at his chest—and discovered a dusting of dark hairs and two pink nipples. He reached up to his scalp, where he found more hair, thick and soft.
“Jakob?”
“Can you stand?”
Emet could, although with some difficulty. He felt slightly dizzy, so Jakob helped hold him steady. And it was very strange, because although Emet was still taller than Jakob, he no longer towered over him. There was a strange thudding in his chest as well. A heartbeat!
“I don’t understand,” Emet said.
“Look at yourself, my beloved.”
Taking a few moments to explore his remade body, Emet found more hair at his groin, on his arms and legs, and a coarse stubble on his cheeks. He had a navel now, perfect and round on his flat belly. “I’m… I think I’m hungry.”
Jakob laughed. “Good! I have food to share.”
“But I don’t—”
“I didn’t make you to protect anyone, Emet. I don’t care how strong you are, and God forbid you should ever need to fight again. I made you this time, and I made you for love, from love. Not to be a golem, but to be a man.”
Emet’s legs collapsed and he fell to the ground. Jakob knelt in front of him. “Are you well? Have I made you properly?”
“I think so.” Emet reached up to touch Jakob’s left shoulder. “You were hurt….”
“I was,” said Jakob gravely. “And I lost…. Oh, Emet! Mama’s gone, and two of my brothers, their wives…. But I am alive, and now so are you.”
Jakob rose, held out a hand, and helped Emet stand. Then Jakob picked up a patchwork cloak from his bed and settled it on Emet’s shoulders. It was a little too big now, but Emet didn’t mind.
“Mala Lubovnya?” asked Emet.
“Come see.”
They walked across the room and out the door, onto the tidy front porch. The sky was a soft blue and the air was balmy. Inside the town walls were a few gaping holes among the buildings. But most of the town still stood, and the only smoke was friendly little wisps from fireplaces.
“Mala Lubovnya is still there,” said Jakob. “You saved us. Almost everyone in town lost someone they loved. But the shul is still there. The minyans pray every morning and evening; the congregation gathers every Shabbos. And the gentiles have mourned their dead as well.”
“I killed…. Jakob, I killed so many.”
“A great transgression, for which we will pray forgiveness. But here beats the heart of a righteous man.” Jakob turned to press a hand against Emet’s chest.
Emet stood silently for a long time, thinking about this. His body felt far weaker than before, far more pervious to damage. Yet he felt more whole. “What did you do?”
Jakob smiled. “I told you. I made you with love. It says so, right on your chest. I took your dust and I moistened it with my own blood and tears and seed. I made you to be a man, not a tool or a weapon. I sculpted you far more carefully than ever I’ve shaped stone. And I shared myself with you to bring you back to life. Can you feel it?”
“Your soul,” Emet said with wonder.
“Our soul now. Bound together.”
With a throat-wrenching cry, Emet threw his arms around Jakob. They embraced so tightly neither could breathe well, and perhaps they each shed a few tears.
After they’d parted—only a little; never far again—Emet smiled. “Can we eat now?”
“We can! And then we will have to pack. Are you ready for a journey?”
“A journey?”
A shadow of unhappiness chased a little of the joy from Jakob’s face. “We can’t stay here. Not with what you’ve done, and not with what we are.”
“But your house! Your beautiful home!”
Jakob shrugged. “We can build another. Perhaps not so easily, now that you’re only human, but I haven’t lost my skills, and you’re still strong. I’ve nothing much here aside from sad memories now. We can go anywhere, Emet. We can see the world. And my true home will always be here.” He returned his hand to Emet’s chest, which felt perfect.
“Will you teach me to read and to pray?”
“I will teach you everything I know, and we can learn the rest together.”
Jakob took Emet’s soft hand in his hard one and led him back into the house. As Emet watched, Jakob gathered the ingredients for a feast. And when the meal was ready, together they sang their thanks.