More Hebrew chanting followed, but Lara did not read along in the prayer book. She stared ahead, as if the stained-glass windows of the sanctuary offered answers for what she ought to do next.
“Tonight we begin a very difficult job,” the rabbi said. Lara squinted at the book, searching for the rabbi’s words somewhere on the pages.
“FYI, this is the part where I begin my sermon,” she said. “These words aren’t in your books. And I’ll try not to take too long. I know it’s late and many of you aren’t going to be able to eat or drink for the next day. Plus, the whole parking situation is bad. I get it.”
Soft laughter rippled throughout the room. Lara glanced at her watch, hoping that the rabbi’s sermon really was short, or at least short-ish. That probably wasn’t a very good thing to think on Yom Kippur. She just couldn’t help it.
“So, every year we talk about atonement. Forgiveness. Doing better. And yet every year, we all fall a bit short. We all do things that we wish we could take back, if only we had the chance.”
Lara could practically see the Rosh Hashanah dinner in her mind. She could feel the terrible words tumbling out of her mouth.
“But of course, we can’t take things back. We can only try to atone. That’s the entire purpose of Yom Kippur. So how do we do that, exactly? Well, that’s where things get more complicated. I wish I could give you clear instructions, a recipe for how to get forgiveness. Unfortunately, no such magic recipes exist. Asking for forgiveness is hard work. And the person you’re asking for forgiveness from has absolutely no obligation to give it to you. However much you might want it.
“We can ask for forgiveness on Yom Kippur, or on any other day. That’s definitely a start. But getting forgiveness— really, truly getting it—is much harder than that.
“We need to show others why we deserve forgiveness. And that’s not something that can be done in a few words or a card. That requires ongoing action. It requires work. It requires us to think long and hard about the people we want to be.”
More words came out of the rabbi’s mouth—words about responsibility for one’s actions. Showing empathy toward others. Willingness to change. After a while, it all kind of ran together in Lara’s mind. She could only concentrate on one thing.
She had to get Caroline’s forgiveness. No. She needed to earn Caroline’s forgiveness.
As the rabbi concluded her sermon and the choir broke into the final song, Lara began to form a plan. It wasn’t a perfect plan, to be sure. But she was going to give it her very best shot.
* * *
Lara knew exactly what she had to say. She’d repeated the words in her head for the last ten minutes, while she and her parents struggled through the rather large crowd. When they finally emerged, Caroline was waiting at the synagogue entrance. Lara took a deep breath and prepared for the big moment.
“I messed up. I shouldn’t have been mean to everyone, and I definitely shouldn’t have been mean to you,” she began. “I don’t entirely know how, but I want to make it up to you. I promise.”
Caroline tapped her shoulder twice. It was her signal for “wait until my tablet is out and I can talk.” Lara did not want to wait. Not even a little bit. But she owed it to her sister to try.
As soon as they arrived home, Caroline pointed toward the stairs. She wanted to talk. Lara didn’t try to hide the wide smile that broke out on her face.
There were so many things she wanted to say, but Lara knew she should give Caroline the chance to speak first. She resisted the urge to peek at the screen as her sister tapped out her response.
“Are you just apologizing to me because it’s Yom Kippur?” Caroline asked. Her computer voice pronounced the holiday incorrectly.
“No!” Lara insisted. Then she thought about it. “Well, the rabbi’s sermon did make me think, but I’m not apologizing just because it’s Yom Kippur! Come on, Lina-Lin, you know I’ve apologized to you about a bajillion times since . . . you know. Since I said all of those horrible things. I know it’s not enough. But I want . . . I want to earn your forgiveness.”
Caroline stared off into space for a bit. Then she began tapping once more. “Yes. And I want to forgive you. Really, I do. I know I’m not perfect. I have made mistakes too.”
Lara quirked one eyebrow upward. She suspected her sister was referring to the fake rat incident. Lara very much wanted to hear that whole story. Undoubtedly it was quite interesting. But now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to prove that she, Lara, was sorry. Super sorry. Super super sorry, even.
“So, do you accept my apology?” Lara blurted out. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the most subtle approach. After a week and a half of begging for Caroline to give her even a few measly minutes to talk, Lara wasn’t terribly interested in taking the subtle approach.
“I guess so,” Caroline said finally. “I probably didn’t have the right to be so mad at you in the first place. It was my fault that I did the rat prank. You were just telling the truth. I deserved it. Although Dad and everyone else didn’t.”
“I know,” Lara said. “I wish . . . I wish I could make it better.”
Caroline did not say anything to that. Lara drew in a shaky breath and repeated her question for the millionth time. “Can you try to forgive me? For what I said to you, not for anything else.”
Much to Lara’s surprise, her sister’s reply was quick.
“Yes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY: THE CASCADE
LOCATION: Bedroom, erev Yom Kippur
EVENT: C.
