One the way home, Sholomoh and Ruth look as if what was on there mind was more important than the quite of the ride.

  Sholomoh:

  “Can I ask you something? I realize we haven’t had many chances to talk these last few days. We wanted to make sure you and Shoshana had your time.”

  Thomas nodded, watching the dark blur of trees slide past the window.

  Thomas:

  “Of course.”

  Ruth:

  “I do have a question—something that’s been on my heart. You’re not feeling pressured to be Jewish, are you?”

  There was no judgment in her voice. Just the warm, steady concern of someone who had long ago learned to listen before speaking.

  Thomas took a breath.

  Thomas:

  “Actually… no. It wouldn’t be honest to say there’s pressure. But it also wouldn’t be fair to pretend there aren’t circumstances gently guiding me. That said—it’s still my choice. I’ve made it freely.”

  He paused, glancing toward Shoshana’s sleeping figure.

  “As it was explained to me—even if Shoshana were to choose my faith, our children would still be considered Jewish. But more than that… I feel that you all have chosen me. And so, I choose you.

  I never wanted to feel like I had to be accepted just because I was ‘part of the membership.’”

  Ruth smiled softly, turning in her seat to face him more fully.

  Ruth:

  “That’s good to hear. Because we do feel you’re part of this family. And we’re glad you feel it too.”

  She hesitated, as if weighing how much to say next.

  Ruth:

  “Did you know you really impressed Zeb this weekend? He’d already been impressed on paper. But when you joined him for minyan—something changed. It confirmed for him what we’ve known for a while.”

  Thomas looked up, sensing a shift.

  Thomas:

  “That means a lot, especially coming from him.”

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  Ruth:

  “They may be thinking of asking something of you. Something serious.”

  Sholomoh spoke gently, his voice like a bridge to help Ruth cross into deeper waters.

  Sholomoh:

  “You must understand—it wouldn’t come from obligation. It would come from longing. Deep, aching longing.”

  Ruth:

  “Zeb can’t have children. It’s not his fault. But still, the longing remains. Tamar has carried it quietly for years. Some would advise divorce, even now. A fresh start. But that’s not who they are. They’ve considered IVF—with a donor. They haven’t decided yet. They’re scared. But they’ve thought about asking you.”

  Thomas froze—not in resistance, but in the weight of it. Ruth didn’t rush him.

  Ruth:

  “We’re telling you now so you can ask yourself the serious questions. You might say yes without a second thought—because you care. But this isn’t just about what you can give. It’s about what you’d be giving up.

  If you agree, you won’t be able to claim the child. Not as yours. Not now, not ever. Only Zeb, Tamar, Sholomoh, and I would know.”

  She glanced at him carefully.

  Ruth:

  “You do resemble Zeb. That helps. But do you understand what’s being asked?”

  Thomas swallowed hard. He didn’t speak right away.

  Thomas:

  “I want to say yes. But I’d be lying if I said I fully understand. Thank you for telling me. I’m not sure what to say right now.”

  Sholomoh:

  “That’s a wise answer. If the first attempt succeeds… they may ask again, before you leave on your mission. If you’d be open to that.”

  Thomas nodded slowly, hands folded in his lap.

  Thomas:

  “I understand the desire. If the first child comes, we can talk about the rest. Something tells me… this may not be a ‘two and done’ situation.”

  Ruth smiled gently.

  Ruth:

  “You’re not wrong. The desire for children changes with each one. I had a sister who swore she’d only have one… until she had her first. Then she couldn’t get enough.

  And I had a cousin who wanted ten. She had one—and stopped there.

  So yes—play it by ear.”

  Thomas looked out the window again, his breath fogging the glass now too.

  Thomas:

  “I’ve been wondering… how do you feel about me going on a mission? I know you never seemed to practice the faith I was raised in. But I’ve learned that the way we do missions—it’s very different from how things are done in Judaism.”

  Ruth considered that for a moment.

  Ruth:

  “It’s a good question. When you first came to live with us… there was a quiet tension. We didn’t know how long you’d be in our lives. So it didn’t make sense to push our religion. But you always respected our beliefs.

  In some strange way, we’ve become more observant because of you.”

  Thomas turned back, a little surprised.

  Ruth:

  “Miriam and I talked after something Zeb noticed—and something you were asked last night. The idea that you have a kind of emunah—a personal, rooted faith. One that lives under the surface, beyond ritual or doctrine.

  Oddly enough, that’s what’s encouraged us to be more active in our own faith.”

  There was silence again—gentler now, and filled with something like reverence. Then Sholomoh spoke.

  Sholomoh:

  “Do you know when I knew you were going to be part of this family?”

  Ruth shook her head, curious.

  Ruth:

  “When?”

  Sholomoh:

  “The first Friday night dinner. When he let me bless him—‘May you be like Ephraim and Manasseh.’ That’s when I knew. And I knew he’d struggle with accepting it.”

  He looked at Thomas then—not with pity, but with awe.

  Sholomoh:

  “The more I get to know you, the more I marvel that you can accept any family at all. Let alone ours. Yet you’ve embraced us with your whole heart.”

  Thomas didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

  Outside, the road unwound in silence.

  Let me know if you’d like to build the scene before this one (Thanksgiving at the parents’ house) or the next step of Thomas’s journey. I can also help structure the entire arc if you’re outlining the full story.