Page 14 of Whisked Away By the Alien

“I don’t need the rabbi to tell me what I already know. Anyone can be Jewish. It’s what’s in your heart, a few lessons with the rabbi, a quick slice of the knife, and he’ll be good to go.”

Yeah, I had enough trouble explaining an apron to Sten. I don’t think the idea of a circumcision will go over well.

It’s amazing how as I guide my mom toward the stairs to collect Sadie she keeps talking as if she’s made a shidduch, a match. The poor guy came to learn about humans. He didn’t realize he’d be taking on my mother, Educator and Grandmother by day, matchmaker by Night.

I remind myself I’m her only client on the matchmaking front and I never hired her for the task. Nonetheless, she’s still my mom, which means I get plenty of practice being patient.

“He’s not here to be converted or circumcised. He wants to learn about humans. Now, get out of my kitchen. We have work to do.”

Clearly, I need more practice on the patience part.

“You can carry on our traditions, Goldala. It’s the woman who sets the tone of the home. A yarmulke would fit between his horns quite easily. Though I could see needing to raise the wedding chuppah so those horns don’t shred it.”

“Mom! Leave. Now.”

With an upturned nose, my mom saunters upstairs to get my niece. Crisis averted.

When I turn around, Stenikov is standing in the kitchen doorway, grinning. I don’t know what he’s thinking, and quite frankly, I’m afraid to ask. Hopefully, he doesn’t know a chuppah is a canopy under which a Jewish couple marries. My mother means well, but she can be a handful.

Ignoring that cute smirk on Sten’s face, I slip past him and enter the kitchen. Acting like nothing weird just happened, I start pulling onions and potatoes from the pantry.

“I like your mother, though you misled me.”

That stops me. I’m a lot of things, but I’m no liar. “How so?”

“You said the nameMrs. Birnbaumwas more appropriate. I believe Mr. Harrington was correct when he told me her name isMrs. Gertie-She’s-A-Lovely-Though-Somewhat-Crazy-Woman Birnbaum.”

I love that Stenikov has a sense of humor, especially after my mom attacked him with a frying pan. “Believe me, you don’t know the half of it.”

“She reminds me of my mother.”

That look of longing in his face makes me thankful I have my family here. I can’t imagine being thousands of miles away from my family or my world. I wrap my hand around his arm and lead him to the butcher block island.

“You can have mine if you’d like. Or we can share her. At least for the week you’re here. Maybe you can call her Mom if that’s easier for you. She always welcomes strangers in need into our home. Having a guy who misses his own mother calling her Mom… I think she’d like that.”

“That is a nice offer, Golda. I will consider it.”

“Let’s get started, Sten. This food isn’t going to cook itself.” I set the bag of potatoes on the kitchen island.

“Your mother was wrong. You are very pretty no matter what clothing you’re wearing.”

“Thank you,” I say as I turn my back to him. Taking compliments isn’t my strong suit. And I don’t get many, especially from people I don’t know.

I sort through the pantry, taking the other ingredients we’ll need for the latkes and apple sauce. Stenikov can peel the potatoes while I wash the apples and set up a huge pot of water on the stove.

As I take the Foley Food Mill to crush and strain the cooked apples later, I point to the knife still sticking in the wall. “You’re definitely comfortable with knives.”

Stenikov rocks the blade free from the wood doorframe and discreetly slips it into his boot. Why is the way he handles a knife so damn sexy?

“Thank you for not hurting my mom.”

“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

“But she attacked you.”

“A warrior only uses force when other measures to contain the combatant don’t work.”

“I like that you’re so calm and easy-going.” The words leave my mouth before I can think about it. Handing out compliments, even factual ones, will derail my plans to get through the cooking without thinking about how handsome and nice Stenikov is.

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