Page 2 of In Just a Year
Etchings like the molds for medallions had been carved on the inside of each silver petal. Unlike the outside of the dreidel that had been polished by the salt in its watery cave for decades, the inside seemed protected from corrosion and wear.
“What does it mean?” Rosie asked.
Fave marveled at the dreidel. “I thought it was just one of Grandfather’s stories.”
Arnold was equally entranced. “You don’t think this is—”
“It has to be,” Fave said. “Eydlshteyn majse.” Gemstone stories. “Just like Grandfather used to say, the Dreidel of Destiny.”
“Grandfather said it was made during a time when the Jewish people were divided,” Arnold said. “Its blooming symbolized unity and peace, reminding the people of their shared roots and collective fate.”
Ben’s eyes searched Gideon’s. “That just sounds like a bedtime story.”
Fave seemed awestruck. “Spinning the dreidel with a pure heart was said to invoke the blessings of the twelve tribes, bringing prosperity and harmony. This sacred dreidel has been passed down through generations, embodying unity, faith, and the enduring strength of the Jewish people. May I have that, please?” He pointed at the lump of dough in Rosie’s hands.
“Doesn’t it smell nice?” She handed it to him, a proud gleam in her dark eyes.
He squished the lump of dough on Gideon’s mahogany desk, flattened it with his palms, and then pushed the open dreidel into the dough like a flower smashed on its face.
Rosie gasped, and Gideon’s mien darkened.
“Fave!” Arnold and Gideon exclaimed at once.
But as he lifted the dreidel from the dough, they all studied the impression it had left. Fave was brilliant! It was a stamp. Twelve petals with coin-like images emerged. One showed the scene of a shooting star over a mountain and clouds. The star had left more than an indent in the dough—a gem rough.
“What’s this?” Rosie asked as Gideon pulled a stone from the dough.
“Nothing I’ve ever seen before. It must be very rare,” he answered.
Arnold gasped. “It’s one-of-a-kind.”
Fave ran his free hand through his hair, holding the open dreidel in the other. “The Legend of the Vesuvius Star says a unique gem was born from the fiery belly of the earth when a comet fell into the molten heart of a volcano and solidified into a precious stone that shimmered with sublime light. Its luminous quality holds a captivating glow, reflecting a blend of the moon’s silvery radiance and the warm, ember-like sheen of the volcano. Do you think this could be it?” Fave asked Gideon, the expert on rough gems. And even though Fave was standing in Gideon’s study, with his back to the wall of leather-bound books with Hebrew lettering and treatises on math, Fave was the walking and talking encyclopedia of mythology and antiquity.
“There’s a twinkling star at its core,” Gideon mumbled.
“Hence the name Vesuvius Star,” Ben said with a gleam in his eyes. How many more priceless gems did Izaac Pearler hide like this? Each time they found another piece to his treasure puzzle, new riddles surfaced as if his invisible hand guided them toward something, but nobody knew the destination. There’d been a map hidden inside a quartz and there were mythical images hidden in this dreidel. The gems were the bait for something larger Izaac Pearler wanted to teach them.
“You found a treasure beyond compare,” Arnold said to Gideon.
Ben’s insides clenched. He knew his oldest brother had endured his share of difficulty, heartbreak, and trouble. But he’d also had an adventure with the woman he loved and returned triumphant with an amazing treasure. Ben couldn’t help but long for a slice of this excitement himself.
Compared to his older brothers, he had little to offer besides a mind that could see jewels in layers and recall images of basically anything. He wasn’t the oldest like Gideon, he wasn’t the prodigy pianist like Raphi, nor the most talented jeweler like Caleb. He wasn’t even half as good at mathematics as Aaron and his wife Liora, who were conducting elaborate research projects in Edinburgh, while Ben had attended his classes and solved the problems in his homework. Even his achievements as crown jeweler were merely filling in the gaps of what his older brothers had left, attaching pins on brooches, polishing prongs for Caleb’s pavé settings, mounting the gems that Fave had cut or the pearls Arnold had imported. Nothing special, never the first. That was the story of Ben’s life.
But as he looked at the mythical dreidel—what had Fave called it?—the Dreidel of Destiny, Ben wondered if he could do more and bring some fire like the ones from their gems into his life. Despite the glamour of the Crown Jewels, he longed for the brilliance of finding a treasure himself. An adventure to be remembered by. A quest to show he wasn’t little Benny anymore, but Benjamin Klonimus, crown jeweler, and … oh, who was he fooling? Soon, he’d return to university or his workbench. He’d earn a degree in mathematics like his brothers and work alongside them. It had to be enough.
It must suffice.
But it didn’t.
“Each petal tells a story and gives us a clue,” Fave said.
Ben bent over the relief in the dough. “We have to solve them.”
Arnold’s eyes met Fave’s. “Gideon, you found the first gem of twelve, so there are more.”
“Do you think there’s a gem for each myth hidden?” Rosie asked.
“Yes.” Gideon smiled at her. “The treasure hunt has just begun.”
