Blood Moon Redemption

by Judy DuCharme

  Tassie froze. Blood drained from her face. In her mind’s eye, she saw Hector looking at her. She quickly hurried back into the kitchen and gulped her goblet of wine. She began pulling things out of the cupboard, making noise. I just got here, just walked in—went right to the wine cabinet. Heard nothing. Should I run?

  She hurried back to the table with her wine glass to pretend she was just setting down his glass.

  Omar peeked out the door, held up one finger, and closed the door. Please think I just got here. She heard him speaking in Arabic, first low and firm, then loudly again. He ended the conversation and came out with a sweet, big smile.

  “When did you get here? I didn’t hear you. My brother just called from Syria. My mother is ill. I may need to go.”

  “Oh, I am so sorry. Please send her my love.”

  Omar raised his eyebrows. “Of course. You just arrived?”

  “Yes, yes—went right for the wine and wanted to see the view. It’s so beautiful.” She kissed him lightly and hurried over to the window.

  Omar sipped the wine, set down the glass, and stood behind Tassie, wrapping both arms around her waist and nuzzling her neck. Tassie forced herself to relax and lean back into him. He chuckled, “You are a noisy cook.”

  “Oh, I knew I was late and saw the steaks already out, so I just started getting stuff ready. Then I knew I needed wine, so I poured us each a glass. I heard you on the phone.”

  She sensed the slightest change in his grip around her. “You heard my phone call?”

  “I heard Arabic, so I wondered if you were talking to family.” Say no more. Shut up, Tassie.

  Omar turned her around to face him and kissed her gently on the lips. Then he held her at arm’s length looking deeply into her eyes. She felt as though she was melting. How does this man do this to me?

  “Shall we have dessert before dinner?” He smiled.

  “Sounds delightful, but we’d better eat.”

  “Dessert after sounds even more delightful.” He took her hand, and they returned to the kitchen and just gazed at each other as they sipped more wine. “All right, then. Let’s make dinner.”

  Dinner was over, dishes done, and Omar lounged on the massive couch that faced the windows. Tassie curled up beside him. Now the stars twinkled back at the city lights below and the beauty of the night enthralled Tassie. Deep within, though, dwelt a jumble of unease.

  That phone call. Lemkrof? Israel? Anger about plans and deadlines? Maybe Hector was right. Tassie determined to continue acting as though all she heard was Arabic. She could do that. Tassie sighed deeply to calm herself. If he asks, I can truthfully say it’s the beauty right out that window that makes me sigh.

  “I do hope your mother will be all right.”

  She felt Omar stiffen ever so slightly. “I do too. I’ll call the airline in the morning and see if I can get a flight for the afternoon or evening. I have to take care of a few things before I go. She’s in good hands. And so are you.” Omar lifted her face to his. Little electric thrills coursed through Tassie, and despite her worry, she yielded to his persuasion.

  An hour later, Tassie started gathering her things.

  The door to the bathroom opened. Omar stood in the doorway, observing Tassie as she prepared to go. He strolled to her and pulled her onto his lap on the bed. “You’re not thinking of leaving now? It’s too late. It’s not safe.”

  Tassie chuckled. “Oh, I’ve been around the block a few times. The parking garage is secure, and I know my way home.” She tapped his nose. “I’ll be fine. You have a long day tomorrow.”

  “I’ll deal better with tomorrow if you’re here tonight.” Omar put his face in his best pout. “Please stay.”

  It wasn’t the first night she’d spent with Omar. She knew it displeased her parents, but it was her choice. She had originally planned to stay the night, but now she was unsure of who this man was. Lemkrof, Israel . . . What could that mean? Did she misunderstand?

  “Tassie, you in there?” Omar was laughing.

  “Yes, yes, I’m here.”

  “Good. I need you here tonight.” He kissed her again.

  A few minutes later Tassie snuggled beside Omar and fell asleep before she had time to consider the situation again.

  She heard voices. Must be dreaming. It’s too dark for conversation. Tassie tried to shift her position. How in the world did I get tangled in the sheets?

  “Hold her still.”

  Tassie felt hands press her arms to her side. She thrashed. She stole a peek at what was happening. There were two men in the room. In the bedroom! With Omar!

  “Pull that bag back over her head.” That was Omar’s voice.

  “A bag? Over my head? Omar, what . . . ” Tassie felt a severe blow to the side of her head. Pain. A stunning realization that faded into nothingness.

  Tassie awoke to low voices speaking a language she didn’t know and to a throbbing headache.

  Where am I? Did I have that much to drink that I’m hungover? She was in some kind of lounge chair that had a familiarity to it, but first she needed to open her eyes. Why did they not work? She needed to bring her hand up to rub her eyes and force them to awake.

  She hesitated. Her head pounded. She slowly recalled being at Omar’s, of staying the night, of dreaming she was wrapped up in the sheets and a bag. Tassie froze. Her heartbeat picked up pace and sweat formed on her brow. She reached up to wipe the perspiration while holding her eyes shut. Her forehead wasn’t there. Instead, her hand met velvet cloth. It covered her face.

  Claustrophobia engulfed her, and she tore the head piece from her body. The pain in her head was no match for the terror she felt as she realized she was on an airplane. She moaned and began coughing.

  A door opened. Arabic voices. Then Omar appeared. He sat beside her, taking her hands into his and lightly kissing them. “I see you are awake. Would you like something to eat?”

  “Omar, what are you?”

  Omar slapped her face. The sting brought tears to her eyes and shock to her thinking. Tassie stared at him, letting the tears roll down her face.

  “Oh, poor baby. I don’t know what you heard, but you heard more than you should have. I should have noticed when you came in, but I didn’t. So my only choice is to take you with me.”

  Tassie shook her head and tried to swallow the fear rising within.

  Omar’s voice was hard, his eyes piercing. “You will serve us well. Oh, by the way, I took the freedom to use your phone and text your mother that you were taking a few days off to go on a business trip. I texted your boss that there was a family emergency and they would be unable to contact you for a few days.”

  “That’s unscrupulous and you know it, Omar.” She placed her hand on her head. The pounding had not let up.

  “Eat, and then sleep off your drunken stupor.”

  “I had two glasses of wine. You know I wasn’t drunk. Someone hit me on the head.”

  “And if you don’t shut up, you’ll get another strike.” Omar turned and left the cabin.

  Tassie tasted bile. It hurt too much to think, but she had to think. Quit crying. Hector was right. I should have done a background check, but it’s too late now. I have to think about what I can do.

  “Omar?” She could still see him through the open door.

  He looked at her with hard steel eyes but said nothing.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  He smiled and quickly raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I thought I told you. My mother is ill, and I have to go to Syria.” Several voices laughed, and he closed the door.

  Syria! She might never return. Despite the blood pounding in her head, Tassie willed the pain away. She needed to think clearly.

  The door opened. A big burly man brought a tray of food to Tassie. “Eat,” he ordered. “She is a pretty one, Omar.” He grinned.

  “I’m done with her.” Omar laughed. “Perhaps I’ll give her to you.”

  Fear constricted her throat, but Tassie refused to reac
t. Her lawyer training helped her, but she knew it was more than that. Perhaps there is a God and He is helping. I certainly need help now.

  The food was like a stew. She couldn’t quite identify it as it held an unfamiliar taste. It’s the spices . . . cumin, thyme, but there are more. Oh wait, I didn’t savor it. She glanced around.

  “Hey boss, she’s polite like an Arab when she eats. Maybe you want to keep her. She’d look good in a burka.”

  “Believe me, she looks better with nothing.” The laughter was cruel. “But you’re right. She might be of some use. Then I’ll give her to you.”

  Eat, Tassie, eat. And think.

  “Boss, boss, check the window. What is that?”

  “It’s the northern Lights. Didn’t you go to school?”

  “Yea, but they’re red. Are they supposed to be red?”

  Tassie forgot the food and lifted the shade next to her. There in amazing brilliance was a curtain of lights dancing across the sky in reds and pinks and greens. She could see the full moon in the same direction with tints and shades of red. It made her think of the blood moon just the month before.

  Mom was right. And Hector, and Jethro. Dear God, what is happening? Did I just pray? I don’t know how to pray. But, God, I need help.

  Tassie was mesmerized by the view of the red northern lights engulfing the moon. It was terrifying and beautiful at the same time.

  “Hey, who said you could watch?” The burly man pulled her shade and leaned down to her face. “Eat!”

  Avoiding his stare, she picked up her fork and began eating. The more she ate, the groggier she became. Not a spice, a drug. Oh, Dear God, even Hector Woodley, please help me.

  Before she finished the food, her head dropped back, and she could think no more.

  Tassie jolted awake. What was that?

  It felt like a plane touching down. The shades were still pulled down, so she couldn’t quite discern if it was daylight or dark. As her eyes adjusted, she became aware of a heaviness all around her. Oh no, a burka. They have me in a burka. She wanted to scream. Tears threatened to flood her eyes. No, I’ll be strong. There has to be a way. There must.

  CHAPTER 12

  1948, ISRAEL

  Nadir entered the house. Oh Allah, guide my steps. Bless my deception.

  The young couple chatted joyfully with the people who entered before him. The smells of a plethora of food greeted his nostrils, and he breathed in. Not only do I get the relic but delicious food as well. I am favored already.

  It was his third visit. He was pleased. They liked him. He must exercise caution for he didn’t want them to like him so much they remembered him. The people were nice, for Jews. The food was marvelous. He would try to teach Bashra a few of the recipes.

  The stone walls had paintings on them reflecting the landscapes of Israel, and a braided rug graced the floor. Mismatched chairs sat about the room. Wonderful smells wafted in from the kitchen. The house was small yet spacious. And Samuel and Sophie Orbin made all feel welcome.

  Sophie approached Nadir. “Oh, hello. Benjamin, is it? Forgive me, I try to remember everyone’s names, but I do get a few mixed up.”

  “That is correct. You remember very nicely.” Nadir was pleased that he had given a Jewish sounding name far from his. No way to trace him.

  “Oh my, this is it.” A man in an officer’s uniform stood in the doorway staring at the mantel where the bottle was displayed. He walked directly to it. “Oh my.” He turned, looking at Sophie and Nadir. “May I touch it?”

  “Certainly.” Sophie walked over. “I am Sophie Orbin. My husband Samuel and I, with my father, brought the tassel back to Israel. Please pick it up, sir.”

  The officer turned back and gingerly picked it up. “Oh, blessed be God. This is so wonderful to hold. So many years, so many generations, so many blessings.”

  He carefully set it back on the mantel after kissing the bottle. Then he seemed to wake up. “Oh, forgive me. I have forgotten my manners. Thank you. Thank you for allowing me to be here. I am Rupert Winkelman. I am in the lineage of Christopher Columbus, so I must be related to you, Mrs. Orbin.”

  Samuel entered the small living room. “Sir, I am Samuel Orbin. I’m delighted to meet a family member. We carry a wonderful heritage. Oh, I see you have brought Benjamin with you.”

  “Oh no, we came separately, but I’m pleased to meet you.” Mr. Winkelman held out his hand to shake Nadir’s hand. “Benjamin, I am from the United States. Where are you from?”

  Nadir backed up. This was a little too close, too personal. He wanted to only blend in, not stand out. These Americans, so direct, so rude. “I have recently returned to Eretz-Israel. It is a blessing of God, to be here, and see the bottle.”

  Nadir walked quickly over to the bottle, to avoid more conversation and possible exposure. The man and the couple talked animatedly. They were all Americans, Jews, and related. Nadir wanted to spit. He knew he needed to get the relic soon. He wanted to get it tonight. Would it be possible?

  More people arrived, and Nadir was able to blend in more. He managed to avoid any more conversation with the American officer. Nadir heard him say he served in the American Air Force and had been stationed in Italy. He was the center of attention, which was just fine with Nadir. However, would this man be able to solve the mystery of the missing bottle if he absconded with it tonight?

  Nadir put off his plans when the food was served. He bowed his head and mumbled so anyone standing near him would think he was doing the shema with them. I must strengthen myself for the task. Bashra is a beautiful wife, but her cooking . . . well, it could be better. I will enjoy this food.

  All the people helped clean up. Nadir considered it below him. This was woman’s work, but he would follow. Let them all think he was a Jew. Just the thought made him want to spit. But, no, he was chosen by Allah and sent by the Mahdi. He would complete his mission, and he and Bashra would be honored for years to come.

  He looked up. The American officer was leaving. He went to the window to be sure. Indeed, he climbed into a vehicle and drove away. Would he come back? Was this the time?

  “Benjamin.” There was a tap on his shoulder. He jumped.

  “Oh, Benjamin, I am so sorry.” Sophie backed up. “I didn’t mean to startle you. We are going outside for a time of prayer and thanksgiving to God. Tomorrow is Passover and we are so excited. Samuel built a fire in back. Please join us.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Orbin. I would be honored to do that.” Nadir followed her out and considered his options. I am blessed. This will be easy. I will remain in the back while they bow their heads and close their eyes, and I will slip back in the house when it is dark. They will not notice. And because we are going out before it is very dark, they will not have light on in the house. Allah has blessed my work.

  Nadir sat on the ground near the back. He moved a couple times, so he wouldn’t be noticed as leaving. The people sang songs that thanked their God. They were quite nice songs. We should consider songs to bless Allah. I think that would be a good thing.

  Then the Jews prayed. That was not nice. They prayed protection from the Arabs, from the Mahdi. They prayed that they would increase. It was almost more than Nadir could take. He had never been exposed to such prayers before. Nausea churned in his stomach. He should leave before he gave himself away. He looked around. Everyone had their heads bowed and eyes closed as they mumbled along with the prayer being offered at the time.

  Nadir put his feet underneath him, positioning himself into a crouch. He saw no one looking his way so he hurried toward a bush near the privy. He waited a few minutes and then realized it was dark enough that he could not even detect the forms of the people at the outside of the circle. Only those very close to the fire were visible.

  He glanced at the house. It was dark, except for a dim light in the kitchen area. Nadir almost laughed aloud. He walked carefully around the house to the door into the living room where the bottle stood.

  He walked in. No one
was there. Only the bottle, the relic of antiquity, the bottle with protection properties. He grabbed it and placed it in an inner pocket and quickly removed himself from the premises.

  It was all he could do not to run. He walked briskly. He had a three mile walk home in the dark. He could do it. It would be all right.

  Headlights. A car coming his way. He lay down next to the road and rolled toward a ditch. The car drove by.

  Nadir breathed. It continued past the Orbin home. Yes. It will not be returning. Bless Allah they were not picking up Jewish people from the home. Nadir picked himself up and ran until he could run no longer. Walking the rest of the way home with the light of a full moon, he considered singing a song of praise to Allah.

  Undetected he entered his home and sat down on the rickety chair and laughed. Bashra snored lightly in the bedroom. Soon they would have a fine home with rugs and pillows, even couches. Bashra could take cooking lessons and feed him like a king. Better yet, they would hire a cook, and they would take walks and go horseback riding on their own beautiful stallions. He had the bottle, and soon he would place it in the hands of the Mahdi. What a glorious day that would be. He, Nadir, would have money and honor.

  Nadir jolted awake. The relic! Where was it? Had he forgotten to go to the Orbins’? Then he saw the bottle in his hand. He laughed out loud. Bashra snored and turned over in the bed in the other room. Nadir sighed as he looked at the bottle. What wealth would soon be theirs! He stood and walked to the window, wondering if he could go back to sleep.

  The sky was not right. He distinctly remembered a full moon as he walked and ran home with the relic. But now the moon was half gone, and the missing part was red. It wasn’t normal. A heavy foreboding came over him and he stood watching the red completely engulf the moon over the next hour. He shook and sat down again, hoping that all would still be well.

  He slept again and dreamed of great honor bestowed by the Mahdi. He awoke once more and looked out the window. The moon was normal again. Nadir relaxed and fell asleep once more.