Two From Isaac's House

by Normandie Fischer

  “Sorry. Missed that. But nothing’s very far away here. Not with a car. Imagine making the trek on foot.”

  The car picked that moment to sputter. “No, no,” she told it, feathering the pedal because that sounded like a good idea.

  The engine came back to life for a few seconds, sputtered again, and then, ignoring her pleas, died. Right there in the middle of the road. She muscled the steering wheel to the right to get the car off to the side and pulled on the emergency brake.

  “You’re supposed to be a dependable little Volvo.” She moaned as she leaned her forehead on hands that gripped the top of the wheel.

  Acie sighed and reached into the back for the sweater she’d tossed there. “You have a rag in here?”

  She pointed behind her. “Tissues.”

  “I’ll check fluids. Pull the latch?” Acie climbed out and bent toward the engine to check whatever. Soon, she closed the hood and climbed back in.

  Rina would not weep. Or say something she’d regret.

  Wiping her glasses with another tissue, Acie sighed. “The fluids seem fine, so we’ve just moved past anything I know about engines. We’ve been driving a good way down this road, and my guess is we’re not too far from a town of some sort. You want to walk it or wait here in case some other car comes along? We haven’t seen a single one since we turned, so I’m not holding out much hope for rescue.”

  It would be dark soon. “They say it’s always safer to stick with your car.”

  “You are tired, aren’t you?”

  “I really am.”

  “We shouldn’t have made the trip yet. I could kick myself, pushing you to do this so soon.”

  “I just need food and bed, in that order.”

  “I’ve an idea,” Acie said. “You stay here.”

  “No way.”

  “No, really, you can lock the car and curl up on the back seat. I’ll take the flashlight and head out toward that town, which can’t be too far away. As soon as I get help, I’ll come pick you up.”

  “Absolutely not. I will not stay here in the middle of no man’s land alone. And I will not let you go wandering without me. Anything could happen. Shine the flashlight, and I’ll follow.”

  “Not in this weather. You’ll get pneumonia.”

  “I won’t. It’s not like it’s cold out, and I’ve got that light jacket.”

  “I don’t think…”

  She ignored Acie and climbed out of the car, her jacket draped over her head. They trudged in silence. Wet trickled down her arms. It squished between her toes and rolled off her nose. Her sandals, which had seemed perfect for the warm day, found every muddy hole and every rock that might turn an ankle. It couldn’t be any better for Acie. “How’re you doing?”

  “Fine,” Acie said. “You?”

  “I’m dreaming of a hot, hot shower.”

  “And food. Wine. Bed.”

  When her jacket failed to keep the wet off her head, Rina stopped, wiped the dripping hair from her face and the flood from her eyes, and put the jacket over her shoulders. On they slogged. “How much farther can it possibly be?”

  “If it’s not around the next bend, I’ll have to crawl the rest of the way. Are you holding up?”

  “No, but turning back sounds worse.”

  Light faded along with their spirits. The wet bleakness felt creepy. Unfamiliar noises filtered through the patter of rain and the crunch of their shoes on debris.

  “I wonder if those stories of hyenas are true? Or mountain lions,” Acie said, puffing slightly. They drew closer together.

  “What was that?”

  “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “There, don’t you hear it now? That sputtering?”

  “Hush a minute, and maybe I’ll be able to.” Silence, then Acie said, “I think it’s a car. It is. Must be in terrible shape.”

  “Well, anything’s better than this.”

  They waited as an old Renault lumbered up. A man’s head poked out the window. Into the gloom his voice said something unintelligible.

  “Tell him we don’t understand,” Acie said.

  “How? In Swahili?”

  “Ah, you are American young ladies?” The tenor voice sounded pleased.

  “Oh, yes, how nice. You speak English,” Acie said.

  “Why are you out here alone? And so wet.”

  “Our car broke down. Back there a ways.”

  “May I drive you someplace for a telephone?”

  Acie bent to peer into the car. “We don’t want to take you out of your way.”

  “It is not important. Come, get in.” He pushed open the passenger door.

  The interior light revealed dark hair, heavy dark brows over even darker eyes, and a thin-lipped smile. He looked so much like the imagined sheiks in a paperback romance that Rina forgot to return the smile. She climbed in the back as Acie adjusted the front seat to fit her length.

  “… Shimon Eitan,” he was saying, an expectant note in his voice.

  Acie introduced them. “You’re Israeli then?”

  So, not a sheik, a Jewish patriarch.

  “Yes, from the north of here.” He put the car in gear and turned it around. “I will stop to get your things for you? And then perhaps take you where you wish.”

  He pulled up in front of the rental. “Your keys?”

  Rina handed them over. He was soon back with their bags safely stowed in his trunk and a promise to drive them into Tiberias and their hotel. “It is a lovely area. You will meet friends here perhaps?”

  “No. Just us.”

  Her skin had begun to ache, and her eyes burned.

  Shimon spoke again. “Have you met many people in Israel, Jews or Arabs?”

  “Not really,” Acie said. “We’d like to, certainly. Rina’s uncle is an archaeologist. As a matter of fact, we’re waiting for him to get back from some dig or other.”

  “I did not want to ask, but I had wondered why you chose to visit now, you know, without a tour at a time when the hostilities escalate. Many tourists remain at home.”

  “It’s to see Rina’s uncle. Also, we wanted information, rather Rina did when she went to Jordan, about a friend of hers who died. As a matter of fact, that’s how she got to the Middle East.”

  She willed Acie to hush. Tony wasn’t a subject for random conversation, but she didn’t know how to shut her friend up without making things worse. At least they’d never have to see this man again. She didn’t like his looks, Jew or not.

  “Ah, a friend died, I am so very sorry. But you went to Jordan first? This friend was not from Israel?” Shimon addressed her, but the darkness made his face a mask. “I am sad for you. He died from a sickness?”

  She roused herself to answer. “I don’t know. I really know nothing.”

  “Ah,” he said. “I am sorry.” His tone sounded sympathetic. Wondering whether his eyebrows were up or down, she remained silent. He spoke again. “It is a pity you know no more. This makes it harder, yes?”

  “It does,” Acie said. “So much harder when there aren’t answers.”

  Rina leaned against the window, ignoring the man when he brought the subject around to the rental car. “If they cannot fix your auto, may I offer my assistance? I would be most pleased to take you wherever you need to go before I leave the area. I could perhaps postpone my trip.”

  “We couldn’t ask—” began Acie.

  “I’m certain the car will be ready.” She didn’t want to see this man again in spite of his apparent kindness. He asked too many questions. “If not, the rental agency will replace it.”

  “Of course. Still, if there is any difficulty in the arrangements, you will let me know?”

  “Yes, thank you for all your help,” Acie said.

  “It is my very great pleasure,” he said as he stopped in front of their hotel. “I will telephone to you here tomorrow.”

  The manager checked them in, said he would call about their rental car, and suggested they might like to order roo
m service off the reduced menu. “The kitchens are understaffed, I’m afraid, as so many are being called up.”

  “Lovely, thank you.” Acie steered them toward the elevator and studied the menu as they rode up to the third floor. Once in the room, she dropped her bag and headed to the phone. “I don’t know about you, but soup, salad, and wine sounds good to me.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Go ahead and get your shower. I’ll call it in.”

  With her muscles warmed by the hot spray, she thought guiltily of Aice still wet and cold. But in the room, a lovely meal awaited, along with an open a bottle of Pinot Grigio. Acie had removed her wet clothes and sat in one of the hotel bathrobes, a glass in hand.

  “Good girl,” Rina said, pouring one for herself.

  Later, replete, she lay back on the bed, slightly misty-eyed. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” Acie paused on her way to the bathroom.

  “For being here. For being my friend.” And no, she was not going to spill those tears.

  Acie leaned over for a hug. “Love you, girl.”

  Water splashed on the shower walls, and a slower splatter hit the windows. Rina closed her eyes. What would tomorrow bring? Tomorrow and the next day and the next.

  The shower quit. The bathroom was quiet until water ran in the sink, and a toothbrush hit the sink’s edge.

  Soon, Acie padded out in her pajamas. Sitting on the side of the bed, she slathered lotion on her legs. “What do you think the manager meant when he said the staff was being called up? Are they actually going to have a war?”

  “I hope not.”

  “I read about those three Israeli boys kidnapped and murdered.” Acie climbed under her sheet and turned out her bedside lamp.

  “I wish it would end. That suicide bombers would stop and Hamas would stop and everyone would quit being so angry.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible, but it’s a lovely idea.”

  Acie was right, of course. She hated it, but there’d been so many years of ugliness here. Too many to deny the hatred spewing forth.

  “We don’t need to be afraid,” Acie said. “God hasn’t changed his mind about Israel.”

  This seemed to have more to do with man’s nastiness than anything of God. “Do you think he’s up there pulling strings?”

  “I meant that we can trust God to work it all out.”

  “Not for everyone.” She rolled toward the wall.

  Acie didn’t answer. Of course she didn’t.

  So Rina spoke to the air in front of her. “You seem to want to ignore the fact that lots of people get killed, including a lot of good people.”

  “Rina.”

  Acie’s voice was so gentle that she felt her eyes fill, but she couldn’t keep quiet. “Maybe you ought to ask God just what he’s doing, letting things get so messed up that people like our old pal Ibrahim can even exist.” Her voice cracked. “The world’s so full of madmen killing the best, always the best. How can you even say there’s a God at work in the middle of it?”

  Rina wasn’t even sure she meant the blasphemy of those words, but the pain slammed into her, and all she wanted was to rail at someone. Even God.

  Of course, if she railed at God, she’d be admitting he existed and might actually be able to hear her.

  Acie climbed out of bed and knelt beside her, stroking her hair.

  “He’s gone. He’s… he’s dead, and I never got to… to tell him I loved him.”

  “I’m sure he knew.”

  37

  TONY

  Patches of sky blinked through the arbor in back of the Cohen’s house, and the scent of jasmine mingled with the fragrance of coffee. Beyond the house, the desert night teemed with life, but the haunting music of flute and cello drowned other sounds. Tony closed his eyes and let the notes flow over him.

  One could dream in this home, and the music Gila played on her iPod had probably done as much to heal him as her medicines and delicious food. His shoulder had improved enough for him to know he’d once again use it, but he still couldn’t properly exercise the muscles to make them fully functional. At least his bones had more flesh on them. The extra flab he’d carried when Bahir shot him had dwindled by the time he’d awakened here in Arad.

  Adam must have read his mind. “Here, you need a few pounds.” He extended a plate of cookies.

  Tony took one with his left hand. “I shouldn’t.”

  “Yes, you should. Nothing but bones when I met you, and you’re still scrawny around the edges.”

  “My muscles are going to atrophy from lack of use. I suppose it’s fortunate I had the extra weight to drop before this happened.”

  “May have kept you alive. For the rest, be patient.”

  If only he didn’t have to worry about one tall American girl, he might be able to enter more readily into what was going on, but concern for Rina scattered his thoughts. If she didn’t send him an email soon, he’d see if Zif’s people could find her.

  He tried to corral his thoughts now as he set his cup back on the table. “You know, I’ve been working out of Israel for a number of years, and I’ve met a lot of people, but you guys, you and the Cohens, seem different. I’m trying to put my finger on it.”

  Adam didn’t answer.

  “You’re a lot like my parents,” Tony continued, talking as much to himself as to his companion, “but there’s something else. You haven’t said anything, any of you, that gives me a clue.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I’m sort of wondering what’s going on.”

  The older man cleared his throat and rested locked fingers across his broad chest. “Well, son, you’re right about the Cohens. What they’ve got, the thing that makes them different, is the reason I’m here. Ben’s research piqued my curiosity.”

  “I don’t understand. He’s found some secret to happiness and peace?”

  “Yes and no. No secret formula, but a key to unlocking the scriptures. Very intriguing.”

  “Okay.” Tony couldn’t mask his skepticism.

  “Ben has a good friend who worked on one of the Dead Sea scrolls. A couple of years ago, the friend visited here after having been the target of some very angry rabbinical students who had actually tried to kill him.”

  Tony waited.

  “While recuperating, this friend got to talking with Ben. Shared his findings, started Ben thinking and digging on his own, especially into the book of the Prophet Isaiah. And according to Ben, some words in Isaiah 53 popped off the page at him, about the suffering servant. Know the scholar Rashi? He said the passage in Isaiah referred to Israel, but Maimonides—”

  “Maim… who?”

  “Maimonides. Called the Rambam, from his initials. Jewish scholar from the eleven hundreds, born in Spain, lived in Cairo, wrote on the law and practice. Contradicted Rashi, said Isaiah 53 definitely referred to the Messiah and that we could test the validity of a messianic claim by it. Maimonides was a faithful Jew, but he interpreted the scriptures differently. So Ben used his yardstick and said scales dropped. Finally, he understood.”

  “What do you mean? I must be dense. I’ve never heard of any of these guys.”

  In the semi-darkness, Tony heard a slurping sound and then the slight rasp of napkin on beard as the music changed inside. Adam had a soothing voice, deep and penetrating but with a hint of humor that usually showed up in both his tone and his eyes. The eyes were almost invisible now, until Adam turned so the dim light from the back door glinted off them.

  “I don’t have answers,” Adam said. “But Ben has spent a lot of time reading anything he could put together. It finally took him to a scripture in Daniel—the prophecy saying the Messiah would come before the destruction of the Temple. But the Temple was finally destroyed in AD 70.”

  Tony shook his head. “You’ve lost me.”

  “That’s what I told Ben. I wanted to understand the hows and whys of his thinking based on this research. Curiosity brought me here, but there’s something more
than curiosity that has kept me here. The implications are astounding if they’re true.”

  “Care to clarify?” Tony stood and leaned against a post. Sitting motionless for very long made his joints ache, and he had enough ache remaining in his collarbone.

  “I can tell you what Ben says, and he is probably the soundest scholar, the least emotional man I know. Certainly, the last to go off the deep end. Ben is convinced that Yeshua was—is—the Jewish Messiah. What convinced him, he said, was the historical timeline along with the fact that Yeshua fulfilled the words of Isaiah 53, which were definitely messianic. All of them. I still must consider all of this for myself and develop my own response as it disrupts all my religious teachings.”

  “Yes, of course.” Tony didn’t know what to say. He knew there were Messianic Jews, but he’d never before met any.

  Glancing over his shoulder toward the patio doors, he considered Ben and Gila and their incredible kindness. He’d imagined converts as heavily into proselytizing, but neither had said a word to him.

  “Ben reminded me that not only was Yeshua a Jew from the line of David, but his early followers were all Jews. Most of those who followed false messiahs fell away once their leader met his death, but not Yeshua’s. Not even when they faced death and persecution for preaching about him.” Adam paused for a few moments before continuing. “That’s the part that grabbed hold of me. Even the Roman-Jewish historian Josephus, who wrote in the first century AD, mentioned Yeshua, called the Christ, and his brother James. Josephus’s writings on the death of John the Baptist and other contemporaneous mentions in his Antiquities have given much historical credence to New Testament writings.”

  Tony still didn’t know how to answer, and all he came up with was “Interesting.”

  “Yes, isn’t it? Something to ponder, certainly.”

  “Yes. Indeed.” And he would. Later.

  Adam cleared his throat. “Don’t know if you’ve been listening to the news at all. Things are heating up.”

  Glad for the change of subject, Tony perked up. “They found the bodies of the three missing boys, didn’t they?”

  “Yes, and rocket attacks from Gaza are escalating. It’s going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better. I’m planning to head back to Jerusalem tomorrow or the next day.”