Two From Isaac's House

by Normandie Fischer

  “I don’t suppose you’d care to give me a lift?”

  “If you’re well enough, I’ll be happy to.”

  Maybe he’d be able to accomplish more from Jerusalem than he was managing here in the boonies with limited Internet access. He’d checked his email a few times—when the connection allowed—but hadn’t received a single word from Rina in answer to his letter.

  Gila said he’d be able to leave with Adam. The relief of that spurred a call to Zif to give him a progress report and to ask if he could put out feelers to help find Rina. His cousin said he’d ask around, but there was a lot going on right now as the troops gathered at the Gaza border. He wasn’t sure they could spare anyone. When Tony mentioned that he was worried about her safety in Italy, Zif said he’d do his best. But that left Tony hanging up the phone feeling more discouraged than ever.

  When Ben took off to keep an appointment with some new research students and Gila headed in to town for a grocery run, Tony borrowed Ben’s ancient electric typewriter to craft another letter to Rina. He was going to try sending this one to Morehead City, North Carolina, to the address he’d found using a search engine. The letter to her pensione obviously hadn’t worked, and he was growing desperate. He wished she had a phone or had given him an email account. She must log on occasionally even if she did want to avoid computers. This was crazy.

  She must think him an absolute cad.

  A knock sounded at the threshold of Ben’s office. “Are you busy?” Adam asked as he entered.

  “I’m trying to write a letter to a missing friend.” He swiveled in his chair to face the older man.

  “Hard when you mislay someone.” Adam’s chuckle was deep and mellow.

  “I really thought she was the one, but everything in my life was such a disaster. Because of the kidnapping, I didn’t have a chance to speak to her again. I tried writing to her boarding house in Italy, but have heard nothing, so I’m resorting to her North Carolina address.”

  Adam eased down into a chair at the side of the desk. “North Carolina, you say? My niece lives there. She wrote last spring that she planned to study in Italy and then travel in Europe.”

  Tony could barely speak “Your niece.” It couldn’t be.

  “Rina Lynne Roberts.”

  What were the chances? “She said she had an uncle in Israel. I never put it together.”

  Sighing, Tony leaned back in his chair on the patio. They’d come out here with glasses of tea, but Adam kept picking at that thread. “Rina,” he’d say and chortle all over again. Now he was in the middle of a full-blown belly laugh.

  Tony ground his teeth. It really wasn’t all that funny, not from where he sat.

  Another wave of his hand and Adam said, “Really, you’ve got to admit. It’s priceless. Priceless. Such an engineering job.”

  “By God, you mean?”

  Adam rearranged his bulk on the chair, the grin still full as he picked up his glass of iced tea. “You thinking all these logistics just lined up accidentally? Your rescue, this safe house, and my vacation leading to a visit here at this precise time? You told me that the man who shot you is an expert marksman. And yet his shot missed the mark.”

  Confusion assailed Tony. “So, where does that leave us? If you’re thinking God had something to do with it, does that imply some sort of promise that all the rest will work out?”

  “Smooth sailing, you mean?”

  “Well, I don’t suppose any of this has been particularly smooth. No, I’m thinking along slightly different lines. If this wasn’t a coincidence at all but instead some divine plan, does that automatically mean that God will deliver Rina to me and all will be well?”

  Adam took another deep drink of tea, set the glass down, and remained silent.

  Tony squirmed under the older man’s stare. “Fine. That was probably sophomoric.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Then how about another tack? Let’s assume your hypothesis is correct, and God is behind all of this, orchestrating our lives as if we’re puppets. Do you think there’s a point where he says, enough, you’ve had your quota?”

  “Are you asking if I think HaShem has a limited number of miracles to dole out to each of us?”

  “Well… I mean, I don’t know. But what if? You know, if he’s God, then he could say yes or no.”

  “Of course, he could,” Adam said. “But do you really think he’d engineer all this and then fail to find—or refuse to find—one missing woman?”

  “Look at all the people who go missing every day. People who are killed, or lost, or die from disease or hunger. Who’s to say my prayer will be answered and theirs won’t? Where’s the equity in that?”

  Adam remained quiet for a few minutes, leaving Tony to consider the odds. Finally, Adam said, “Have you read the Book of Job?”

  “My father quoted from it whenever things got rough. So, yeah. He’s the guy who lost everything.”

  “And what were his words?”

  Tony let his brows rise because his shoulders couldn’t. Adam probably had that same verse memorized. Probably all the verses.

  “‘Yet though he slay me, still will I trust him.’ And again, ‘The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’ Job’s friends mocked him, his wife mocked him, but he didn’t falter.”

  “Not my favorite story,” Tony said, “as if the second set of kids could make up for the first.”

  Adam smiled. “You do have a point. But the object lesson is not that that there’s some kind of cosmic chess game going on or that Job trusted because he knew he’d get another family and replacement goods.” The smile sobered, and Adam’s deep voice resonated as he continued. “Job knew that HaShem’s nature is to want good for us. Knowing this about Job, HaShem could tell the deceiver that his servant Job wouldn’t fail. He saw into Job’s heart and knew that his servant trusted him. Remember the ‘yet though he slay me.’ The Lord’s idea of good isn’t limited to our finite understanding. He looks at things from the perspective of eternity, whereas we see only what affects us now.”

  Tony slid his fingers up and down the cold glass, wiping at the condensation. “From where I sit and from what I’ve seen, the world is full of chaos. And too much that’s bad happens to too many who are good.”

  “That’s true,” Adam said. “I could give you platitudes or easy one-liners, but there’s that little issue of faith. Unseen things can’t be verified by sight. If we could see it all or understand everything, we wouldn’t need faith.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess that’s what I lack.”

  “Faith is like a muscle. Use it, it grows. Ignore it, it withers.”

  Tony sighed. He’d been trying, hadn’t he? “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Yes?”

  “What if the same men who tried to kill me go after Rina? Achmed knows I’m still alive, and they might use her to find me.”

  “You haven’t been able to find her, so it stands to reason they won’t either.”

  “They had a head start with agents right in Perugia. It’s making me crazy, not knowing where she could be. I don’t think she’d just hop around from one city to the next. I mean, that’s why she signed up for a language course in the first place. She’s curious. She even said something about maybe studying at a culinary school next.” He paused, but only for a moment, because he needed answers. After all, Adam was Rina’s uncle. He might have an insight into her thinking. “So, if she left a forwarding address, which she surely would have, my letter should have reached her, shouldn’t it? And if it did, she’d have sent me an email. Don’t you think? There are Internet cafés everywhere.”

  Adam creaked up off the chair. “I think it’s time I called her aunt and checked in with my office. Maybe Rina has written me again. She said she would.” He paused at the door. “How could a young American woman not carry a cell phone? I thought all young people stayed connected.”

  “She said she was trying to be independent, untethered. To br
eak the Internet habit.”

  “I suppose I can see that. She would want to be independent after what she discovered about her father.” With his hand on the knob, Adam sighed. “I’ve let her down these years.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “No, I did. I got so angry at that father of hers, and her aunt wasn’t much better, letting him bully them both. Horrible place for a child. I felt helpless because I knew I wasn’t welcome. Then I just got very busy over here. No excuse, really.”

  “In spite of it all, she turned out beautifully.”

  “Remarkable resilience.”

  Adam came back out. “I phoned the house, but got nothing. And no answering machine. It’s as if they live cut off from the modern world, Rina and Luze. And my secretary seems to be out of the office, too. I think it’s time I got back to town.”

  Tony held his sigh in. He’d been suppressing so much, but what else could he do besides wait, pray to the best of his ability, and hope? “I’m game.”

  38

  RINA

  Once she woke to the blare of a horn, once to a voice raised in the hall, and again to a door closing as Acie tiptoed to the bathroom. She must have dozed between times, but all she remembered were luminous numbers flicking over from three-thirty to four to four-thirty to four-forty-five to six, when insomnia finally gave way to drugged unconsciousness, and she didn’t stir again until Acie’s cell phone rang at eight.

  She rolled toward the wall. Acie began cooing, which was when Rina headed toward the shower. She did not want to listen to a long-distance romance. By the time she’d dried her hair, only silence came from the other room.

  “Everything all right?” She rifled through her suitcase for something to wear.

  “Mmm.”

  Rina recognized that satisfied smile. Nicco was a lovely man—and Acie deserved the very best. She wanted them to be happy. She did.

  So why was she having this conversation with herself?

  Because she was a jealous cow. She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, Acie had lowered her glasses. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not getting sick again?”

  “Of course not.” She tried for a smile. “So, tell me.”

  “Some man has been asking about you. The description didn’t fit Ibrahim, but whoever it is started questioning people right after you left. Word just got to Giorgio via one of his employees, who said the guy was definitely from the Middle East.”

  “Another one.” And in Italy. This seemed preposterous. “Why would he want to know about me?”

  “I’ve no idea, but it’s common enough knowledge that I’ve come out here to meet you. If he knew who to ask, he’d be able to put two and two together.”

  “I hope he wasn’t a friend of Ibrahim’s. Maybe someone Tony knew? Someone else trying to figure out where Tony’d gone?”

  “Anything’s possible,” Acie said, “but the TV news is all excited about reports of troops gathering at the border with Gaza. Things are escalating quickly, and Nicco’s worried enough to come fetch us both. I told him we’re fine and I’d be home soon. The biggest news is that Roberto decamped to Damascus.”

  “You’re kidding. Damascus?”

  “Giorgio says his brother belongs to some neo-Nazi and violently anti-Semitic group. Damascus may only be a stopover en route to Baghdad.”

  “Is the man suicidal?” She slipped her dress over her head. “I don’t know which is worse, Syria or Iraq.”

  “He’s a fool, at any rate. I’m sorry for Giorgio, but he’s best rid of a bad penny, as Miss Bulie would say. Getting stuck in the Middle East may be Roberto’s plan because he faces prison in Italy if he’s convicted of hiring Ibrahim.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone used to his standard of living being able to tolerate any Arab country.” She slid her feet into now-dry sandals and grabbed a room key. “I’m going down to get a news update.”

  Just as Nicco had said, troops were gathering. She called the room. “Meet me on the terrace for bagels and coffee?”

  The hills were silver-flecked. Early morning light actually shimmered off Lake Kinneret, and little water stars danced. Beneath the lighted surface, the water reflected mirror-gray, and out near the middle, a small fishing boat hauled in dinner. The fisherman swung the net into an arc that fell lightly to the water. Moments later, he hauled on the lines to drag the net back into the boat. This didn’t look at all like a battle zone or a country preparing for war.

  “I don’t think he knows more rockets just blew up a bunch of folk to the south,” she said.

  “I imagine feeding his family is his priority right now.” Acie flipped through an English-language newspaper.

  Too restless to finish her tea, Rina decided to see if the mechanic were available. “Be right back.”

  The man she phoned wasn’t very helpful. She headed out to report to Acie. “Three days at the minimum to fix the car, probably more because some of his workers were called up. Here in the hotel, too. The clerk was getting ready to see his son off. And they haven’t been able to rouse anyone at the rental agency in Jerusalem or find a local number.”

  “Maybe Shimon will call.”

  “Maybe there’s public transport.”

  “And maybe there’s Shimon.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Shimon wears cowboy boots. You expect me to trust an Israeli who wears cowboy boots?”

  “He has a car,” Acie said. “I’m not talking about a long-term relationship here, just a ride to Jerusalem.”

  The new desk clerk promised to ask around for a car to rent. “I have a friend, but today perhaps he will not be available.”

  “Are people worried?” Rina asked. “About what’s happening?”

  He shrugged. “We are used to defending ourselves, but it is hard when one must send family off. We have been more than patient, too patient, in my opinion, when the rockets from Gaza do not stop.”

  The front doors swished open. “Well, look who’s here,” she said to Acie.

  “Ladies, good morning to you.” Shimon bowed. “You are well?”

  While he and Acie spoke, Rina had a chance to study him in the daylight. His eyebrows didn’t seem such bushy cliffs this morning, although they were as expressive as she’d imagined, and his smile transformed his face from surly to moderately attractive.

  “As my trip to Jerusalem was postponed until this afternoon, I thought to check in with you. The car is fixed?”

  “No, and it won’t be for days, and no rental car is available,” Acie said.

  “Then I may be of service.”

  “We don’t want—”

  “Please, Miss Smith, it would give me great pleasure to help you and Miss Roberts. Also, I was able to borrow a better car this day, more comfortable, especially for the one in the back seat.” He turned toward Rina when he said this.

  What could they do but accept?

  He entertained them on the ride to Jerusalem with his chatter and bought them lunch on the way. The locally made wine was as excellent as the dish of lamb and rice flavored with yogurt and a hint of mint. They might have been three friends out for a pleasure trip. By the time they arrived at The King’s that afternoon, Shimon had exacted a promise of lunch in two days. “I will be visiting a cousin in the city and will call.”

  “That would be lovely, wouldn’t it, Rina?”

  “Certainly.”

  Meir shook his head when she stopped at the front desk for messages. “No, I am so sorry, we have received nothing for you. And yet your uncle may even return today.”

  “I keep hoping.”

  He pushed his glasses up his nose, peering through the thick lenses. “Your trip was pleasant?”

  “Other than a broken down rental car, it was fine. We were rescued.”

  “Excellent.” He smiled and turned to help another guest.

  Acie punched the elevator button for their floor. “So what do you think? How much
longer are you going to wait?”

  Rina didn’t answer until they were inside the room. “You mean, before I give up?”

  “Yes.” Her friend stripped out of her shirt and slacks and pulled down the covers.

  “I don’t know. But I’m well now, so you don’t need to entertain me. We’ll get you a ticket this afternoon.”

  “Later. Nap time now.”

  “I’ll just take a short walk. I’m too jittery to sleep.”

  “Careful.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She set out to walk as far as the café located about four blocks from the hotel, hoping to dump some of the restlessness that wasn’t sliding off on its own. And there he was, the he who kept showing up all over the city. Today, he sported the gray blazer. Who, other than the men lounging at the Damascus Gate—and he didn’t look anything like them—wore a jacket except to an office? If that man worked in an office, one that had him wandering everywhere she went, you could slap her upside the head and call her silly.

  Unless the jacket concealed his weapon. Oh, glory. Another gun? She pivoted toward the hotel.

  Why the gray? It wasn’t much of a fashion statement. Besides, it made him noticeable in a way color rotation wouldn’t have. She had dubbed him the Man in Gray, and behind the capitalized name, heard the musical prelude to danger, the dum-da-da-dum of an old movie.

  To think she’d thought him attractive that first day, with his dark hair and eyes that weren’t quite a true brown. She’d imagined him European. She glanced over her shoulder. Now, he stared in a store window as if he couldn’t tear himself away from it.

  At the end of the block, she checked again. He’d drawn closer, but this time his watch held him enthralled. She pulled her straw hat lower and quickened her pace.

  She wasn’t really afraid, not in the daylight with people on the street. But why was he following her? And what should she do about it? Hide out? Change hotels? Leave town?