“Isn’t it a little early?”
“Probably. But I’m sitting here, trying to deny the evidence once again. I’ve given you time, I’ve given you space to do what you wanted, to have a fling, but I can tell. This is it, isn’t it? You’re not coming now, and you’re not coming back to me later, are you?”
She didn’t answer.
“I don’t know why I didn’t believe it when you sent the ring back or when you didn’t answer my letters. I guess I assumed you’d get over this infatuation and realize we had a good, solid basis for marriage. But somehow the death of this guy has you all turned around.” He took a swig of his drink, then waved the cup at her. “You know, I should have taken you when you gave me the chance. You remember, don’t you? You’d had too much champagne. What was it? Homecoming, your senior year. That’s right. Lusty thing you were, but yours truly said, no, let’s do it right. I’d wanted to keep you pure. You still pure, Rina?” he asked with a sneer. “Or did you give it to that other man?”
“Don’t, Jason, please. I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry.” She reached her hand toward him, but he just looked at it. “Forgive me?”
He cursed and slammed his cup on the table. Liquid sloshed on the plastic surface. He grabbed at his hair, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. When he looked up, wet glistened in his eyes. “Look, I’d rather you didn’t see me off, okay? I’ll call Luze when I get back and tell her you’re fine, you’re with your uncle. You call her, too.” He stood. “Now, I’m going to take this drink with me, and I may have another one later. Then I’m going to get on that plane. So let’s just say so long.”
“’Bye, Jason. I’ll miss you.” It wasn’t a lie, not really. She’d miss the man who’d been good to her, who’d done his best, even if his best would never again feel like enough.
“Blast it, Rina. Don’t say that.” He shook his head as if to clear it.
At that, she turned and walked away. She imagined him staring after her and quickened her pace until she’d blended into the crowd of passengers. And then she slowed and let her breathing settle.
She found a seat. All she had to do was wait, but she and patience were barely on speaking terms at the best of times. What if this messenger of her uncle’s couldn’t find her? What if she didn’t recognize him—because how could she—and he didn’t recognize her—because her uncle hadn’t seen her in years and didn’t have any recent photographs to send with the man?
Why hadn’t Adam come himself? Was something wrong with him? Maybe he’d been hurt and couldn’t drive? She should have asked. Or offered to rent a car and drive back herself.
That would have made the most sense and been a whole lot easier than coping with what-ifs. And now she had to go to the bathroom again. How did that happen? The coffee, it had to be the coffee and her nerves.
She glanced at her watch. Surely, she had time for a quick dash there and back.
43
RINA
A muscle in her foot cramped. Stress always bunched her muscles. Maybe she needed a supplement or more bananas in her diet. She’d read somewhere that potassium helped.
She tried flexing her toes, but the muscle curled them under. She took off her shoe and rubbed, trying to ease the pain, embarrassed that she had to deal with something so mundane in the middle of a crowded airport while waiting for someone she’d never seen before. What if he arrived now, with her bent over, and she missed him? What if he couldn’t find her? She jammed her foot back in the shoe, sat up straight, pushed her shoulders back, and looked around for a likely candidate.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a man jump from a taxi and race toward the closest doors. He stopped, glanced at the flight boards, then walked toward the El Al information desk. She watched his back as he ran his fingers through dark hair with one hand, while the other hung in a sling. He was a big man, thin, in khaki slacks with a blue shirt. She hadn’t seen his face, but he didn’t carry a suitcase. As he leaned on the counter, he turned just enough so his profile showed in stark relief.
She caught her breath. It couldn’t be. She shook her head. Squinted in his direction.
She knew that profile. Hadn’t she studied it in tireless detail? And the height—even though this version was thinner—and the way he walked. But she’d never peopled her imagination with ghosts.
He spoke to the man at the desk who smiled, nodded, and pointed at her. He turned. She stood. Neither of them moved… for hours. Moments later, he began to run, dodging smaller bodies in his path, his eyes fixed on hers.
Then he was standing before her, staring down with those eyes, like the color of the Mediterranean off the coast of Tel Aviv when the sun sparkled on it, sparkled like his did now.
“Tony.” She spoke it in a whisper. “You’re not dead.” Not dead at all.
“Oh, my Rina,” he groaned, pulling her close with his left arm. “My darling girl.” His hand moved to caress her hair, her face, tilting her chin until his lips could touch her cheeks, her eyes, her mouth.
She shivered. He felt so good. He tasted so good. Her lips tingled. Her body tingled. She couldn’t get enough of him.
She was the first to break away. Stares and a few snickers penetrated the fog into which she’d fallen. “Tony—”
“Umm?” he said to the top of her head.
“Let’s go, please.”
“Go?” He held her from him, followed her eyes as she nodded to the crowd. “Ah. You have bags someplace?”
“Probably on the way to London, where Jason planned to take me. Acie’s flying to Rome.”
“Jason? The fiancé? I’m trusting he’s an ex by now?”
“I broke it off weeks ago.”
“I want to hear all about it,” Tony said, his good hand clinging to one of hers, “but, first, let’s notify the airlines and rent a car. I don’t want another taxi.”
“Can you drive? Shall I see about the bags while you get the car?”
“Sorry, my dear, but you’re not leaving my sight again, not for a very long time. I’ve had a miserable time trying to find you.” He paused, looked around, and led her forward.
She stopped him. “Wait. You’ve tried to find me?” How had that happened? “I haven’t been lost, you have. I’ve been looking for you, or to be more precise, looking for news of you, for weeks now, and I certainly would like to know where you’ve been. And how you know my uncle.”
“Let’s back up. I was a little distracted when you mentioned my being dead.” His finger traced her cheek. “What did you mean?”
“Well, what else was I to imagine when an envelope came in the mail with torn remnants of the pictures we took in Assisi. I couldn’t imagine that you’d be cruel enough to send me something like that.”
“Never.”
“I didn’t hear from you, and Acie had all these dreams or visions or whatever they were, first of you being taken off in a Mercedes—Ibrahim’s?”
He nodded and listened, and when she mentioned stopping over in Amman, he hiked one brow in that particularly delicious way of his. “Not exactly the most direct route to Jerusalem.”
She grinned. “You lied to your office, didn’t you?”
“I did. But let’s wait until we get in the car. Then I’ll tell you everything.”
It took a good forty minutes to complete the paperwork both for her luggage and for the car, but finally they were on level G of the parking area, walking down the aisles of rentals, looking for the number on the key ring.
“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she whispered, overwhelmed at having him next to her, his long legs adjusting easily to her step.
He slipped his free arm around her back and squeezed before opening the driver’s door for her. He signed the inspection sheet before climbing in the passenger side.
The engine hummed. “Nice car.”
He grinned. “But of course. I remembered your preference.”
“Promise me one thing,” she said as she backed out of the
space.
“Anything.”
“Promise you’ll never get yourself killed again.”
“I’ll certainly do my best. Speaking of which, I have a new name. I have just become Mr. Anthony Walker of the good old USA. Will you forgive me for all the lies?”
“There are more? No, wait. Hold that thought and direct me out of here.”
Once they were on the highway, he said, “I lied when I let you think I was an Arab instead of a Jew.”
“Not an Arab. That makes sense, with you here and not in Amman, and now this new name. What were you then?” A quick grin. “A spy?”
“Just as a sideline.”
She was pretty sure his eyes laughed. She’d like to be facing him so she could watch those luscious eyes. “But you’re not any longer?”
“Nope.”
“Then that’s okay. I too have something to confess.”
“Don’t tell me you were…?” He left it hanging. This time, laughter spilled with his words.
“Of course not. Can you imagine me doing anything like that? No, I’m talking about not telling you I’m Jewish. I mean, my mother was Jewish, like Uncle Adam.”
“I kind of figured that out when you mentioned your uncle lived here.” He touched her cheek.
The caress sent blood to her face and her heart to a flutter. She rested her hand over his for a moment.
“You thought I was Palestinian and that it would make a difference.”
“How was I to know? They’re rather vocal in their hatred of us.”
“Oh, babe, I can’t imagine the prejudices you had to work through.”
She used to think it sappy for women to want to ride right next to a man, but if these weren’t bucket seats, she’d want him smack dab in the middle, snugged up as close as he could get. Well, she would if she could multitask while concentrating on her role as driver. She glanced quickly over at him, her grin steady. “I’ll admit I had a few rough moments because of dead bodies, guns, and men who hit me over the head or followed me, and they were all Arabs you knew. It was a hard common denominator for me to juggle.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Taking a deep breath, she changed the subject. “I don’t understand your connection to Uncle Adam. Did you go looking for him?”
“It’s a long story.”
She scanned the rearview mirrors. A white car slid in behind them after passing a truck—a low, sleek white car. Either there was an Israeli car dealership heavily invested in white American-made flash, or anything she drove attracted white like a magnet.
It couldn’t be the same car. Besides, now that Tony was here, she didn’t need to fear either sleek cars or gray jackets.
Tony’s sudden bark of laughter distracted her. “What?” she asked.
“Just thinking that there has to be something to this prayer business.”
“Why? Because you’re still alive?”
“That and everything else, all these coincidences, the timing. Adam’s been diligently praying, and I admit to having long conversations—well, monologues—since the near-death scene in the desert.”
“Tell me.”
He started at the beginning, or at least close to it, backtracking when she asked a question that reminded him of something else. He probably skipped some of the more horrendous memories.
“They might still be after you.” The flutter was back, and not from passion this time.
“My bosses think they are, which is why you and I are fleeing the Middle East as soon as you’ve had a visit with Adam. I’m hoping Achmed’s distracted by what’s going on in Gaza, and I’m trusting that my trail has grown cold while I recuperated.”
She checked the mirrors again. The car was still back there. And it was definitely white. “Tony?”
“What?”
“Did you happen to notice that white car earlier, the one just behind us? A car just like it followed me around the country when I went looking for Adam.”
He unbuckled so he could turn without hurting himself. “He could be going to Jerusalem, too.”
“Maybe, but someone has definitely been following me.” She told him about the man in Jerusalem. “Yesterday, when I went out, he followed me again, but he did it boldly, as if he wanted me to see him. And then he stood outside my hotel window.”
“What did he look like?”
“Good looking. He dressed like a European, but he always wore a gray jacket.”
“I should never have led them to you.” His voice sounded hard, angry—and frustrated. “There’s a lot on my account, isn’t there? Damnable business.”
“It’s okay, we’re here, we’re alive, and we’re together. That’s all that matters.”
“Well, let’s make sure we stay alive. If they’ve tracked you here, it’s because they’re looking for me.” He slid the seatbelt under his sling and rebuckled. “I want you to take the next station exit. Slow down as you leave the highway and see if you recognize him. I doubt he’ll follow us off the road.”
She tried to see into the other car before it sped past, but she couldn’t be sure. “Maybe. I only got a glimpse of his profile. Now what?”
“We’ll have to try to lose him. He’s bound to pull off at the next exit to wait for us, and I don’t want to lead him right back to your uncle’s. If he thinks we’re getting gas, it’ll buy us some time.”
“What about Uncle Adam?”
“I’ll call as soon as we’ve dumped this fellow. But I need to get behind the wheel.”
“Can you? I mean, won’t it hurt your shoulder?”
“You manage the shift. My left arm can drive.”
She helped him buckle in and shifted into drive when he asked her to. They were silent on the journey back except for occasional status reports as she watched the highway. The hum of the engine droned in her ear, accented periodically by the occasional flying rock or tire noise on uneven pavement. The landscape passed in a blur.
“I don’t see him,” she said for the third time.
“He may not have discovered we turned around right away. With that car of his, he’d have been on us otherwise.”
“Why didn’t he just stop and try to kill you, if that’s what he’s after?”
“Maybe that’s not his job. Maybe he was just supposed to spot me, then call in.”
“Let’s just get away. Please.”
“I’m doing my best.”
Approaching the outskirts of Tel Aviv, Tony slowed and turned southwest toward the older city of Jaffa, which had been swallowed to become part of its sister city. “I’m taking you to a small hotel run by a cousin of mine. You’ll be safe while I try to find a way out of here.”
“Do you have to leave me there? What will you do if Hamas starts shooting rockets?”
“Follow procedure. And you’ll go to the nearest shelter. I’m afraid your value as a live hostage has diminished since you’ve been seen with me. Any sign of that car?”
“Not the white one. Only some expensive-looking thing that seems to have stayed with us for the last few turns.”
“Hang on. Let’s see if he’s also following.”
Tony removed his sling before turning the wheel sharply to the right, picking up speed as he maneuvered around a double-parked car, bearing left now, honking with his weak hand at the next intersection and just missing a small truck. Rina had seen car chases in movies. This sort of action ought to stay in Hollywood, but it hadn’t, and here she was, white-knuckled in the middle of it. She had no idea how Tony managed to drive like this with only one arm truly functional.
“Do you see him?” his gaze darted from the rear mirror to the road ahead.
“Yes, yes, he’s about a block back.”
They swung onto a larger road. Tony used his right hand minimally, mostly to stabilize the wheel in those sharp turns.
“How many of them are out there? All right, climb in back and put a seat belt on. Be quick.”
“No, I’ll stay here with you.”
>
“Then hang on.” He yanked the wheel hard to the right. The car flew down a one-way street, up on the sidewalk to avoid a stopped car on their left, narrowly avoiding a man on a scooter.
“If you’re trying to frighten me, you’re succeeding.”
“This could be fun.” The car zipped between two parked ones and down an alley. “If I didn’t have to worry about you getting killed.”
“Great—watch out!”
They came awfully close to taking out the tail end of a car at the other end of the alley.
“Oh, thank you, God.” She closed her eyes. She would not watch.
They opened on their own at Tony’s cry of “Hang on!” He slammed on the brakes and made a quick U-turn in the middle of the next street, scaring some poor delivery man silly by honking as the right bumper passed two inches from the man’s thigh. At that, she ducked her head. They were going to die and kill someone else in the process.
The other car squealed around the turn. She couldn’t believe anyone was still there. And then… Lord, have mercy. “There’s a train, I hear it.” She braced her hands on the dashboard. “Don’t try… no, Tony, please!”
The rumble of the engine and the clack of metal on tracks grew louder. The beam of light loomed toward them from behind those wooden guard rails, wooden rails that splintered easily under the impact as Tony rammed the car through. Her breath stopped on the instant, her heart thudded into her throat, but the car bumped over the tracks barely five yards in front of the largest piece of screaming metal she’d ever almost touched.
“That was close.” His tone was light, but his lips thinned when he shut them, and his brow was furrowed, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He’d tucked his right arm close to his middle. “He’ll have trouble finding us now.”
She pressed her hand over her surging heart, willing it to quiet. “I sure hope you haven’t done real damage to your shoulder, but I suppose you’re going to say that was fun.”
“Well…” He grinned.
“If we ever get out of this alive, how about taking a job in hardware sales or plumbing? This spy business is overrated.”
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