by Lynn Austin
“My email! He wasn’t just being nice, was he?”
“I’m so sorry.”
Abby thought about all that Ari had done for her, how close their rooms were, how he had even held her in his arms, and she felt so angry, so used, she couldn’t speak. She shivered uncontrollably.
“Ari was very angry with me for becoming your friend,” Hannah said. “He was supposed to get close to you himself, become your confidante, offer you solace . . . no matter what that might involve. But I wouldn’t let him use you like that. I saw right away how fragile you were, how wounded you had been by your husband. You might have succumbed to his charms all too easily, and I couldn’t allow him to manipulate your feelings that way. Our friendship is genuine, Abby. I liked you the very first night we met. And after losing Ben so suddenly, I needed a friend as much as you did.”
As angry as Abby was, she knew in her heart that Hannah was telling the truth. She was a true friend. It frightened Abby to think that if it hadn’t been for Hannah, she might have ended up in bed with Ari to get even with Mark. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“I never believed you were involved in Ben’s death. I don’t know why the Agency sent Ari on this wild goose chase with you, but—” Hannah stopped. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “That’s not true. I do know why they sent Ari. . . . It was an answer to my prayers.”
She struggled up from the bed and retrieved a photograph in a silver frame from her dresser drawer. “There is something else I haven’t told you, Abby. Something I haven’t been allowed to tell you.” She handed the photograph to Abby. It was of a much younger, much happier Ari Bazak with a strikingly beautiful woman.
“My daughter, Rachel, married Ari. I love him like my very own son.”
CHAPTER 18
THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE—1986
Hannah held the bronze coin beneath her desk lamp and peered at it through the magnifying glass. When the front-door security buzzer suddenly sounded, she nearly leaped out of her skin. It couldn’t be seven o’clock already, could it? It was noon just a moment ago. She glanced out of her office window and saw that it was dark outside. She rose from her chair and hurried down the hall to open the door for Ari.
He had called that morning, inviting Hannah to dinner. “Sorry, I don’t have time,” she’d said. “I’m finishing my field report, and I have a publishing deadline to meet.”
“You have to eat, Hannah,” he’d said, then he’d laughed. “Oh, that’s right! You usually forget to eat once you’re buried in your work, don’t you?”
“Is it something we can talk about over the phone?” She propped the receiver against her shoulder and continued scribbling notes to herself.
“No, I really need to see you in person.”
They had agreed that he would stop by her office at seven o’clock that evening. This would be him at the door.
Ari had a huge grin on his face and an armload of soft drink bottles and paper carryout bags from King David Schwarma. “If you won’t come to dinner, dinner will have to come to you,” he said. He wasn’t alone.
“Rachel! Sweetie, what a wonderful surprise!” Hannah said, hugging her daughter. “What are you doing here?”
“We’ve come to tell you our good news.” Rachel slipped her arm comfortably through Ari’s. “We’re engaged!” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his bearded cheek. He grinned sheepishly behind the takeout bags.
“Very funny, you two,” Hannah said as she led the way to her office. “Whose idea was this little joke?”
Ari set the bags on Hannah’s desk, then draped his arm around Rachel’s shoulder, pulling her close. “It’s not a joke. I’m in love with your daughter. I’ve asked her to marry me.” Hannah stared, incredulous. Rachel laughed and steered her mother to a chair.
“You’d better sit down, Mama, before you fall over. No doubt you forgot to eat again.” She began opening bags and dishing food from the takeout containers onto paper plates.
“Y-you can’t be serious,” Hannah said when she finally found her voice.
“Why not, Mama?”
“Well . . . well, because you’re a child and . . . and Ari is a grown man. How old are you, Ari?”
“Thirty-one.”
“You see, Rachel? He’s—”
“Ten years older than I am. I know. That’s not so much. Here, eat your dinner, Mama, before it gets cold.” She shoved a full paper plate into Hannah’s hands, then licked her fingers. “It’s not as though I’m marrying a stranger. Ari is already part of the family, isn’t he? You always said how much you liked him, what an excellent scholar he was, how much you admired his teaching . . .”
It was true. Hannah had always enjoyed a close relationship with Ari Bazak. He had been invited to her home many times as Rachel was growing up. But she had never imagined that her daughter’s adolescent crush would lead to this. She looked up at Ari, who was calmly chewing an olive.
“You can’t be serious, Ari. Won’t marriage interfere with your . . . life-style?”
He spit out the pit, then perched on the edge of her desk. “I am serious. I’m getting too old for that life-style. I’ve been wishing for a long time that I would find the right woman and settle down. And here she was all the time, right under my nose.”
The food under Hannah’s nose smelled too good to resist. She picked up her plastic fork and began to eat. “Would somebody please explain to me how this happened? The last I heard, Rachel was working on some sort of special project this summer and was too busy to come home.”
Rachel sat cross-legged on the floor, unable to find any other spot in Hannah’s office that wasn’t overflowing with yellowing papers, dusty books, or priceless artifacts.
“Ari was my special project,” she said. “I found out where Doctor Bazak was going to be digging this summer and signed up as a volunteer. I got up an hour early every day so I would be sure to look gorgeous; I shamelessly chased him from one end of the tel to the other all day; I plopped myself down at his dinner table every night to ask stimulating questions about the excavation; then I listened breathlessly to his fascinating answers.”
“She’s exaggerating,” Ari said with a mouthful of food. “I wasn’t suckered that easily.”
“I told you eight years ago that I was in love with him, Mama. And that I was going to marry him someday.”
“Forgive me for doubting, but you were thirteen.”
“I know quality when I see it,” she said, grinning. “You have to admit he’s one-in-a-million.”
“He certainly is. And you’re not the only girl who ever thought so, sweetie. I wish I had a shekel for every heart he’s broken. My dig would be funded for the next ten years.”
“Pardon me for eavesdropping,” Ari said, raising his hand like a schoolboy, “but may I say something in my own defense? I know I had a reputation . . .”
“As a notorious playboy.”
“Well, yeah . . . but a leopard really can change his spots if he falls in love. Rachel isn’t like—”
“All your other conquests?”
“You’re being tough on me, Hannah . . . but I understand why. You have a beautiful, intelligent, incredible daughter, and I don’t blame you in the least for being protective. But Rachel is no love-sick adolescent. She’s mature beyond her years. And unlike my other so-called conquests, Rachel is refreshingly old-fashioned. She even has me attending synagogue regularly—something my family has been trying to accomplish for years. You raised her well, Hannah. You can be proud of her.”
“I’m very proud of her. And her father would be, too.” Rachel had always shared Jake’s tenderhearted love for God, even though she had been only eight years old when he was killed. Hannah gazed at her beloved daughter and saw Jake’s classic good looks on a slender female body—his thick, dark hair and beautifully arched brows; his wide, intelligent eyes and full lips. Her beauty was so extraordinary it took Hannah’s breath away. She could easily imagine the effect Rachel would have on a man. Ari
had been as helpless as a fly in a web.
“I fear my daughter has bewitched you, Ari. You, of all people, should have known better.”
“Oh, please!” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “You should talk, Mama. Weren’t you the one who pursued Abba? Didn’t you and Uncle Ben drive up to Tiberias after hatching your little plot to snatch Abba away from Aunt Devorah? And didn’t you tell me that you kissed him first?”
“That was only because Jake was so shy. I had to do something—”
“Well, so did I!”
Hannah laughed. “No one would ever accuse Ari of being shy.”
“And weren’t you my age when you got married, Mama? And wasn’t Abba older than you?”
“Not ten years older!”
“Hey, I’m hardly Methuselah!”
“Sorry, Ari.” Hannah laughed.
He put down his empty paper plate and stood, pulling Rachel to her feet and into his arms. “So do we have your blessing or not, Hannah?”
She gazed at these two handsome young people—two people she loved dearly but had never imagined together—and her eyes filled with tears. She lifted one of the Coke bottles in celebration. “Of course, my dears. Mazel tov!”
JERUSALEM, ISRAEL—1990
Hannah knocked on the door of Ari and Rachel’s apartment, breathless after climbing up four flights of stairs. “I’m recommending . . . that the Institute . . . give you a raise,” she told Ari when he opened the door. “You two need an apartment . . . with an elevator.”
Ari laughed. “That’s why we chose this place—to convince you that I needed more money.”
“I’m convinced!” The entire apartment had only a bath and three small rooms—their bedroom, a kitchen, and the living room, which had space for little else besides the back-to-back desks where Ari planned his lectures and Rachel studied to finish her college degree. Hannah found Rachel in her postage-stamp-sized kitchen and gave her a hug. “Want some help, sweetie?”
“No, thanks, I’m fine. Go ahead and sit down. Dinner’s almost ready.”
Hannah pulled out a kitchen chair, inhaling the fragrant aroma of garlic and roasting lamb. Ari finished setting the tiny table for their dinner, then sat down across from her. The table was barely big enough for their plates and glasses. They would have to serve themselves directly from the pots on the stove, buffet style.
Rachel was busy chopping, stirring, and cooking. But Hannah’s eyes were on her son-in-law, not her daughter. She loved to watch Ari watching Rachel. Even after four years of marriage, he was still so deeply in love that he could scarcely bear to take his eyes off her.
“So what are we celebrating?” Hannah asked. “Is there an occasion for this dinner?”
“Not really,” Rachel said. “It just seemed like a long time since we talked. Oh, and I did want to tell you about my senior thesis.”
“Is this for your history major or your comparative religion major?” Hannah asked. Rachel was fascinated with so many subjects that she’d had a hard time deciding on just one major as she finished her degree.
“Both . . . but come on, grab your plates and dish up. I’ll tell you about it while we eat.”
“Mmm, this is delicious,” Hannah said after she’d tasted her food. “Where did you learn to cook like this? It certainly wasn’t from me.”
“From her aunt Devorah,” Ari said. Rachel frowned and punched his arm. “What? Did I say something wrong?” he asked.
Hannah laughed. “Don’t worry, I know your aunt Dev is a better cook than I am. And I haven’t been jealous of her since the day your father chose me instead of her. Now, let’s hear about this thesis you’re researching.”
“I got the idea from Ari’s lecture notes on the Roman era. You know how a lot of so-called messiahs appeared during that time? Well, I’m writing a paper on the Messiah, researching all the references to Him in the Torah and the Prophets, then comparing it with the historical records. Ari was a little upset when I brought home the Christian Bible, but Yeshua—Jesus—was the most famous of the messiah figures.”
“You’re reading the Christian Bible?” Hannah asked.
“Yep. I already read it twice.” Rachel laid down her fork, too excited to eat. She played with her mosaic-stone necklace while she talked. “If someone invented the Christian religion, they went to an awful lot of trouble to do it. They knew our Jewish Scriptures and prophecies inside out.”
“If? Rachel, you’re not falling for this stuff, are you?”
“You know what surprises me the most, Mama? How Jewish this Yeshua was. The Christian Bible has him celebrating Passover and all the other feasts, quoting Jewish prophets, attending synagogue. Someone asks Him what the greatest commandment is, and He says the Sh’ma Yisrael: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart.’ He really wasn’t starting a new religion at all. He was simply a Jewish rabbi with a breathtaking interpretation of Judaism. He was trying to move a very corrupt religious system back to what God originally intended. And the God He describes is the same one I believe in—a God of redemption.”
Hannah was alarmed. “You’ve studied history, Rachel. You know all the atrocities that Christians have committed against our people in that name!”
“His followers did those things, Mama, not Him. Yeshua said to turn the other cheek when our enemies attack. He said the meek, not the powerful, would inherit the earth. Do you know that all of the earliest Christians were Jewish? The historical record also says that a large number of Temple priests became Christians, too.”
“I’m surprised that such well-educated men didn’t know better than to fall for it.”
“That’s the point. They fell for it because Yeshua fulfilled all of the prophecies about the Messiah. The book of Daniel, for instance, where it names all of the kingdoms that would follow the Babylonians in history. If you calculate those empires—the Medes and Persians were the chest and arms of silver, the Greeks were the belly and thighs of bronze—you’ll see that Yeshua came during the Roman Empire—the legs of iron and feet of clay—just as Daniel predicted He would.”
“You said yourself that there were a lot of other so-called messiahs during that time. What about Bar Kochba?”
“No one is following any of the other messiahs two thousand years later. No one rewrote the calendar to fit the date of Bar Kochba’s birth. But the Kingdom Yeshua established has grown to fill the whole earth, just like Daniel’s prophecy said it would.”
Hannah didn’t know what to say. Her daughter’s passion for the Christian’s Jesus shocked her, but she didn’t know how to refute it.
“Mama, think of all the prophecies that picture our Messiah as a shepherd, like King David. Do you know that Yeshua was born in a stable, that His birth was first announced to the shepherds who pastured the temple flocks? Isaiah prophesied that He would pour out His life as a guilt offering, and they crucified Yeshua on Passover.”
“The Christians could have rewritten the account of his life and death, Rachel. They could have twisted it to make it fit whatever they wanted it to prove.”
“Then why didn’t the Jewish leaders come forward with proof to refute it? They never produced His body or contradicted the claim that He was killed on Passover. Do you know that all of Yeshua’s disciples were martyred, yet not one of them ever called Him a fraud or denied that He was the Messiah? Would they have died as martyrs to a hoax? The most vicious persecutor of the early Christians, a Jewish Pharisee named Saul, later saw a vision of Yeshua and became a believer. He was tortured and eventually died for the faith he once persecuted. And if you read the Christian stories, you’ll see that Yeshua’s followers were very human. They doubted and denied and betrayed Him at first. In fact, it’s written just like our Scriptures, with the same tradition of blunt honesty that gave us David and Bathsheba and Jonah running in the opposite direction from God. It’s not a whitewashed account, but an absolutely amazing story!”
Hannah turned to Ari. He was sitting back in his chair sipping his coffee
, listening to Rachel in relaxed contentment. “How can you put up with all this?” Hannah asked him. “Aren’t you upset?”
“No, I’m intrigued,” he said, smiling. “Rachel is a very smart woman. I trust her scholarship.”
“Scholarship!” Hannah said in exasperation. “Honestly, Ari, you’re so in love with that girl, you wouldn’t care if she claimed to follow Muhammad!” Rachel laughed and leaned over to kiss Ari, then she got up to pour more coffee.
“So are you a Christian now?” Hannah asked her.
“No, I don’t think so,” she said, laughing again. “I haven’t even spoken to any Christians, so they can’t be brainwashing me. In fact, I’ve been asking several Torah experts to explain the Messiah to me and to explain why God hasn’t fulfilled all those prophecies, like the ones in Daniel and Isaiah, when so many others have been fulfilled—like the nation of Israel being born in a day. And you know what? They can’t tell me. None of their explanations hold up under close examination.”
Hannah shook her head. “I sure wish Jake were here to talk to you.”
“I do, too,” Rachel said, fingering her necklace again. “He’s the one who started me on this quest. He always said that the Holy One was a God of redemption. That’s what Yeshua preaches, too. I’m starting to wonder if His redemption is the one we have all been waiting for.”
JERUSALEM, ISRAEL—1991
The following spring, Rachel made a stunning announcement at the Passover seder. “I’ve become a believer in Yeshua the Messiah,” she said. “I plan to be baptized.”
Hannah was dismayed but not surprised by the news. The Messiah was all that Rachel had talked about for months as she finished researching and writing her thesis. “So . . .” Hannah said, exhaling, “I guess you must have finally met up with some Christians.”
“No—at least not Gentile Christians. It was other Jewish believers in the Messiah, like myself, who finally convinced me.”