“His claim is very strong. Don’t forget he was fathered by Abram before Isaac was born. That makes him the elder. True, it was to Isaac the promise was given for he was Sarai’s son, as well as Abraham’s, but out of her mockery and refusal to wait has come much trouble to the land. The Bedouins are here. They did not leave the land or become dissatisfied with the slow flow of life here. So they have that to commend their claim.” There was that in his thoughtful pronouncement that made me know he was speaking the truth. Even in the Promised Land there were shadows—it left me shaken and I felt the old bitterness and cynicism arise within me.
What a terrible God to give promises to His children only to take them away! Of what good were such promises? What use to come here at all!
“God must love us mightily to strive with us so long.” I was astonished to hear Paul say that, as if in contradiction of my thoughts.
I might have quarreled with him but for the interruption of my mother and Simon. I did not know whether to be glad or to be sorry for the interruption. It made me feel lost and alone and frightened to be thus thrust unceremoniously back into my disbelief. Once more there was crowding at the rail and tearful excitement as the shipload of immigrants drank in their first sight of Palestine.
My own inability to understand, or to even want to believe what Paul had just said, made me enter gladly into the new exuberance. Surely a land with cities as beautiful and as clean and as welcoming as this seaside city could hold no terror except in the mind. Paul must be teasing me, I thought happily, and did not let my thoughts return again to his words—at least not then.
For hours the boat swung at anchor while the bustling officers examined and re-examined our papers, our effects, and our persons. The morning had held promise of seeing the wonders of the new land, but evening came and we knew that we should not set foot on shore before another sunrise. The delay might have made any other people sulky or grumbly, but not my people. They accepted the delay and used it for releasing their joy. Long into the night they celebrated, shouted and sang, rejoicing that we had at last come to our own land.
I was still too close to my illness to take part in the revelry, but I could watch and so I sat on the deck beneath the stars that seemed so very close. I let my eyes wander over the revelers and my thoughts back over the trying hour before the examining officers who had come aboard. I had with difficulty held down the old terror of the uniform and the questioning. I knew that the officers were asking what they had to know, merely trying to make sure that only those who had clear rights there should be allowed to enter Palestine. Yet, I stammered and trembled before them and had muddied rather than helped.
There had been the question about the date on the wedding certificate. It was somehow blurred so that it might have been almost any date of that month. I had actually lost all track of time so I could not tell them what they asked.
“I don’t know—I mean I’ve forgotten time—I mean I—” wild confusion stopped my stuttering words. Why was it important just when we had been married? My mind had gone off on an erratic journey.
Married! It must be true yet it was still just part of the unreal happenings of the time since I had come aboard the ship. I lowered my eyes against the level gaze of the man who had asked me about the date and felt a blush of confusion mount my cheeks. Then I heard his low chuckle and it was not unkind.
“Perhaps we are asking too much to expect you to remember unimportant things like dates on your honeymoon,” he said as he let me go.
I overheard others. Some were jubilantly sure that they were to be admitted, but there were some others whose voices held tremulous uncertainty and I knew that there was still another hurdle to be scaled. My fingers clenched against my inner anguish. To be so near and yet to be refused! It seemed impossible, but listening to the speculation around me I knew that if I was allowed to go in that I was blessed indeed!
Perhaps Paul, too, had felt uneasy under the questioning. He came presently to my side and sitting in the chair very close he was silent until we were quite alone. Then, his voice came softly, not only so that others might not hear, but so that I might not be startled.
“Your mother has removed her things to Uncle Simon’s room, Tanya.”
I looked up in some surprise. On the tip of my tongue was remonstrance. I had come to depend on her soothing words and singing to keep away the nightmares. Yet, before Paul continued I had recognized my selfishness in keeping her from her husband. Though she had loved my father completely, yet she would not withhold her love from Simon who had given her his name.
“I hope my things won’t take up too much room or be in your way.”
So I knew that he had changed places with mother. Suddenly all the thrill and romance of Rebekah’s story was lost in a rushing sense of terror. True, I had been building dreams about this man who had given me the way of escape, yet they had been the dreams of any girl who has just glimpsed the beauty of love. It was something to dream about and to look at afar off, but I was young and the little I had seen of love was not pretty—that is, if love had had any part of the selling of body and soul for crusts of bread and bits of pottage that I had seen. I stiffened in my chair and he must have seen, though his eyes were still on the starlight on the water.
“Don’t let it worry you, little Tanya. It was necessary or we would not have done it without first telling you. The questions this afternoon about our marriage seemed to show some doubts and I cannot say that I blame them. You are so small and so young and so—well, childish—”
I resented the description, but certainly felt very small and very childish at that moment. I would like to have felt my mother’s arms about me and heard her reassuring words. I certainly did not feel like a woman—and a married woman at that!
“Evidently you were hazy in your answers. The men who questioned me afterward thought you were very pretty and they liked your confusion. We are very lucky that you could not answer for it was necessary for us to have been married already before coming on board the ship. The date was blurred with intention, you see.” I marveled again at the foresight that had planned so carefully for one he had never seen. I wished that I could act more grown-up, less silly, yet even this new insight of his wisdom and carefulness could not bring back the happiness I had felt when I had been walking in those dreams.
Once more he proved the kindness that I never seemed to see him without as he took my hand. Holding it so that in the holding he compelled my shy eyes to meet his.
“Little Tanya. Do not ever be afraid of me. I know too well how very young you are. You have not had time to grow and certainly you will have to grow up very much before you are ready to be my wife. It will be interesting to watch you grow and learn. I am willing to wait. Isaac did not run far, but waited until Rebekah had come close and shown her willingness to dwell with him. So, until my Rebekah draws near and is ready, let the journey to Isaac’s tent be one of pleasure and joy and learning. Let no more clouds darken the light of your eyes again, my Tanya.” When he spoke my name it was almost as if he had said, my darling, and swiftly I felt the sweet warmth of my heart and knew that the dream of love might blossom soon into reality.
“Thank you,” was all that I could say. It seemed enough, then he turned my attention to the beauty of the night. Indeed it was the most beautiful night that I had ever seen.
The lights of the ship were subdued. It seemed cooler in the half-darkness so the stars held full sway over the softly purling waters that whispered and murmured against the side of the great swaying ship. Now and again schools of fishes swam past leaving their wakes of flashing wavelets. The lights of the city gathered closely under the myriad baubles and jewels of the night. I held my breath in wonder and excitement.
“We shall be there, tomorrow, Tanya. I hope that you will not be disappointed in the city.”
“But why should I?”
“You have such a nice way of forgetting. There may be reason for you to find the city less intrigui
ng than it seems from here. But you must not be too surprised or alarmed if some trouble comes. The Arabs have been causing some disturbances the past few days. That is the reason behind this delay. The customs officers hope that things will quiet a bit on shore. They do not want trouble for us nor for themselves. That is why they are so careful and particular about our passports. Perhaps this delay may make the city come up to your expectations. I hope so.”
I listened to his words and did not comment. I held back my questions for they would have betrayed my doubts. They whirled relentlessly through my mind, however.
Is the whole world against us? Is there not even to be peace in our own land? By whose hand have we a right to this land? Paul has said that the sons of Ishmael claim it, for they never left it and are living in it and resenting our coming. The God who supposedly promised us this land seems to have lost all interest in us if, indeed, He ever had an interest in us! So, by what right have we come here? What right have we to call it our land? Why are we here at all? Because the world will have none of us? Because we are really a people without a country. Perhaps the world, out of kindness and smiling indulgence, is letting us play at our little game of make-believe! Perhaps we will be driven out again! Certainly man seems to be having his way completely with us! Nowhere can I see the hand of God!
4
CITY OF DREAMS
THE SHIP WAS ASTIR very early the next morning. All faces wore a look of strained anxiety, although the exchange of greetings and banter was held high and cheerful. The news had spread that the trouble brewing on shore might hold us for several days; if it continued there was threat that we would not be disembarked at all. The decks were lined with quiet people whose eyes searched the shore. Paul and I had joined my mother and Simon for an early breakfast; now like the others we stood hopefully waiting for the official boat to return. There were passports held in doubt and we were not sure about mine. There could be no doubt at all for Paul, for mother or for Simon. They had work waiting for their hands, but only vaguely did I know what I could do.
“It is so late, maybe the British will not come today,” I murmured wistfully; half afraid that they would, half afraid that they would not.
“It seemed quiet on shore last night. I noted the time when we turned in and the lights were still lit which meant no enforced curfew. I think they will come and that we will soon be ashore,” Paul spoke confidently and his confidence made me less anxious.
“But what if they question me again? I have no job waiting. I don’t even know if there is anything that I can do if they let me in.”
“Did Paul not tell you, Tanya?” my mother turned to me in surprise.
“I’m sorry. I have had so many things to tell that I must have forgotten the important thing. I will need someone to help me. A doctor cannot work alone and unskilled or untaught hands are often worse than none at all. I had hoped, in fact the passport states, that you are to help me.”
“But I don’t know anything about medicine, or nursing,” I exclaimed dismayed at this deceit.
“That is true and your passport admits that you do not know; but as my wife it is only natural to expect that I can teach you so that you can be of assistance. I mean if you will,” he said. I flushed and answered quickly,
“Of course I am willing; I am glad to help if I can. I am glad that it is to be with you,” I added shyly. His quick, kind smile made me glad that I had spoken loudly enough for him to hear.
“Does that answer your worry, my anxious Tanya?” He smiled teasingly then added, “I doubt if the most hard-to-convince official could quarrel with letting a wife enter so that she might help her husband. Doctors are really badly needed.”
The reassurance I had gained made me turn eagerly toward the shore. Almost as if it had waited that moment a boat shot out from shore and sped toward us.
The final examinations were over so quickly, with so little fuss that almost before we knew it we were swarming down the gang-plank and standing bewildered and happy on the Promised Land.
Haifa had been unreal viewed from the ship. It was filled with entrancing things we could see as we gathered up our pitifully few belongings and wended our way through its streets. The taxi stalls were incredibly emptied, but like happy children we welcomed the walk, following one of our group who knew the way.
Chattering and with laughter we strolled. The solid cement was disconcerting to legs so long accustomed to the rolling boat. We stopped to look in the big shiny windows, uncracked, and inviting with their array of wares displayed for our eager eyes to see. We gaped and exclaimed over the busy streets and the tall, peculiar buildings. All was so different. Not only was it clean and whole, but even the architecture was amazingly different. Our excited voices brought more than one smiling face to the overhanging or recessed balconies.
Suddenly, as we came out into a narrow street quite far from the heart of the city and stood in momentary confusion, there came to our ears sounds of shouting and coarse laughter. One moment we were standing in a tight, compact group, then suddenly we were scattered before the crowding, burnoose-clad Arabs.
Dark eyes stabbed at us with glances full of virulent hate. Nevertheless, there was a mocking humor, too, as if they were jostling us rudely as much from a spirit of mischief as malevolence. Perhaps there was some humor in the situation for them. They had lain so quietly, had been so peaceful that even the cautious British had felt safe in letting us go. However, there was that in the encounter that told of careful plotting so that any ambush would be in a street not too heavily policed. No wonder their strong brown teeth shone in their grinning slits of mouths, and they could take time to jostle and push us at will.
I shrank back as one man with insolent boldness pushed his face close to mine. As I stepped off the curb he threw back his head in loud and raucous laughter before moving toward the next victim. It hardly seemed like harmless pranking to force us, burdened as we were with bags and bundles, out into the paths of the rushing automobiles. If it were fun it was a deadly sort of jesting. Paul barely caught me and swung me out of the way of a passing car.
Shaken I clung to him, sure of his strength and protection. Then, at first gently, but as my fists tightened their grasp on his sleeve he tried forcibly to free himself. I heard him speaking but my terrified ears could not hear. Astonishment kept me on my feet when in a quick movement he had thrust me away. Surprise had kept me from falling, then my own fright became a new fear.
Paul had turned quickly. I saw him seemingly leap from the curb. I knew that one of our assailants had impelled his leap. Almost on his heels the crowd rushed him and I saw him go down before their onslaught. My heart screamed out, but I did not waste myself in useless shrieking. The lessons learned in the past years of brutality sent me hurtling upon the back of the nearest Arab. Clawing and scratching I so surprised him that he gave way and thoughtlessly I attacked the next, finally screaming hysterically for Paul.
Later I learned that my act might have set in motion a bloody massacre. Fortunately the two men who reached out and plucked me off and held me tightly must have had a sense of humor indeed or else they had already heard Paul’s voice, with its quiet authority.
“It is my wife, she is my helper, she wants to get through to bring my satchel—to-bring-my-satchel,” he repeated the last words more slowly and, as he hoped, their steady insistence was like a command.
Without understanding yet with a mighty gladness just to hear and to be able to answer, I pushed back and caught up the small black bag that miraculously still lay where he had dropped it in order to snatch me from the street.
Nauseating weakness swept over me, and I stood blankly holding the bag. Why would he want the bag? Had I wanted to see and to hear him so desperately that I had thought he had spoken? No, if that were the case surely I would have imagined more sensible words than those commanding that I bring the satchel. He wanted it because it held his precious medicines and if they were carrying him away he might need them! Oh, but t
hey must not carry him away from me—where he went I must go, too. Breathless with anxiety I ran forward and the men parted and let me through.
If I had not been so accustomed to daily terror, perhaps I would have felt silly and ashamed of my hysteria when the opening revealed Paul kneeling unharmed in the center of the street. I saw why he called for the satchel. A tiny body lay crookedly in a pool of dark blood.
I uttered a shuddering gasp, and heard its response in the low murmur that went up around me. Bewildered I knelt, and Paul silently took the bag. Then, as he lowered his head above it, he whispered to me.
“They think you can help. Do as I say. I shall try not to ask too much.”
I nodded dumbly, yet I thrilled to be able to help the one who had helped me. It may have been thankfulness for finding him unhurt that made me able to do what he asked with little fumbling. With swift, sure fingers he took out a roll, laid it beside me. As he unrolled it his fingers lingered lightly on first one instrument then another, a bid for me to mark and remember them. When his brief commands were given, I responded with unhesitant confidence surpassing my own expectations. However, it was distinct relief when finally he raised his eyes to me to smile encouragingly before speaking to the intent watchers.
“Whose child is she?” Then as a man stepped forward he continued, “She has lost a great deal of blood. I have cleansed and closed the wound as best I could, but it’s a bad wound and in a bad place. She should have a blood transfusion at once.” His voice became urgent and anxious. Later I learned that he had been afraid that these Bedouins were as uncouth and unlettered as their wild actions had indicated. To his relief, however, the father nodded and gave a quick command in his own tongue.
Taxis, busses and cars had tangled about the group. It was only a matter of seconds before Paul rose, lifting the limp little body to carry it to a taxi. I made as if to follow but he shook his head.
The Lost City Page 4