The Lost City

by Carrie E. Gruhn

  Paul nodded for he saw how Ahmed’s thoughts had been unaccountably sent along new, un-Arabic channels, or perhaps along a wiser way than even ours had been. We had been claiming all God’s promises for ourselves. Might that be the whole trouble? Was this God a God for others, too?

  Was God only impatient with our selfish grasping as we would be with too-selfish children? I seemed to feel Paul thinking along these same paths. He spoke and there was honest respect and trust in his voice.

  “Ahmed, I would have to trust you even if I did not want to, but there is that in what you say that rings true. I believe that you would protect Tanya and the people of our little commune. But perhaps you don’t quite realize what you are offering.”

  “I think that I do. To my people it would seem like treason, yet I think that I will not be betraying them if I help find a cure for our troubles! I think that I will be helping if I hinder the sharp point of hatred from reaching the vitals and infecting a sore which might find cure if given time.”

  Paul smiled as he saw how much Ahmed had been learning, and his smile broke the tension. Ahmed grinned back briefly then proceeded to prove how very valuable his offer was. Often he had traversed the very section where lay this fabulous uninhabited city. He had even been inside and though the years had passed since then his Bedouin mind had held and remembered enough to enable him to answer quickly and easily when Paul asked questions to find if he really did know the way.

  “There are other things to think of, too, Doctor. It will be a long and hard journey for women who have been used to staying in so small a place. Perhaps I can get aid along the way from my people. Not all are so sure you bring trouble with you as are these here. I will take them safely through. Do not let your mind turn back with worry for their safety. Go, do what you can to hasten the peace—trust me and I will try not to make you sorry.”

  So Paul turned my safety into his hands; somehow I shared his certainty that they were good hands and would not fail me. However, an uneasiness was at once with me, for was not the worry over my safety one of the bonds that was holding Paul against his will?

  Paul left almost immediately to meet again with his fellow-conspirators, taking Lilah with him. Fear lest harm come to him, fear of Lilah and her wiles, fear of the strong pull of that far-distant America swelled up in impatience as my mother came to spend the long evening with me. I wanted to cry out my apprehension, yet because of her strength I would not let her see my weakness.

  “You are restless tonight, Tanya. It is ever thus with the women. They sit at home and watch their menfolk ride out to battle whether with wit, or gun, or plow. Yes, even today when women work side by side with the men we are still left behind to care for the family and can only send God’s blessing with them. Do not fear too much for your Paul. I do not think that God has given him so wise and understanding a heart for wasting.”

  “Oh, Mother! Not long ago you laughed when I boasted of Paul’s wisdom. Now you admit that you see it, too!”

  “I did not say that I did not find your Paul good and wise, Tanya. But you often forget to look to Him who gave him that wisdom. Surely God is using him and I am glad.”

  I could no longer stand her harping, always harping on God! I did not believe God even existed.

  “Mother, you are so childish! Always you talk God, God, God! As if He had done so much for you, for any of us for that matter! Where is my father? Where is Rachel? Where are my brothers? Where was God when they were tortured and killed? Where was God when you prayed to Him then? If He answers your praying now, why did He not answer then? Don’t try to tell me that my unborn baby was prayed for more fervently than they were! Why do you keep calling accidents, coincidences, acts of God? Who now withholds this land and makes us pay for it in blood and sorrow? The One who stood back and laughed while we were being ground under the iron heels of oppression upon oppression? Faugh!

  “Not God brought me here, or you either! Simon gave you the ticket of admission, Paul gave me mine. Not God saved my life on board the ship but Paul and you. Not God brought us through the trouble in Haifa but Paul! Not God made friends of our enemies but Paul! Even Ahmed knows that Paul is wise beyond measure and has offered to forsake his own people to give aid to his wisdom!” Perhaps I stretched the truth a little, but there was enough of truth for me to throw my boast in the face of my stricken mother. My inward doubts, jealousy, envy, my uncertainty came all spewing out in an unbidden tirade. “Not God but Paul or one like him will bring peace to this land, if indeed there be peace anywhere for it! Why do they call for Paul? Is it not because they see his wisdom? Why do they take him from me and make his life a misery of doing and planning, of responsibility and worry? Is it not because they know that in him they see the answer to their prayers? Not in God! In Paul! I know it; some day you will know it, too!”

  Not in the blackest hours of the oppression, nor in the anxious hours on shipboard had I seen my mother’s face so bleak, so full of agony. I wanted to take back my words, but my pride and my stubbornness would not let me. I could not see all her terror, for in my own heart a nameless chill began to shake me to the marrow. My eyes turned inward upon my own awful predicament and I scarcely heard my mother as she slowly left me with but a few broken words.

  “Trust ye not in a friend, put ye not confidence in a guide, but wait for the God of our salvation; our God will hear us—oh, He will hear us yet, little Tanya, strange, misguided, foolish Tanya! ‘How blessed are his promises and how wonderful—He pardons iniquity, even my iniquity, He delighteth in mercy—He will turn again, He will have compassion upon us.’ Oh my little Tanya! My daughter!”

  I shut my ears against her wailing, for my own tears had turned to ice and the chill of them had set me shivering, shivering, cowering,—and this new fear was greater than any which had filled me ever before—my soul shrank before this new terror of my own making! On whom should I call now? Not Paul, for he was miles away—not my mother, for I had turned away from her, as I had turned away from God. I had betrayed myself; now I found myself to be a fearful companion indeed!

  12

  MIDNIGHT

  FROM THE MOUNTAIN TOPS of happiness into the bleak night of utter loneliness! Physically I had never felt better in my life, yet the heaviness in my heart would not be lightened. Perhaps it was imagination, but it seemed to me that the whole village shunned me after the shameless outburst that estranged me from my mother. Yet I do not think it was all imagination for the grayness in her face was too plain to escape interested eyes. Discerning eyes could not fail to see that I was the cause of the sudden smothering of happy singing which had endeared her to all.

  Bitter rebellion swelled within me. I seemed to be molded in a sharp pattern of selfishness and stubborn willfulness. I wanted to feel her comforting arms about me and to hear her voice as she helped me along the new and strangely wonderful path I was then taking. I was lonely past endurance, yet I would not go to her and ask forgiveness.

  I knew that it would be useless to pretend that I had not meant what I had said. Too long had the doubts been growing and I was sure that even now my mother, in her wisdom, was reluctantly adding together other smaller things that I had said before. If the expression of my unbelief left me with this awful feeling of desolation, who had never really had belief, how awful must be the hurt to her believing heart!

  What irreparable damage the tongue can do! I would have given anything to have taken back my words—not because they were not true expressions of my feelings, but because they had been unnecessary. I watched helplessly as the black torrent of unkindness loosed by myself widened between me and the sweet mother.

  What had she said when I had answered so angrily, so thoughtlessly? “Trust ye not in a friend—but wait for God—” Perhaps she had found friends insufficient, but how wonderful to have had God! I had thrust aside friendliness, had refused God—what if Paul, on whom I was pinning all my faith, should go back on me now? It was not an impossibility! Ahmed’s offer of
protection and guidance had severed the need for his staying on my account. He longed for the peace and prosperity, the freedom of the country from which he had come. I looked ahead to see myself destined to walk through the years alone. Without my mother—without Paul—perhaps without the expected son for it seemed I had lost him, too—in spite of myself I regretted God. There seemed a greater darkness where He should have stood and it puzzled and confused, alerting my mind against sleep or else hurling me into abysses of dark dreams.

  I was exhausted when Paul returned. I wondered why Lilah was not with him—perhaps he had left her where the coastal ports with their way of escape were within her reach and where he would return later to flee with her. Yet, I was too tired to worry. It was good just to have him back, and I was glad that he had brought his friend, Dal, with him. They were too busy with their animated discussion to notice the strained relationship between my mother and me. Paul had noted the signs of fatigue, however, and he insisted that I go straight to our room after supper.

  There was barely time for a cursory examination that seemed to satisfy him that all was well. He tucked me into the bed and, pulling the screen across so the light would not bother me, he opened the door to Dal. I know that they were all set for another of their debates.

  However, it was soothing to listen to their voices pushing out the moody silence that had been beating at my ears. Gradually I relaxed and was lulled to sleep. I was on the mountain tops again, filled with contentment and happiness, because Paul had come home.

  I must have slept deeply. Paul was shaking me and calling my name. Gradually the urgency in his voiced awakened me. There was a feeling of chill and I knew that it must be very late.

  “Wake up, Tanya! Wake up!” My eyes opened and as sleep loosened its hold on my senses Paul spoke quickly. “Tanya—it’s happened! He’s gone! I would not believe it—I laughed—but he was right! He has gone! It has happened!”

  “Whatever on earth are you talking about?” I raised myself up and looked out. We were alone! What was so odd about that? “You mean Dal? Why shouldn’t he be gone?”

  “You don’t understand—” Paul hesitated not knowing how to explain something he did not understand, “I—I—that is we—we were talking—arguing about those things when suddenly it happened just as he said it would—”

  “Yes?” I asked, for Paul seemed about to relapse into silence.

  “It is late—Dal was tired of arguing, but I wanted to hear more. He asked the time. I turned to see the clock at my back, the light shone on it so that he could not read the time. Exactly midnight! When I turned around he was gone!”

  “You said he was tired, why then shouldn’t he have gone?” I could not understand, then I, too, looked at the clock. It was just one minute after midnight. Paul had been so alarmed that he had wakened me as quickly as that!

  “Look, it’s only a minute past midnight. He probably went out for a drink of water. Even if he went to his room he would still be awake. Why don’t you go see that he is all right instead of getting excited about it?”

  He looked at me and I saw hope and fear in his eyes. Then he flung open the door and Ahmed’s sleeping form almost tumbled in at his feet. I screamed. Paul’s eyes had looked so wild as he looked at me across the bewildered Ahmed.

  “Yes, yes, what is it? Did you call me, Doctor?”

  “No—no, I did not call you, Ahmed. Tell me—” And there was a deadly seriousness in the slow pronouncement of the question that made Ahmed answer carefully. “Tell me—how long have you been sleeping against the door?”

  “I’m not sure. An hour—maybe two. I sat down to rest when puff! Like that I was asleep. I do not remember the call of the curfew. I think—yes, I am sure that I was asleep when it rang.”

  That would have been at ten o’clock! Yet Dal would have sent Ahmed sprawling across the threshold if he had gone out hastily through the door! Unless Ahmed was lying. But his surprised, rude awakening was convincing. There was no doubt.

  Involuntarily I looked toward the window. It was tightly fastened for the night and had been when they sat down to talk. The lock was firm—it had not been disturbed. I saw Paul look out across the yard. It was flooded with eerie moonlight, and as we searched no sharply etched shadow stirred. Paul seemed in a daze as he turned to Ahmed and gave orders in a hushed voice.

  “Go look in the washroom—and in his room, Ahmed. I will talk to the gatemen and look outside.”

  Ahmed hesitated but a brief moment. His own glance swept the room and took in the open book, the scattered papers—saw terror in my face and bewilderment in Paul’s; he nodded and disappeared into the corridor. Paul was about to follow but I held him.

  “D-don’t go out and leave me alone—” I shook as with the cold. Paul did not hesitate nor did he argue. He flung his own robe about my shoulders and pulling me with him ran swiftly out and along the hall. Somehow I was not surprised when we found the big door bolted—my eyes turned toward the back door, dimly seen down the length of the hall—the bolt was fast on it. Shivering, I stumbled along after Paul out to the gate.

  “Quick, tell me have you seen Dal? My friend who was with me tonight?”

  “Hello, is that you, Doctor? No—no I have not seen him. Haven’t seen anyone in fact. What’s the matter? Did you lose him?” the gateman chuckled at his joke, but Paul lifted his eyes up to the watchtower.

  “Hello, up there—can you see me?”

  “Of course I can see you—I can see a mile around tonight. That moon is lighting things up! What’s the trouble?”

  “Wait, I’m coming up.” Paul began to climb and I would not be left behind.

  We stood side by side high above the valley floor and with straining eyes we began to examine the whole vivid landscape. The watchman shook his head.

  “Can’t see anything out there. What you looking for?”

  “It’s Dal. He’s missing. I thought maybe he had come out here, maybe you had seen him.”

  “No—no. No one been outside for hours. Even the Arabs have been still. That moon wouldn’t make it easy to hide out there. Big shadows loom up. Maybe he got in the wrong room.”

  We retraced our steps. Ahmed met us at the door. He had not stopped with looking in one room. He had opened every extra room. Dal was not in the building—yet he had to be! The doors were or had been bolted from the inside—Ahmed had seen no one in the halls and he was alert to every sound and movement. No one had gone through the doors behind us. Reluctantly we went back to our room. We watched as Paul went across the room as if sleep-walking and began to leaf rapidly through the pages of the black Book. We listened as he began to read softly yet with clarity.

  “Watch therefore: for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come…. Therefore be ye also ready: for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh…. Watch ye therefore: for ye know not when the master of the house cometh, at even, or at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or in the morning: Lest coming suddenly he find you sleeping. And what I say unto you I say unto all, watch.”

  Neither Ahmed nor I understood the few sentences he read to us that night but they must have made some sort of sense to Paul. Clearly they spoke of some kind of happening like that of the past hour yet who had spoken them and why, I could only guess. We waited as Paul seemed to be working something out in his mind.

  “Dal read such things to me. Do you remember, Tanya?”

  “No, I’m afraid I have not been listening very much, Paul,” I wished that I had listened if, in listening, I might be of some help, now.

  “You’re too much like a sleepy kitten, little one.” He smiled ruefully. “But then I think I have been walking in my sleep. I was sure caught napping!”

  “But, Paul, do you mean that Dal knew that—that he was going to vanish into thin air? Did he tell you that?” I asked incredulously. “It must be a trick of some kind.”

  “Does it look like a trick to you?” Paul asked.

  “No—I mean he is gone and there r
eally isn’t any place he could have hidden and then sneaked out while we were looking for him!”

  “Excuse me, Doctor Paul. Was this going to happen only to your good friend?”

  “No, no—Ahmed, you’re right! If this is the—the—what did he call it—the rapture—yes, that was it, the rapture then there must be others who have gone. The radio should have reports—come, let’s go down to the recreation room and tune in. This small set up here hasn’t been working too well.”

  There was news. Scarcely had we tuned in than reports of disaster and chaos smote our ears. Not all the people who had strangely vanished had been sitting inside. Cars were left driverless to crash into other cars or into buildings; trains were left without engineers—one train was brought in by the fireman, another crashed with no trace of engineer, fireman or assistant. They were still searching. We knew that they would find no engineer or fireman—we had not found Dal! Airplanes had suddenly fallen pilotless, some sped aimlessly across the skies certain to crash eventually. Huddled together so that we could keep the radio low, we talked a little.

  Paul was the only one of our group who had the slightest inkling as to what had happened. Perhaps there were others out in the night who knew, but they were either too busy telling of disaster and trouble or they did not want to admit the truth. Paul told us what little he had been able to understand. It seemed unbelievable, but the same God who had promised us so much had, it seemed, taken away His support.

  “Don’t look like that, Tanya.” Paul saw the disdainful look that met his disclosure and it seemed to shock him. “I am not saying that exactly—Dal said it, yet, I have learned so many things since I came here. He said other things, too, and pointed them out to me in his Book. If God did turn His back on us, I think that it was not until we turned our backs on Him. You heard God praised and petitioned at your mother’s knee, Tanya. You would be appalled to know how many others of our own people have learned to curse and to disavow Him! Even when we plead our cause to the listening world we do not include Him and His promise to us in our reasons for wanting this land—for feeling that we must be a nation. We are not drawn here for religious reasons. We do not have a religion. We have given the Arabians just cause to view our coming with alarm. We want to be a nation—and whether we are right or not we have been grinding steadily on toward that end. It is not our gardens, our abilities, our changing way of life that has frightened your people, Ahmed; it is our open nationalistic purposing that has made you our enemies. I do not blame you. Not now, anyway. Without God we must seem to be without principles! Do I shock you, Tanya? Yesterday I would not have admitted much of what I am saying. But I am not quite as blind today as I was yesterday! Dal tried to tell me this, not quite as bluntly, perhaps, but the import was there. He said it was that rejection of God, that refusal to look to Him that had turned God’s hand against us and would continue to bring down trouble upon us. As God’s chosen people we were blessed beyond measure, but to us was given responsibility, too. What have we done with it? What, indeed, is it exactly?