The Gates of Zion (43 page)

“She asked you?”

“Her uncle.”

Michael shook his head. “No problem, huh?”

“Maybe a slight deviation in plans.”

“She loves that other guy? Moshe?”

“I don’t know.” David shrugged. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Come on, David. Why don’t you just take her to some nice, quiet, out-of-the-way place and romance her a little bit?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

David sighed. “I tried it.”

“Yeah? Didn’t work?”

“Nope.”

“You’re in serious trouble, boy. Serious.”

“There’s still Christmas.”

“What happens at Christmas?”

“I got her a new Speed Graphix.”

***

A strange, unexpected calm had settled over the city of Jerusalem the last few days, as though the warm turn in the weather had cooled the passions of hatred. For the first time since the commercial-district riot, Jewish shops dared to stay open past noon. Today, two days before Christmas Eve and Hanukkah, the marketplaces would remain open until three o’clock, leaving plenty of time for merchants to lock their gates and scurry home before darkness and fear overlook the city once again.

Taxis had become scarce in the city. A few brave drivers had welded steel plates to their automobiles. They careened around corners and past barricades in defiance of the fact that taxi drivers had become a favorite target for Arab snipers perched on the Old City wall. Five had died last month alone.

Ellie preferred to walk the three blocks to King George Street with Rachel at her side and Shaul trailing along behind. The day was beautiful, and the walk gave Ellie a much-needed opportunity to talk to Rachel.

Rachel had been strangely silent since Yacov had arrived, cooking and cleaning like a mute servant, then disappearing into her room.

“Talk to her,” Uncle Howard had said, worried. “You know, that girl-talk business.” Then he had hurried off to the American school to meet with a member of the Beirut faculty about shipping remaining artifacts to safety.

“Now, aren’t you glad you came?” Ellie asked, gazing at the blue sky as a flock of pigeons fluttered to roost beneath the eaves of a store on King George Street.

“Yes,” Rachel answered, taking several more steps in silence. “He was quite unhappy, was he not?”

“Who?”

“The little boy. What is his name?”

“Yacov.”

“Yes,” Rachel said slowly, as if lost in the past. “Yacov. He wanted to come. I should have stayed at home and let him come instead.”

A British armored car clanked by on patrol. Ellie raised her hand and smiled at the soldier perched on the turret. “He couldn’t come.

You’ve got to help me find that dreidel thing his grandfather wanted him to have for Hanukkah. And by the way, kiddo …”

Rachel gave her a puzzled smile. “Yes? Kiddo?”

“How come you got so quiet all of a sudden when the boy came home with us?”

***

Rachel halted in her steps for a minute. The question had finally come. But how could she answer? She thought about Moshe in the parking lot of the hospital—the way he had seen her, then rushed away. She had not stopped thinking about it but did not want to mention her feelings about it to the woman who loved him. Finally she answered―honestly, she thought. “I am not good with children,” she replied flatly.

Ellie stopped, too, and put her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rachel frowned as she remembered the reaction of the children in the DP camps as she passed by. They had whispered words first uttered by their mothers. Words she had heard often, but they still hurt each time.

“They do not seem to like me,” Rachel said simply.

“Why? Do you grow fangs during the full moon? You’re a nice person. Yacov likes you. Or he would if you’d try.”

“You do not know, Ellie. There are many who would say otherwise.”

“Well, let me at ’em.” Ellie thumped her on the back and smiled cheerfully.

They began to walk again.

“But you see,” Rachel tried to explain, “there are things about me that a normal, decent person would―”

“I have this philosophy,” Ellie interrupted. “You want to hear it?”

She continued without waiting for Rachel’s reply. “
Nobody’s
normal. Whatever
that
is. And hardly anyone is decent, not when you get right down to what goes on in our hearts. And anybody who would point a finger at somebody because of something that somebody else did to them …”

Rachel stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “I am what is called a
Sotah
to my race.” The grief in her heart rose to her eyes. “Do you know what this means?”

“No,” she answered, seeming embarrassed.

“
Sotah
. It means faithless wife. Traitor. You know?”

“Because you survived and others didn’t?” Ellie asked.

Rachel’s deep blue eyes locked with Ellie’s. Rachel pulled up the sleeve of her sweater, then clasped her hand over the tattoo. “I am called a
Sotah
to my own people,” Rachel repeated. “Mothers have forbidden their children to speak with me. They are right, I think.”

She held her forearm out to Ellie.

***

For the first time Ellie saw the mark Moshe had told her about:
Nür Für
Offizere
. She stared at it, then met Rachel’s eyes.

How desperately she is searching,
Ellie thought.
From the depth of
her soul. And she needs friendship
. Ellie took Rachel’s outstretched hand and carefully, tenderly, pulled down the sleeve.

“The world is full of evil people, Rachel,” she said softly, her heart aching for Rachel’s burden. “But you are not one of them.”

Unspoken gratitude passed from Rachel to Ellie, and she smiled when Ellie linked her arm in hers as they continued down the street.

***

David fired up the engine of the six-passenger Stinson aircraft and prepared for takeoff from the dirt airstrip outside Bari, Italy.

“Some surprise, eh, fellas?” asked Avriel.

“This thing feels like an ocean liner compared to those little dinghies you guys have had us buzzing around Palestine in,” David remarked as they taxied out.

“Yeah!” Michael shouted over the roar of the engine as David revved the motor for takeoff. “There’s enough booze back here to sink a battleship.” He pointed to the cases marked
Scotch
and
Seltzer Water.
“You planning on setting up a nightclub in Jerusalem?”

“Don’t be an idiot!” Avriel shouted back over his shoulder. “The Haganah has a military use for everything!”

27

Holiday Plans

Moshe shifted the bulky shopping bag into his left arm and bounded up the steps of the Moniger home. Two long loaves of bread protruded from the bag, and a heavy round of cheese filled the bottom. Moshe knocked loudly on the door, then glanced over his shoulder, instinctively feeling the presence of hostile eyes observing his every movement.

The bright voice of Yacov called from behind the new locks and bolts that Howard had installed on the door the week before. Shaul barked angrily beside the small boy.

“Who is there?” Yacov demanded.

“Moshe,” he quickly answered. “And has Shaul had breakfast, or am I to be the first meal of the day?”

Bolts snapped and locks clicked as Yacov threw the door wide open to Moshe. As Moshe crossed the threshold and shut the door behind him, Shaul sniffed his leg. Yacov then repeated the procedure in reverse, making certain every lock was secure.

“Good morning, Professor.” Yacov smiled. “It is the professor, you see, Shaul.”

Moshe held his hand out, palm out, to Shaul. “Just the harmless old professor,” he cooed. “Good dog.”

“He has become more fierce since I am hurt,” Yacov apologized.

“But he will not harm you unless you come between him and me.”

Moshe blinked down at the dog, then took a step back from Yacov.

“Good dog,” he said again. He peered down the hall. “Is everyone up?”

“Oh yes, for many hours. Rachel and I have done the shopping already this morning. There are quite long lines at the bakery now, but we have bought the bread.”

“You took Shaul with you, of course?”

“Yes. I think he likes Rachel nearly as much as me, even though she is so very quiet and seems so sad that she rarely speaks even a word.”

Moshe frowned with concern, remembering Rachel’s beautiful smile as she had sat across from him at Fanny’s that morning in Tel Aviv.

He had hoped that being in Jerusalem would have helped ease her heartache. “Maybe Shaul thinks she is very beautiful.”

“Ah yes.” Yacov nodded. “He is a very smart dog, you see. Shall you like to see Miss Ellie and Rachel? They are in the kitchen, I think.”

The aroma of coffee filtered down the hallway as Yacov led the way to the kitchen. Moshe followed behind Shaul at a distance, stopping in his tracks when the shaggy, ferocious-looking animal turned around once and looked him over from head to foot. “Nice dog,”

Moshe repeated.

“Shaul!” Yacov reprimanded. “Come along.” Then he said to Moshe over his shoulder, “Rachel is a good cook. Better than Grandfather and the public kitchen. And as you said, she cooks Kashrut. She is teaching Ellie to cook the same. But I think Ellie is not so good a cook.”

Moshe bit his lip to keep from smiling as Yacov pushed the kitchen door open to reveal the two women washing and drying the dishes.

Ellie was still in her dark blue bathrobe; Rachel was dressed in powder blue trousers and a matching sweater that he instantly recognized as Ellie’s.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully, setting the shopping bag on the table.

Ellie turned around, shock on her face. “Good grief! Don’t you call anymore? Who let you in, Moshe?”

“Shaul.” He grinned. “And I’ve gotten a friendlier hello from the Arab High Command.” He nodded at Rachel, who had turned back to drying the dishes without a word. “Hello, Rachel.”

“Hello,” she said quietly.

“Look at me!” Ellie wailed.

“I have seen women in much worse shape than you.”

“Egyptian mummies, right? Can you believe this man?” she asked Rachel, drying her hands on the towel and rolling her eyes.

“Well, I hear Rachel has already been out to buy bread this morning,” Moshe chided.

“This is so,” Yacov agreed. He took Shaul by the collar and ducked out the door.

Moshe grinned again. The lad wasn’t giving Ellie any chance to reprimand him for letting the professor in.

“How about a cup of coffee?” he asked, helping himself to the dregs of the pot. “And a hello kiss?”

Ellie pecked him on the cheek. “What’s this?” She tapped the rim of the shopping bag.

“Bullets, guns, and grenades.” Moshe sat down. “What does it look like?”

“Unique. Really unique. We toasted our grenades this morning and ate them.”

“The perfect hiding place. Not even the British would think to look in your stomach. I’ll mention it to the area commanders,” he teased.

“So where’s your uncle?”

Ellie jammed her hands onto her hips. “I don’t hear from you in a week except when you drop by the hospital and then run off to a meeting, and all you can say is ‘Where’s your uncle?’”

Rachel put away the last cup. “Excuse me,” she murmured and started to leave the kitchen.

Moshe caught her by the hand. “Wait a minute, please,” he said in Polish. “I have something to say that concerns you.”

Rachel paused and looked at him briefly, then pulled her hand away.

“Speak English, please. I am trying to learn English,” she said haltingly.

“Please,” Ellie added. “I took Polish for four years in high school, but the verb tenses always got to me.”

Moshe smiled and shook his head. “I am sorry. I thought it would be easier.”

Rachel stood before him, her eyes still downcast. “What is it?”

Moshe sipped his coffee and fixed his eyes on Ellie. “Is your uncle home?”

Ellie frowned and tucked her robe more closely around her. “Sounds serious.”

“Important.” He set his cup down and continued to look in her eyes.

Apprehension widened Ellie’s eyes. “Give me a minute. I think he’s in the shower. I’ll get dressed.” She slipped out the door.

Rachel stood without moving as the kitchen door swung back and forth, then finally stopped. The silence grew uncomfortable for both her and Moshe. He pursed his lips and looked toward the window, where the sun shone brightly in the courtyard beyond.

“Would you like to sit down?” he finally asked.

“Could I make you another coffee?” Rachel asked, not waiting for his answer as she snatched the pot off the stove and hurried to the faucet to fill it.

“Thank you. Hmm.” He searched for words, careful not to let his eyes fall on her slim, belted waist or his mind wander from the reason he had come here the morning before Hanukkah.

Rachel carefully measured fresh coffee into the pot. “It is a lovely morning, is it not?” she commented, as if unable to bear the silence.

“Yes.” He hesitated. “Rachel … ,” he began in an imploring voice.

She raised her eyes to his for the first time. She frowned for an instant, unable to tear her gaze away. Then Moshe saw panic set in. It caused her to spin around and, with shaking hands, strike a match to light the stove burner. “The coffee is weak,” she said in a rush. “At home when the war comes, we use the same grounds many times and finally there was no coffee at all.”

“Rachel,” he began again, “the other day when I saw you in front of the hospital, I just couldn’t …”

She crossed to the window and stared out. “I understand,” she said quietly. “I … I cause you to feel revolted.”

“No!” Moshe jumped from the chair and stepped to her side, afraid to touch her but aching to put a hand on her shoulder. He looked down at her hands, which gripped the edge of the counter. “That wasn’t it,” he said, lapsing into Polish once again. “Not at all.”

“I know that the Sabras have a name for us survivors. I heard it from the children on the kibbutz.
Sotah.
We are pitied, but somehow less than human. I have seen it in your eyes.”