The Tenth Song (34 page)

She had been his trophy woman—beautiful, bright, rich, argumentative, and fun; a little confused perhaps, but wasn’t everyone? Still, he’d always found her malleable. But then, was he in love with a real person or a fantasy of his own creation? Certainly, the Kayla Samuels of his fantasy would not have dropped out of Harvard Law in favor of a desert commune.

Adam’s phone call had been a wake-up call: “Seth, if you love her, don’t
wait! You need to fly to Israel now and bring her back home! If you hesitate, put it off for even a few days, it may be too late.”

“But I thought her mother was going to do that, bring her back! What happened, Adam?”

There was silence. “I don’t know. But Mrs. Samuels is apparently going through some kind of breakdown of her own. Or perhaps they are all smoking something up there in the desert…”

“Adam, you can’t mean… !” He was shocked.

“No, no, I don’t mean it. I’m being facetious. At least that is what I’m telling myself. But I have never felt anything more strongly in my life. It’s now or never, Seth. It’s all up to you. Go. Bring my daughter back.”

“But why? What’s happening?”

“There is someone up there—one of those charismatic types—irresistible apparently, even to my levelheaded wife. And Kayla has always been impulsive, easy to manipulate, you know that. She is so vulnerable right now. Just the kind of person who gets preyed on by charming opportunists in such situations. In this condition, she could ruin her life in a minute. Please, Seth, if you love her… she needs you now more than she has ever needed anyone. She needs to be reminded of all she has to lose.”

He had papers coming up. He had work to do. He was at the end of a long, hard slog upward. And now, he was being asked to risk losing it all for emotional reasons. He was being asked to be impractical and selfless.

It went against every bone in his body.

But even after how she had treated him, he knew he still wanted her, very much. And he wasn’t used to losing the things he wanted. He was angry with himself. He had been given a choice, and he had, for a split second, made the wrong one. He had wavered. And she had seen that. He didn’t know if that split second could ever be undone.

When he reached the corner, the snow began to blow in earnest, frosting his eyelashes, blinding him. It seemed as if the universe had chosen him as its foe, throwing all it had against him. He turned around, feeling defeated, retracing his steps toward his comfortable room and the warm lamplight shining on his notebooks and study sheets. Then, in a moment of decisive contempt for
his own weakness, he swiveled, marching forward across the street and entering the offices of the campus travel agent.

He woke up in Tel Aviv just as the plane began its short descent, having taken pills his research had found to be the answer to jet lag. The cloudless skies and blue sea filled his heart with irrational spring-break joy. Coldly, he reminded himself that he was not by any means on a legitimate leave from his studies. He had not even had time to notify his professors, something he planned to rectify by e-mail just as soon as he landed and could connect to the Internet. He hoped they would have a touch of romance in their souls. Besides, the third year wasn’t like the first or second year in law school. There was a certain amount of flexibility. At least, this is what he told himself.

But none of that was important. He now applied the secret formula which had garnered success for him ever since he could remember: He resolutely set his goal. He always took on only one goal at a time. Once he pinpointed what it was he wanted to achieve, he was absolutely focused and relentless. His goal now was to bring his fiancée back home, convincing her to pick up their lives where they had left off. Nothing else mattered.

“Do you speak English?” he asked as cab drivers accosted him left and right at the exit gate. “Listen, I need to get to this address—” He held out the piece of paper.

“Two hundred dollars,” one answered in perfect English.

“What? Forget it.” The others shrugged when they heard this, walking away toward more amenable customers.

He walked along, collaring a few more drivers, until he realized that all they heard was his American accent and all they saw was his cashmere sweater and North Face jacket. It was way too warm for this climate anyhow, he thought, taking it off and stuffing it into his backpack. Finally, a woman who had overheard stopped him. “Why don’t you just take a bus to the central bus station in Jerusalem, then grab another bus to the Dead Sea? It will cost you a fraction and won’t take much longer,” she said kindly.

“Thanks very much!” It sounded like a plan.

He changed some cash at a money changer’s and got directions to the buses. It didn’t take long for the bus to Jerusalem to pull up. He was a little hesitant about leaving his suitcase and backpack in the luggage hold at the side of the bus while he boarded, but overcame it. If it got stolen, it got stolen. He touched his inside pocket, feeling the reassuring bulge of his credit cards and passport.

He had never been to Israel. Not once. Not that he hadn’t wanted to go, but there never seemed to be the right time. When all his friends were doing their year after high school, he was in summer school getting advanced placement in calculus and working as a lifeguard at a local pool to save for tuition.

He looked out of the bus window. The landscape seemed almost countrified, with farms and open fields all along the route to Jerusalem. This surprised him. He had imagined a bigger place, taller buildings. After all, Israel had the reputation of being a whiz in high-tech and biotech companies. A world leader even. As a Jew, he had always been secretly proprietary about that, as if somehow he too deserved credit simply for being of the same race.

Jerusalem piqued his curiosity. So much fuss. So many battles. So many people wanting a piece of her. The ambition of the world in laying claim to her made him wonder what great natural resource she held that would stir such deep and unrelenting drives across the planet and history. That wasn’t immediately apparent when the bus pulled into Jerusalem’s central bus station. The much-touted, worldwide source of coveted real estate looked awfully ordinary: a bus terminal inside a shopping mall, with a food court, bakeries, a record shop, clothing stores. He sat down and ordered a pizza, washing it down with a Coke. The crust was a bit soggy, and the cheese some cheap substitute for mozzarella. Still, he was hungry enough to find it satisfying if not delicious.

He wandered around, asking directions, until he found his way to the information booth. He pushed the paper with the address inside the glass barrier, but the girl shook her head. “Wait; I check.” She leaned over and spoke to the other person manning the booth, who stared at the address and shrugged. She picked up the phone and had an animated conversation with someone—perhaps her supervisor. “Okay, okay, okay,” she finally said, hanging up. “Look, mister. You take bus to Ein Gedi, or to Dead Sea. That is as close as you go tonight. Tomorrow, you take bus from there to Metzuke Madragot, at six
A.M.
Only come once a day.”

“Once a day?” He thought about this. “Okay, what bus will leave me off near a hotel down there?”

“The bus to Dead Sea. Near all hotels. You stay night?”

That just might wind up happening, he thought. Hotels were going to be damn expensive. Maybe I should rent a car. It couldn’t be more expensive than a hotel room, he thought. That way, I could also drive us all back to the airport as soon as possible.

More and more, the idea began to appeal to him. He knew his credit-card company had some kind of deal with Hertz and Avis. He managed to find a phone book near public phones but couldn’t get them to work. He took out his cell phone and managed to negotiate a good deal on a week’s rental. He made his way down to the rental offices by cab.

It was a Subaru, but a nice color, and fairly new, with adequate trunk space if Kayla and her mother didn’t have too much luggage. They gave him a map, marking off directions carefully in red.

“But I think you shouldn’t go at night…” The girl smiled, shaking her head, looking over the handsome young American in his beautiful preppy clothes, thinking: Brad Pitt. “It’s the desert. Wait until morning. It will be easier.”

“Thanks for the unsolicited advice,” he said irritably, taking the keys. “Now which way do I turn when I get out of this parking lot? Right or left?”

“Right,” she answered, insulted.

“Thanks.” He walked out the door, not looking back.

“You tried,” her supervisor comforted her.

“
Amerikanim.
” She sighed, switching to her native Hebrew. “Imagine, going to that
chur
in the middle of the night! Anything could happen.”

“
Chalas,
” he answered, the Arab equivalent of “forget about it.” “Did you see how he was dressed? He will find it all right. Nothing ever happens to people like that.”

“How can you say that?”

“Success. It clings to them, like deodorant. They can’t shake it even if they want to.”

“That makes no sense,” she replied, mystified.

“It’s the Yankee-Doodle dandy in them. The ‘can do’ in them. They always figure things out, whether they are on top of a mountain or diving in dangerous
waters. They are always the ones who come back with the fabulous stories about near disasters, their pants still pressed, their fingernails still clean.”

“You are just jealous,” she snorted.

“And you are in love.” He touched her forehead with his forefinger.

She blushed, looking through the frosted glass as Seth started the car and pulled into traffic. “Good luck, Brad,” she whispered, shaking her head.

28

Kayla awoke earlier than usual, stirred into consciousness by the sound of muffled voices that seemed to come from everywhere. “What?” she said aloud, but the tent was empty, the two other women who had been sharing it with her gone.

She pulled a rough blanket around her shoulders and stepped out into the soft moonlit night. Shocked, she saw a crowd had gathered. In its center was Rav Natan. She moved closer, jostling for a position that would allow her to hear what was being said. She looked around, realizing it was not only The Talmidim that were there, but also the people from the dig: Judith, Michael, and Efrat. She looked around for Daniel, but couldn’t place him in the crowd. Her mother too was nowhere to be found.

“What’s going on?” she asked Judith.

“Haven’t you heard? There’s been a find! Something amazing.”

“Really? What?”

“A cave. We need to get there before it’s closed off by the Antiquities Authority, or vandalized.”

“There are writings, they say. Ancient prophecies,” Michael joined in, his voice shaking with excitement. “We’ll be the first in history to read them!”

“That’s fantastic! Who found it?” Kayla responded, tingling with a strange excitement mixed with doubt. Could any of this be true?

“A young Bedouin looking for a goat!”

“Can you imagine?” Judith laughed. “The same exact story as the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls! Some Bedouin kid in Qumran threw stones into caves trying to chase out his lost goat, then heard a crash and went in to investigate! He found a jar full of ancient scrolls, which he sold to antiquities dealers. Luckily, this time our Bedouin has a father who once worked here, helping in the dairy. He brought the boy and his findings to Rav Natan. The Rav got Professor Milstein involved. The professor has examined some findings. I heard he was stunned.”

“I heard he’d called it ‘the greatest find of the generation,’ ” Michael interjected, excited.

“Rav Natan is going now. He’s bringing his whole family. He has invited all of us to join him. They’ve sent camels and donkeys ahead carrying enough food and water for everyone. Even a few tents for shade. But we should all bring our own sleeping bags and extra water. You never know.” Judith was ecstatic. “They are saying it might even be the End of Days manuscript.”

“What’s that?” Kayla asked, intrigued.

“The scrolls that are supposed to prophesy how and when the world will end, and what will come after. The writings were hinted at in the Dead Sea Scrolls but have never been found! So far, that is.” The tension among the listeners became almost palpable.

Could any of this be true? Kayla wondered, her analytical lawyer’s mind clashing with her ever-hopeful, believing heart.

“It wouldn’t be just a coincidence if the End of Days scrolls turned up now!” a woman’s voice exclaimed just behind her. Kayla turned around. It was Ariella. “It’s God’s will, because the earth and mankind are so fragile and vulnerable. There’s so little time left. There is so much corruption, such injustice, so many lies and wanton murders, the whole earth sunk in immorality, overtaken by new barbarians with no one to stand up to them.”

Kayla heard the rambling speech, feeling a shiver crawl down her back. She had found Ariella a kind and intelligent woman for the most part; but this kind of talk made her cringe. She couldn’t help wondering, though, if there might just be some kernel of truth in it.

“You are coming, Kayla, aren’t you?” Judith asked.

“Yes, you must!” Ariella exclaimed. “You can’t miss this!”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, looking around for her mother.

“Your mother is coming. So is Daniel.” It was Ariella’s son, Ben Tzion. He wore a full backpack with huge bottles of water. In the dim light his facial scars seemed to fade.

“How do you know?” Kayla asked him. “Have you seen my mom?”

“She and Daniel were both just behind me when I was coming up the path. They’re on their way here.”

“How far away is the cave?” Kayla asked.

“About a day and a half journey by foot,” Ben Tzion informed her.

“By foot? You mean we are all walking through the desert, now, in the middle of the night, and all day tomorrow? That’s a hike for paratroopers, not for families with kids and older people. It’s crazy!”

“There’s no choice,” Ariella explained. “It’s through the mountains. There’s no road. No vehicle could make it.”

“You don’t have to go. Nobody has to go,” Efrat reminded them.