Interrupted Romance (2 page)

She swallowed, cleared her throat, stepped toward him.
 
"This happened that day?"

"Yes.
 
I caught tiny pieces of shrapnel around the eyes, which are still there apparently.
 
I have to have another operation to restore the sight fully.
 
I have only blurred vision for now, and even that comes and goes."

"I'm so sorry, Adam," Dafna said.
 
She reached out a hand in sympathy, withdrawing it almost at once, when she realised he couldn't see it anyway.
 
"I came to say how grateful I am that you pushed me down.
 
I would have been hurt a lot more if you hadn't done that.
 
How on earth did you know what was happening?
 
You pushed me before the blast, if my memory serves me correctly."
 
He led her to his kitchen as they spoke, feeling for the jug, turning it on before continuing.

"Well, I'm a… I was… a security guard at the baggage collection area, and it's… it was… part of my job to watch for suspicious persons, or actions.
 
The guy I spotted, and was following, looked like he was about to cause trouble.
 
He was sweating profusely, didn't appear to be worried about finding luggage, but was determined to push to the front of the waiting passengers, then kept looking over his shoulder.
 
It wasn't the usual behaviour… you'll find the coffee in the blue container, and the jug has just boiled… so I was about to approach him with a view to asking him his business, when he bent quickly down and then turned and pushed through the people to get away.
 
I knew instantly there was a problem.
 
You were closest to me, so I pulled you down… I hope just in time.
 
Were you hurt, too?"

"Not as badly as you appear to be.
 
My scalp was opened up, but the bruising to my face has faded a lot.
 
I was concussed by something flying through the air, but otherwise I'm OK now.
 
Do you take sugar?"
 
Dafna had been busily finding mugs and a spoon as she spoke.

"Just one, thanks.
 
Come into the living room and sit down."

They walked out of the kitchen, back into that pleasant room and Adam sat on the sofa.
 
Dafna put the coffee mugs on the table, pulled it closer to where Adam was sitting, then turned to pick up some of the cushions off the floor, placing them on another chair.
 
She sat in a comfortable chair, facing Adam, and both gazed toward each other, remembering the sudden, horrific act that had brought them together like this.
 
They had both heard the reports of the terrorist action, which had listed six people killed and twenty-one wounded or maimed.
 
The terrorist was among those killed.
 
Apparently, he was revenging the imprisonment of a relative, who had murdered an Israeli child waiting for the school bus.

Dafna used this time to look carefully at Adam.
 
He had a strong jaw line, full lips, piercing blue eyes.
 
Right now, he needed a shave!
 
His short, black, curly hair was neat, and…

"Are you staring at me?" he asked.
 
Dafna stirred guiltily.
 
She realised that he must think her very rude.

"Excuse me, yes, I was.
 
Until now I had no idea who had saved me, what you looked like.
 
The last time I saw you, you were covered in blood."

"I only saw you from the back.
 
What do you really look like?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing special.
 
I'm twenty-four years old, 165 cm tall, black hair to my shoulders, brown eyes, a little heavier than I care to admit.
 
I wear glasses when I read, try not to run over pedestrians when I drive, enjoy going to the beach, fishing when I get the chance."

"Fishing!
 
So do I.
 
Where do you fish?"

"Actually, I haven't fished regularly in Israel.
 
My friends don't enjoy it, so I won't go alone here.
 
You know, for security reasons.
 
But I always manage to get away somewhere when I'm in Australia, visiting my mother.
 
After Dad died two years ago, Mum moved back to her family home in Sydney.
 
But we often travelled between the two countries before that.
 
I'd just come back from there when the bomb hit us.
 
Now, I run the little book shop in Netanya, which I took over from my father."

"I've been in that shop!" Adam said.
 
"It's the one in Independence Square, isn't it!"
 
He had given it the Hebrew name, Kikar Haatzmaut.
 
"Why are we speaking in English?
 
Do you not speak Hebrew?" he asked.

"Of course I speak Hebrew, Adam.
 
I've lived half my life here.
 
But, just coming back from months in Sydney, I am still in English mode.
 
Truth to tell, I prefer English."

She couldn't help thinking , as she had done when she first walked in the door, that his accented English and his deep voice were a captivating combination.

"So, who runs the shop for you?
 
Should you be there now?"

"I have Yael, who is wonderful.
 
I don’t need to be there all the time, although I do love being there.
 
Especially when the new titles come in.
 
I love to be the one to unpack them and display them on the shelves.
 
Yael does all the accounts, makes sure I pay everything on time.
 
She lives in Netanya with her family.
 
Also, Ilana comes in three days a week to help.
 
So, I'm able to move about pretty much as I want.
 
It's a great arrangement.
 
What will you do now, Adam?
 
When do you expect to be back at work?"

"That depends on when I can see, of course.
 
I don’t know.
 
Meanwhile, my mother and sister come in twice a week.
 
They clean up after me, prepare meals I can put in the microwave.
 
I manage quite well.
 
But work… I don't know.
 
The boss has been to see me.
 
He said my job is there when I can make it back.
 
I'm hoping that will be no longer than three months away.
 
Assuming the operation is successful and I can see properly again.

Dafna's coffee had gone cold.
 
She stood up.
 
He looked up, hearing her movements.
 
"Are you leaving?"

'Yes, I really should get back today.
 
I have a large consignment coming in, and I'd prefer to be there.
 
May I come and see you again next week?
 
I'd like to know you are OK."

Adam stood up, bent to find the mug he'd put on the table, decided to ignore it, and moved around the table slowly.
 
They walked toward the door.
 
He fumbled for the door handle, found it, and opened the door.
 
Once more, he extended his hand to her.
 
This time she held his in both of hers.
 
A feeling she wasn't quite sure of swept over her and she reached up and kissed him on the cheek, squeezed his hand, turned and walked away with a soft "Lehitraot".

CHAPTER 2

The book shop was crowded with browsers when Dafna arrived about 10 a.m.
 
Yael gave her 'that' look, which meant 'where the hell have you been'…
 
Dafna hurried into the back office and put her shoulder bag into a drawer of her desk.
 
The invoice for the new consignment of books was on the desk, along with the day's mail.
 
She skimmed over the invoice, checking titles received.
 
Some were going to be on back order… damn!
 
Mrs Hermann wouldn't be pleased; she'd already waited longer than she wanted to for that title.

Yael entered, sat on the edge of the desk, arms folded.
 
"Well, how is he?"

"How is who?"

"Loverboy."

"He's not my loverboy.
 
He's a poor injured man, who has been blinded trying to save me," said Dafna.
 
She smarted under the stern look from Yael.
 
Dafna had been going out for over a year with Moshe, the 'boy next door', and an announcement was due very soon… everyone knew it.
 
Yael obviously disapproved of any competition for Dafna.
 
"Besides, for all I know, there is a future Mrs Lavan somewhere, although I didn't see any photographs to make me think that."

"OK.
 
But right now I need you out the front, talking to customers.
 
We've had so many enquiries for that new nature book everyone has seen advertised on the television that I can't keep up with demand.
 
Has it arrived with this consignment?"

"Yes.
 
I'll unpack the boxes.
 
Ask them to wait fifteen minutes and they'll be on the shelves.
 
Has it been like this all day?"

"Pretty much.
 
That TV ad is free business as far as I can see.
 
They've been coming through the door all morning, asking for it."

Dafna put a smock over her new slacks and blouse, bought especially to visit Adam, and set about placing the price tags on the new books.
 
She was kept busy for more than the fifteen minutes, but Ilana rushed out every now and then to take a pile of the books back into the shop.
 
They really were selling like hot cakes.
 
If it kept up like this, perhaps they'd under-ordered.
 
It was close to midday when the total consignment was processed, priced, and on the shelves.
 
The rush of customers eased off as the citizens of Netanya thought about going home for lunch and a nap.
 
After all these years, Dafna thought, it is still hard to get used to the idea of a 'siesta' time in the middle of the day.
 
In Australia, people worked on through the day, well into the late afternoon, before they went home.
 
Then, there was the late-night shopping in so many areas, with some stores trading twenty-four hours a day, catering for the shift workers and working Mums with limited spare time.

The office phone was ringing, bringing her out of her reverie.
 
This was a separate number to the shop, so she knew it was a friend.
 
It was Moshe.
 
He knew she was busy this morning, but would she like to go out tonight for dinner?
 
Dafna was on the point of saying 'no thanks', but quickly changed her mind and accepted gracefully.
 
He had been out of the country on business at the time of her injuries, only hearing about the atrocity on the radio.
 
Friends had contacted him to advise that Dafna had been involved.
 
She ascertained what time Moshe would call for her, and rang off.
 
He'd been anxious about her ever since her return; the bombing; the hospital recovery.
 
Perhaps tonight would be the night he proposed to her.
 
She knew it was only a matter of time.
 
Not so subtle hints had been dropped when he rang her in Sydney, and now that she was home there was no need to hold back any longer.
 
For the past four months, there had been a lessening of passion in their relationship.
 
Dafna put this down to the fact that she'd been in Australia for a long time.
 
The time in hospital didn't help.
 
But the more she thought about it, the more the prospect of marriage with Moshe became a dilemma.
 
Could she spend the rest of her life with this man?
 
Truly, he was a good man.
 
Kind, considerate, loving.
 
He earned a good living as an accountant.
 
He had his own apartment in Tel Aviv.
 
His family approved of her.
 
But there was a nagging doubt that they were too complacent in their relationship.
 
The fire had gone out of their lovemaking - at least on her side.
 
It was as though neither of them could think of a better alternative how to spend time together, and would simply drift into marriage.
 
She reached out to lift the phone, to call him back and cancel the date.
 
Her hand hovered over the phone, then dropped back to her side.
 
Maybe it would be for the best.
 
Settle down.
 
Raise a family.

Yael and
 
Ilana had closed the shop for the lunch break.
 
They were about to leave.
 
Dafna waved as they went out the front door, closing it firmly behind them.
 
She sat behind the desk, considering what she should wear tonight.
 
Her thoughts kept going back to Adam.
 
How did he manage in between the visits of his mother and sister?
 
She felt responsible for his injuries.

With a deep sigh, she picked up her bag, closed the shop and walked through the square towards the car park.
 

The rest of the day went by in a blur of activity.
 
She hurried home to shower and change for her dinner date with Moshe.
 
The table was booked for 8 p.m. at a posh restaurant in Tel Aviv.
 
Several sets of clothes were tried on and discarded in favour of something else.
 
Finally Dafna decided on the black evening pants, the matching sleeveless blouse with the low neckline that Moshe liked to see her in.
 
The silver thread through the bodice shimmered in the lights.
 
Tonight, the makeup would be applied more carefully than usual; no jewellery apart from her watch and her hair swept up.
 
The final result was stunningly simple, or simply stunning.
 
The scar along her forehead was hidden.
 
A last glance around the apartment, to make sure it was tidy when they came back.
 
The door buzzer sounded and Moshe was there.
 
They kissed briefly before walking arm in arm out to his car.