The Gates of Zion (20 page)

13

Moshe and David

Moshe did not look up from the microscope when Ellie entered the study.

He continued to gaze with unseeing eyes at the pattern on the leather fragment.

Everything else seemed of little importance after seeing the face of Ibrahim Hassan staring up at him from Ellie’s developing tray. He only hoped that the rage he felt did not give away the fact that he did indeed know the identity of the gap-toothed policeman. But why had Ellie been the target of his brutal pursuit?

He sighed, inhaling her fragrance as she stood silently behind him.

Her association with him had brought her under the scrutiny of a man like Hassan, and that realization suddenly made her more dear to him … and as vulnerable as a child.

A dull ache throbbed between Moshe’s shoulder blades and crept up to the back of his head. He sat up straight and moved his head from side to side, trying to loosen the tension that gripped him.

“Headache?” Ellie asked, as she began to massage his temples.

“Hmm,” he answered. “The back of my neck.”

“Are you okay, Moshe?” she asked, as if sensing his uneasiness.

“I think you should return to the United States,” he said as her fingers moved to his neck.

The massage stopped. “You too? Why?”

“It is not safe for you here.” He turned and met her eyes.

“There’s that lovely word again:
safe
.”

“Anyone who did not value safety would be a fool, Ellie.”

“And you’re no fool, are you, Moshe?”

There was an irritation in her voice that at first startled him, then made him smile.

“That’s what I like about you, you know,” she continued. “You’re so in focus, so safe. I mean, you’ve grown up around stuff like this, haven’t you? Riots? Beatings?”

“It has been a fact of life here in Jerusalem.”

“And what do you do about it?” she said in disdain.

“I simply live.”

“With your books and scrolls and precious clay tablets. While people are suffering and dying, you’re safe!”

How little she guesses
… . Aloud he said, “As long as it does not affect one’s life, is it necessary to be anything else?”

“I don’t know,” she retorted. “I have to figure that out. But I’ll tell you, Moshe, you’re a Jew. You grew up here, and never once have you talked to me about politics or this Mufti or the Jews coming out of those horrible places in Europe. All you care about is that I got pictures of that scroll and that I’m safe. I can’t figure out how you can live here and not care at all. At least I have an excuse. I mean, I’m from Los Angeles.”

He couldn’t help himself. A chuckle escaped his lips at her mention of Los Angeles.

“Go ahead and laugh,” she added indignantly.

“What are you saying?” He took her hand.

She yanked her hand out of his and sat in the chair farthest from him.

“I don’t know yet. But maybe my idea of what I respect in a man is changing. Maybe what I can respect about myself is changing.”

“Ellie, I …” Moshe wanted to tell her of his other life—about the
Ave Maria
and his years with the Haganah. But he remembered his sacred vow of secrecy and paused, frowning, as he turned back to the microscope. The only thing he could do was change the subject.

“The work you did on the scrolls is very fine.”

“Is that all you care about?”

He could answer with nothing but silence.

She stood abruptly. He could feel her glaring at his back as he hunched further over the microscope. “Maybe we shouldn’t see each other for a while, Moshe. Socially, I mean. Not until I decide what I’m going to do.”

Moshe gripped the edge of the table, wanting to grab her and hold her to himself. He wanted to tell her everything he felt and believed and explain that the depth of his convictions forced him to silence.

Instead he could merely nod and say quietly, “Whatever you think is best.”

***

Ellie stalked out of the study, certain that Moshe did not care for her.
He is
a man without conviction
,
without courage,
she told herself angrily.

She went straight to her room and slammed the door loudly behind her, as if making some final statement. Throwing herself across her bed, she took her alarm clock off the night table. It was only seven in the evening, and suddenly she felt like a jailed prisoner. She could not leave the house, and with Moshe out there, she did not want to leave the room. If she had to look at him too soon, her anger and resolve might melt away beneath the steady gaze of his ebony eyes.

She wanted to enjoy her anger, to hate him for his apathy, to blame him for his complacency. It was much easier than sorting through the other emotions that assaulted her, pushing and crowding out all the self-images she had clung to so fiercely.

She thought about David. Where had he gone? He had not been with her at the hospital; she remembered that. What comfort she had felt as he stroked her hair! At first she’d thought it was a dream or a hallucination. But after she had awakened, she had asked Uncle Howard about him and received a note scrawled in David’s cramped handwriting.

Ellie took it from the nightstand now and read it for the hundredth time:

Wish I could be the first face you see when you open your eyes. I’ll
be back in a few days and we’ll go dancing. D.

The certainty of his words had frightened her. She was not at all sure that she should see him when and if he did call. After all, she had only just begun to walk through a day without thinking of him.

Sometime later, Ellie sat up at the knock on her door. “It’s open,”

she said.

Miriam poked her face through the door and frowned. “You are for bed? That young man who comes the other day is here for you. I shall tell him you are for bed.”

“Don’t tell him that!” Ellie shot back, imagining David’s response to Miriam’s broken English. “Do you mean David Meyer, Miriam?”

“Yes, yes,” Miriam repeated. “The very same David. You will see him when Professor Sachar is here?” she whispered hoarsely.

“Yes. Tell him I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Miriam shook her head in disapproval and ducked back out, muttering in Arabic.

Ellie freshened her makeup, feeling a vague satisfaction that her two suitors would meet. “It never hurts to keep a man guessing,” she murmured, running a brush through her hair. She offered her most winning smile into the mirror, then, spraying herself with lilac, went to greet David.

He was standing, had in hand, when she entered the parlor. Inhaling deeply, he took a step toward her and reached out to take her in his arms. “Gee, you smell terrific.”

She maneuvered coolly out of his grasp. “It’s good to see you again, David. What brings you to Jerusalem?”

“Don’t play games with me, Ellie,” he demanded. “Not after the other day.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She sat down and crossed her legs. “Have a seat.” She pointed to a chair on the other side of a coffee table opposite hers.

He plopped down angrily. “That smoke must have given you brain damage. You don’t remember all the stuff you said to me?”

Ellie felt a blush color her cheeks. “No, David, I honestly don’t. That was hardly the time or the occasion.” She paused. “Listen, I’m glad you came along when you did. I’m grateful. But my life has changed.

I don’t know that I want to be involved.”

“It’s that other guy, isn’t it?”

“Things are not the same, David. I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m grown up now. If you’re lookng for a good time, I’m sure there are plenty of―”

“I wanted to see you―that’s why I’m here. You’re not the only one who can change, you know. Let’s go home, babe. Let’s get out of here and back to where we belong.”

“Where
do
we belong, David?” She didn’t like being called
babe
, and she was put out by his possessive attitude.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m kind of partial to Frisco. We can work out the details later. I just want to get you out of here, okay?”

“Why?”

***

Ellie’s question hung in the air.

“Because I―” David hesitated. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but the words stuck in his throat. He had been able to say it to that Moshe fellow as she lay unconscious in the hospital.
Why then is it
so hard with her sitting up, wide-awake and beautiful, across from
me?

He changed his approach. “Listen, I could use a few laughs tonight.

How about my offer?”

“You mean the note? About taking me dancing? I thought it was a summons.” There was a spark of annoyance in her green eyes.

Ellie had a way of making him irritated faster than any other woman.

Why was that? David wondered. Aloud he simply said, “No. It was a question. Do you want to go dancing or not?”

Just then Moshe Sachar walked by in the hallway and glanced in.

Ellie seemed to catch Moshe’s eye, then said to David, “I’d love to go dancing with you.”

David eyed the man in the hallway. Was that a pang of jealousy he’d just seen cross Moshe Sachar’s face? Or was it David’s imagination? But never mind—Ellie had agreed to go with him.

“Great!” David exclaimed.

“Just a minute,” Ellie said a bit too loudly as she rose and walked toward the hallway. “I’ll let Uncle Howard know we’re going.

Where are we going? The King David?”

Relieved at Ellie’s sudden change of heart, David called after her, “Sure. They’ve got a nice little band there.”

***

Once she was out of David’s sight, Ellie followed Moshe to the front door.

“Going so soon, Moshe?” she asked, stepping outside. “I would have thought that you and Uncle Howard would be up all night talking about the scroll.”

Moshe reached around and closed the door behind her. He searched her face and raised his hand to her cheek. “I can understand your lack of respect for me right now. But it is not like you to toy with a man’s heart. Be careful, my love―things are not always as they seem.”

Ellie felt a rush of shame at the game she was playing with this gentle and loving scholar. “Moshe,” she said haltingly, “I … we need to talk. Will you call me?”

“I am leaving the city for a while. University business. We are sending the fragments out―along with your photographs.” He held a package up. “Your friend … David, is it not? He will likely be flying me to Tel Aviv in the morning.”

“You know him?” she asked, astonished.

“We met … briefly at the hospital,” Moshe answered.

“When will you be back?” She looked him full in the face, noticing the way the streetlamps cast shadows that emphasized his rugged good looks. Suddenly she didn’t want him to go.

“A week, possibly. I hope no more than that. We shall talk then, my little
shiksa
.” Bending low, he kissed her gently. Searching her face with a passion in his eyes she had not seen before, he whispered, “Perhaps you are more Sabra than you know.” Then he kissed her again with a force that left her feeling weak against her will.

“That felt more like hello than good-bye,” she said breathlessly, pushing away from his embrace.

“I will bring you a surprise when I return.” Then Moshe turned and strode briskly toward the lights of King George Street.

David and Uncle Howard were talking quietly together when Ellie returned to the front room. When Uncle Howard saw her, he stood with the politeness of a man raised in a more courteous age. David, she noted, remained seated. A frown creased his brow. She guessed that he’d figured out by now that she had been talking with Moshe.

“Seeing Moshe out, were you, child?” Uncle Howard asked. “David thought you had gone in search of me.”

“Moshe is leaving in the morning,” she said, ignoring the pout on David’s face. “I didn’t know.”

“And did he tell you where he was going?” Howard glanced toward David, who did not return his look.

“Something about the university,” answered Ellie, wondering about the tone of Uncle Howard’s voice. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“Yes, he told me.” Uncle Howard’s eyes were still fixed on David, as if waiting for a reaction.

David stood and zipped his flight jacket. “If we’re going to have any time before curfew, we’d better get going. Good to see you again, Professor.”

“Of course, of course. You’ll be at the King David Hotel, then?”

Uncle Howard walked them to the door. “Things seem quiet enough tonight, don’t they?” The jovial tone had returned to his voice. “I’ll wait up for you,” he said as he helped Ellie on with her coat.

“Don’t do that, Uncle Howard,” Ellie protested.

“Nonsense. I have work to do, regardless.” Then he turned to David and said solemnly, “I expect you will not want to be late either, seeing that you will be flying early tomorrow.” Uncle Howard seemed to search David’s face knowingly.

Ellie felt as though she were on the outside of a conversation in which every line had a double meaning. “For heaven’s sake, let’s get going!” she exclaimed. Kissing Uncle Howard lightly on the cheek, she took David by the arm.

David led her to an old green Plymouth parked across the street and opened the door for her. As she stooped to get in, she was met by a barrage of lavish, wet dog kisses. There, in the front seat, whining and wiggling with delight, was Shaul.

She wrapped her arms around his shaggy ruff and pulled the big dog onto her lap, laughing with surprise and joy. “Oh, Shaul! You mutt!

Where have you been?”

David slid in behind the wheel. “He’s been sharing one room at the hotel with me and Michael,” he said wryly, cranking the engine. “I’m evicting him. Think you can put him up?”

“Where did you find him?” She squealed in amazement as Shaul nuzzled closer to her.

“At the butcher shop. Just where you told me he’d be. I’m so glad this is the right dog. I thought maybe I’d picked up the wrong mutt or something. I had a terrible time getting him into the car. It took me and Michael both. I almost gave up on him, but I looked at him and thought I had seen him someplace before. ‘You know,’ I said to Michael, ‘that looks like the same mutt that ran off with your wallet at the celebration. And I bet Yacov is the kid who picked your pocket!’ So Michael went into the butcher shop and came out with some corned beef, put it into the backseat, and the dog went for it. I think Michael hopes the boy will give him back his wallet if he gives back the dog.”