Wings of Refuge

  “So . . . you’ve lived in the Negev all your life?” Jake asked as he tucked waxed paper and apricot pits into his backpack again. Something about the way he said it sounded like a challenge.

  “Since I was ten. Why?”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just a little surprised that you’ve lived this long if you’re in the habit of sitting in dry riverbeds.”

  Hannah realized her mistake as soon as he said it. Of course. Dozens of people drowned every year when wadis like this one suddenly became rushing torrents that swept them away. Jacob was already climbing up the embankment, so she couldn’t see his gloating face. Nor, thank heaven, could he see her embarrassment.

  “If you were so worried about it, why didn’t you speak up sooner?” she said as she scrambled up behind him.

  “I figured I could use a little excitement in my life.” He gallantly stepped aside, gesturing for Hannah to lead the way. “After you . . .”

  “Where to? Are you finished exploring up here?”

  “I saw what I came to see.”

  Whatever that meant. His face offered no clue to his thoughts. Hannah glanced up at the sun, which seemed glued to the top of the sky, then started blindly down the hill, following the path of the wadi below them. She had the disturbing feeling that he was laughing behind her back. She decided to lead the conversation as well as the hike.

  “So are you convinced yet that archaeology can make as valid of a contribution to mankind as the other sciences?”

  “Are you?”

  “Absolutely! Look what archaeologists have already done! Nelson Glueck found valuable copper deposits after excavating ancient mining camps. And Yigael Yadin led a surprise attack against the Egyptians during the war using a Roman road he had discovered.”

  Hannah expected an argument or at least a sarcastic comment about archaeology not being a true science. Instead, Jake suddenly cried out behind her. She turned to find him lying on the ground, clutching his ankle.

  “What’s wrong?” she said impatiently.

  “Hold up a minute . . . I stepped in a hole and twisted my ankle. Oh, man! I think I sprained it!”

  He was quite a good actor, rolling on the ground, cradling his foot, wincing in pain. He might have convinced Hannah if she hadn’t seen this little act performed too many times before in the army. She planted her hands on her hips and stared down at him in disdain.

  “That’s the oldest line in the book—you sprained your ankle. I’m not falling for it.”

  “Ow! . . . Ow! What are you talking about?”

  “I’m supposed to sit down beside you and feel all this gushing sympathy for you, right? And the next thing I know you’ll have me in a clinch, trying to make out with me. Sorry, I’m not falling for it. You played your little game with the wrong woman this time. I trained as a medic in the army, and I’ve seen guys like you pretending to be sick countless times.”

  “Guys like me? You barely know me!”

  “But I know your type—too handsome for your own good, convinced that every girl you meet is panting to be alone with you. Well, I know a real sprained ankle when I see one. You may have a swelled head, but I’m willing to bet you don’t have a swollen ankle.”

  Jake stared at her for a long time, holding his ankle, not saying a word. The look in his eyes reminded Hannah of a time-delay fuse she had seen in a demolition demonstration—the kind that did a long, slow burn before finally exploding. Of course he was angry—she had exposed his little scheme. He would have to stand up now and start walking again. Oh, he might Jake a limp for a while, but they both knew he was a fraud.

  Instead, Jake sat up and began to untie his boot, very slowly, pulling out the laces, opening the tongue wide. He grimaced rather convincingly as he struggled to pull it off, then he carefully rolled down his sock and slid it off his foot. From where Hannah stood, ten feet away, she could see that the contour of his ankle bone had already disappeared beneath a mound of puffy flesh. Deep indentations revealed where the seams of his boot had been. His skin had already started to discolor, and she knew it would soon be a deep purplish blue. Jake wadded up his sock and stuffed it into his empty boot before looking up at Hannah again.

  “So . . . what’s your diagnosis, Miss Medic? No, wait! Don’t get too close! This might be a trick. I might be making my ankle swell just so I can kiss you.”

  Hannah felt her cheeks flaming. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

  “What did you say?” he shouted. “I can’t hear too well. My swelled head interferes with my hearing sometimes.”

  “I said I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what? Sorry it wasn’t a trick? Sorry we didn’t make out? Sorry you were wrong? You’re certainly not sorry that you misjudged me! Or that I really am in pain!”

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you.” She started to crouch down to examine it, then paused to ask, “May I see . . . ?”

  “Shouldn’t you tie me up first, so I don’t lunge at you?”

  Hannah ignored him, carefully examining his foot for signs of a fracture. When she didn’t see any bones poking through the skin she asked, “Does it hurt much?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact it does. It hurts like the devil. You don’t happen to have a first-aid kit handy, do you?”

  She didn’t like the accusing tone in his voice. “No, do you?” she shot back.

  “I don’t . . . but then, why should I? I trained to be a leering woman chaser in the army, not a medic. Since you assumed that I brought along my little bag of tricks, I just assumed you might have brought along yours.”

  “Look, I’m sorry I said all those things—”

  “Right. You sound more embarrassed than sorry.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Well, you can start by saying my name. It’s Jake. You haven’t used it once all day. Then you can get rid of that chip on your shoulder and tell me how to fix this stupid ankle so we can make it back to camp.”

  “There’s really nothing I can do . . . Jake. It might be broken. If it hurts just sitting there, you’ll never be able to put any weight on it.”

  “I’ll hop. Would you mind helping me up?”

  “You can’t hop down a mountain! Are you crazy? It’s treacherous enough walking on two good feet with all these loose stones. That’s how you fell in the first place.”

  “Well, at the risk of being accused of making a pass . . . maybe I could lean on you?”

  Hannah shook her head. “Then we’ll both end up falling off the cliff. Nothing doing.”

  “Then what do you suggest? There doesn’t seem to be any wood around here to make a pair of crutches or a splint.”

  “I’ll try to fashion some sort of shade for you, then I’ll hike down and get help.”

  “Absolutely not! The first rule of desert survival is to stay together.”

  “No, the first rule of desert survival is to survive! I’m going for help.”

  “I’m not letting you wander off alone, Hannah. It’s much too dangerous. Suppose you got lost or hurt? Professor Evanari said to stay together. They’ll come looking for us sooner or later.”

  “We’re wasting time,” she said, tightening the straps of her backpack. “I’m leaving.” But before she could take two steps, Jake reached out and grabbed her by the ankle, pulling her leg out from under her. Hannah landed in a heap in a cloud of dust.

  “You idiot!” she said, spitting sand. “I might have broken my neck!”

  “Sorry, but I outrank you. I can’t let you go. And if you try it again, I’ll tackle you.”

  Hannah sat with her legs drawn up, her arms hugging her knees, fuming. The sun was hot and still directly overhead. It would be hours before they were even missed. “Okay, now what?”

  “You said you could rig us up some sort of shade?” He removed his hat and used it to fan himself. “That sounds good for starters.”

  Hannah scanned the barren landscape. Nothing but rocks and scrub grass as far as she co
uld see. “I made that up. I’m studying archaeology, not desert survival. Unless you want to sit down in the riverbed again, I don’t know how we’ll find shade.”

  “I could probably crawl down there, but I’d never be able to climb out in time.”

  “There isn’t a cloud in the sky!” she said, gesturing.

  “There never is. The water comes out of nowhere. Have you seen the size of the retaining pond your little Nabatean friends built? They were expecting a lot of water. I’d rather not be in the path of it.”

  “Have you ever seen a wadi fill up?” she challenged.

  “Clear to the top. Washed a bus away. And the sky was just as blue as it is now.”

  His eyes were deep green, not brown. Hannah looked into them for the first time, then quickly looked away.

  “I can’t fix your ankle, I can’t go for help, I can’t make shade. . . . What else do you want from me?” She lifted her palms, then let them fall to her lap in frustration.

  “Talk to me. Take my mind off the pain.”

  “Fine!”

  Hannah talked for more than an hour—a long, rambling monologue about her childhood in Iraq, her training as a medic, her fascination with archaeology. That led to a lengthy, one-sided discourse about the importance of the Dead Sea Scrolls and how they belonged in an Israeli museum, not a Jordanian one. She talked about everything but her shoe size before finally pausing to glance at her watch. “It’s two-thirty. We should have been arriving back in camp right about now.” She sighed, then added absently, “How are you doing?”

  “I was wondering when you would remember to ask.”

  Hannah had a sarcastic reply on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it when she looked up and saw how pale he was. Rivulets of sweat ran down his face and neck, soaking the front of his shirt. She could tell he was in a lot of pain.

  “You have to be the most self-involved person I’ve ever met,” he said. “You’ve made a lot of assumptions about me, but you haven’t bothered to get to know me at all. Instead, you seem intent on proving yourself, for some reason. Proving you don’t need anyone or anything—least of all a lecherous womanizer like me.”

  His words stung, but she tried not to let him see how much. “You’re the one who asked me to talk,” she said. “If you wanted a turn, why didn’t you say so?”

  He gave a short laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. Hannah waited until he finished taking a drink from his canteen before saying, in the sweetest voice she could muster, “Please tell me about yourself, Jake.” He seemed to consider his words for a moment before answering.

  “I’m not a woman chaser. I grew up on a kibbutz in Galilee, tossing bales of hay and milking cows. I have a steady girlfriend. I’m religious—observant, in fact. I believe that what the Torah says is true. And I don’t think it conflicts with scientific truth, either. I believe science can accomplish a great deal, but I also believe that man has limitations. The Holy One knows that, and once we reach those limits we usually remember to call on Him. That’s why He lets us come to the end of ourselves. You didn’t tell me what you thought about God, Hannah. Do you ever think about Him?”

  She didn’t answer, embarrassed into silence. He paused to take another swig of water from the canteen before continuing. “You seem fascinated with the Dead Sea Scrolls, and you obviously know a lot about their significance as artifacts. But do you know what the Isaiah scroll actually says? Do you know what the Holy One’s message to us is? Besides promising to gather us from the ends of the earth a second time and give birth to our nation in a single day, He also promised to redeem us and make us His own. Think of that! The Holy One breathes His very breath into us and gives us the most precious gift He could give—life! And he places us in a world that is filled with wonderful things to see and do . . . wonderful people to know and to love. And He says, ‘There! Enjoy! L’Chaim!’ And all He asks in return is that we don’t squander this gift on ourselves, but that we give it away. That we show others that He is a God of redemption and love.”

  Hannah didn’t try to force back the tears that filled her eyes. “I feel like such a fool, Jake. I’m really sorry I misjudged you. Want to have a go at me? Put me in my place? Tell me what you really think?”

  He smiled. “Ben told me so much about you, I felt like I knew you before we even met. He’s very proud of you, you know.”

  “I can just imagine what he said, but you may as well tell me anyway.”

  “You’re the youngest in the family, the only girl. Quite spoiled, but very smart. Also very opinionated, stubborn, headstrong, and obstinate. Tough as nails one minute, you wear your heart on your sleeve the next. He described you to a ‘T’ except for one thing.” Hannah looked up, waiting. “He forgot to mention that you’re beautiful.”

  His words stunned her. How could he see any beauty in her after the way she’d treated him? “Can you ever forgive me?” she whispered.

  “I already have.”

  All of Hannah’s defenses crumbled into ruins. They talked for hours—about God and life, about everything and nothing. The more Hannah learned about Jake, the more she felt drawn to him—for reasons other than his good looks. By the time the sun began to set, she had fallen under the spell of his quiet manner, his gentle humor. She envied the woman who had won his heart.

  “Tell me about your girlfriend,” she said quietly. His brows lifted in surprise.

  “Devorah? Well, we’ve been going together since we were both fifteen. We grew up on the same kibbutz, started out in the same nursery, slept in adjoining cribs. She’s in charge of the nursery now. She loves kids. And horses. She rides every chance she gets.”

  “Are you going to marry her?”

  “We’ve always assumed we would be married some day . . . after we got out of the army, after I finish college. And I didn’t chase any women when I was in the army, by the way. Ask Ben. He chased enough for both of us.”

  “Was that because of Devorah?”

  “It was because I didn’t really know how.”

  “You must love her a lot.”

  “Yes, I must.” His face was deadpan, his voice without inflection.

  “Why did you say it like that? I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or serious.”

  “Me neither. I’ve been going with Dev for so long . . . there are so many family attachments, so many assumptions made about the two of us. I can’t tell what I really feel anymore and what’s . . . habit. I’ve never even kissed another woman besides Devorah.”

  “Have you been tempted to?”

  He paused, lightly touching his ankle. “Truthfully? Yes.” He was blushing. “You know, it’s strange, but I was never attracted to another woman—until recently.”

  “And . . . ?” Hannah prompted.

  “Then I met someone, and . . . it got very confusing. If I’m in love with Devorah, if I’m going to marry her—”

  “Are you?”

  “—If I’m going to marry Devorah I shouldn’t feel so . . . captivated by someone else, should I? I shouldn’t lie awake at night wondering what it would be like to bury my fingers in her hair or hold her in my arms . . . or feel her lips on mine.”

  Against her will, Hannah’s gaze wandered to Jake’s mouth. She imagined his full, soft lips on hers and swallowed. “Is that all it is with this other woman? Physical attraction?”

  “I don’t know . . . maybe . . . except that I keep comparing her to Devorah in other ways, and Dev comes up short every time. I know that sounds terrible, but Dev is very traditional. ‘Whatever you say, Jake . . . You know best, Jake.’ I can’t help but wonder if she even has an opinion.”

  “Most men love that type of woman. I thought they hated women like me who actually have a mind of their own.”

  “Devorah and I have never had a conversation like the one we’ve been having. We know everything there is to know about each other. There are no surprises for either of us.”

  “And this other woman you’re attracted to?”

/>   When Jake looked away, blushing again, Hannah’s heart began to race.

  “I think I could spend a lifetime with her and still be surprised,” he said softly.

  Hannah wished she had a cigarette to fiddle with, even though she rarely smoked. Something, anything to break the exquisite tension that was slowly building between them. Or was she the only one who felt it? She scooped up a handful of pebbles and began tossing them, one by one, down the slope.

  “So what are you going to do, Jake?” He looked startled, as if he had spoken a forbidden thought out loud.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What are you going to do about Devorah? And this other woman you’re attracted to?”

  “I’m going to do exactly what everyone assumes I’ll do—forget the other woman, marry Devorah, move back to the kibbutz, and raise a family.”

  “How very honorable.”

  “Well, what else can I do?” he said wearily. “What would you do?”

  “You mean, if I’d been stringing along some guy I didn’t love for ten years?”

  “I never said I didn’t love her—”

  “Ah, but you never said that you did love her, either.”

  Jake let out a sigh and went back to massaging his ankle, which was swollen to nearly twice its normal size. “What would you do?” he finally said.

  “You’re asking the wrong person, Jake. I’m a spoiled brat, like Ben says. I’ve never done the honorable thing in my life. In fact, I usually do the most selfish thing I can. But if I were in your shoes, I’d want to live a little . . . play the field . . . kiss a few other girls just to see what it felt like. Then, if no one could compare to Devorah and she was still patiently waiting . . .”

  “I can’t do that. It would hurt her too much.”

  “Listen, Jake, if you’re bored with her now, it’s not going to improve once you marry her. Can you honestly imagine sitting across the dinner table from each other for the next forty years with nothing to say? And you’ll hurt her a lot more if you start kissing other women after you’re married.”