"Do you by chance have a Bible with you?"
"A Bible?" he is shocked. "What do you mean?"
"What do you mean, what do I mean?" she says, laughing. "If you have a Bible in your bag, I'd like to look up something quickly and then give it right back to you."
"A whole Bible?"
"Yes, but in Hebrew."
"The whole Bible I don't have. But maybe you want to see Psalms? I have Psalms."
"Not Tehillim," she says, imitating his pronunciation. "A complete Bible."
"What exactly are you looking for?"
"It doesn't matter. Do you have one or not?"
"I don't have a complete Bible," he admits in defeat.
"If you don't, well, it's no tragedy."
"But I can give you a prayer book, which has many chapters from the Bible in it."
"No prayer book or chapters," she answers impatiently, because she realizes that she will not easily get rid of the young man whose thin, soulful face is adorned with the first signs of blond beard, and who intends ardently to pursue the religious obligation he has happened to incur in an airport on an African afternoon.
"Okay," he says, after considering a moment. "Wait for me a minute and I'll find you a complete Bible. There's time before the flight to Tel Aviv."
He quickly disappears into the big crowd, perhaps to seek the help of his friend, and about ten minutes later returns and presents her with a big new Bible, apparently purchased just for her — a dual-language Bible, Hebrew and English.
The English version is not the King James, but the Hebrew is the same antique Hebrew she has been looking for. She remembered it as Jeremiah Chapter 42, but she finds what she wanted in Chapter 44. And she reads it silently, her insides ringing, as the American yeshiva boy, his face translucent with piety, stands beside her, fascinated and nervous.
Therefore thus saith the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israeclass="underline" Behold, I will set My face against you for evil, even to cut off all of Judah. And I will take the remnant of Judah, that have turned their faces to go into the land of Egypt to sojourn there, and they shall all be consumed, in the land of Egypt shall they fall. They shall fall by the sword, and shall be consumed by famine, they shall die, from the smallest even unto the greatest, by the sword and by famine, and they shall be an execration, and a desolation, and a curse, and a mockery. For I will punish them that dwell in the land of Egypt, as I have punished Jerusalem: by the sword, by famine, and by pestilence. And of the remnant of Judah that have come into the land of Egypt to sojourn there, none shall escape or remain to return to the land of Judah, to which they have a desire to return, and dwell there. For none shall return, except a few survivors.
Then all the men who knew that their wives made offerings unto other gods, and all the women who were present, a great assembly, and all the people who dwelt in the land of Egypt, in Pathros, answered Jeremiah, saying: As for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the Lord, we will not listen to thee. But we will certainly perform every word that is gone forth out of our mouth, to make offerings unto the Queen of Heaven, and to pour out drink-offerings unto her, as we have done, we and our fathers, our kings and our officials, in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem. For then had we plenty of bread, and were well, and suffered no misfortune. But ever since we stopped making offerings unto the Queen of Heaven and pouring out drink-offerings unto her, we have lacked all things, and have been consumed by the sword and by famine.
AMOTZ ALREADY SEES his wife from afar, but Daniela can't yet spot him among the crush of welcomers. Out of habit she heads toward the right-hand exit at that slow, even pace he likes, pulling her little wheeled suitcase behind her. He backs away and circumnavigates the crowd, and for some reason there is a new heaviness in his step. So rare is it for her to be the one away and he the one left behind, that he has an urge to delay their reunion, perhaps so she'll sense that he's not always on call when she wants him.
Surprisingly, she, too, does not stop to wait for him, but keeps walking, apparently absentmindedly, and when he intercepts her from behind, as Moran did to him at the army base, his experienced hands, gripping her hips, can sense the sadness and exhaustion of both her body and her mind. And so, as he brings her head close to him, his lips brush not her mouth but her forehead, just the way she kissed him at the moment of parting, seven days ago.
"Done?" he half asks, half declares.
"Done," she confirms, and her eyes, which gleam at the sight of him, are already surprised. "What's this? In my honor you didn't shave today?"
"Not in your honor, I just didn't have time. At night we dealt with the winds in the tower, and in the morning Francisco needed me because my father ran a high fever, and while waiting for Doctor Zaslanski I fell asleep in Hilario's room, and then I had to rush to the airport."
"And you didn't shower?"
"I can't shower there, with all of Abba's stuff in the tub."
"You can only sleep there."
"Sleep and dream."
"And what about your father?"
"His fever went down."
"And you didn't go to the office today?"
"They let Moran out of his confinement this morning, and I sent him to the office to replace me."
"So, in short," she says, gently touching his stubble, "you had a wild time."
"If that's what you call a wild time."
"You know, in work clothes and unshaven you actually look young and cute."
"So I'll stay like this."
"And the winds?"
"Just as I thought, the fault is in the shaft. There were lips and holes in the wall, left there by accident or maybe on purpose, that have the effect of a church organ."
"A church?" she says, laughing, "so what will the tenants do? Cross themselves and pray?"
"The construction company should pray for mercy from the insurance company. Gottlieb and I are off the hook. But wait a second, Daniela, we have to call Moran and tell him you landed. This time, maybe since he was sitting in the army camp with nothing to do, he worried about you even more than I did."
"More than you?" she says, slightly stung.
"After hearing your voice and Yirmi's from Dar es Salaam, I calmed down completely."
"And did you miss me?"
"I didn't have time to miss you." He smiles, knowing this hurts her, attempting to prick this thin crust of estrangement that he did not anticipate. He unlocks the car with the remote control, and instead of putting the suitcase in the trunk, he seats it like a passenger in the back.
"As it happens I did have time to miss you," she says seriously as she buckles her seat belt, "and also to be angry."
"Angry? About what?"
"That you didn't come with me."
He is surprised and not surprised.
"And I thought that's what you really wanted. Quiet time for yourself. To revive childhood memories, undisturbed by someone who doesn't belong."
"After thirty-seven years of marriage," she bursts out, "it's high time you understood that my sister is not only mine but yours, and Yirmi, who is stuck out there, is your affair too. You should have insisted, not let me go alone."
"But how?" he says dumbfounded, "it was you… you…"
"You… you…" she mimics him, "yes, but I'm also allowed to be wrong sometimes, and you could have understood and prevented the mistake."
He grins at this. "How could I understand that you were mistaken, if for thirty-seven years you've made sure to convince me that you always know what's right and what's not when it comes to the family?"
She falls silent, only looking at him with a pained expression.
"But what happened there? Why was it a mistake to go there alone?"