mother’s milk.’”
Leah had heard enough. Her voice dripped with phony sweetness as she said, “We can’t afford to eat meat, Reb Nahum. And any husband who chooses a poor farmer’s daughter like me for his wife probably won’t be able to afford meat, either.”
For a long moment, the two Pharisees simply stared at Leah. Then, as Reb Nahum’s expression changed from astonishment to anger, he said, “I can see that you have a great deal to learn, Leah. But for today, one last lesson will do: ‘He who guards his mouth and his tongue keeps himself from calamity.’”
He finally allowed Leah to go inside. But as she immersed herself in the mikveh’s icy water, she couldn’t help wondering if Reb Nahum had dumped snow from Mount Hermon into it just to spite her.
CHAPTER 5
THE GOLANI HOTEL, ISRAEL—1999
O n a clear, balmy evening near the end of the first week of the dig, Abby trudged down the flowered path to Hannah’s bungalow and knocked on her door, fighting the tears that her discovery had unleashed. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. . . .” she began tentatively.
“Not at all! I was just enjoying the view of the Sea of Galilee from my patio. I’d love it if you joined me.” Hannah led the way to her balcony, where the silvery lake shimmered in the distant twilight and city lights sparkled in the hills on the opposite shore. “Doesn’t this view remind you of the verse, ‘A city on a hill cannot be hidden’?” But when Hannah turned for Abby’s response, her smile faded. “You didn’t come for the view, did you? What’s wrong, dear?”
Abby sat in the chair Hannah offered and drew a deep breath, summoning courage. “I’ve found something that belongs to you, Hannah. I apologize for not giving it to you sooner, but I completely forgot about it.” She passed the page she had torn from her notebook to Hannah, trying not to picture the blood-spattered cover. “It’s a note to you . . . from Ben.”
“From Ben? How . . . ?”
“He wrote it while we were still on the plane from Amsterdam. Until now, I haven’t been able to . . . to go through any of the things—”
“It’s all right, Abby. I understand.” Hannah laid her canes on the floor and lowered herself into one of the patio chairs to read Ben’s note. She smiled slightly at his words even as her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” she said when she finished. “I’ll treasure this.” She gently folded the page, then wiped her eyes. “I guess I’m not the only one still grieving. This has been difficult for you, too, hasn’t it? I gather your life hasn’t been touched so closely by death before—especially a violent one.”
“No. Have they . . . um . . . caught the person who . . . ?”
“Not yet, but they will.” Hannah sighed. “Ben and I had many discussions—some would say arguments—about the risks he was taking. The Jewish and Palestinian leaders who are willing to work together and negotiate with each other are often considered traitors by their own people who don’t want to compromise with their enemies. Ben secretly worked as the middleman between the two sides. I know he was willing to give his life if he thought it would bring lasting peace, but it still doesn’t make what you witnessed any easier to forget.”
“How are his wife and family doing?”
“They’re grieving, but their faith is strong.” Hannah pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “Ben wasn’t always a spy, you know. His first love—his true love—was agriculture. It wasn’t until much later in his life that the Agency became his mistress.”
“Why did he join?”
Hannah sighed again, looking out at the view that must have appeared blurred through her tears. “Joining the Agency was his reaction to a crisis. Life here in Israel can be very difficult. In fact, it can overwhelm you at times. When it overwhelmed Ben, he felt he needed to do something more than grow plants. For years, making the desert
Leah had heard enough. Her voice dripped with phony sweetness as she said, “We can’t afford to eat meat, Reb Nahum. And any husband who chooses a poor farmer’s daughter like me for his wife probably won’t be able to afford meat, either.”
For a long moment, the two Pharisees simply stared at Leah. Then, as Reb Nahum’s expression changed from astonishment to anger, he said, “I can see that you have a great deal to learn, Leah. But for today, one last lesson will do: ‘He who guards his mouth and his tongue keeps himself from calamity.’”
He finally allowed Leah to go inside. But as she immersed herself in the mikveh’s icy water, she couldn’t help wondering if Reb Nahum had dumped snow from Mount Hermon into it just to spite her.
CHAPTER 5
THE GOLANI HOTEL, ISRAEL—1999
O n a clear, balmy evening near the end of the first week of the dig, Abby trudged down the flowered path to Hannah’s bungalow and knocked on her door, fighting the tears that her discovery had unleashed. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. . . .” she began tentatively.
“Not at all! I was just enjoying the view of the Sea of Galilee from my patio. I’d love it if you joined me.” Hannah led the way to her balcony, where the silvery lake shimmered in the distant twilight and city lights sparkled in the hills on the opposite shore. “Doesn’t this view remind you of the verse, ‘A city on a hill cannot be hidden’?” But when Hannah turned for Abby’s response, her smile faded. “You didn’t come for the view, did you? What’s wrong, dear?”
Abby sat in the chair Hannah offered and drew a deep breath, summoning courage. “I’ve found something that belongs to you, Hannah. I apologize for not giving it to you sooner, but I completely forgot about it.” She passed the page she had torn from her notebook to Hannah, trying not to picture the blood-spattered cover. “It’s a note to you . . . from Ben.”
“From Ben? How . . . ?”
“He wrote it while we were still on the plane from Amsterdam. Until now, I haven’t been able to . . . to go through any of the things—”
“It’s all right, Abby. I understand.” Hannah laid her canes on the floor and lowered herself into one of the patio chairs to read Ben’s note. She smiled slightly at his words even as her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” she said when she finished. “I’ll treasure this.” She gently folded the page, then wiped her eyes. “I guess I’m not the only one still grieving. This has been difficult for you, too, hasn’t it? I gather your life hasn’t been touched so closely by death before—especially a violent one.”
“No. Have they . . . um . . . caught the person who . . . ?”
“Not yet, but they will.” Hannah sighed. “Ben and I had many discussions—some would say arguments—about the risks he was taking. The Jewish and Palestinian leaders who are willing to work together and negotiate with each other are often considered traitors by their own people who don’t want to compromise with their enemies. Ben secretly worked as the middleman between the two sides. I know he was willing to give his life if he thought it would bring lasting peace, but it still doesn’t make what you witnessed any easier to forget.”
“How are his wife and family doing?”
“They’re grieving, but their faith is strong.” Hannah pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “Ben wasn’t always a spy, you know. His first love—his true love—was agriculture. It wasn’t until much later in his life that the Agency became his mistress.”
“Why did he join?”
Hannah sighed again, looking out at the view that must have appeared blurred through her tears. “Joining the Agency was his reaction to a crisis. Life here in Israel can be very difficult. In fact, it can overwhelm you at times. When it overwhelmed Ben, he felt he needed to do something more than grow plants. For years, making the desert
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