by Merry Jones
And by the end of ten days, Chloe probably would be fluent in Hebrew. Wouldn’t understand a word of English.
Harper turned to look at her. Chloe made a silly face; Harper mimicked it, their game. Chloe giggled, showing her six teeth, and made another face. Harper imitated that one, too, and again, Chloe shrieked with laughter. Harper reached into the back seat, put her hand on the baby’s thigh and squeezed.
‘Settle down, you two.’ Hagit turned into a narrow driveway lined with pines, blocked by a guarded security fence. ‘Behave so you’ll make a good impression. We’re here. Ramat Goneh, right down this road.’
They had their own bungalow; their hosts called it a chalet. It was up in the hills, on a winding road of similar bungalows overlooking fertile valleys and verdant fields. Mountains towered in the distance. They had a kitchen, two bedrooms. Their own hot tub. A fireplace.
They were assigned a host couple, Adi and Yoshi, a young couple with matching smiles and sparkling eyes. They helped them get settled, then took them on a quick tour. First stop was the nursery school, a vine-covered cottage, its inner walls painted with bright balloons and cartoon characters.
‘This is Yael,’ Adi introduced a woman holding an infant. ‘We both work here, though Yael puts in more hours than I do.’ Adi stopped to talk with Yael; Harper wandered around, watching toddlers play in secure areas, finger-painting, looking at picture books, building with blocks.
Yoshi followed her to the window, pointed to a little boy of about three. ‘That’s our son, Ari.’
Harper saw him, riding a tricycle on the pavement. Other children were on the swings or wading in an inflatable swimming pool. The children seemed happy, safe. Chloe wiggled to get down.
‘It’s okay. Let her explore,’ Adi said. ‘She will have a good time.’
A long, toddler-sized table was set with juice and crackers for snack time.
Chloe pointed. ‘Eemah? Meetz?’
‘Already she’s learning Hebrew? She knows Mommy and juice?’ Adi smiled. ‘She’s very smart—’
‘Hush.’ Hagit scowled and spoke harshly in Hebrew to Adi, ending with ‘Kenahara.’
Adi answered in Hebrew, then explained, ‘She’s afraid of the Evil Eye—’
‘I can hear you,’ Hagit scolded. ‘And you should be afraid, too.’
‘It’s just an old . . . Yoshi? How do you call it?’
‘Superstition,’ Yoshi said. ‘A bubbe meise.’
‘Exactly.’ Adi’s laugh was light, like bells. ‘An old wives’ tale.’
‘Don’t be so sure,’ Hagit replied. ‘You both should know better than to say such things. Are you daring it to find you?’
Chloe freed herself from Harper and ran to the table.
‘Meetz?’
‘See?’ Adi nodded. ‘She is already at home. Can she have some snack?’
Chloe drank some juice, ate a cracker, and ran from section to section to see what was going on. She seemed confident, suddenly older and more independent. And she didn’t want to leave when Harper lifted her to continue the tour.
‘Chloe, will you come back and play?’ Adi asked. ‘If you want, I’ll bring you myself tomorrow.’
Chloe smiled, sucking her fingers.
Harper considered how odd it was: she felt perfectly at ease with this stranger offering to play with her baby. She trusted her even though they’d just met.
Yoshi led them along the main road, looking out over the valley. ‘It’s the most beautiful part of all Israel,’ he said.
A dog ran by. Chloe pointed and grinned, but Harper stiffened.
‘Dogs run loose here?’
‘Of course. They are free. Dogs. Cats. You’ll see them everywhere. They play outside all day, then go home for food.’
‘They don’t bite?’
‘Bite? You mean people? Of course not.’
Hagit lagged behind, made a comment in Hebrew, her voice snippy. Adi answered in the same tone.
Yoshi ignored them both, talking to Harper. ‘This kibbutz was settled by survivors of HaShoah, what you call the Holocaust. Settlers came from Poland and Germany, raised their families, grew their own food. Now, many more are living here, but still it’s like a big family.’
‘And children are our joy.’ Adi stepped forward and tweaked Chloe’s cheek.
Chloe smiled coyly.
‘Come this way.’ Yoshi stopped beside some bushes and stepped through them to a mound of stones. ‘This is one of our shelters.’
It was? Where? Harper saw no entrance.
Yoshi led them around to the back of the rocks; the entrance was camouflaged, hidden in foliage, not visible from the road. ‘It’s good to know where it is, even though most likely you won’t ever need to go inside.’
Of course they wouldn’t. Harper told herself that the tour stop was just routine, like pointing out fire escapes. Nothing to worry about. Still, she took hold of Chloe’s leg as they moved on, passing gardens, small homes. The main office was a new building with high windows and lots of light. It contained the meeting hall, which doubled as a theater, and the recreation area, with a gym complete with exercise equipment, volleyball nets, ping-pong tables, and a swimming pool.
After the main building, they stopped at the medical center/infirmary. Then at two more bomb shelters, concealed within leafy gardens. Yoshi and Adi pointed them out casually, the same way they had the dining hall and the swimming pool. But Harper didn’t feel casual about them. She wanted to know more. Had the shelters been used often? If so, why? Was the kibbutz a target for rocket attacks? How big were the shelters? How safe? What provisions were inside? She had lots of questions, but held herself back. She was overreacting; Yoshi had said there would be no need to go inside.
Even so, the shelters were a statement that life here was not always peaceful. That it was necessary to remain on alert, always prepared. Harper recognized the undercurrent of vigilance. Here, she was not the only one perpetually watchful. Here, she would fit right in.
Adi and Yoshi brought them back to their bungalow, made sure Hagit and Harper had their cellphone numbers, said they’d be available to them night or day. Reminded Harper that the dig organizers would be holding a meeting in the main building after dinner.
As they left, Harper thanked them for the tour, and Adi and Chloe exchanged a hug. ‘You are such a good girl! All the other kids will love you.’
‘Kenahara!’ Hagit’s skin went gray. ‘What is wrong with you?’
Adi’s eyes twinkled. ‘See you at dinner, Hagit.’ And she walked off with Yoshi, waving goodbye.
‘Thanks again,’ Harper called.
Hagit poked her arm. ‘Don’t thank them. The Evil Eye already follows you, and now she made it worse—’
‘Hagit, stop,’ Harper snapped. ‘You were rude to them. They were trying to be nice.’ She turned to Chloe. ‘Come on. Let’s get you a bath before dinner.’
‘Fine.’ Hagit fumed. ‘Don’t listen to me. Pretend I’m a lunatic—’
‘Hagit, can you get her yellow outfit from the suitcase?’
‘Ignore me if you want, but sooner or later, you’ll see. The Evil Eye is nothing to make light of.’
Harper walked away, feeling the pierce of Hagit’s gaze on her back even as she filled the tub.
When Harper arrived at the meeting hall, only about half a dozen chairs were filled. She took a seat near a long-legged woman with golden hair.
‘That was something today, wasn’t it?’ The woman had freckles, a sunburned upturned nose. Prominent cheekbones. She looked athletic. Maybe a runner. ‘Hot as Hades. Never gets like that back in Indiana.’
Harper explained that she hadn’t been at the dig site yet. Had just arrived that afternoon.
‘Really? Well, never mind. You didn’t miss much. They just handed out gear and explained what all of it was. Who knew there would be so much stuff? I thought they’d give us a sifter and a shovel, but man, all that equipment could fill my garage. Kneepads. Trowels. Tweezers. Scre
ens. Buckets. Brushes . . . I can’t remember all of it. But trust me: tomorrow, don’t forget to wear a hat. And sun block.’
Harper smiled. She knew all about the equipment she’d need. ‘I’ll have to get a kit.’
‘I’ll show you where. I’m Lynne Watts. That’s my husband over there. Peter. The one in the blue shirt.’ She pointed to a group of men standing by the door. Peter was tall, wiry, with a dark crew cut and horn-rimmed glasses. ‘We’re here with our church.’
Harper smiled.
‘It’s a special mission – just a smattering of us came. The church council – that’s twelve, like the apostles. A few other select members. Plus our pastor. We came yesterday, after four days in Jerusalem.’
Harper didn’t say that she’d been there, too. In fact, she didn’t have time; Lynne Watts kept on talking.
‘I’m sure you’ll meet our pastor. He’s one in a million. A genuine Bible scholar. Inspirational. I’m blessed to be with him here in Megiddo.’
Harper smiled. Nodded. Had nothing to say.
‘Oh look, there’s Pastor over there.’ She pointed to several men standing by the window. One was beefy and taller than the others, had receding ginger hair. Harper had seen him before; he was staying in the bungalow next door to hers. Now that she thought about it, her neighbor looked like a pastor. ‘He’s the big, handsome one. Those others are council members.’ She turned back to Harper. ‘Who are you here with?’
Harper hesitated. ‘Just me.’ She didn’t mention Hagit or Chloe. Wasn’t sure why.
Lynne eyed her with pity. ‘Divorced?’
‘Oh no. No. Actually, I just got my degree in archeology. So I’m here for some experience.’
‘Really? Wow – a professional! Well, I’m sticking close to you, so someone can tell me what the Sam Hill I’m doing out there.’
Harper smiled, started to respond, but a tanned, silver-haired man stepped to the front of the room, asking everyone to be seated.
‘Here we go,’ Lynne whispered. ‘That’s the head honcho.’
‘Good evening. For those of you who haven’t met me yet, I’m Givon Ben Haim.’
The thirty or so people in the room gave a round of applause. Some whistled and hooted, shouted, ‘Yeah.’
Dr Ben Haim smirked and raised his hands, waiting for them to quiet down. ‘Okay.’ His English was accented. ‘I want to formally welcome you to Tel Megiddo South.’
More cheers. More hoots. A whistle.
‘I’m glad for your enthusiasm. I welcome it. And I hope it lasts when the work gets hard and the day gets hot. For those of you who are not my students, let me tell you a little about where we are and what we’re doing here.’
Harper looked around the room. About a dozen young people, probably his students, sat in the front row, hanging on his words. Responding to everything he said with laughter, comments or applause. Peter Watts and his fellow churchmen sat further back, their backs stiff and bodies alert. The pastor sat with a group at the back of the room.
Dr Ben Haim spoke casually, sitting cross-legged on a table, pointing to easels with maps of the region. He reviewed the progress of digs at Tel Megiddo and Tel Megiddo East, where twenty-six layers of ruins had been excavated since 1903. He talked about the major finds: an altar from the Canaanite period, a grain pit from the Israelite period, stables from the time of Ahab and an intricate water system. He told them about thin carvings on hippopotamus incisors from the Nile, possibly from the time of Ramses III.
Harper listened, enthralled, more eager than ever to get to the site.
‘Think he’s sexy?’ Lynne whispered.
Who? Dr Ben Haim? Actually, he was, in a distinguished kind of way. He was solid, muscled, neither tall nor short. His tan contrasted with his silver hair, made it gleam.
‘Because I do,’ Lynne went on. ‘These swarthy Semitic types stir up my blood.’
Harper said nothing, tried to listen to Ben Haim.
‘Not that I’m looking or anything.’
Harper glanced at Lynne. A couple of decades ago, she would have been her high school’s Homecoming Queen. A cheerleader. The quarterback’s girlfriend. Miss Small Town Indiana or wherever she’d grown up. But now, she was married, traveling with her husband and her church. Why was she fixating on Dr Ben Haim?
Harper tried to forget about Dr Ben Haim’s supposed sexiness and listen to his words. He was listing their specific goals for the week, defining the sections of the site, explaining that they would work in pairs, each assigned to a section.
‘You’ll be my partner.’ Lynne nudged Harper’s arm. It wasn’t a question.
‘Next, let’s talk about safety. Remember this: We have to protect not only the site and the finds, but also our volunteers. So I’m telling you: be careful. Read your safety manual. Pay attention to it. The equipment can be dangerous. Wear your work gloves, your hats. Sturdy shoes. Don’t run. Don’t fall into the ditches. And remember. It’s Israel. We have all kinds of life here. Spiders. Snakes. Respect them. Don’t lift rocks by hand – use a tool. Don’t sit down on something until you’ve had a look underneath. Check your shoes every time before you put your feet in. Understood?’
His students whistled. Others nodded, replied, ‘Understood.’
Harper did neither. She was thinking of Iraq. How she’d been warned about snipers and IEDs. Insurgents. But spiders and snakes? No one had thought to mention them. And yet, they’d been there. Like the flies.
‘Let’s go.’ Lynne stood, headed for the front of the room.
Harper joined her in line, waiting for Dr Ben Haim to hand them their assignment. When Harper got to the front, he stood and shook her hand.
‘Dr Jennings! Welcome. I was told you’d be joining us. It’s a pleasure to have you here.’ He asked about her trip and her accommodations, invited her to join him for lunch after work later in the week. Gave her a welcoming embrace as she left.
Lynne walked out of the building with her. She was about three inches taller than Harper and far more striking. ‘That dude was into you.’
Harper shook her head. ‘He was just being professional. Acknowledging me as a colleague.’ She looked over their packet. Handed Lynne her copies of the map and paperwork. ‘We’re at section thirteen.’
‘He’d be too short for me, anyway,’ Lynne said. ‘But not you.’ She paused. ‘Harper? Do you believe that things happen for a reason?’
Harper looked up. ‘Sorry?’
‘Just . . . Maybe you two were meant to meet. Maybe that’s why you came here. Now. To this place at this time.’
Harper didn’t respond. This woman Lynne seemed kind of wacko; she didn’t want to engage. Instead, she concentrated on the map of the site.
‘It could be part of God’s plan.’ Lynne pursed her lips.
God’s plan? Harper didn’t look up. She located section thirteen.
‘Think about it. Maybe that’s why you were called to come here—’
‘Lynne. I’m married.’ Maybe that would end the conversation.
‘Really?’ Lynne frowned. ‘So where’s your husband? Are you separated or something?’
What? ‘No, he’s in Jerusalem. Attending a symposium.’ Why was she answering? Hank’s location was none of this woman’s business.
Lynne looked troubled.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I just – I don’t want you to be alone here.’
Why not? ‘It’s fine. Just ten days. And I’m not alone. Our baby’s with me.’
‘Your baby? Here?’ Lynne’s eyes widened.
‘With a sitter. Yes.’
‘Well.’ Lynne looked up at the stars. ‘Even so. You’re here for a reason. God wanted you to come.’
Harper folded the map, replaced it in the envelope. Wondered how she’d last ten days with Lynne talking nonstop, connecting every other sentence to God.
‘It’s sure beautiful here, isn’t it?’ Lynne said.
Harper agreed.
‘I didn�
��t imagine it this way. I thought it would be, you know, desert and sandy. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that God would put beautiful events in a beautiful place—’
‘Hey, Lynne. You coming?’ Peter called from the street.
‘On my way!’ Lynne ran off, waving to Harper. ‘See you tomorrow, partner!’
Harper watched her scurry down the path to Peter. He held his arm out, wrapped it around Lynne and led her away into the night.
The next morning, Harper dressed in khaki pants and a long-sleeved white cotton shirt, a wide-rimmed hat to shield her from the sun. She rushed through breakfast, dropped Hagit and Chloe at the nursery, and hurried off with a quick goodbye, both relieved and a little hurt that Chloe seemed oblivious to her departure.
Harper was the first one on the bus that would shuttle them to the site. Dr Ben Haim’s students arrived next, filling the back of the bus. Lynne and her husband took a block of seats with others from their church. As the driver pulled out of the kibbutz, their pastor stood and led them in prayer.
‘Lord, guide us today as we attempt to do your work. It is your word that we follow. Your will that we seek to fulfill . . .’
Harper tried not to listen. Thought of Hank. Missed him. Pictured Chloe, wondered what she was doing. Imagined her listening to a story. In Hebrew.
Finally, the bus ride ended, and they arrived at Megiddo South. Some structures from the prison were still there – the watchtower loomed over the parking lot as if armed guards were still posted there. Beyond the tower, the dig covered a vast, bare expanse, stripped of topsoil and a few feet of fill, in sharp contrast to the surrounding green hilly fields. The area was divided by string and posts into a grid of five-meter squares, each identified on the map. Paths of wooden scaffolding ran across sections and around the perimeter.
A line of trailers and supply shacks had been set up at the edge of the parking lot. One trailer served as the site office, and there Harper found Josh Kahn, one of Dr Ben Haim’s student assistants. Josh fitted her with an equipment kit: two pairs of black leather gloves, white suede gloves, a grapefruit knife, graph paper and pencils, brushes, a trowel, a folding shovel, Ziploc bags, a pick, screens, measuring tape, tweezers, clippers, a level, foil, a folded tarp, a dustpan, nails, a hammer, a camera, dust masks, kneepads, a scale, tablespoons, an air puffer, a refillable water bottle. She asked about dirt buckets, learned they’d already been distributed throughout the site.
