“The senior partners at the firm asked me to consider it, and I agreed to help.”
At that moment, Hana saw a little girl let Leon lick icing from her fingers. “I’d better not let my puppy eat too much cake,” Hana said.
She picked up Leon and took him into the kitchen. Ben was pouring punch into little pink cups.
“Is the garden still available for Leon?” she asked.
“Through that door,” Ben said, pointing. “It’s totally fenced in.”
Hana deposited Leon on the green grass. The flower beds were neglected and filled with weedy interlopers. When she returned to the kitchen, Marissa was talking to Ben. She walked away when she saw Hana.
“I think your sister is suspicious of me,” Hana said in a soft voice. “Is it personal or related to the lawsuit?”
“Maybe both,” Ben said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m sure I’ll find out before she leaves for Cincinnati in the morning. Marissa has never been shy about sharing her opinions.”
Over the next hour Hana met several mothers of the girls invited to the party. They didn’t try to hide their curiosity about whether Hana and Ben’s relationship had crossed the line from professional to personal. Hana tried to squelch speculation by emphasizing her interest in Sadie, but it didn’t work. The look on the women’s faces said, What better way to get to a widower than through his little girl?
Sadie’s grandfather came over to Hana. Mr. Dershowitz was a tall, gray-haired man with wire-frame glasses. He told Hana about his conversation with Sadie at the doll store. “From the beginning you made quite an impression on her,” the older man said.
Hana was feeling a bit on the defensive following her encounters with some of the women at the party. “Do you approve?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mr. Dershowitz said, looking directly into Hana’s eyes. “Because I believe you’re playing a role in Sadie’s life beyond representing Ben in the lawsuit.”
Mr. Dershowitz reminded Hana of a wise, kind rabbi.
“Do you know what that role might be?” she asked.
Hana knew her words sounded formal, but she didn’t know another way to phrase the question.
“That’s up to Hashem,” Mr. Dershowitz said and looked upward. “But his light shines in you. Both my wife and I can see it in your eyes.”
“Thank you,” Hana said gratefully. “That’s one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever received.”
Hana glanced over at Mrs. Dershowitz, who was playing with Sadie and her friends.
“Time doesn’t heal wounds,” the older man continued.
“No, it doesn’t,” Hana agreed. “There was a saying in our house that God appoints angels whose job is to change scars from frowns into smiles. The deeper meaning is that this occurs from the inside out, not the outside in.”
“Tell it to me.”
“Do you speak Arabic?” Hana asked in surprise.
Mr. Dershowitz shook his head. “No, but I’d still like to hear the sound of the words.”
Hana repeated the proverb that contained alliteration in Arabic, making it sound like a poem.
“That’s beautiful,” Mr. Dershowitz said when she finished. “The doctors say that when she’s a teenager Sadie can have surgery, which will make the scar on her face barely visible. I hope I get a chance to see that, but even more I want to see your proverb become a reality for her. We’re all trying to do our part, but we welcome reinforcements.”
Mr. Dershowitz stepped away. A few girls began to leave, and Hana knew it was time for her to do so, too. She went over to Sadie to tell her good-bye.
“Thanks for coming,” Sadie said, giving her a hug. “I love the new dress for Fabia.”
Hana went to the backyard to retrieve Leon. The dog’s paws were muddy.
“Uh-oh,” Ben said when he saw him. “The sprinkler system is broken, and Leon found the leak.”
Ben washed the dog’s paws in the sink. Another mother peeked in to say good-bye and saw Hana and Ben standing side by side. Ben handed Hana a dish towel to dry Leon’s damp feet. “There, that should work,” Ben said.
He handed Leon to Hana. “Go out that way if you like,” he said, pointing to another exit from the kitchen.
“Okay, thanks again for letting me come.”
The door led to a short hallway that connected the foyer with the bedrooms. Hana could see into the master bedroom. A picture of Gloria and Ben from their wedding rested on a tall chest of drawers. Hana couldn’t keep an image from the folder at the Hurva Square police station from flashing through her mind. Needing a moment of happiness and hope to balance the brutality of pain and death, she spent a few extra seconds staring at the wedding photo.
Hana and Daud spent longer on Skype than usual and Hana arrived late at the office on Monday morning. Janet was already at her workstation.
“Did you go to the birthday party?” Janet asked as soon as Hana approached the secretary’s desk.
“Yes, it was typical of birthday parties for seven-year-old girls.”
“Not when you showed up,” Janet said skeptically. “Any moms of the other kids around?”
“Yes, and they wanted to know about me and Ben. I guess I’m going to have to get used to that if I spend time with Sadie.”
“Yeah, and I bet there was a lot more conversation among them after the party ended.”
In her office, Hana translated and distributed Daud’s latest report to Mr. Lowenstein, Jakob, and Ben. Posing as a job recruiter for a plastics factory, the investigator had made a trip to Deir Dibwan. He listed the names of the people he’d talked to. There were several Zadans. Nobody had much to say about Tawfik except that he spent most of his time away from town. Not surprisingly, Abdul and Tawfik were considered local heroes for taking the fight to the Jews.
After she sent the report, the receptionist buzzed her.
“Mr. Bart Kendall would like to speak to you.”
Emily picked up Jakob to take him to work. They’d developed a comfortable working relationship. He handed her a cup of coffee.
“I need to stop by my bank to deposit a check,” he said. “The insurance company paid me for the loss of my car.”
“Okay. How are you feeling?”
“I had a bad headache last night, but I’m feeling better this morning.”
Emily navigated her way through a stream of traffic toward the bank. Jakob noticed that no music was playing.
“Why the silence?” he asked.
“After seeing the explosive device planted on your car, I wanted to know more about your mugging at Butch Watson’s apartment. The cop in me rose up and so I checked you out, partly because of concern for my own safety.”
“I get it, but I’ve also seen your gun.”
“True,” Emily said and smiled. “I also read the notes on the handmade Islamic prayer beads you found at the scene.”
“You know about the prayer beads?” Jakob asked incredulously.
“Yes, and from what I’ve learned, I’m not going to hang a set from my rearview mirror. Anyway, I wanted to let you know what I did.”
They stopped so Jakob could deposit the check at an ATM outside his bank.
When he returned to the car and had snapped his seat belt, Emily turned and looked directly into his eyes. “I want you to know that I’m impressed by your courage. You’re different from most lawyers I’ve been around.”
“Thanks,” Jakob replied. “And you’re different from any Uber driver I’ve ever met.”
“In a good way?” Emily smiled.
“In every way,” Jakob answered. “But if you want to hear about courage, I should tell you about my father.”
During the rest of the ride to the office, Jakob described some of the persecution suffered by his father in the former Soviet Union. Emily listened attentively.
“I’d like to meet him,” she said when he finished. “He sounds amazing.”
“Next time my parents are in Atlanta, we’ll get together. You and
my mother can talk about the best brand of violas.”
CHAPTER 27
Hana accepted the call from Bart Kendall.
“I didn’t hear from you about my proposal for participation in the documentary,” the producer said.
“I’ve been in Israel,” Hana replied. “But I didn’t forget. I was still thinking about it.”
“We begin filming the day after tomorrow,” Bart said. “It will take at least a week, so I can fit you in at your convenience. Your part will involve a static shot, so we should be able to take care of it in two to three hours.”
“What do you mean by a static shot?”
“You would be talking to the camera, not moving around on a location or a set.”
During the conversation, Hana was sending up a prayer for direction. No answer came, but even a small opportunity to counter BDS might be worth pursuing.
“Would you be asking questions or will I give a presentation?” Hana asked.
“I’m not the narrator, so it would be a presentation with a lead-in sentence or two introducing you. Prepare something and send it over. We can work from there. You have my email, correct?”
“Yes. Would I have to sign a release or permission form?”
“Of course. Otherwise, we couldn’t use your image or voice.”
“Could you send over the release form before I make up my mind?”
“Sure, but it’s routine stuff we use on all our commercial shoots.”
The call ended. Inspired, Hana put together several paragraphs that included moral perspectives and economic reasons why the movement was off-base and counterproductive to peace in the region. She was about to send it to Bart when an email popped up with the release form attached.
Hana opened and read the two-page document. The first page granted Bart’s company permission to use her image and voice in the project. There were no red flags. The second page looked fine until the last paragraph, which included the language “Producer retains the right to edit participant’s role in the manner best suited to the goals of the project within his sole discretion.” She immediately called Bart.
“Like I said, that’s standard language,” he said when she asked him about the sentence. “It would be an unnecessary step to obtain approval after a film has been edited.”
Hana paused before answering to be sure of what she wanted to say. “Then I’m going to pass,” she said. “I need to express myself and what I believe in strictly my own words. On an issue like this, it’s not unreasonable to have input into what’s edited out or how it’s presented.”
“Suit yourself,” Bart said curtly. “I was willing to give you a chance to voice your opinion, and you rejected it.” The producer’s tone of voice reinforced Hana’s decision.
The following morning, Hana told Daud about the project.
“I’m glad you turned it down,” he said bluntly. “The producer of the documentary has an agenda. How did you meet this guy?”
“At church and then he took me out to dinner at a nice restaurant,” Hana answered.
“What’s his name?”
“Bart Kendall. I had no idea what he had in mind until the end, so he wasn’t completely honest. You’re not going to contact him, are you?”
“No, no. But you asked for my opinion, and I gave it to you.”
“Oh, I talked to Mikael yesterday and asked him about you.”
“What did he say?”
“That you needed to improve on your footwork if you wanted to be a better footballer. Otherwise, he recommended you switch to rugby.”
Daud smiled. “Mikael always told the truth. What else?”
“He said you were a serious man everyone on the team respected.”
That night Hana awoke from a nightmare in which she was surrounded by black shapes that rushed toward her and then retreated. She drank a glass of water in her bathroom before going into the living room to pray. One of the worst parts of the dream was a vague sense that Daud was present but not coming to her aid. She didn’t want to place too much emotional weight on any person—her help came from the Lord—and she took the dream as a warning not to do so. After a short prayer, a sense of peace returned, and the disturbing aftereffects of the dream receded.
In the morning, she found herself more confident and relaxed during her Skype conversation with the investigator. Sometimes, a bad dream could have a good impact.
Hana had a productive day at the office working on several projects for Mr. Collins. Late in the afternoon, she received a text and a cute photo from Sadie via Ben’s phone inviting Hana and Leon to come over for another visit at the townhome.
Jakob loosened his tie. It was eight thirty when he sent the last email and turned off his computer. No other lawyers remained in the office building, and he was about to request a different Uber driver because he assumed Emily was at school when she texted:
Out of class. You said you were going to work late. Let me know if you need a ride.
Thirty minutes later Emily picked him up. She was wearing an evening gown with a string of pearls around her neck. Jakob did a double take when he slipped into the passenger seat of the car.
“No comments.” Emily held up her hand. “We had a chamber music performance this evening. This is how a musician dresses when playing a viola in a Vivaldi piece.”
“I thought you dressed up because I needed a ride after eight.”
Emily grinned. “That’s a comment.”
In the close confines of the small car, Jakob caught a whiff of perfume. He took a deeper breath.
“Are you having sinus problems?” Emily asked. “That can cause a terrible earache during takeoff and landing. Do you have any of those soft things that screw into your ears to relieve pressure? They’re either pink or orange, and they sell them at most drugstores.”
“Are you a paid spokesperson for the company?”
“No, but you really should get some.”
The formal outfit didn’t have an impact on the former police officer’s driving habits. She abruptly changed lanes in traffic. They stopped for a red light at an intersection not far from Jakob’s apartment. Nearby was a commercial area with a couple of restaurants.
“Did you eat supper before the performance?” Jakob asked.
“No, I play better on an empty stomach.”
“Would you like to grab a bite to eat? There’s a great pizza place in the next block. It’s next to a Laundromat.”
Emily pressed her lips together tightly for a moment. When she did, Jakob noticed how much red lipstick she’d used. The light turned green. She stomped on the gas and suddenly lurched to the left as the car swerved into the parking lot.
“I’ve always wanted to eat here,” she said as she whipped the car into a parking place.
“Seriously? It really is good, especially if you like thin-crust pizza.”
Jakob held the door open for her as they entered the crowded restaurant. With Jakob wearing a tie and Emily in an evening gown, they were the best-dressed couple in sight. A young hostess looked them over with a puzzled expression on her face.
“It’s prom night,” Jakob said.
The hostess rolled her eyes and led them to a table for two beneath a large poster of the Atlanta skyline. They ordered individual pizzas. Jakob’s featured meats; Emily went vegetarian.
“And before you ask, I eat meat,” Emily said after the waitress left. “But in moderation. I’ll probably ask for a bite of your pizza.”
Emily looked up at the ceiling for a moment. Jakob followed her gaze and saw nothing.
“I like the music track they’re playing,” Emily said. “Classic rock guitar was incredibly innovative. That’s Eric Clapton.”
“I don’t know much about him other than his name.”
For the next ten minutes Emily delivered a lesson in music history covering the 1960s and ’70s. Her passion for the subject shone through.
“Have you thought about teaching?” Jakob asked when she finished.
“That’s the plan,” she replied. “The competition for performance jobs is insane, and I’d rather work with kids than temperamental conductors.”
“Kids can be temperamental, too.”
“Yes, but I’d be in charge.”
Their food arrived. Jakob slid his pizza toward Emily. “Select first,” he said.
Emily carved off half a slice. Jakob then ate a big bite that was scorching hot. He quickly chased it with a gulp of beer.
“Are you okay?” Emily asked.
“I’m not sure,” Jakob answered. “Do you remember when you called me brave?”
“Yes.”
Jakob pointed at the pizza. “Right now, I’m afraid of this hot pizza.”
Later at home, Jakob thought about his time with Emily as he logged on to the internet. She’d had a tough childhood living with an alcoholic father and a mother who’d suffered through three failed marriages. Instead of focusing on the pursuit of terrorists on the other side of the world, Jakob typed in the Uber driver’s name. Two articles from the Atlanta paper popped up, both about her days working as an undercover officer combating sex trafficking. Emily’s identity was revealed because she testified in the trial of two men from Thailand charged with kidnapping, aggravated assault, and other crimes based on the illegal transportation of teenage girls from Southeast Asia into the United States. The aggravated assault charges especially caught Jakob’s interest. The men were violent predators who didn’t hesitate to attack or maim those who opposed them. Detective Emily Johnson was part of the team that arrested them following a brief gun battle. She knew as much as or more than Jakob did about living under the threat of danger.
Saturday morning, Hana told Daud she was going to see Ben and Sadie. The investigator had already received a full account of the birthday party.
“It will be the middle of the night in Israel when I’m there, but I’d like to introduce you to Sadie,” she said. “Would you send me a video telling her hello? She understands basic greetings in Hebrew, but it would need to be mostly in English.”
“What exactly should I say?” Daud asked skeptically. “I rarely talk to little kids.”
Chosen People Page 23
