Living Stones

by Lloyd Johnson

  “Let’s hope she turns into Daoud Street. Keep me informed, Walid.”

  Walid waited across the street from the restaurant. After an hour she still had not appeared. She must have met someone. He finally saw with dismay that he had guessed correctly. She and another Western woman walked back up the street the way Ashley had come. He followed from a distance as the two women talked, laughing and pointing at items in the open stalls of the market. They stopped at several of them and came out with small packages. The afternoon wore on, and Walid wondered, with the sun almost disappearing behind the nearby western hill, what Ashley would do. Near five, they stopped and Ashley pointed in the direction of the hotel. The other woman nodded, smiled, hugged her, and continued on, alone.

  Ashley squinted up at the street sign indicating the cross street: Daoud Street, written in Arabic and English. She turned right, toward the hotel just as Walid had hoped, and strolled downhill, peeking in the shops but not stopping. Walid ducked into a leather shop and perused the belts for men. He could see around the corner of the shop that she continued, obviously expecting to approach the hotel. He lost her for a few seconds in the setting sun. He knew she would round the final bend and realize she’d have to turn back. His heart raced. Sweat ran down his face. He gritted his teeth and pulled a different cap from his pocket, one with a visor. His hands shook as he felt in his pocket for the knife. It had the fastest blade action of any knife he had ever seen and switched from a smooth bone handle to a long blade fifteen centimeters in length.

  He pulled out her picture again. Yes, it’s her. He walked by a shop she’d entered then headed down the street as though looking for some item. He rounded the bend in the road and darted behind a dumpster.

  After several agonizing minutes, she finally appeared, rounding the turn in the street. He watched as she walked toward the cul-de-sac with a puzzled look on her face. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she squinted into the glare of the low western sun. She stopped. Empty. No shops. She turned around and started slowly back toward the bend of the street.

  His heart pounded. He approached silently from behind. He and the woman were alone, finally. Right hand in his pocket, he partially encircled the knife handle with his fingers, his thumb finding the button that would switch the blade open in an instant. He would wrap her with his right arm and the knife, hold his left hand over her mouth to stifle a scream, and plunge the knife home over her heart. It would be quick, and he would duck through shops to another side street in seconds.

  Chapter 37

  The characteristic Skype signal sounded as Rafiq checked the Internet for olive and fig prices. He answered Najid’s call and saw him on the screen looking rumpled as if he had just arisen from bed.

  They spoke in Arabic, and after the usual greetings, Rafiq smiled, but with a quizzical frown. “Why are you calling now? What is it, seven o’clock in the morning in Seattle? Are you well?”

  “I am well, Father. But I couldn’t sleep last night and want to find out how your visit went with Ashley. I tried to call yesterday but you weren’t online.”

  “We took a trip to Zubuda to see Faisal and Almas and help with their orchard. Ashley went with us. We had a good time with her. They gave us the usual hassle at the wall.”

  “Did you like her, and did Mother like her?”

  “Oh yes. She seems like a very nice young woman.”

  “She is a jewel. I wish I were there to show her around.”

  “She had a good time with the boys, even played football with them. Sami translated for us all, and we had no difficulty communicating.”

  “I’m worried about her, Father. I don’t know why. But I couldn’t sleep thinking about her, and that maybe she’s in some kind of trouble.”

  “It’s nothing I know about, Najid. Sami took her to the hotel in Nazareth this morning, and he’s not back from school yet.”

  “What is it there, almost five in the afternoon?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want to pray for Ashley. Will you pray with me?”

  “Of course, Najid. God will hear, and so will I.”

  Rafiq saw Najid looking up to the ceiling on the screen, holding out his hands, palms up. “Our Father in heaven, maybe Ashley is in some kind of trouble right now and needs your protection. So please shield Ashley right now from whatever danger could be happening. I may be all wrong about this, but I’m just responding to what I think you have put in my heart. Amen.”

  “That was a beautiful prayer, Najid. I’ll ask Sami to get Ashley on the telephone tonight to see how she is doing, and we’ll let you know.”

  The wind blew as usual in Oklahoma City, rustling a tree branch scraping the house. It seemed eerie to Dorothy Wells. Frank had left early for work, and she read the paper over her coffee. She felt uneasy. She wondered about Ashley. Maybe she is in some kind of trouble. She must be in Nazareth now, according to the schedule she e-mailed. There are lots of illnesses associated with travel overseas. Why pray when you can worry. She chuckled. So she bowed and asked God to take care of her daughter, whatever might be happening. The prayer proved simple and direct. Dorothy possessed a simple faith that God would take care of Ashley, whatever the circumstances. After all, she was in the very hometown of Jesus, and surely nothing would happen to Ashley there. Dorothy returned to her paper in faith that her prayer had been heard.

  Walid’s target walked slowly back toward the curve in the street. Just as he anticipated success, crouching silently behind her, knife halfway out of his pocket, a woman shopkeeper with her hijab on dashed around the corner toward Ashley. She squinted into the setting sun, shielding its glare with her arm. “I can’t see you well, but I just found the piece you were looking for!”

  Walid, in shock, dropped the knife back into his pocket and ducked behind the dumpster. He waited. He could kill them both. No, not a Palestinian. He climbed the fence, ducked around the back of a building, and walked to another street. He shook his head in frustration. The chance to finish the job blown by a woman—a Palestinian. He sighed and called Umar.

  “Did you do it?”

  “No!” He cursed the women and the situation and his failure.

  “What happened?”

  Walid explained the sequence of events. “I couldn’t do it right in front of the shopkeeper. I didn’t want to kill her too. She’s one of us. It became impossible. I have failed.”

  “She’ll be coming back here, but I can’t do it here either, Walid. For some reason, several soldiers and police still surround the front of the hotel. There might have been a threat of some kind. I did see a limousine with a flag on the front earlier. It must be some dignitary they’re protecting.”

  “Do you think we’d have a chance tomorrow, Umar?”

  “If our target gets on the bus with the others, no. We’d be finished. We have to find her by herself. They seem to practice safety in numbers … We’ll have to go all out in Jerusalem.”

  Chapter 38

  Ashley entered the hotel curious about the soldiers and police milling around. She wondered what had happened earlier. But her mind focused on happier things. She had been so pleased to meet a new friend in the restaurant; the woman had been such an enthusiastic shopper. Beverly and she had exchanged cell phone numbers after meeting over lunch. The day had gone perfectly, except for the flat tire and missing the bus. But she had enjoyed Nazareth and had lots of stories to tell about her adventures with Najid’s family. Marie appeared in the lobby also bursting to tell Ashley about their trip in Upper Galilee.

  The entire team hurried out to a recommended restaurant where each wanted to tell their story to the group. Tales went on for hours. They asked for more details of Ashley’s adventures at the wall with the Sabra. She had already told them of Najid’s family, the friends in Zabuda, and the problems Faisal and Almas had managing olive and fig orchards just across the wall.

  Upon Ashley’s return to her room, a telephone call from Sami surprised her. Yes, she’d had a good day in Nazar
eth with no problems. After inquiring about his day, she thanked him again for their hospitality and the wonderful time together.

  The team discussed plans for the next day, Wednesday, and decided to go to the Mount of Beatitudes, the traditional site of Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount. This would also be their last chance to swim in the Sea of Galilee, as they had stayed too long in Tiberius and Capernaum to fit that in to the schedule. On Thursday, they would head off to the south, to Jerusalem and the Dead Sea sites.

  Their bus driver seemed proud of the farmland of Upper Galilee with its hills and valleys, green with open farms and groves of olives and figs.

  “The Mount of Beatitudes near Tabgha has a church there, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, but apparently the main attraction is the setting itself—low hills overlooking the Sea of Galilee,” Marie answered.

  Later, reclining on the grass of the hillside overlooking the blue expanse of the water, Ashley listened to Jim read the first of the blessings Jesus spoke about, for those who are “poor in spirit” and later, “peacemakers.” She closed her eyes. This world needs less arrogance and hate and more people “poor in spirit” who recognize their need for God and for each other. And it needs people who make peace, not just talk about it.

  She lay back in the warm sun and drifted off to sleep. She dreamed she was back at the wall in Bethlehem and that someone with a gun had grabbed her from behind. Ashley jerked awake.

  “What’s wrong, Ashley?” Marie lay with her hands under her head not far away.

  “I don’t know. I … I guess I had a bad dream.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No. Let’s walk up higher for some exercise and get a better view of the countryside and the water. It looks so inviting.” She tried to put the dream out of her mind. She didn’t want to talk about it. She had tried to put that Bethlehem experience behind her, and she remained determined to not bring it up, to anyone. Swimming in the Sea of Galilee helped her forget.

  The bus climbed slowly as it approached Jerusalem. Their new bus driver, Benjamin, unlike the quiet former one, had introduced himself as Ben, a Sabra born and raised in Jerusalem. He spoke flawless English. “You’ll notice we are gaining elevation. Jerusalem sits on a group of hills averaging over twenty-six hundred feet in elevation.”

  The bus passed through the modern city of Jerusalem, and then approached a dramatic high wall of tan-and rose-hued stones that surrounded the Old City. Ben grabbed the microphone again. “Suleiman the Magnificent, the Ottoman Turk, constructed the present-day wall in the fifteen hundreds after it had been built and destroyed many times over the centuries.”

  Ashley watched intently as they slowed, driving through the Jaffa Gate up to the nearby guesthouse. It shone softly with beautiful stone walls, balconies and courtyards in the afternoon sun. Flower boxes brightened the outside stairs. The entry led into a lounge with several upholstered chairs and a reception desk. It would become a peaceful haven within the ancient city, bustling with shops and tourists.

  Chapter 39

  As they rode on, everyone in the bus enjoyed some quiet and a rest after the intense sun and heat of their hike up to ancient Massada in the desert near the Dead Sea. Ashley closed her eyes and grew sleepy. The dream came back. A man approached her near the wall in Bethlehem. He suddenly pulled a gun hidden partially by his hand. Ashley awakened with a startled “No!” raising her arm and striking Marie in the chest.

  “Are you OK, Ashley? You cried out in your dream.”

  “I’m so sorry. I dozed off. Did I wake you up? I think I hit you!”

  “No problem. You seem to be having some frightening dreams.”

  “I guess I am. It’s so real at the time. They keep coming back.”

  “I know you went through a lot at home before coming on the trip. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “It’s not the bombing at home. I woke up in the hospital from being unconscious and have only vague memories of the whole situation until after my operation.”

  “Would it help to tell me what’s causing those dreams here?”

  “I’m not sure, Marie. I haven’t wanted to disturb you or anyone on this trip or cause any delays. I’ve tried to put it out of my mind, but a frightening thing happened to me in Bethlehem when I was out walking alone near the wall. It seems unreal now, but I know it wasn’t a dream.”

  “If you are comfortable sharing it, Ashley, go ahead. Anything you say will not go beyond the two of us.”

  “Well … alright. Here’s what happened.” Ashley related the whole story at the wall. She decided not to tell about Herodian. Maybe that wasn’t a real threat after all. “I don’t want this to ruin my trip or anyone else’s, for that matter. I’ve tried to put this behind me. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t even want to talk about it. But it keeps breaking through in my dreams, and those I can’t control.”

  Marie gazed ahead in her seat and then turned to Ashley. “That experience is certainly enough to cause nightmares. Do you have any reason to believe it was more than a crazed man attacking a young lady, you know, any attractive girl?”

  “Not really. I have no enemies or stalkers that I’m aware of and certainly not in this part of the world.”

  The discussion continued. Ashley told of the cab driver that spirited her away so fast.

  “It looks like God’s provided at just the right moment,” Marie observed.

  “Definitely. I’m so thankful for that cabbie. I hope I paid him enough. And thank you for listening, Marie. It helps to share the load I’ve been carrying.”

  Marie nodded. “Let’s stay together from now on. You know, the buddy system.”

  Ashley chuckled. “I haven’t used that since age six in swimming lessons. But thanks. Now it sounds pretty good.”

  Chapter 40

  Marie and Ashley followed the rest of the team out to the bus after breakfast in the guesthouse. The tour group had decided to visit the Holocaust Museum. Ben told the story as he drove into the modern city, starting with the pogroms in Russia and Poland. Ashley recalled again the Jewish families having to leave their Russian village in Fiddler on the Roof. Then he explained Kristallnacht, the night of broken glass in 1938, the anti-Jewish rampage in Germany that killed many Jews and destroyed hundreds of their businesses.

  “You soon will see the horror of the concentration camps at the museum, and the suffering of six million Jews.” Ben paused. “Then you will understand why we say, ‘Never again.’ ”

  Touring the complex with its images and videos of Auschwitz and Treblinka, both in what had been Poland, nauseated Ashley. Human beings were stripped naked and lined up for slaughter like cattle in Chicago stockyards. “I can’t look anymore, Marie. I’m getting sick. Let’s go outside.”

  They found a crowded cafe. Marie maneuvered Ashley outside, locating the only empty chairs at a small table where an elderly bearded gentleman with a yarmulke sat sipping his tea.

  “May we join you?” Marie inquired.

  “Please do,” he said, pulling out the nearest chair.

  Marie introduced herself and Ashley. “And you are—”

  “Rabbi Yusef. You would call me Joseph,” he said, shaking hands. He spoke perfect English.

  Ashley perked up as the waitress came for orders. She thought tea might settle her stomach. “Are you the rabbi here at the museum?”

  “No,” he said, laughing. “I retired some years ago.”

  “You have obviously seen the pictures of Auschwitz, probably many times. I … I couldn’t handle them. They made me sick.”

  “I was there.”

  Ashley’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened, staring at their new friend. “You … really? You were in Auschwitz?!”

  “Yes, as a child. Both of my parents died there in the gas chamber.”

  “Oh no! I’m so sorry.” Ashley paused, squeezing the rabbi’s hand. “I’ve never met a survivor of the concentration camps. How did you escape?”

&nbs
p; “We didn’t. My uncle and I somehow lived until the Allied armies freed us.”

  Rabbi Yusef then related his story, detailing his childhood in Germany, his experience in the camp, and then his release with his uncle. They had immigrated to Israel in 1948 just after it achieved nation status.

  Ashley sighed, and both women sat back in their chairs after being on the edge of them during the story. Their tea had grown cold. Ashley had so many questions to ask of this rabbi who had lived through the modern history of the Jews.

  “You have been through so much that I’ll never understand,” Ashley said. “It’s such a privilege to hear your story. May I ask you a question or two?”

  “ ‘No problem,’ as you Americans say.” He flashed a sly smile.

  “Are you orthodox in your faith?”

  “Yes, I am. And many are here. But we’ve always had a secular government.”

  “What do you think about Israel getting help from the United States?”

  “We appreciate it. Three billion dollars a year allows us to do what we do, particularly with military and security issues.”

  “Do you have any disagreement with the U.S. policy toward the Palestinians?”

  “Yes, I do. I would like America to support us exclusively in our fight with them. They are terrorists and use rockets to try to get rid of us. In the past, suicide bombs. Only the wall has finally brought the suicide bombings to a halt, as well as our soldiers. There is no other way. We have to cement our gains, literally. It has allowed us to take much of the West Bank that belonged to us in King David’s day.”

  “Do you want your government to take over all the occupied territory?” Ashley inquired.

  “We won’t rest until we have the entire land promised us, at least to the Jordan River. We have too many Palestinians in Israel proper. And too many in the West Bank. Some are leaving, but not enough of them. They have too many babies. If we were all one country, they could take over with time. We have to cleanse the land of Arabs. You can’t trust Palestinians.”