* * *
“There are groceries in the car,” she said to Daud, who was sitting in front of his laptop. “Unless you’re in the middle of something important.”
“I’m finishing up.”
Hana placed two bags of groceries on the kitchen counter and poured a heaping cupful of dry dog food into Leon’s metal bowl. Daud headed out to the car and soon returned with the remaining plastic bags.
“You could have ordered takeout,” he said as Hana unpacked the groceries.
“We’re not eating all of this tonight,” she replied. “I’m going to stir-fry steak with onions and peppers. We can warm up the yellow rice left over from the other night.”
“I’ll do that,” Daud immediately offered.
“Not yet,” Hana replied. “That will only take a minute or two.”
Daud took out his cell phone and took several photos of Leon with his muzzle buried in his food dish.
“Why are you doing that?” Hana asked as she sliced the steak into thin strips.
“Mr. Lowenstein asked me to do it,” Daud replied. “He called me about the interfaith debate. There was a woman in his office who is helping coordinate the event. Did you meet her? She’s going to send me—”
“Mr. Lowenstein doesn’t even know I have a dog,” Hana said. “Why would he want a picture of Leon?”
Hana stopped with her knife in midair.
Daud gave her a sheepish grin. “Lower your knife,” he said. “He knows that the dog’s name is Leon.”
Hana swallowed. “How did he react?”
“When he mentioned how much his wife would enjoy the story, I relaxed,” Daud said.
“Then let’s send him a good one that he can show Mrs. Lowenstein, not a picture of Leon with his nose in a bowl. Mr. Lowenstein might get the idea that I think he eats too much.”
“He could lose more than a few pounds, especially if he went running with me,” Daud responded.
Hana laughed as she pointed the knife at Daud. “Don’t criticize his weight. A man Mr. Lowenstein’s age doesn’t have your metabolism.”
Leon finished his meal, and Hana positioned the dog, Daud, and herself on the couch for a group selfie. Leon licked Hana’s cheek on the first attempt. Five tries later she was satisfied and showed the picture to Daud.
“Leon is looking straight at the camera, and that’s a decent photo of us.”
Daud tilted his head to the side. “You’re always beautiful. I look like I just woke up from a long nap.”
Hana stood in front of the stove while she composed a message to send with the picture. Once satisfied, she showed it to Daud.
“That’s perfect,” he said.
While she finished stir-frying the food, Hana turned to Daud, who was still sitting on the sofa scratching behind Leon’s ears.
“I’m ready for you to warm up the rice,” she said.
Daud put the bowl in the microwave. “I’ll let you have most of it,” he said as the food rotated on a frosted glass carousel. “I’m going to focus on the meat.”
“There’s plenty of rice for both of us.”
The microwave beeped. Hana divided the stir-fry, giving Daud twice as much.
“I’d better take it easy with the onions and peppers,” she said when Daud started to protest. “I would enjoy them now and regret it in the morning.”
“Then take more rice,” Daud replied as he scooped most of the yellow kernels onto Hana’s plate.
Hana watched him. “You ate rice earlier today,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Yes, but I promise to clean my plate because I’m in the mood for butter pecan ice cream for dessert. That’s one of the things I like about America.”
They sat across from each other at the small table. Daud prayed a simple blessing and dug into his food. Hana picked at the items on her plate.
Daud looked up. “It really is good, especially when it’s hot.”
Hana ate a tiny piece of meat and a forkful of rice. “Before I can eat, I need to talk to you some more about making an offer on the new house,” she said.
“Okay,” Daud said as he placed his fork beside his plate.
“But you keep eating,” Hana said.
Daud hesitated, but Hana refused to continue until he ate a bite of steak and onion.
“I thought about the situation while shopping at the grocery store,” she continued. “When you dropped the contract on my desk, I couldn’t force myself to sign it.”
“I know, but I don’t understand.”
“It has to do with you and me more than the house. I really want us to be one.”
“That’s what I was trying to do.”
“And I appreciate it a lot.”
Neither one of them was eating.
“But until I’m sure, I don’t want to do anything,” Hana continued.
“Okay,” Daud responded slowly. “But what do you want me to tell the real estate agent? She was expecting an offer from us already.”
“I’ll get in touch with her,” Hana said, but something in Daud’s expression changed her mind. “No, better yet, you tell her that we’ve not made up our minds, because that’s the truth. If we lose the house—”
The logical resolve Hana had felt moments before evaporated. She couldn’t fight off the tears that filled her eyes. She wiped them with a napkin.
“Ignore these,” she said, blinking her eyes.
“That’s impossible.”
“But you have to,” Hana pressed on. “Because I know the only way we can know God’s will for our future is to go to Jerusalem and look at the house in Abu Tor.”
Once the words passed her lips, Hana felt a release in her soul. She took a deep breath and exhaled. “There. I said it,” she finished.
Daud stared at her and didn’t speak. Hana stabbed a large piece of steak with her fork and stuck it in her mouth. Not having to talk because of the amount of food between her teeth, she met Daud’s gaze until he looked down at his plate. He ate another bite. They each continued the meal without speaking. Hana was content to be silent. She had nothing to say and knew the next words must come from Daud. The last pepper on his plate made its way into her husband’s mouth.
“All right,” Daud said, placing his fork in the center of his empty plate. “How quickly can you take a few days away from the office to go home?” he asked, then quickly corrected himself. “I mean to Israel.”
Hana regained her composure. “I know exactly what you mean. And if we leave on a Wednesday or Thursday and come back on a Monday, that shouldn’t be a problem with work. There’s even an in-person meeting with a client I can schedule in Tel Aviv. I’ll talk to Mr. Collins about it tomorrow.”
Daud stood, came over to her, and kissed her. “You are an amazing woman,” he said when their lips parted. “And I hope that kiss didn’t come with too much onions and peppers.”
“It’s okay.” Hana smiled. “You know how much I love you and them.”
“Agreeing to go to Israel doesn’t commit us to anything,” Daud said as he stepped back. “Think of it as an exploratory mission.”
Hana’s face burst into a broad smile. “And announcement celebrations with our families!”
Chapter 28
Daud awoke from a troubling, confusing, and ultimately terrifying dream in which he became lost in a familiar area of Jerusalem and couldn’t find either Hana or their vehicle. Streets didn’t intersect correctly, and usually reliable landmarks were as jumbled as puzzle pieces dumped on a table. In the nightmare he grew more and more frantic as the scene disintegrated into total chaos. He ended up standing beside a sign that read “Ben Yehuda Street” and trying to call out for help, but no sounds came from his lips. Clawing his way to consciousness, Daud carried the panic with him for a few seconds until he was able to confirm the difference between nightmare and reality. He glanced over at a still-sleeping Hana. He must not have made any noise. He dozed off until Hana suddenly rolled out of the bed and dashed into the bathroom
. Daud sat up in bed and stared after her. He’d do anything to help her feel better.
Hoping a cup of tea might be welcome, he brewed a pot of her favorite and lined up several saltine crackers in a neat line on a plate. He could hear Hana taking a shower. When she emerged dressed for work, he had breakfast waiting for her.
“Thanks,” she said when she saw what he’d done. “Our little walnut woke up in a bad mood this morning.”
“Is that how big he is?”
“And well on her way to becoming a plum.”
Hana sat down and took a sip of tea and closed her eyes. “Best tea ever,” she said, opening her eyes. “You know exactly how much milk and sugar to put in it.”
Daud rarely asked Hana about her middle-of-the-night time with the Lord, but after suffering through his terrifying dream, he couldn’t resist.
“How was your tine with the Lord in the night?” he asked.
Hana took another drink of tea before answering. “I prayed some for us and what we talked about last night, but Sadie, Ben, and Laura were really on my heart too. Even though I’ve cut back my direct involvement in Sadie’s life, I can still pray for her.”
As Daud listened, he was once again impressed with the level of unselfishness that characterized his wife’s life. He wasn’t sure whether to mention his nightmare. The only interpretation he’d been able to come up with was that danger and confusion awaited them in Jerusalem. Hana didn’t need that kind of input.
“Then I prayed for Jerusalem,” Hana continued. “I meditated on Psalm 122:6: ‘Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: May those who love you be secure.’ I read it over and over. I’m not even sure I understand how to love a city, but it must be possible because God says so and connects it to a promise.”
Hana then quoted the verse in Hebrew, which brought out alliteration lost in the English and Arabic translations. As he listened to the ancient words, the agitation Daud had felt since the nightmare lifted.
“That’s good,” he said.
“Yes, I felt the same way. But it didn’t change my mind about what we discussed last night. Call the real estate agent, and I’ll see about fitting a quick trip to Israel into my work schedule.”
“Once you know, I’ll book the flight.”
“One other thing,” Hana said. “We should pray that if we’re supposed to buy the house here in Atlanta, it won’t sell.”
“Absolutely,” Daud replied.
Hana pointed her index finger at him. “No, you pray.”
Daud’s mouth suddenly felt dry. Closing his eyes, he stumbled through a few words that seemed as prayerful as ordering lunch at a fast-food restaurant. But then he felt a shift and began to speak not only from his mind but also from his spirit. The words linked him with Hana in a new way. A couple of minutes passed before he finished. He looked across the table at Hana, whose eyes were shining.
“That was different,” he said.
Hana rolled her eyes. “That’s a very male way of describing it.”
“Okay, it felt like we were both praying even though I was the one speaking,” Daud continued.
“That’s much better,” Hana said, smiling. “For me, it was heaven touching earth. I really liked it.”
Because Hana was running a few minutes late, Daud took Leon to the dog day care center. During the drive, he phoned the real estate agent and left a voice mail that he and Hana would not be making an offer on the house at this time.
* * *
Hana arrived at the office and went directly into a conference call with Mr. Collins and a corporate client in Ra’anana. The modern city was a technology hub not far from Tel Aviv, and a place where a lot of American immigrants lived. Everyone on the call spoke English, so there wasn’t much for her to contribute.
“That went well,” the senior partner said when he and Hana were alone. “Except for the questions the CFO had about how to attract the right kind of managers. That’s more of a business question than a legal one.”
“I could connect him with a couple of Israeli firms who may have suitable candidates.”
“Why didn’t you mention that during the conversation?” Mr. Collins asked.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to bring it up.”
“It would have been fine. Be more assertive.”
“What would you think about me making a quick trip to meet with the CFO in Ra’anana and the other company in Herzliya that is thinking about hiring us to handle their expansion in the US? I believe a personal visit from the law firm could go a long way in both situations.”
Jim Collins eyed her curiously. “Now that’s very assertive. How long have you been thinking about this?”
“Since breakfast with Daud this morning,” Hana replied with a smile. “Part of the reason is personal, but I told him I’d see if there could be a joint purpose for business. If it’s okay with you, Daud could join me in Herzliya. He helps US corporations establish a presence in the Middle East, but he could assist with a company going the other way.”
Unlike Mr. Lowenstein, who usually made decisions quickly, Mr. Collins was much more deliberate. Hana didn’t expect an immediate answer.
The senior partner cleared his throat. “Put together a proposal and send it to me later today,” he said. “I’ve never considered that Daud might be an asset.”
Hana smiled.
“Except to you, of course,” the senior partner amended. “Let me mull it over.”
“Thanks.”
They stood. Mr. Collins turned to leave but stopped in the doorway.
“Tell me this much now,” he said. “When would you want to leave and how long would you be gone?”
“Leave as soon as possible and stay for four or five days. I’m sure we’d take one of those days to visit with my family near Nazareth so we could tell them in person that I’m pregnant.”
“Right.” Mr. Collins grunted and then walked the opposite way from Hana down the hallway.
Checking her email in-box, Hana was surprised to see an email directly to her from Avi Labensky inviting her and Daud to stay with him the next time they were in Jerusalem. She was about to move on to something else, but the art dealer’s phone number at the bottom of the email captured her attention. It was late afternoon in Israel.
“Shalom,” answered a male voice in Hebrew.
Hana introduced herself and continued in the same language. “I wanted to thank you again for the beautiful painting and for inviting Daud and me to stay with you.”
“You’re welcome,” Avi answered. “But Daud told me the other day that personal reasons prevent you from making a trip to Israel in the near future. If things change—”
“They have,” Hana said and then briefly told the art dealer about their possible trip.
“Excellent. If it works out, let me know. Our house is always open. One other thing. You can save me a phone call to Daud or Jakob. Are you aware that there were first-year Bar Kokhba coins in the collection stolen by the Soviet military officer from Jakob’s client?”
“Yes,” Hana answered. “What’s the next step?”
“Someone is going to have to negotiate with the current owner to determine if the coins can be recovered without the need for litigation.”
Jakob was certainly capable of negotiation, but Hana knew her presence would be a big help.
“Maybe Daud and I could fit that into the trip I mentioned.”
“That’s one reason I brought it up. The woman is a widow from a wealthy Arab family that’s lived in the Talbiya area for generations. Her last name is Zarkawi.”
Zarkawi was a name often associated with Arabs originally from Jordan. Hana jotted it down.
Avi continued. “I don’t know how Mrs. Zarkawi acquired the coins, but it makes me wonder whether she has more items on the list we’re looking for.”
Hana’s interest increased. “I’ll talk it over with Daud and Jakob.”
“Just let me know. The house in Abu Tor is the perfect place for the paint
ing I gave you.”
“The painting will be special wherever we live,” Hana replied with a smile.
“Well said,” the art dealer parried, laughter evident in his voice. “But there’s no place on earth like Jerusalem.”
The call ended. Hana stared out the single window of her office at a sliver of the north Atlanta skyline. Jerusalem spoke to Daud. The concrete-and-steel spires of the two nearby office buildings in the center of her line of sight were silent.
* * *
Daud went for a long run along the Chattahoochee River. Returning home, he logged on to his computer and noticed an inquiry from a potential client with an email address in the United Arab Emirates. The company manufactured plastic bottles for soft drinks and household products and wanted to open a plant near the West Bank city of Ramallah. Hana’s family made plastic irrigation pipes, which was a similar but not competing business. Her father and uncles would be sources of information and might be potential customers due to their use of recycled materials. Daud checked out the business, which was five years old and had plants currently operating in Pakistan and Qatar. Expanding westward made sense. Hosni Chatti, the author of the email, was listed on the firm website as the director of development. He had learned about Daud from Youssef in Lebanon. The owners of the company had links to the Al-Qasimi family that ruled two of the seven emirates making up the UAE.
Daud sent a standard response outlining his services and costs. He spent the next hour working on a proposal for another company. Standing up to stretch and take a break, he received a call from Hana.
“Did you go for a run?” she asked.
“Yes. I wanted to get one in before it got too hot. I’m still not used to the humidity.”
“I talked to Avi Labensky.”
Daud listened to Hana’s summary of the conversation with the art dealer. The enthusiasm in her voice encouraged him.
Promised Land Page 24
