Faye Kellerman - Sanctuary

Rina did concede that the ancient Muslims deserved proper credit. They had not only kept the shrines in excellent condition, they had embellished them in their own unique style.

It had been said that if the Jews were to dig underneath the memorials and into the cave below, if they were to actually reach the graves of the patriarchs and matriarchs, the messiah would come. After 1967, when Hebron came under Israeli rule, which opened the city to everyone, some Jews started digging. The Arabs immediately put a stop to the desecration of their mosque. The Israeli government supported the residents of the city. The messiah would just have to wait.

It was cool inside, albeit dank and musty. Immediately, Rina was hit by a cry from an elderly, blind beggar. It was anyone’s guess how he had become blind, but Rina knew of an old Arab custom. Some men, after they made their haj to Mecca, felt that nothing else was ever worth seeing. So they purposely blinded themselves. Rina wondered if that’s what had happened with this man. He continued to plead, palm stretched outward. Rina fished through her purse and dropped a shekel in a jerky dried hand. The man’s bony fingers closed in on the coin.

The guard looked at her with angry eyes that said there was no time for charity. Get a move on.

Rina took a deep breath as she entered the heart of the mausoleum. It smelled like a compost pile of rich, decaying vegetation, as if the shrine echoed God’s very words-for dust thou art and unto dust thou shall return. Rina walked through the memorial, stopping in front of the shrine for Abraham and Sarah. Something ethereal came over her, a sense of personal history. As if she were looking through her parents’ scrapbook. She thought about the Five Books of Moses, specifically B’raisheet, the book of Genesis. In a sense, B’raisheet was the scrapbook of the first Jews. These people weren’t fairy-tale characters or mythological creatures, they were real people. And like all real people, they had lived, they had died.

And Rina was standing at their graves.

Every visit to the cave brought Rina that much closer to her ancestral roots. With a shaking hand, she took a pocket siddur from her purse and began to pray. First, she did formal prayer-the Shemona Esreh. Then she made her own requests of God. First came the prayer for her family’s safety and health. Next came the prayer for the Jewish people. Lastly came the prayer for mankind. She prayed for everyone. She prayed for peace.

When she was done, she put her siddur away and turned to the soldier. “I’m done.”

They both squinted as they came out of the shrine. The soldier wiped his face with the back of his hand and quickly escorted Rina back to her car.

In Hebrew, he said, “Wait here. I tell the next group going back to Jerusalem to keep an eye on you.” He sighed, his expression street-worn and melancholy. “I’m sorry it has to be this way. I’m sorry it is not the same Israel you once knew. But we all must adjust to reality. If HaKadosh Baruch Hu has a better idea than our prime minister, let Him run for office.”

Rita smiled and thanked him.

The soldier ran his boot over the dust of the ground. “Where are you from in America?”

“Los Angeles.”

“I have a cousin in Los Angeles. Micah Golan. You know him?”

Rina held back a laugh. There were six hundred thousand Jews in LA. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.” She wiped sweat off her forehead. “It’s miserable work out here. Again, I apologize for upsetting you.” Her expression was kind. “Thank you for taking me inside the Ma’arah.”

“I have to take you,” the soldier said, grumpily. “Who knows who is a terrorist anymore?”

“I’m not a terrorist.”

The soldier closed his eyes, then opened them. “I see with my own eyes that you’re a good woman. Because I followed you in the Ma’arah. I saw the tears in your eyes when you prayed, the expression on your face when you davened shemona esreh. I saw you mouth the words with clarity, with assurance, with purpose and meaning. Your posture, your sincerity. It shows through as if you have a window to your heart. You pray to a God of mercy, not to a God of revenge. Many pray here-Arab and Jew. I don’t think you’re a crazy fanatic. And I don’t think you are an Arab spy, either. Many try to pretend to be us to infiltrate. They speak our language, eat kosher food, drink our wine, and love our women. But they cannot love our God. They may know the motions of prayer, but they don’t have the emotions.”

The soldier paused.

“Here there has been too much bloodshed caused by small minds. I talk to the settlers, try to tell them that bloodshed and revenge is their way, their customs, their laws. It is not our way.” He shook his head. “I talk too much.”

“You feel deeply.”

“You would too if you did this job. It stinks. I think they’re leaving for Jerusalem. I’ll introduce you to the group. I don’t want you to get hurt. Too many people have already gotten hurt.”

After an hour of walking proved fruitless, Decker returned to the phone calls. First, Menkovitz’s office. He had called so many times, the secretary recognized his voice.

“No, your wife has not come back here, Mr. Decker. I call you if she comes.”

“She hasn’t phoned, maybe left a message?”

“No, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

Click!

Decker slammed the receiver and cursed out loud.

He tried the police. He tried to explain the situation, but there was a language barrier. In the end, all he could do was wait.

Three hours! Where the hell could she have gone?

Time for the Mideast geography lesson.

Once again, Decker quit pacing long enough to study the road map of the region. It was a big mama thing he’d bought at the overpriced bookstore downstairs. He couldn’t believe the prices! They had wanted eleven bucks for a paperback!

He blew out air, tried to remain calm. He leaned over the tabletop, studying the map, retracing the squiggly color-coded lines. If Rina had been going one way all this time at roughly sixty miles an hour, she’d be in Amman, Jordan, by now! Or if she went north, she’d be in Lebanon making her way up to Beirut. Cairo looked like it would take much longer.

Disgusted, he crumpled up the map, threw it at the wall, then immediately regretted his impulsive action. He cursed again, then smoothed out the wrinkled roadways.

His ears perked up. A key being inserted into the slot. Decker jumped up and threw open the door, dragging Rina inside. She took her hand off the doorknob and held it up.

“Wait for the speech until I get the door closed.”

Decker didn’t move.

Slowly, Rina freed the key from the slot and closed the door. She leaned against the wall and exhaled, waiting for the onslaught.

Fighting control, Decker said between clenched teeth, “I don’t know whether to hang you or hug you. I vote for hug.”

Decker gripped her so hard, he thought she’d break. Rina allowed herself to be swaddled by him. His embrace felt so protective. She was determined not to cry and was proud when the tears didn’t come. In truth, she had no energy left for weeping.

Decker kissed his wife’s forehead. “There is an invention called a phone. Even in Israel.”

“I didn’t have a phone card.”

“A phone card?”

“A plastic phone credit card to use the pay phones. And I didn’t want to stop off at the post office to buy it. Once I got into Jerusalem, I wanted to get back as quickly as possible.”

“Why? What happened? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Peter. But I’m hungry. Do you mind ordering up a little room service?”

Decker dropped his arms to his sides and sat down on the bed, smoothing out his mustache with his fingertip. “I’ll be happy to order some food for you. I hope you don’t think this is too goyish, but if you do, too bad. I need a drink. A very strong drink!”