It was a 150-kilometer drive from Jerusalem to Reineh. Hana spent the two-hour trip debating whether to say anything about Daud and, if so, what that should be. Thirty minutes after she arrived in Reineh, she was alone with Fabia and Farah and blurted out the news.
“I’ve met someone,” she began.
“I knew it from the look on your face when you got out of the car,” Fabia responded.
“Farah, didn’t I say something to you when we took the boys into the kitchen for a drink?”
“Yes,” Farah replied with a kind smile directed at Hana. “Where does he live?”
“Beit Hanina in East Jerusalem.”
“He’s not in the US?” Fabia asked. “How did this happen? Did you meet him on the internet? I know some of those relationships work out, but I’m always suspicious.”
“Do you remember Anat Naphtali who worked with me at the airport?” Hana asked. “She introduced us, and we started talking from there. He’s working with me on a case that has connections here in Israel.”
“Is he a Christian?” Farah asked.
“And a lawyer?” Fabia added before Hana could answer.
“Yes and no. He’s a private investigator.”
Fabia and Farah exchanged a look. “Why do you need to hire a private investigator?” Farah asked.
“For the case. I can’t provide any details because of attorney-client confidentiality rules.”
“Rubbish!” Fabia retorted. “We share everything!”
“No, I really can’t. But I have a lot more to share about Daud,” Hana said, and continued, “He played on a football team with Mikael six or seven years ago—and he’s friends with Ibrahim Ghanem.”
The other two women exchanged a glance. “Keep going,” Farah said.
Hana told them all she could remember from the dinner. It took awhile because of frequent interruptions and demands for more details.
“Have you talked to Mikael about him?” Farah asked.
“No, I decided not to bother him while he’s in Africa.”
“You should,” Fabia responded. “He has good discernment.”
“Okay,” Hana answered tentatively.
“Promise,” Fabia pressed. “I know you’ve been looking for a man who steps into your life with a light from heaven shining above his head.”
“I never said that.”
“Not exactly, but it’s what you’ve wanted.”
“Show us a picture of Daud,” Farah said.
“I don’t have any,” Hana replied. “There isn’t one on his business website.”
“Describe him anyway.”
While Hana talked, Fabia was busy on her phone. “Is this him?” she asked, showing the phone to Hana.
Daud, his dark hair slightly mussed by what must have been a stout breeze, was standing on top of Mount Hermon. The picture appeared to have been taken in the springtime, after the snow had melted and the flowers had leapt from their hiding places beneath the soil. Carrying a small backpack, he leaned on a hiking pole.
“Yes,” Hana said. “That’s him.”
“Three months ago,” Fabia said, reading the caption.
“Wow,” Farah said. “He’s handsome.”
“Gorgeous is more appropriate,” Fabia said.
“And he’s a perfect gentleman,” Hana said. “Very polite and respectful.”
Fabia ran her fingers through her long black hair. “Talk to Mikael, but I don’t think you should say anything to your father or mother. Not yet.”
“How will I know you won’t talk to them after I’m gone?” Hana replied. “We’re all terrible at keeping secrets.”
“We’ll share with each other,” Farah said. “That will satisfy us.”
“But only if you promise to keep giving us regular updates,” Fabia said. “That will buy our silence.”
“Deal,” Hana answered.
Now that Fabia and Farah knew about Daud, Hana was able to easily navigate the rest of the day. Her nieces and nephews were fascinated with Leon, and repeatedly asked Hana to pull up the video feed for the doggie day care website. Images of the puppy playing with his friends became a focal point of the trip for the younger generation. Hana’s mother demanded and gave multiple hugs, and her father seemed satisfied with updates about Hana’s activities at the law firm.
Late in the afternoon, Hana was sitting on a long veranda that stretched the length of the house when a car pulled up and an old, wizened man got out of the passenger seat. It was Anwar.
“Did he know I was here?” Hana asked her mother.
“No.”
“How’s his health?”
“He’s rallied recently.”
Stooped over from the weight of ninety-eight summers and winters lived within five miles of where he was born, the old man approached the veranda. All the adults stood in respect. The children grew silent and stared for a few moments before running off to continue playing. Leaning on a walking stick, Anwar carefully surveyed the assembled adults before his eyes stopped on Hana. She felt his gaze and sharply inhaled a breath she didn’t immediately let out.
Anwar pointed at her with a slightly crooked finger. “Hana,” he said. “I’ve come to see you. Will you sit with me?”
Two chairs were hurriedly provided. Hana and Farah looked at each other. Farah’s eyes were as big as saucers. Hana sat down, and the male cousin who’d driven Anwar to Reineh from Nazareth helped the old man to his chair. Most of the other adults hovered around close by. Hana’s mother offered to get Anwar a glass of lemonade, but he declined with a wave of his hand.
“Leave us alone,” he said.
Within seconds only Hana and Anwar remained on the open veranda. Hana glanced over her shoulder. She suspected family members would try to eavesdrop from nearby windows cracked open to let in the cooler air that arrived as the sun set.
“Alone, I said!” Anwar repeated in a louder voice.
Hana heard footsteps moving away from the closest window. Anwar looked at her thoughtfully. “Even though I’m an old man and can’t see or hear as I once could, I still hear the voice that matters the most.”
Hana knew what he meant.
“Do you remember when I told you about Samuel when you were a little girl?” Anwar asked.
“Yes.”
“Does the Lord awaken you in the night to listen?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Anwar closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. “There’s more. Sometimes when a promise is on the way, the Lord sends a Hana to welcome it.”
They sat in silence for a few moments.
“Anna in the New Testament; Hannah in the Old Testament,” Hana said.
“That’s right,” Anwar said, nodding with approval. “And you bring together their faith.”
Hana waited for a fuller explanation. Instead, Anwar closed his eyes. A minute passed. Watching the old man’s steady breathing, Hana suspected he was asleep. She reached out to gently touch his arm but pulled back before doing so. Suddenly, he snorted and appeared to be awake. He looked at Hana for a moment before recognition came into his eyes.
“Do you believe?” he asked.
“Yes, Uncle,” she answered.
“That’s true. You do. But all faith is tested. I’ve prayed that you’ll pass the test.”
“What kind of test?”
Anwar pointed up. “He’s the teacher; he selects the test.”
Hana felt the truth of what she was hearing, but also frustration at the ambiguity of the message.
“Come closer,” Anwar said.
Hana moved her chair until it almost touched the one in which the old man sat.
“That’s good,” he said. Anwar put his hand on Hana’s head. She bowed lower so his hand rested easily on her hair. Hana felt a slight tingling that ran along her shoulders and then lifted.
“There it is,” Anwar said. “Amen and amen.” He raised his hand and returned it to his lap.
“What have you done?” Hana asked.
“Given you what I can. Meditate on the promises of the Almighty.”
“I already do that.”
“Good. Do it more. Call for the children, please.”
Hana left the veranda, and after relaying the old man’s request, she went upstairs to a room where she could be alone. She didn’t come down until after the old man had departed for Nazareth.
When asked what he’d told her on the veranda, Hana gave a simple response: “He blessed me.”
Alone in the upper room, she’d realized she needed to store Anwar’s words in her heart and not share them with others, even her loved ones. After supper, Hana read a story and sang a song to Khadijah. Once all the younger nieces and nephews were in bed, Hana gave her mother a final hug and returned to Jerusalem.
Jakob waited for Emily to pick him up and take him home before she had to leave for class. He’d scribbled “Tuition” on the outside of the envelope containing the check and slipped it into his jacket pocket. The driver pulled up to the curb. It was hot, and she had the air conditioner at full blast.
“Busy day?” Jakob asked as he closed the passenger door and fastened his seat belt.
“Not busy enough,” Emily replied, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’ve had two rides stand me up. The penalty payments for no-shows don’t help much.”
Emily reached over and turned up the volume. Jakob didn’t recognize the music. “Who is that?” he asked.
“Saed Haddad, a modern composer from Jordan who lives in Germany,” she said in a clipped voice. “We’ve been studying him at school.”
Sensing that she didn’t want to talk, Jakob didn’t try to start a conversation. When they reached his apartment, he laid the envelope on the seat as he got out of the car. Emily peeled away from the curb. He’d barely closed his apartment door when she called him.
“What’s up with the check?” she demanded. “If you wanted to freak me out, it worked.”
“You mentioned a tuition payment coming up tomorrow, and I wanted to help. I wasn’t trying to freak you out.”
Emily didn’t respond for several moments. Jakob didn’t know what to expect.
“Thanks,” she said in a much softer tone of voice. “That was very generous. Having someone be nice to me just because they want to has been rare in my life.”
Jakob wanted to ask why, but whether to explain the comment was up to Emily.
“What time should I pick you up in the morning?” she asked.
“I have an appointment with my neurologist at nine, and a deposition in midtown at eleven that should take a couple of hours.”
“Where is the doctor’s office?”
Jakob gave her the address.
“I’ll pick you up at 8:22.”
“Great.”
Inside his apartment, Jakob took off his tie and draped it over a chair. There was a knock on his door. Thinking maybe Emily had forgotten to tell him something, he quickly neatened up the living area before opening the door. Butch Watson stood on the landing.
“Is something wrong?” Jakob asked.
“I’d say so. Is it true what I heard about your car burning up?”
“Every bit of it.”
Butch drank a beer while Jakob gave his friend a greatly edited version of events that excluded any mention of an incendiary device. Butch carried enough information about the physical attack on Jakob the night the twins were born. He didn’t need another layer of worry.
“You’ve had the worst string of setbacks,” Butch said, shaking his head. “When that happens to me, there’s always something good around the corner.”
“I’ll take it,” Jakob said.
Butch started in with anecdotes about the twins. A half hour later, he finally got up to leave.
“Oh, one other thing,” Butch said, pausing at the door. “If you ever need a ride home, I’ll do it if there’s any way I can swing it.”
“Thanks,” Jakob replied. “But I’ve hired a regular Uber driver who’s on call.”
“Is that the cute blonde with the hot yellow car? That car is sweet.”
“Yes, I didn’t realize you’d noticed.”
“Oh yeah. Maddie has you under surveillance. Most of the guys in the building have checked out the pictures she took of you and the driver.”