Hana picked up Leon at doggie day care and drove directly to the Neumann house. As she led Leon down the sidewalk, he held his nose in the air as if enjoying familiar smells. He then turned onto the walkway for the correct address.
“You’re smart,” Hana said. “They’ve been teaching you a lot, and I didn’t know you could read numbers.”
Leon pulled excitedly on the leash while they waited for someone to answer the door. Ben opened it wearing jeans and a casual shirt.
“How was New York?” he asked.
“More steps in the right direction,” Hana answered, looking past Ben’s shoulder. “Where’s Sadie?”
“Brushing her teeth.”
“Here’s a quick summary.” Hana spoke rapidly: “The US Attorney’s Office is going to charge Latif Al-Fasi under the antiterrorism laws with conspiracy to commit murder in Gloria’s death. Sylvia Armstrong believes they can present a strong case linking him to the Zadan brothers and the Chechen terrorist cell.”
Ben slowly nodded. Sadie appeared behind her father.
“You look beautiful!” the little girl exclaimed when she saw Hana.
Hana leaned over, and Sadie gave her a long hug followed by a kiss on the cheek.
“And you smell good, too,” Sadie said, talking rapidly. “Do you always wear the same perfume? My grandmother says that when you find one you really like it’s okay to put it on every day. It’s not like changing clothes. No one wants to wear the same clothes every day, except at my school where it’s part of the rules.” She paused to take a breath.
Leon pulled on the leash. The little girl grabbed Hana’s hand. “Let me show you my room. It was a mess, but I cleaned it up.”
“We need to let Leon play in the backyard,” Hana replied.
Sadie led the way to the kitchen. “We got a new door,” Sadie said. “This one has little wires in it that make it stronger. Isn’t that right, Daddy?”
“Yes,” Ben said and nodded. “And a new alarm system, although now I hope we don’t really need it.”
Sadie leaned over and scratched the puppy behind his ears. He wiggled in delight. “I’ll play with you in just a minute,” she said.
Ben released the dog into the backyard. Taking Hana’s hand, Sadie led her down the hall and past the master bedroom with its photo of Gloria in her wedding gown. In the center of Sadie’s bedroom was a white four-poster bed with a white-and-blue bedspread. A pile of stuffed animals huddled in front of the pillows.
“Where’s Fabia?” Hana asked, looking around.
“We were playing hide-and-seek, and I haven’t found her yet,” Sadie answered. “Will you help me?”
Hana quickly looked around the room.
“Oh, she knows how to play,” Sadie said. “She won’t hide where you can see her without trying.”
“Okay,” Hana said. “Can she hide outside your room?”
“Not anymore,” Sadie answered, shaking her head. “Daddy told me to stop hiding things in his sock drawer.”
“Are you going to help me?”
“No, Fabia said that wouldn’t be fair. If you have trouble, we can do hot/cold.”
“What’s that?”
“You don’t know?” Sadie asked in surprise.
“That’s why I need you to teach me.”
Hana listened as Sadie explained the concept. It was new to Hana, and she filed it away to share with her nieces and nephews the next time she saw them.
“I’m going to start by looking under the bed,” Hana said. She kicked off her shoes and got down on her knees so she could peer under the bed. There was a pink ballerina slipper, an orphaned green sock, and a hair bow, but no sign of Fabia.
“I don’t see her,” Hana said, sitting up.
“She doesn’t like to hide under the bed,” Sadie said. “That’s a scary place, and she wouldn’t want to spend the night there if I didn’t find her.”
“May I look in your dresser?” Hana asked.
“Yes, I’m not picky about it like Daddy.”
Sadie certainly had plenty of socks, hair bows, and pajamas.
“I didn’t have time to straighten up my drawers,” Sadie said as Hana rummaged through the piles.
Hana’s hand felt a piece of plastic that felt like a doll’s leg. She pulled out the figure. It wasn’t Fabia.
“That’s the princess from Frozen,” Sadie said. “All my friends have one. I haven’t played much with her since I got Fabia. Nobody has a doll named Fabia.”
The princess looked like she’d spent a couple of winters sleeping in the woods without a proper coat. One leg was loose in the socket and her ragged hair had been trimmed. Sadie could be rough on her dolls. Hana reached the bottom drawer without finding Fabia. On top of the dresser was a snow globe with several more characters from Frozen inside. The movie had been popular in Israel as well.
Beside the snow globe was a tiny Israeli flag on a small gold stand. Hana picked it up. “My mama bought that for me the day before she died,” Sadie said matter-of-factly. “It’s the last gift she gave me. It’s the flag for Israel. Different countries have different flags.”
Hana returned the flag to its place and reached for the closet doorknob.
“Be careful,” Sadie said. “It’s pretty full.”
Hana opened the door slowly. A multicolored umbrella fell out, followed by a large wad of clothes.
“Are these clean?” Hana asked.
“I don’t know,” Sadie answered doubtfully. “I think Daddy should wash them again to be sure.”
The small closet was a mess. Hana hesitated about digging around in the pile of clothes and toys. She saw a few broken potato chips and goldfish crackers on the carpet.
“You’re getting colder,” Sadie said.
Hana backed away and turned toward the nightstand beside the little girl’s bed.
“You’re getting warmer,” Sadie informed her.
Hana looked underneath the nightstand. No doll. She reached for the brass handle on the single drawer.
“You’re red hot,” Sadie said.
Hana opened the drawer. Inside she found Fabia, who was lying on her back on a soft doll blanket. The doll’s purse and a green hat rested beside her. She was wearing the outfit Hana had given Sadie as a birthday present.
“She looks comfortable,” Hana said.
“She likes it in there. That way she can get into bed with me.”
“May I take her out and hold her?” Hana asked.
“Yes, hold her next to your arm. It’s the same color.”
Hana did. It was a very close match.
“Put her back in her hiding place, please,” Sadie said.
Hana laid Fabia on the blanket and carefully closed the drawer. “Does she always hide in the drawer?” Hana asked.
“No, that would be too easy.”
“Do you ever hide from her?” Hana asked.
“Yes, I crawl all the way under the covers, but I can’t stay there long.”
“Why can’t you stay very long?”
“I’m afraid of the dark.”
Hana sat on the floor with her legs straight out in front of her and leaned against the bed. The little girl rested her head against Hana’s right arm and shoulder.
“Do you think you could tuck me in one night?” Sadie asked in a small voice.
“I don’t know. I’m sure your daddy does a good job.”
“But would you like to do it?”
Hana’s heart said yes, but she didn’t want to overstep her role. “Maybe,” she managed. “We’ll see.”
“When adults say that it usually means no,” Sadie said with a pout.
“If I did tuck you in, would you sing a song for me?” Hana asked.
“Yes,” Sadie said, brightening up. “If you’ll sing again for me.”
“Are you talking about when you fell asleep at my office?” Hana asked in surprise.
“I was fake asleep,” Sadie replied with a smile. “I wanted to listen and I was afraid you’d stop if I opened my eyes. Will you sing a song right now? I’m not sleepy because I took a nap when I got home from school, so I won’t have to pretend to be asleep.”
“Okay.”
Sadie nestled closer to Hana.
“I may shut my eyes so that I can hear inside what I should sing,” Hana said.
Sadie nodded. Hana closed her eyes. And began to hum.
There is a haunting, plaintive cry inherent in the soul of Arab music that flows from the desire for eternal oasis in the midst of frequent drought. But the music also has roots in three thousand years of existence in the vast expanses of a world where the stars explode across the midnight sky and the sun dominates the noonday with unrelenting brightness. At times the sound can soar to places known only by psalmists whose worship was fashioned during long nights on solitary hills.
Hana let words from her Arabic heart language bubble up from within. At first, they were words of comfort that included snippets of phrases from the biblical psalms. Hana repeated them over and over with minor variations in melody until satisfied she’d tilled the soil, planted good seed, and watered it. It wasn’t just a song for an afternoon; it was a declaration over the precious child’s life.
And so Hana transitioned to words of promise for the future. She sang that Sadie would be an overcomer; that she would not stray from the path of God’s will; that she would be a woman of grace; that she would know true love; that she would walk in light, not darkness. Hana paused. She knew where her heart wanted to go next, but religious and cultural boundaries held her back.
“Please, please don’t stop,” Sadie said. “It feels like you’re telling a story, and it’s not over.”
Bursting all bonds and restraints, Hana sang with Hebrew words the message first announced to the Jewish people in their ancient language. A Messiah would come who would change them and change the world. She sang of deep longing and unrelenting love. She didn’t try to form her thoughts into logical sentences but released words that communicated a sacrificial love deeper than human wickedness, a love that could bridge the chasm between heaven and earth, a love that restored what was lost and made everything gloriously new. She ended with a rising voice of triumph. Neither woman nor child spoke for a few moments.
“That was good,” Sadie said, sitting up. “Did your mama sing that song to you?”
Hana gently kissed Sadie on the top of her head. “No, I made it up especially for you.”