TEL AVIV, ISRAEL
March 1967
Rachel had still not told Moshe about Tamara and Peter, and the deceit was killing her. To make it worse, while babysitting Diana Rachel sometimes found herself in Peter’s apartment, where, against all her instincts, she couldn’t resist looking for signs of her daughter. Almost sick with guilt, she searched in drawers, careful not to disturb the clothes. She peered under the bed for any discarded items. She didn’t want to be nosy but she couldn’t help herself, for this wasn’t only about two people, it was about two families, her whole family circle, her little world, that Tamara and Peter could bring crashing down.
Rachel would stand in Peter’s bedroom, staring at the bed, feeling miserable and helpless. She knew Arie would find out one day, and there would be hell to pay. She should tell Moshe, she could not bear this alone.
She was right about one thing. Peter and Tamara were in love and his modest bedroom was their lovers’ den. In Tamara’s phrase, here pleasure united with truth. Their truth. Honesty was another matter, for they still could not bear to tell her husband, his brother.
As for Arie, who had barely touched Tamara in months, all his energies went into saving his empire while not losing face. In his struggle to stave off the banks, find investors, and sell declining assets, image was everything. If rivals smelled blood, he was finished. So he hosted business dinners at the Hilton hotel, paraded his new Peugeots, and attended gala events, always giving the most generous donation. He was helping build the new children’s wing of Ichilov Hospital, all with his company’s dwindling funds.
Only at home did he slump morosely in a corner, as he did now, avoiding conversation. When your best business bet is a loony Christian using the Bible as a treasure map, he thought, you must be in trouble.
It was Moshe’s sixty-fifth birthday and the family was gathering in Arie and Tamara’s reception room. Peter, a colorful box under his arm, greeted Tamara with a peck on the cheek and added his present to the pile on the sideboard. Rachel fussed over the long dining table, adjusting napkins and straightening knives and forks.
Upstairs was a special guest. Tamara’s daughter, Carmel, was lying on her bed with Alice, her pen pal who had finally fulfilled her dream and come from America to work on a kibbutz. Carmel was showing photographs of a hike with friends by the salt waters of the Dead Sea, where they floated on their backs. Everything excited Alice, especially the idea of visiting the Christian holy places in Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Nazareth, and the Sea of Galilee.
“I’ve never been to any of them,” Carmel said, feeling slightly guilty. “But I think you can’t see them in Jerusalem, they’re on the Jordan side. Same with Bethlehem.”
“Well, I have an American passport, I can just cross over.”
“Don’t tell my parents then, they’ll say they’re responsible for you and it’s too dangerous.”
“Nonsense. I can’t come all the way from America and not see where Jesus was born and crucified. I’ll go by myself.”
“Would you really, go by yourself?”
“Of course. I’m seventeen. Or I can join a tour group. Anyway, who’s that?” She pointed to a photo of a boy chasing Carmel out of the water. “He’s cute!”
“Oh, he’s stupid,” Carmel said. “He splashed me in the Dead Sea. I got salt in my eyes and it stung like anything.”
“Did he lick it clean?” Alice launched herself into the air, laughing. “Just joking. He does look cute though,” she said, taking the photo again. “What’s his name?”
“Reuven. You wouldn’t like him. He’s full of himself, chases all the girls.”
“Including you, in the photo anyway. Did he catch you?”
Carmel blushed. Alice laughed with delight. “He did, didn’t he! Come on, tell me. Everything. What did you do? With him? What? Tell me?”
“No, I can’t.”
“Of course you can.”
“I can’t.”
“Why? Is it rude?”
“Stop it, you’re embarrassing me! What about you, have you got a boyfriend?”
Alice raised her eyebrow, turned her shoulder, winked over it. She laughed. “Oh, one or two. But they’re just boys. From school. I can’t wait to go to the kibbutz. I’ve heard so much about them. Is it true boys and girls shower together?”
“Until the age of ten. I think. Or twelve.”
“And they sleep in the same room?”
Carmel shrieked. “Not at our age! Still, you’ll love it there, it’s very different, free and easy.”
“Hmmm, I’m so looking forward. You have a lovely family.”
“You think so? Sometimes I’m not so sure. Everyone’s coming this evening for Granddaddy’s birthday. Even Ido, if he can get special permission.”
“Ido?”
“My uncle. But he’s like a big brother. He’s only four years older than me. He’s in the army and he needs a pass to come home. He hasn’t been home for a month, so I hope he comes. You’ll like him. He’s special.”
“In what way?”
“You’ll see. If he wasn’t my uncle … put it this way, all my friends are in love with him.”
“In that case, I can’t wait. Let’s hope he comes.”
Downstairs Peter, Moshe, and Arie were solving Israel’s problems. “All the signs are that Syria and Egypt don’t want war, and precisely for that reason I’m suspicious,” Peter was saying. “When all the security agencies agree on something, and the government agrees too, well, that naturally makes me doubt them. Anyway, we’re prepared for anything, and that’s the way…”
“I agree,” Moshe interrupted. “Except that Israel isn’t sitting innocently by, we’re stoking the fire, by—”
“We all read that column you wrote,” Arie put in. “And everyone denied it. When you wrote that Israel was deliberately provoking the Jordanians so that we can go in and kill them—”
“That isn’t what I wrote. I said we want more land and—”
“The government spokesman asked you to apologize,” Arie said.
“No way. I—”
“It’s all lies—”
“Let him finish, Arie, stop interrupting. Moshe, why do you still believe Israel is provoking the Arabs? Why should we? And Arie, let him speak for once.”
“Thank you Peter, very kind. It is my birthday after all. Ben-Gurion said, and I quote, more or less, ‘We are interested in peace based on the status quo, but if the Arabs force us to fight perhaps the status quo will change.’” Moshe paused to let the words sink in. “Perhaps. Perhaps,” Moshe emphasized. “In fact, we do want to change the status quo and that’s why we want a fight. But we can’t start the fight. So we provoke the other side. Ah, Peter, meet our young guest, I believe you knew her when she was a little girl.”
“Alice?” Peter said, spreading his arms as Alice and Carmel entered the room with smiles as wide as their faces. “Look at you, a young woman, beautiful.” She let him hug her. “My parents send you hugs and lots of love,” she said, “and they made sure I would thank you for helping organize my visit to Israel. So thank you so much,” and she made a little curtsy that charmed the entire room.
“I do believe that’s the first time anyone has ever curtsied in Israel,” Peter said. “How are your parents? And your grandmother Vera?”
But before Alice could answer, the bell rang, and they heard Rachel call out, “Ido!” followed by, “Oh, God in heaven, what happened?”
A dismissive chuckle from the entrance. “It’s nothing, it looks worse than it is, really, nothing.”
Everybody pushed toward the door and there stood Ido, every inch the Israeli fighter, in olive-green fatigues, brown boots, and beret, his Uzi submachine gun over his shoulder. He was the tallest in the room, the broadest, sun-bronzed, unshaven. His smile creased his face and made his eye patch rise.
“What have you done?” Rachel said again, almost in tears. “What happened to your eye?”
“Really, nothing, I promise,” he answered as he greeted everyone with a hug. “A scratch in the eye, it’s bloodshot, I have to rest it.”
“It makes you look even more of a rogue than usual,” Arie said, and held him tight. Over Arie’s shoulder Ido saw Alice. “And who do we have here?” Ido said in English. “I’m getting a hug from everybody else, what about you? You must be Alice, yes? I’ve heard so much about you, but I thought you were younger.”
“I’m nearly eighteen.”
Ido pulled the rifle strap over his shoulder, unclipped the magazine, and placed the gun high up on a ledge over the door. Alice couldn’t take her eyes off him. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt, revealing an olive T-shirt. “I’m home!” he shouted. “Thank God!”
He pulled Moshe into a bear hug. “Happy birthday, Dad, I’ll get you a present tomorrow.”
“You are my present,” Moshe said, his head crunched against Ido’s shoulder. Tamara looked with pride at her little brother. “Just do me a favor,” Ido called out. “No war stories. It’s Dad’s party, let’s celebrate.” He looked around. “Where’s Estie?”
“Your sister couldn’t get away,” Peter said. “She’s on duty tonight.”
Over dinner Ido was forced to explain how he hurt his eye. “Training accident,” he said, involuntarily glancing at Peter, as if he would know the truth. By now Ido understood the general area of Peter’s work, and appreciated his brother-in-law’s silent strength even more: he was understated, a man who didn’t have to prove a thing. In the army Ido had met men like him, all very senior officers.
Later, after Moshe had unwrapped his presents and made a little speech, Carmel, Alice, and Ido drifted into the garden, where Ido offered Alice a sip of his beer. “Hey,” he said, “I said a sip, not to finish it.”
She exhaled loudly and wiped her lips. “Not cold enough,” she said.
Carmel made a face. “I hate beer,” she said.
Alice laughed. “Me too. But at home everybody drinks.”
“Do your parents know?”
“Of course not. If they knew half the things I do they’d never let me leave the house.” Her smile lingered on Ido as she said this.
Carmel smirked. “I think I’ll get an orange juice. By the way,” she added helpfully, “Ido, Alice wants to know if boys and girls sleep in the same room on the kibbutz.”
“Only the lucky ones,” Ido said.
Alice threw her head back and laughed.
“I told you,” Carmel said as she walked away.
“She told you what?” Ido asked Alice.
“Oh, nothing.”
Ido shrugged and turned to lean on the fence, looking at the sky. Alice joined him. They stood in silence, their shoulders almost touching. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it,” Ido said after a few moments.
Alice sighed. “It is.” The Milky Way glowed softly above them. “There, you see,” Ido said, pointing. “That’s Orion, you see the three stars almost together? That’s the belt. And there, northeast of it, that’s Gemini, and that very bright star…”
Alice laughed. “Why is it that whenever a boy and a girl look at the night sky the boy tells the girl what she’s looking at? Girls never tell the boy.”
“Because girls don’t know?”
“Don’t they?”
“Do you?”
“Actually, no, I don’t. But the boys don’t know either, they just like to show off.”
Ido laughed out loud. “Well, I do. Know them I mean. We use the sky for night navigation.”
Alice fell silent. She had never met a boy like Ido in Taos. She wanted to ask about the army. What it was like, had he ever killed someone, but she felt they were silly questions. Instead, she asked where he lived when he was in the army. “You mean, where is my base?” he said. “Actually it’s very near the kibbutz you’ll be on. My base is near the Kinneret, what you call the Sea of Galilee, and your kibbutz, Ashdot Yaacov, is just a mile or two south.”
“Really? Could I see you there?” She bit her lip. She should have waited for him to ask.
“If I’m really, really lucky.”
Alice smiled and whispered, “I think you’re the lucky type.”
Ido smiled too, and edged closer, his hand grazing hers on the wooden fence. They gazed at the sky and Ido said, “There’s Ursa Major.”
She nudged him with her elbow. “Everybody knows Ursa Major.”
After a while he said, “When do you go to the kibbutz?”
“In two days.”
“So you’re right then, I am lucky. That’s when I go back to base. If you like, we can travel together.”
Alice smiled in the dark and didn’t answer right away. She had to catch her breath. When she did she pointed into the sky and said, “Look, there’s Cupid.”
“Cupid? What’s that? Is there a constellation by that name?”
“If not, there should be.” Alice said, brushing Ido’s hand.