JERUSALEM—PRESENT DAY
Hadassah turned the final page slowly and, with a palpable feeling of regret, closed the cover. The young bride turned to her father. It was the final afternoon, her wedding only hours away. She had promised him she would finish reading the book before the moment came, despite all the preparations at hand. With a long sigh, she laid her head upon his bony shoulder and grasped his arm in both her hands.
“So, Poppa, do you think she made it?”
“Who?”
“Esther. Do you think she made it back to Israel?”
He smiled and narrowed his eyes ever so slightly to gaze out over the valley of Kidron and the Temple Mount. “Well, my love, experts will tell you there is no historical or archaeological record of Queen Esther ever leaving Persia, let alone arriving here. And I sort of like it that way.”
“So do I.”
“But between you and me, I’m sure she made it. In fact, I’m certain of it. Whether she stayed there for the remainder of her days, only G-d knows.”
Then he turned in his chair, winced slightly with the aches and pains of an old man and extracted a velvet box from his suit pocket.
“Here, my dear. Your old aunt wanted you to have this.”
She knelt before him and reached out delicately to open the box. Inside was an obviously ancient and weathered, yet still exquisite, piece of jewelry—a golden medallion engraved with the Star of David.
She frowned and glanced up at her father. “What aunt?”
“Oh, you know. Queen Esther. And she gave it to the young candidate to whom she wrote—”
“Oh, Poppa,” she gasped, reeling with the knowledge of what she cradled in her hand.
“I am going to find out the name inscribed second to Queen Esther’s on the memoir,” she finally said to her father when she had her emotions under control. “She is my ancestor, and I feel like she’s here for my wedding.”
Her father laid his hand on her head and recited the ancient Hebrew blessing that was many times older than the medallion.
The moment had come. The bride stepped down the aisle of the synagogue just as the sun set upon Purim’s second and final day and the finest view in Jerusalem just beyond. Its final ray sparkled on the spectacular Star of David around her neck. She arrived at the canopy and her groom at last, and he reached forward to pull back her veil. When he saw her face, he frowned at once.
“What’s the matter?” he whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you smiling like that? Is everything all right? Do I look—?”
“You look wonderful,” she said, smiling even more.
“Most brides I’ve seen looked like they were about to pass out right about now. You’re—”
She laughed infectiously and reached out to hold him lightly about the neck.
“I’m smiling because I’m so overjoyed to be in your presence. You are the most desirable and intoxicating man alive—did you know that?”
Just then, long before the ceremony’s end called for it, the groom bent down and engulfed his bride in a deep, impulsive kiss that did not break until impromptu applause from the guests reached its crescendo. It was such a clearly spontaneous and genuine display of passion that no one had the heart to object. The abashed groom finally pulled away, and laughter rose above the scene.
His young bride heard the sound of mirth drift up over the nearby rooftops, out over the Kidron Valley, toward the ancient wall that encircled the Old City of Jerusalem. Here was the ancestral home of the Jewish people—beloved children of the Most High G-d who always, even when He is silent, watches over His own. She could not help but smile.
ATOP THE MOUNT OF OLIVES—LATER THAT NIGHT
Nestled in each other’s arms, the wedding couple glanced out their French doors toward the lights of old Jerusalem spilling down into the moonlit Kidron Valley.
“This is a new perfume you wore today,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
Hadassah laughed. “Yes, dear. It is.”
“Why would you wear something new like that? Don’t get me wrong—it’s a wonderful fragrance, but it isn’t like you to change something at the last minute.”
“It’s an old family recipe.”
“And what is the name of this recipe?”
She laughed. “Essence of myrrh.”
“What? Where did you—your family—come up with such a thing?”
“An old aunt. Aunt Esther.”
“All right, I give up. But that’s not the only last-minute change you made. I’ve never seen that necklace you wore today, either. That’s a stunning piece of jewelry. Even though it’s a replica, it must have cost a mint.”
She smiled demurely. “It’s not a replica.”
“No way. I know my Jewish icons, and if that were real, it would be thousands of years old.”
“It is.”
He bolted upright. “You’re joking? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“No, I’m not. It’s an ancient family heirloom. It truly is real. I was shocked myself—you should feel how heavy it is.”
“Hadassah, for that to be real, the historical period would have to date from the time of the Exile.”
She looked at him for a while, then nodded slowly.
He paused with a scowl, pondered for a moment, then turned to her again. “Where is it now? If it’s really that old, you can’t leave something like that lying around!”
“My father has taken it back to the House of Scrolls.” Finally she laughed deeply, heartily, and took his hand tenderly in hers.
“Why didn’t you tell me these things before?” he asked, searching her face.
“I only learned of them this week. You and I have been so busy, I haven’t had the chance.”
“Well, it isn’t too late to start.”
She laughed. “Jacob, there’s a story I need to tell you.”
It was a long story—a very long story, and before she was ten minutes into it, his head had settled against her chest, and he had begun to snore lightly. She shook her head with a rueful smile.
There would be no honeymoon for this Hadassah, either. Jacob could not spare the time. Nor could the nation. For even the first day of marriage would be a busy day in the life of Jacob ben Yuda—Prime Minister of the nation of Israel.