Once a week Kitty went down to Abu Yesha with the doctor to hold morning clinic for the Arabs. How pathetic the dirty little Arab children were beside the robust youngsters of Gan Dafna. How futile their lives seemed in contrast to the spirit of the Youth Aliyah village. There seemed to be no laughter or songs or games or purpose among the Arab children. It was a static existence-a new generation born on an eternal caravan in an endless desert. Her stomach turned over as she entered the one-room hovels shared with chickens, dogs, and donkeys. Eight or ten people on the same earth floor.
Yet Kitty could not dislike these people. They were heartwarming and gracious beyond their capacity. They too, longed for better things. She became friendly with Taha, the young muktar who was always present on clinic days. Many times Kitty felt that Taha wanted to speak to her about things other than the health problem of the village. She felt an urgency about him. But Taha was an Arab: a woman could only be confided in on certain matters and he never revealed his constant fears to her.
The days passed into the late winter of 1947.
Karen and Kitty had grown inseparably close. The young girl who had found some measure of happiness in the most abysmal places fairly bloomed at Gan Dafna. She had become overnight one of the most popular children in the village. Karen became more dependent on Kitty’s guidance through the complex stages of early maturity. Kitty was aware that each day at Gan Dafna would tend to draw Karen farther away from America. She kept America alive in the girl’s interest while the search for Karen’s father continued.
Dov Landau was a problem. Several times Kitty was tempted to step in between the boy and Karen-their relationship seemed to be deepening. But Kitty, recognizing the possibility of driving them closer together, stayed out of it. Karen’s devotion to the boy perplexed her, for Dov gave nothing in return. He was morose and withdrawn. He did talk a little more, but for practical purposes Karen was still the only one who could reach him.
Dov became obsessed with a desire to learn. His education had been almost nothing and now he seemed to want to try to make up for it with a passion. He was excused from both Gadna military training and agriculture. Dov crammed as much into himself as he could absorb. He read and studied day and night. He concentrated upon his natural gift of art with studies of anatomy and drawing and architecture and blueprinting. Occasionally a painting would furnish an escape valve and his drive would come out in effects that displayed his talent and energy. Sometimes he came near breaking through and joining into Gan Dafna society, only to withdraw again. He lived by himself, he engaged in no activities, and he saw only Karen outside classes.
Kitty took the problem to Dr. Lieberman. He had seen many boys and girls like Dov Landau. Dr. Lieberman had observed that Dov was an alert and intelligent human being who showed great talent. He felt any attempts to force attention on him would work the opposite way: so long as the boy remained harmless and grew no worse, he should be left alone.
As the weeks passed Kitty was disappointed that she did not hear from or see Ari. The statue of Dafna and the Yad El moshav below always seemed to remind her. From time to time when she had occasion to pass Yad El she dropped in on Sarah Ben Canaan, until the two women became quite friendly. Jordana learned of it and made no effort to disguise her dislike for Kitty. The beautiful young redheaded hellion made it a point to be rude whenever she spoke to Kitty.
One evening Kitty came to her cottage to find Jordana standing before the mirror, holding one of her cocktail dresses in front of her. Kitty’s sudden appearance did not bother Jordana. “It is pretty, if you like this sort of thing,” Jordana said hanging the dress back in the closet.
Kitty walked to the stove and put on some water for tea. “To what do I owe the honor of this call?”
Jordana continued to look about Kitty’s cottage, at the little touches of her femininity. “There are some Palmach troops training at the Ein Or kibbutz.”
“I’ve heard something about it,” Kitty said.
“We have a shortage of instructors. We have a shortage of everything, anyhow. I was asked to ask you if you would come to Ein Or once a week to give a course in first aid and field sanitation.”
Kitty pulled back the drapes and kicked off her shoes and settled back on the studio bed. “I would prefer not to do anything that would bring me into contact with troops.”
“Why not?” Jordana pressed.
“Well, I suppose there is no graceful way of refusing you, and I would like it better if the Palmach understood why.”
“What’s to understand?”
“My personal feelings. I don’t wish to become involved.”
Jordana laughed coldly. “I told them at Ein Or it would be a waste of time to speak to you.”
“Is it impossible for you to respect my feelings?”
“Mrs. Fremont, you can work anywhere in the world and
remain neutral. This is a strange place for you to come to work if you want to stay out of trouble. Why are you really here?”
Kitty sprang off the bed angrily. “None of your damned business!”
The teakettle whistled. Kitty snapped it off.
“I know why you are here. You want Ari.”
“You’re an insolent young lady and I think I’ve taken just about all I am going to from you.”
Jordana remained unmoved. “I’ve seen the way you looked at him.”
“If I wanted Ari, you would be the last thing in my way,”
“Tell yourself you don’t want him but don’t tell it to me. You are not Ari’s kind of woman. You don’t care for us.”
Kitty turned and lit a cigarette. Jordana came behind her,
“Dafna was Ari’s kind of woman. She understood him. No American woman ever will.”
Kitty turned around. “Because I don’t run around in shorts and hike up the sides of mountains and shoot cannons and sleep in ditches doesn’t make me one ounce less a woman than you. You or that precious statue. I know what’s the matter with you-you’re afraid of me.”
“That’s funny.”
“Don’t tell me what makes a woman-you don’t know, you aren’t one. You’re Tarzan’s mate and you behave as though you belong in a jungle. A brush and comb wouldn’t be a bad start at fixing what’s wrong with you.” Kitty pushed past Jordana and threw open her closet. “Take a good look. This is what women wear.”
Tears of anger welled in Jordana’s eyes.
“The next time you wish to see me you may come to my office,” Kitty said coldly. “I am not a kibbutznik and I like my privacy.”
Jordana slammed the door so hard it shook the cottage.
Karen came to Kitty’s office after the dinner sick call and flopped into a chair.
“Hi,” Kitty said. “How did it go today?”
Karen grabbed two imaginary cow teats and made a milking motion. “Weak hands. I am a lousy milker,” she opined with teenage sadness. “Kitty, I am truly brokenhearted. I must, must, must, talk to you.”
“Shoot.”
“Not now. We have a Gadna meeting. We are cleaning some new Hungarian rifles. What a mess!”
“The Hungarian rifles can wait a few minutes. What is troubling you, dear?”
“Yona, my roommate. Just when we are getting to be intimate friends. She’s going to join the Palmach next week.”
Kitty felt a stab of dismay. How much longer until Karen came to her and told her she was going to do the same thing? Kitty shoved her papers aside. “You know, Karen, I have been thinking that there is a real shortage of good nurses and medical aides … I mean, in the Palmach as well as in the settlements. You’ve had lots of experience working with the youngsters in the DP camps and I’ve taken on quite a crowd of the disturbed ones. Do you suppose it would make sense if I asked Dr. Lieberman to let you come to work with me and let me train you as my assistant?”