He seated himself. “I have spoken to Harriet Saltzman. We will see her right after lunch.”
“Thanks. I’m very excited about Jerusalem.”
“She has mysterious powers. Everyone is excited on his first visit. Take David Ben Ami … David never gets over Jerusalem. Matter of fact he will be sightseeing with you tomorrow. It is the Sabbath. He wants to take you into the Old City.”
“He is sweet to think of me.”
Ari looked at her closely. She seemed even prettier now than when he entered the terrace. He turned his eyes away and signaled for a waiter, then stared off into space after giving the order. Kitty had the feeling now that Ari had committed himself and was anxious to complete his obligation. No word passed between them for ten minutes.
She picked at her salad. “Do I bore you?”
“Of course not”
“Since you came back from your engagement last night you’ve acted as though I haven’t existed.”
“I’m sorry, Kitty,” he said without looking at her. “I guess I have been rather bad company tQday.”
“Is there something wrong?”
“There’s a lot wrong but it doesn’t concern you or me or my bad manners. Let me tell you about Harriet Saltzman. She’s an American. She must be well over eighty years old now. If we conferred sainthoods in the Yishuv, she would be our first saint. See that hill beyond the Old City?”
“Over there?”
“That’s Mount Scopus. Those buildings make up the most modern medical center in the Middle East. The money comes from American Zionist women that Harriet organized after the first world war. Most of the hospital and medical centers in Palestine come from her Hadassah organization.”
“She sounds like quite a girl.”
“Yes, she is. When Hitler came to power Harriet organized Youth Aliyah. She is responsible for saving thousands of youngsters. They maintain dozens of youth centers all over Palestine. You’ll get along fine with her.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, no Jew who has lived in Palestine can ever go without leaving his heart here. It’s the same way with Americans, I think. Harriet has been here for years but she’s still very much an American.”
The orchestra stopped playing.
A silence fell over Jerusalem. They could hear the faint cry of a Moslem muezzin calling his people to prayer from a minaret in the Old City. Then it became quiet again with a stillness that Kitty had never experienced.
The bells from the carillon in the YMCA tower over the street played a hymn and the tones flooded the hills and the valleys. And then-again it became still. It was so peaceful it would have been sacrilegious to speak. All life and all time seemed to stand still in one moment.
“What an utterly wonderful sensation,” Kitty said.
“Those kinds of moments are rarities these days,” Ari said. “I am afraid that the calm is deceptive.”
Ari saw a small olive-skinned man standing at the terrace door. He recognized the man as Bar Israel, the contact for the Maccabees. Bar Israel nodded to Ari and disappeared.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” Ari said. He walked into the lobby to the cigarette stand and purchased a pack and then thumbed through a magazine. Bar Israel walked up alongside him.
“Your Uncle Akiva is in Jerusalem,” Bar Israel whispered. “He wants to see you.”
“I have to go to the Zion Settlement Society but I will be free shortly after.”
“Meet me in the Russian compound,” the contact man said, and hastened through the lobby.
King George Avenue was a wide boulevard in the New City and was lined with administrative buildings and schools and churches. The Zion Settlement Society, a large, four-storied rambling affair, stood on a corner. A long driveway led to the main entrance.
“Shalom, Ari!” Harriet Saltzman said, prancing from behind her desk with an agility that belied her years. She stood on her toes, put her arms around Ari’s neck, and kissed his cheek heartily. “Oh, what a job you did on them at Cyprus. You are a good boy.”
Kitty watched quietly in the doorway. The old woman turned to her.
“So this is Katherine Fremont. My child, you are very lovely.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Saltzman.”
“Don’t make with the ‘Mrs. Saltzman.’ Only Englishmen and Arabs call me that. It makes me feel old. Sit down, sit down. I’ll order tea. Or perhaps you would rather have coffee.”
“Tea is fine.”
“So you see, Ari … this is what an American girl looks like.” Harriet made a gesture of tribute to Kitty’s beauty with mischief twinkling in her eyes.
“I am certain that not all American girls are as pretty as Kitty …”
“Stop it, both of you. You are embarrassing me.”
“You girls don’t need me. I have a few things to do, so I’ll just beat it. Kitty, if I’m not back for you would you mind taking a taxi back to the hotel?”
“Go already,” the old woman said. “Kitty and I are going to have dinner together at my flat. Who needs you?”
Ari smiled and left.
“That’s a fine boy,” Harriet Saltzman said. “We have lots of good boys like Ari. They work too hard, they die too young.” She lit a cigarette and offered Kitty one. “And where do you hail from?”
“Indiana.”
“San Francisco, here.”
“It is a lovely city,” Kitty said. “I visited it once with my husband. I always hoped to go back someday.”
“I do too,” the old woman said. “It seems that I miss the States more every year. For fifteen years I have sworn I would go back for a while, but the work never seems to stop here. All these poor babies coming in. But I get homesick. Senility is creeping up on me, I guess.”
“Hardly.”
“It is good to be a Jew working for the rebirth of a Jewish nation but it is also a very good thing to be an American and don’t you ever forget that, young lady. Ever since the Exodus incident started I’ve been very anxious to meet you, Katherine Fremont, and I must say I am tremendously surprised and I don’t surprise easily.”
“I am afraid that the reports overromanticized me.”
Behind Harriet Saltzman’s disarming friendliness functioned a shrewd brain, and even though Kitty was completely at ease she realized how carefully the old woman was estimating her. They sipped their tea and chatted, mostly about America. Harriet became nostalgic. “I go home next year. I will find an excuse. Maybe a fund-raising drive. We are always having fund-raising drives. Do you know that the American Jews give us more than all Americans give to the Red Cross? So why should I bore you with these things? So you want to go to work for us?”
“I am sorry that I don’t have my credentials with me.”
“You don’t need them. We know all about you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. We have a half dozen reports already on file.”
“I don’t know whether to be pleased or offended.”
“Don’t be offended. It is the times. We must be sure of everyone. You will find that we are really a small community here and very little happens that doesn’t come back to these ancient ears. As a matter of fact I was reading our files on you before you came this afternoon and I was wondering why you have come to us.”
“I am a nurse and you need nurses.”
Harriet Saltzman shook her head. “Outsiders don’t come to us for that reason. There must be another one. Did you come to Palestine for Ari Ben Canaan?”
“No … of course I am fond of him.”
“A hundred women are fond of him. You happen to be the woman he is fond of.”
“I don’t think so, Harriet.”
“Well … I am glad, Katherine. It is a long way from Yad El to Indiana. He is a sabra and only another sabra could really understand him.”
“Sabra?”
“It is a term we use for the native born. A sabra is the
fruit of a wild cactus you will find all over Palestine. The sabra is hard on the outside … but inside, it is very tender and sweet.”