Uzi looked from Leila to the windshield, but still had not turned off the engine.
“Go on. Shut it off and come up with me.”
This was moving faster than he’d intended. Faster than he was prepared for. He had clearly indicated his attraction and the desire to get to know her better off the clock. She picked up on those signals — but now Uzi was unsure if this is what he really wanted. He was a healthy male and Leila was a beautiful woman; of course he wanted this. But am I ready for it?
“Problem?”
“I… I’m not sure I should come up.”
“You don’t like good company? Do you think I’m inviting you up for sex?”
“No, I–I don’t know. No.”
“No, you don’t like good company?”
Uzi blew some air through his lips. He wasn’t used to being so flustered around anyone— let alone an attractive woman. “It’s not that.”
“Then let’s go.” She reached over, turned the key and removed it. She clutched the fob in her hand and popped open her door. She swung her feet out and glanced back at him over her shoulder. “You coming?”
Leila’s apartment was an orderly one bedroom, generously appointed with a large living room and an equally small kitchenette. The parquet wood floor was well maintained, with an earth-toned Indian area rug providing warmth and muted color. Two loveseats sat around a glass coffee table, where a hand-carved matchbox rested alongside a couple of porcelain candlestick holders.
Uzi picked one up and examined it. “I recognize the artist. From the Old City?” he asked, referring to that section of Jerusalem.
Leila smiled. “For Shabbat. Hard to break old habits.”
“I lost interest after Dena’s death. Lost my faith, I guess.”
“You’ve always got to have faith, Uzi. No matter what happens, you need to believe in your cause. When things hit bottom, that’s the time to turn inward and renew your faith, not lose it.”
Uzi took a few steps into the hallway. A few carefully placed framed photos hung on the far wall, sporting images of people he didn’t know — but places with which he was intimately familiar: a younger Leila hiking in the Golan Heights, a few street shots from the artist colony, Tzvat, and Leila in a bikini on the beach in Tel Aviv.
“You still wear your star.” Leila motioned to the Star of David necklace peeking through his shirt collar. It was an unusual piece consisting of two separate gold triangles, one pointing up and one pointing down that, when they overlaid each other, formed a six-pointed star.
He touched the necklace. Most of the time he forgot he still wore it. Nevertheless, it had special meaning to him. “My wife gave it to me.”
“It’s very cool, very modern. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Do you know where the star comes from?”
Leila pursed her lips. “Never gave it much thought.”
“The triangles represent the Greek letter ‘D,’ or delta, for David. Archeologists say the layout of the two Ds was meant more as a design than a star or religious symbol. It was King David’s logo, which he wore on his shield whenever he went into battle.”
She seemed to study his face a moment, then took his hand. “Come,” she said, pulling him back across the room to the coffee table. She picked up the small carved wood box and removed a match. “It’s way after sundown, but it’s still Saturday.” She glanced at the wall clock, which had ticked past midnight. “Well, sort of. Let’s light the Havdalah candle, anyway,” she said, referring to the ceremonial prayer that signified the end of the Sabbath. She made her way to an armoire tucked into the corner of the room.
Uzi bit his lip. He felt terribly uncomfortable but found himself moving the few steps toward her.
Leila reached into the walnut cabinet and removed a silver tray that held a long, tri-braided candle and a brass spice box. With the match, she set the wick alight and began chanting the blessing.
She nudged Uzi with an elbow and he joined in. The melody, the pungent scent of fresh sulfur, and the flaring candle warmth on his face transported him back to the rare Friday and Saturday nights when he was home to share the beginning and ending of the Sabbath with Dena — and then, after she was born, with Maya, holding the little girl in his arms, teaching her how to recite the prayers.
The memories pained him like a hot poker in the pit of his stomach.
Leila lifted the candle and placed it upside down into the silver cup, extinguishing it.
“How long have you lived here?” he asked, hoping to avoid more probing questions.
“About six months.” She walked into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of Prager Tawny port from the cupboard. “I used to live in Georgetown, but I wanted to get into the city. Into the heart of things.” She pulled the cork and poured a couple of glasses.
Uzi took one and sipped it. “Mmm. This is very good.”
Leila took her glass over to the loveseat and settled gently into the cushion. “When did you move to the states?”
“A couple of months after.” That’s how he thought of his life: before death and after death. Two different lives — one enriched, the other hollow.
“What did you do in Israel?”
Uzi sat down beside her and set his glass on the coffee table. He was inclined to tell her the truth — but couldn’t bring himself to fight through the oath he had taken with Mossad so many years ago. He had caused Rudnick some pain for access to such info. For now, he took the safe road. “I was a design engineer for Intel. I spent a few months at the development center in Haifa, then moved to their fab in Kiryat Gat.” Technically, it was the truth — which was fine by him, because he didn’t want to base a relationship on a lie. Then again, he wondered how much she could find out by digging through the CIA database.
“Fab?”
“Manufacturing plant. I led the team that turned out the Pentium 4 chips.”
“That sounds very… serious. Long hours. No time for fun.”
Uzi shrugged. “It was intense, yeah. But we found time to mountain bike in the hills outside Tiberias. It’s beautiful there.” His thoughts drifted to Dena.
“I used to go rock climbing with my brother. In the ruins by the cliffs of Arbel.”
“I went climbing there, too. We used to bring a lunch, hike around a while, do some climbing, then hike back.” He laughed. “We had some great times.” His smile faded.
Both of them remained quiet. She placed a hand on his arm. “You’ve got a right to be happy, Uzi. It’s not like you have to be miserable for the rest of your life.”
“I know. I know you’re right. But it’s not that easy.”
“You just have to decide that life goes on and know that you’ve suffered enough.”
“Now you sound like my shrink.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as the type to go for counseling.”
“Shepard’s idea. More like an order.”
Leila leaned forward to place her drink on the table, then slumped back on the couch. Her shoulder rested inches from his. “I talk a good game, I know. But I don’t always put my own advice to work. When my brother died, it took a while for it to sink in. I was numb for so long. Numb to the pain… but not the anger. All I wanted to do was get even. I still do.”
Uzi wanted to tell her he felt the same way, but was afraid he would break down. It was too difficult to discuss what he’d gone through in the days after the murders. He realized she had gone quiet. He craned his neck a bit to see her face and saw a shiny streak coursing down her cheek. “You okay?”
“Tell me about this shrink you’re seeing.”
“I really like the old guy. I’ve only had a few sessions with him, but I feel very close to him. He’s a good man. And maybe a little too good at what he does.”