The 13th Enumeration (5 page)

Chapter 8
 

Jerusalem, Israel

Rachael felt as though she was in some kind of fog. Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw unfamiliar walls. She looked down at her legs, and they were covered with a white blanket. What was that smell? It smelled like a . . . a hospital! She was in a hospital. Slowly the pieces in her confused mind started fitting together. The last thing she remembered was hanging on to the cliff with blood running down her leg. Oh, and there was someone—a young man climbing up to help her. He had made that impossible leap, and then he was standing beside her. That was all she remembered. What had happened after that?

She looked around the room and saw her father dozing on one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs. He must have heard her move, for his eyes came open suddenly, and he jumped up and came to her bedside. He had a look of deep concern on his face as he said, “How are you, my dear? You had us worried there for a while.”

She smiled faintly. “I feel really weak and groggy.”

“You lost a lot of blood.” His voice trembled just a little, and he gave her a tired-looking smile of his own. “You almost didn’t make it, honey.”

“Abba, how did I get here?”

“Well, from what the paramedics said, a young man brought you to the parking area at the Manara Cliffs. They said he told them you were injured while climbing and that he carried you from the area of the accident. They said they were so concerned about your weak vitals, they left without asking him any additional questions. Is that what happened?”

Rachael laughed weakly to herself as she replied, “You could say that was a very modest and abbreviated version of what happened.”

Trying to sit up a little, she continued, “I was climbing without any gear on a section of the cliffs that is not normally climbed. I made it up about eighty or ninety feet when I noticed someone watching from below. I remember being somewhat put out that someone had invaded my private little world, but I tried to ignore him and continued climbing. I had just moved past a bad section of loose rock when a large piece of it fell and cut the back of my leg. I was bleeding badly, eighty feet up on the face of a cliff . . . I couldn’t move because I was injured, and the blood was making my shoe slippery. Somehow I slowed the blood from the wound and was clinging there. He climbed up . . . without any free-climbing gear, I think. I’m not sure how he did it. He reached an impossible point and went for it. At first I thought he missed his mark, but by some miracle he was able to nail the hold.”

She shook her head, replaying the images in her mind. That leap . . . it really
had
been a miracle. “He climbed the rest of the way up to me and rigged a rope to lower us back down. I must have fainted, because that is the last thing I remember.”

Her father had remained quiet during her retelling of the events, and with a serious look he said, “Sounds like you owe your life to that young man. He did an incredibly brave act. Especially since you were taking unnecessary risks.”

The last criticism was gentle but direct. “You ought to thank him somehow.”

She remained silent for a few moments and replied, “You are right, Abba, I should thank him. I’ll find a way to do so.”

Her father stood. “I must go to work now. Please be more careful in the future, dear.”

She looked up a little defensively and replied, “Abba, I’m not like Ima. I don’t want to be just a pretty face who stays at home.”

Her father sat back down on the edge of the bed with sadness in his eyes and quietly asked, “Is that how you remember your mother?”

She looked him in the eyes and said, “Yes, in a way. She was beautiful and gentle. She was a wonderful mother, and from what you have told me, an amazing wife. I think of my mother as a lady. But I’m . . . I’m not like that.”

He laughed softly and replied, “Your mother was all of what you say, but she was so much more. I am sorry I have not done better in telling you just what kind of person your mother was. To most people, your mother was as you said: beautiful, kind, gentle, a great mother and a perfect wife. But she had another side she reserved just for the two of us. Your mother had an uncommon physical strength which you have inherited. She was velvet-covered steel.”

He smiled fondly. “She was incredibly competitive. No matter what we did, we always were challenging each other. Your mother was not a woman who walked behind her man; she walked beside him. In public, she was a perfect lady. In private, she would rise to any challenge. And she was more often than not the victor. Your mother loved swimming, biking, running, most all outdoor activities. She was uncommonly good at whatever she did.”

He laughed. “Do you remember the time when you were really little when I came home with a broken foot?”

Rachael nodded. He continued, “We left you that day with Bubbeh and Zaydeh while we went on a hike. We had hiked about two miles into some rough terrain when I fell and broke my left foot and badly sprained my right. I couldn’t walk. Now, you know I am no little man. I think I weighed about one-eighty or one-ninety back then—I
outweighed
your mother by at least forty or fifty pounds. To this day I’ll remember your mother’s rich and full laugh. She looked at me with a mischievous light in her eyes and she said, ‘Well, tough guy, you really did it this time. I guess your fair damsel will have to rescue her handsome prince.’ She just backed up to the rock I was sitting on and bent over and said, ‘Climb on, my handsome prince.’ She carried all one-hundred-and-ninety pounds of me back those two miles without a complaint or even a sigh. She was an incredible woman. You get much of your strength and persistence from her.”

Rachael looked at her father, shaking her head slowly with a growing smile of surprise.

“Not really how you pictured her, is it?” he asked, smiling.

“No,” she confessed.

“Honey, they don’t come any tougher than your mother, but she always was conscious of the fact that she was a woman, and as such, she believed she must conduct herself as a lady.”

He bent over and kissed her cheek. “I really must go back to work, my dear, but you have stirred my memories, and it would be good for both of us if I shared more of them with you.” He winked. “Maybe you would be less prone to almost killing yourself if you knew more about her. Later I will stop back by and check on you. The doctor says you will be here another day or two and then I can take you home. Oh, before I forget, do you want me to cancel your performance for the dedication of the museum?”

“No,” she replied firmly. “My leg is hurt, not my hands. I still want to play.”

He smiled, knowing her reply beforehand. In so many ways she was like her mother. There was no quit in his girl. “I’ll see you soon then,” he replied as he kissed her on the forehead and walked out the door.

Rachael lay in bed, thinking. She missed her mother so much! It would be good to talk to her now. Her thoughts changed direction as she wondered how she would go about thanking the young man she did not even know. Thank him she must, and she would figure out a way to do so.

Chapter 9

Ben Gurion Airport, Tel Aviv

Zane shuffled down the aisle with the rest of the passengers until he found his seat near the back of the plane. He stowed his backpack in the overhead carrier and sat down, trying to make himself as comfortable as he could in the cramped seat. Last night he had called several of the local hospitals to find out how the young woman had fared, but none of them would give out any information about their patients. He had opened her backpack, hoping to find some means of identification so he could return her things. All he found was a stainless-steel water bottle, a bag of nuts and twigs, an onion, and a small book. The book looked very old and was obviously worn with use. He had opened it and found it was the book of Psalms. On the front inside cover was a handwritten note which said, “To my dearest daughter: I have gained great strength from reading these words over the years. On your journey through life, I hope you find some measure of comfort in them as well. With love, your Mother.”

The only other item of interest was a piece of cloth which was being used as a bookmark. It looked as if it had been from a piece of woman’s clothing at one time. It marked the Twenty-Third Psalm:

YHWH is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of YHWH for ever.

His own mother had read that to him many times as a child. What a prayer of hope and faith.

Zane had not been sure what to do with the young woman’s things. Leaving them at the archeology dig site was not an option, and he did not have time to go to the local police station, so lacking a better alternative, he had decided to take them back to the States in hopes he could find out who she was and return them. He was sure the book of Psalms was very special to her.

Still fidgeting for a comfortable position, Zane picked up a magazine from the pocket of the seat in front of him and started thumbing through it. It was one of those tourism magazines the airline and destination country sometimes put in airplanes to advertise places and events. As he was turning the pages, he did a double take and turned the page back. There she was . . . in an advertisement for an upcoming benefit concert for the grand opening of a new wing of the Jerusalem Antiquities Museum. She was one of the performers, along with a string ensemble from the Israel National Philharmonic Orchestra. The fine print at the bottom of the page read, “Rachael Neumann will be playing Beethoven’s ‘Sonata Pathetique.’”

So her name was Rachael Neumann. Not only a great, although reckless, climber, but an accomplished pianist. In the picture, she was dressed in a formal white evening gown that left no doubt as to the fact that she was not only quite a woman, but also most definitely a lady. If she played the piano half as well as she climbed, that would be a performance worth seeing. At least now he could Google her and see if she was okay, as well as find a way to get her things back to her. He would take care of that as soon as he got home.

Many hours later, Zane disembarked, picked up his luggage, and hailed a taxi. The taxi dropped him off at the college dorm where he was staying. Taking out Rachael’s backpack, he set it next to his desk, and when he had finished unpacking, he sat down and Googled her. With a few clicks, he had her address. He sat for a few moments deciding whether or not he should send a note along with her things. He didn’t want to make a big deal about what he had done, but some gesture would be nice, he thought. What should he do?

Yes, that would do nicely. Taking out his climbing gear, he cut off five inches of his climbing rope and removed the inner core, leaving the soft, colorful casing. After melting both ends of the casing so they wouldn’t fray, he opened her book to Psalm 116 and placed his newly made bookmark there. A psalm of deliverance: “For thou has delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling.”

Both of them had reason to appreciate this psalm. His conscious mind still didn’t know how he been able to make that leap without falling. His spirit told him he’d had help. Reading the psalm one last time, he closed the book and replaced it in her backpack.

I love YHWH, because he hath heard my voice and my supplications. Because he hath inclined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live. The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell gat hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow. Then called I upon the name of YHWH; O YHWH, I beseech thee, deliver my soul. Gracious is YHWH, and righteous; yea, our God is merciful. YHWH preserveth the simple: I was brought low, and he helped me. Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for YHWH hath dealt bountifully with thee. For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling. I will walk before YHWH in the land of the living. I believed, therefore have I spoken: I was greatly afflicted: I said in my haste, All men are liars. What shall I render unto YHWH for all his benefits toward me? I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of YHWH. I will pay my vows unto YHWH now in the presence of all his people. Precious in the sight of YHWH is the death of his saints. O YHWH, truly I am thy servant; I am thy servant, and the son of thine handmaid: thou hast loosed my bonds. I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and will call upon the name of YHWH. I will pay my vows unto YHWH now in the presence of all his people, in the courts of YHWH’S house, in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem. Praise ye YHWH. (Psalm 116:1–19 )

Looking at the papers he had spread across his desk, he sighed with some mild frustration. He had been working on his college research paper for several months now and had reached some uncomfortable conclusions. He had not thought about it for the past week, but seeing it there now reminded him that he had a lot more work left before he could turn in his paper.

He stared at it for a few minutes and wondered which direction he should go with it. It couldn’t hurt to give his dad a call and ask for some advice. The past couple of years, he had begun to realize how much he appreciated his father’s bits of wisdom and advice.
Sufficient unto the day,
he thought to himself. He would call him soon. He turned off the light, and exhausted from traveling, he lay down on his bed, clothes and all, and fell right to sleep.