CHAPTER 1
The next morning, while the air was still fresh, Daniel returned to the Temple Mount. For a long moment, he leaned against the back of the Wailing Wall and recited his prayers, his prayer shawl draped around his shoulders. The smooth, hard stones pressed his shirt against his; a cool breeze caressed his cheek. Overhead, a snow-white dove flew toward the sun, softly cooing.
When he finished praying, he removed the prayer shawl, folded it, and slung it over his right shoulder. Crossing his arms over his chest, he reminisced, for a few moments, about his daughter. “Heather!” he muttered. “Why’d you have to die the way you did? If I could have brought you, maybe you would have come to your senses!“ He paused. “And Wayne--what possessed you and your brother to disappear the way you did?”
Daniel had lived in Ascension, Colorado, his whole life; he had always wanted to visit Israel, but had never gotten around to doing so until now. He had wanted to someday bring his daughter here, as well, but that could never happen now. Twelve-year-old Heather Rosen had been killed in a boiler explosion at the local elementary school, a year before, along with almost every other child in the town and all the teachers. Perhaps, if he’d been able to bring her to Israel as he’d always planned, she wouldn’t have renounced her Jewish faith to accept that impostor espoused by Christians, just a few months before her death.
As he turned around, he bumped into a man holding a digital camera. “Oh! Excuse me.” He held up his hands.
The other man chuckled. “That’s all right; I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He glanced at the prayer shawl draped over Daniel’s shoulder. “You must be a Jew. You live here? You have an American accent.”
Daniel shook his head. “Yes to your first question; no to your second. I’m a tourist, same as you.” He glanced up at the Wailing Wall. “I’ve been wanting to make this trip for years now, but I’m only now getting around to it. I live in a small town in Colorado. Ascension.”
He paused, surprised at the ease with which he was talking to this stranger. Since the death of his daughter and the disappearance of two close friends of his, he’d had no heart to socialize with anybody. Yet, something in him wanted to talk with somebody now. He took a quick look at the stranger. The man was short and stocky, and he had reddish-blond hair and fair skin. He had on a pair of jeans and a gray cotton shirt. Daniel forced a smile. “I’m Daniel Rosen. Folks call me Dan.”
The other man extended his hand. A wedding ring gleamed on his index finger. “Hi, Dan. I’m Ryan Whittaker.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to get back to the others; they’re in that crowd gathered over there.” He turned toward the small crowd gathering in the distance on the other side of the Temple Mount.
“Yeah.” Daniel pursed his lips. “No doubt, they’re waiting for those two men to start spouting off again.” He clenched his right hand as he spoke, shaking his head. Rage began to well in his heart again at the thought.
Ryan cradled his camera against his chest. “Would you like to come with us? As a Jew, you could probably explain a lot of what we’ve been seeing, even if this is your first trip here.” His eyes twinkled. “Being a Gentile, I’m not as knowledgeable about such things as you must be.”
A wan smile appeared on Daniel’s face. “Probably about as much as any other American Jew. But yeah, I’ll go with you. I’m getting a little tired of my own company, lately.” He bit back a sigh as he spoke.
He followed Ryan toward the growing crowd, silently questioning whether this was the right thing to do. True, this man was friendly, but he didn’t know him from Adam. Still, Daniel had spoken the truth--he was getting more than a little tired of being alone. Grief had a way of sapping everything out of a person, but keeping to himself for the last few months had only made him more depressed, not less. Fifty feet away, construction workers were hard at work on the temple’s foundation. Fluffy white clouds drifted in the overhead sky.
Near the front of the crowd, Ryan walked toward another man, surrounded by two women and a young girl. “Sorry I took so long,” he told them. “I stopped to take a few pictures, then I talked with this man.” He nodded toward Daniel. “Daniel Rosen, here--Dan--is a Jew on his first trip to this country. I thought maybe he could explain to us the meaning of some of the things we’ve seen.” Ryan turned toward one of the two women. “Dan, this is Kristen, my bride of two weeks. We’re on our honeymoon.”
Kristen smiled and nodded toward Dan. She had jet-black hair that hung below her shoulders, and bluish-gray eyes. She had a slim figure and a warm smile.
The other man extended his hand. “Richard Daly,” he said, introducing himself. As he had done with Ryan, Daniel appraised Richard now. Richard had black hair and blue eyes, and his skin was somewhat tanned. He had a cleft in his chin, Daniel noticed. He wore a expensive-looking cotton shirt and a polyester tie. He had the look of a man who was accustomed to dressing more or less formally.
Turning to the woman on the other side of him, Richard added, “This is my wife, Christina, and our daughter, Rachel.” He smiled at the child as he spoke. “My wife has just accepted a job helping to run a new children’s home. Ryan and I are pilots. And Rachel, here, will be in the 7th grade whenever school reopens.”
Rachel smiled shyly. “Rachel Nicole Daly.” She looked up at her mother, who smiled. “It used to be Rachel Nicole Jackson. They adopted me.” She paused, looking down at the imitation pearl necklace adorning her neck. “My mother died several weeks ago.”
Daniel smiled at her. “Well, Rachel, you have a very pretty name, and that’s a pretty necklace you’re wearing. How old are you? Twelve?” Rachel nodded. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother’s death. I had a daughter, myself; she’s dead, too, along with her mother.” He paused, as the by-now-familiar grief surged in his heart. “She was your age when she died. A year ago.”
Christina winced. “Oh, Mr. Rosen, I’m so sorry.”
Daniel smiled. “Call me Dan. Thank you. I work as an architect in Colorado.” He bit his lower lip. “How did your mother die, Rachel?”
Rachel looked at the grass flattened underneath her feet. “She was murdered.” She bent over to retie her white sneakers; straightening up, she twisted her necklace around her index finger.
Daniel took a deep breath. Although no one could prove it, he wasn’t at all sure that wasn’t the case with the boiler explosion. “That’s truly awful. I know how it is to lose someone you love in the most horrific way.” He scanned the adults surrounding her. Richard nodded agreement, pain in his eyes.
“Except for Kristen, each of us has endured such a loss, so we know what our new daughter has went through,” Richard said. “At least, though, we know, now, that they’re in a better place.”
Daniel shrugged. Maybe. Just then, he was more interested in Rachel than he was in speculating about where their deceased loved ones were. Something about her reminded him of Heather--the same sweet nature! The blonde hair, the shy look in her eyes.
Suddenly, a loud, deep voice interrupted the conversation. “Jesus is your Messiah! He is your salvation, your deliverance from the darkness in your souls.” The group turned toward the area where the voice had come from.
“Eli,” Kristen said, in a low voice. Ryan nodded. The assembled group was too far back in the crowd to see the preachers, but all could hear Eli plainly.
As the man continued to preach, murderous rage surged in Daniel’s heart. He felt his face turning beet-red. He had no tolerance for anyone telling Jews that Jesus was the Messiah the Jews were looking for--such an idea was anathema to him! Nothing would please him more than to wipe the two evangelists off the face of the earth. He pressed his lips into a thin line of rage, and clenched his trembling hands into tight balls. The breeze died down, and the air turned hot; soon, beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
“You’re dead men,” he muttered. “Just you wait!”
The enraged man strode toward the front of the crowd. Stumbling over a thick branch, he paused to grab hold of it, then pushed his way through the remaining people till he reached the front of the crowd. “You blasphemers! You--you--!” His voice choked; he shook the branch toward the witnesses. “You ought to die for this! And Heaven help me, you will!”
END OF CHAPTER 1