CHAPTER 2
“What’s wrong, David?” Stepping out of the car, Kristen approached him, glancing behind her toward the sleeping babies. A cool breeze ruffled her hair as she hurried toward him.
“That!” David pointed a trembling finger at a lone figure standing near the two witnesses. “My sister’s right there!” He pressed his fists against his hips.
Ryan peered at the person, till he saw that she was a familiar plump figure with shoulder-length black hair. It’s Deborah! he thought. What’s she doing here at this time of night? “David—” he began.
Before Ryan could say another word, David rushed toward the three, his shoes thudding on the stone tiles lining the ground, rage surging in his heart. He wanted to shake Deborah, slap her, yell at her. It infuriated him that his own sister, of all people, would turn traitor to their faith by turning to that impostor! He would make her regret that she had ever begun to listen to those two men if she didn’t immediately come to her senses.
When David was within 10 feet of her, he paused. He took a deep breath, praying for control of his temper. Then he marched toward his sister, his lips pressed into a thin line. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.
“David!” she gasped, her hazel eyes widening in shock.
“How dare you?!” David roared. “You—you—traitor! You are a disgrace to me, a disgrace to our parents—!” He raised his hand to slap her; she jerked away from him and backed away, clutching her purse against her waist.
“You—you—!” he roared. “I will not have my sister listening to these—these traitors! Least of all in the middle of the night—you should have been in bed by now! You come with me right now, Deborah! You’re going home!” He glared at the two men, who stood regally, with impassive expressions etched on their deeply lined faces. “These men have already killed too many—they might kill you!”
Deborah shook her head. “No, they won’t,” she said softly, glancing toward the two evangelists. “They won’t kill any Jew who’s recognized his or her Messiah. They know me, David.”
Ryan rushed toward them. “Uh, David, could I talk to you privately?” he asked. Taking a deep breath, David nodded.
Ryan led him away from Deborah. Ryan wiped his hands on his jeans, then looked his friend in the eyes. “David, you’re not going to succeed in making her reject Jesus.” He kept his voice low. “All you’re going to do is drive a wedge between you that can never be fixed. She loves you dearly, but she will not renounce her Messiah even for you.”
David glared at him. “My sister is a traitor!”
Ryan shook his head. “I pray that one day, God will open your eyes. In the meantime, listen to me.” He gripped David’s shoulder. “My friend, Richard Daly—the one I told you about—well, he thought he could bully his wife into rejecting God. He was a hardcore atheist when she first accepted Him, and her faith enraged him, threatened him. He even threatened to divorce her if she didn’t give it up.”
David sighed. “Obviously, he didn’t.”
“No, he didn’t. God finally got his attention.” Ryan glanced toward the two witnesses. “And I believe that He will get yours, but I pray it will not take an awful tragedy to do so. In the meantime, leave Deborah alone. Your point about her leaving the house at night is well-taken because that’s dangerous, but let her visit the witnesses during the day if she chooses. Don’t give her such a hard time, because it won’t work anyway.”
David exhaled slowly, slumping his shoulders. “All right. I’ll leave her alone.” He paused to rub his forehead. “For now.” He glanced at the moon’s half-circle hanging over the top of the Wailing Wall, then bit his lower lip.
He returned to Deborah, who waited with held breath. His shoes clicked on the smooth stone tiles. “Come on, Deborah.” His voice had softened. “We have guests, and we need to take them to our home. Ryan and Kristen have fled from Antonio Puccini.” He pointed his finger at her chest. “Don’t leave the house at night again! Any criminal could have assaulted you.”
Ryan nodded agreement. “Yes. He’s right about that, Deborah. It’ll be much safer to visit the witnesses during the day.” He paused. “David, here, told us that Puccini was planning to kill us, so we had to get away.”
Deborah winced. “I’m so glad you’re safe, and I will pray that you remain safe.” She hung her purse from her left shoulder.
The group returned to David’s car, and drove to the Weizmann house. “Come in.” David swung the front left car door open, then climbed out of the car. “Feel free to stay until you get a place of your own.”
“Thanks.” Ryan smiled, then glanced at Kristen. “We left so suddenly, we didn’t have time to pack all our things. They’re still at our apartment.” He opened the car door as he spoke, then proceeded to un-strap the babies from the car seats.
Kristen nodded agreement. “We may not be able to get them back, hon. I don’t know if it’ll ever be safe to go back to Rome.” She grimaced, then smiled. “At least we brought our Bibles with us. That’s most important.”
“I agree.” Nodding, Ryan lifted out two-year-old Jeremy and handed him to his wife. He then lifted out Nicole and held her against his shoulder. The baby cooed, then closed her eyes. A cool breeze caressed Ryan’s cheek as he repositioned Nicole.
Deborah touched Ryan’s arm. “Yes, it is.” He grimaced, then nodded agreement. “Trust me, Ryan, my family well knows what it is to flee for one’s life. We had to do that, ourselves.”
Kristen nodded. “When?”
“When they escaped from Yugoslavia,” Ryan told her. “David himself only told me about it a few months ago.”
“That’s right. David was just five at the time, and I was a baby no older than Nicole, here.”
David nodded. “She’s right. I was just a little boy when our family escaped from Yugoslavia. We faced death the whole time, and to this day, I marvel that we even made it. Jehovah protected us.” He shook his head, exchanging glances with his sister.
“He certainly did,” Ryan agreed.
David glanced at the velvet sky glistening with stars. “Let’s go inside—it’ll be morning in a few hours.”
Inside, Deborah glanced at the wall clock that hung over the couch. “And now, it’s time to go to bed.” She left the living room; David escorted the Whittakers to their guest room.
“We’ll get a crib at the market first thing in the morning. I regret we had no chance to get one today,” David told them, as they entered their bedroom. Ryan and Kristen smiled their thanks; Ryan flipped the light switch. Soft light flooded the room. David paused in the doorway, fidgeting. “Are you going to call your sister, Ryan?”
Ryan and Kristen exchanged troubled glances, then laid the babies on the bed. “No.” Ryan sighed. “I hate to worry my sister or Richard, but I’m afraid to chance it. If word got back to Antonio that I called them, he’d have a manhunt sent after us in no time.” He paused. “I have prayed that God would make a way to safely let Christina and Richard know, and soon. I don’t want to keep them worrying any longer than I just have to.”
David nodded. “I understand.” He paused, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Uh, Ryan...” His voice trailed off; he rubbed his forehead. “You remember my telling you about my cousin?”
Ryan furrowed his eyebrows, then nodded. “The one who moved to Rome a couple of years ago?” He put his hands in his pockets as he spoke.
“Yes. With his wife. He’s in the construction business—he moved to Rome because he thought there’d be better opportunities there.” Ryan nodded. “Well, his father’s family—my uncle’s—escaped Yugoslavia with mine.” David sighed. “I haven’t heard from him in months, and I can’t stop worrying about him. You haven’t…?”
Ryan shook his head. “I’ve never even met the man, David.”
David shrugged. “No, I suppose you haven’t.” He glanced at his watch. “Please excuse me. You must be exhausted after that trip, and I’m tired.” He left the guest room.
Upon entering his bedroom, David lit a cigarette. Minutes passed as he leaned against the wall, shoulders slumped, cigarette dangling between his fingers, acrid smoke wafting in front of his face. Although his parents had told him and Deborah many stories about their escape from Communism, he had only vague memories of that perilous escape. He remembered his parents carrying him and baby Deborah toward some huge vehicle—was it a van? They had driven in silence, not speaking a word. He also remembered their stopping and tiptoeing through thick, tall grass toward an imposing fence. The last he remembered was an unearthly light in front of that fence. To that day, he could not remember what it was. He gazed at the dim outlines of his furniture for a long moment, then trudged toward his dresser.
Yawning, he trudged toward the bed and smashed the cigarette stub against the ashtray. Perching on the side of the bed, he pulled on his pajamas. “May as well say my prayers,” he muttered. Grasping his soft woolen prayer shawl, he draped it around his shoulders. For the next several minutes, he prayed to Jehovah; at the end of his prayer session, he folded the shawl, put it on the bureau, and went to bed.
For the next few days, things were quiet and peaceful at the Weizmann house. When Deborah was alone with the Whittakers, she would talk about her newfound faith. “What the witnesses said got my attention,” she said, once. “God really convicted me.” She beamed. “I’m so grateful that God has removed the blindness from my spirit, and I pray he will remove it from David’s.”
They were sitting in the living room. Deborah perched on the edge of the cushioned armchair, and Ryan and Kristen sat side by side on the upholstered couch, china coffee mugs in their hands. Nicole lay on a folded blanket on the floor, and Jeremy was toddling from table to chair to table. Ryan watched his son for a long moment, then smiled back at Deborah. “I’m sure it was a joyful day for God, and for His angels, too.” Kristen chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Deborah tilted her head, her brows furrowed in puzzlement.
“Only that we’ve had personal experience with angels,” Kristen explained. “God has sent them to the Dalys and to us, more than once.” She set her cup on the coffee table; it landed with a clink. The cushion lining the couch sagged under her as she leaned back.
Ryan nodded agreement. “In fact, He sent two angels to bring us here. They flew the small plane that brought us to Tel-Aviv.” He took a sip of his now-cool coffee. “Someday, Deborah, we’ll tell you about our other angelic encounters.” The coffee cup clinked as he set it in its saucer.
Deborah smiled broadly. “What a privilege! I’d love to meet these angels.” She glanced down at the Bible in her lap. “There are so many accounts in the Bible about angels and angelic encounters. But I have yet to meet one. I’d love to meet Gabriel, who took those messages to Daniel and who later announced the births of Yeshua and John to Mary and Zechariah.”
The entrance door swung open; David stepped in. He glared at Deborah for a long moment, his face beet-red, then slammed the door. “Forgive me, Ryan, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.” He approached his sister, who sat frozen. “I want to talk to you alone, Deborah!” He pointed at the hallway entrance with a trembling finger.
END OF CHAPTER 2