Chosen (19 page)

Alexana eased open the door and slipped into Lydia’s bedroom. Her friend sat up, alarmed. Alexana smiled and hushed her, saying, “Lydia, it’s me! Back from the dead!”

“Alexana!” Lydia leaped up and pulled her friend into a quick embrace. She drew back, switched on a lamp, and looked her over. “You are very beautiful as a Bedouin woman. How did you get here unnoticed?”

“I drew some attention,” Alexana admitted. “But I got here easily enough over the rooftops. It was like old times! Suddenly I was twelve years old and sneaking over to spend the night with you.”

“You are blessed that they did not stop you. After the bus attacks, security has become tighter and tighter. I do not know how much longer we can endure this peace process. But enough. Where have you been? Samuel went to see Khalil. He told your brother that you were safe, but he would not tell him where you were.”

“And Sam let it go at that?”

Lydia glanced guiltily away. “He took comfort in the fact that Khalil was sure to place you somewhere safe. Your absence from the city also gave Hamas time to cool off and Khalil time to gain better control of his men.”

“Did Ridge know?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, he went with Samuel to see Khalil. They did not know where you were. Khalil would not tell them,” Lydia said.

“Khalil can be so stubborn,” Alexana admitted grudgingly.

“Yes. Are you all right? Were you treated well?”

“I’m fine, fine,” Alexana said, dismissing her friend’s concern. “They’ll see they can’t stop us. We are going to move on the Solomon’s Stables dig. Unless we’ve been delayed again.”

“I haven’t heard anything like that from Samuel. But is it wise—?”

“Good,” Alexana said quickly. “Let’s get some sleep. I’ll need your assistance tomorrow.”

A
lexana made her way to the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, quietly requested access to the bell tower, then raced to the top. There, Ridge waited for her as Lydia had instructed him. He paused at the sight of her in Bedouin costume, then quickly moved to take her in his arms.

“Ridge—,” she began.

“Shh,” he silenced her. “Let me just hold you for a minute. I was so afraid that you were gone forever.” He pulled back, holding her away from his body so he could see her, searching her face. His gaze was intense. “I couldn’t find you. I tried. You know that, right?”

“I know,” she said softly, moving closer to him again.

Ridge kissed her head and said, “I ran all the way here this morning after Lydia told me where you’d be.”

She backed up again to study him. Dark circles ringed his eyes. He appeared to have lost several pounds. “Oh, Ridge, I’m sorry.” She embraced him again. “I know it must’ve been as tough for you as it was for me.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find you. I really am. But maybe it was for the best.”

“For the best!” She looked incredulous. “How do you figure that?”

He cradled her cheek in his hand. “It was for the best because I finally figured out something very important. I realized that I’m head over heels … totally, completely. Alexana Roarke, I’m in love with you.”

Excitement flooded through Alexana, and she gazed at him in wonder. “I must confess, I doubted I’d ever hear those words from you.”

“Why is that?” Ridge sounded only slightly surprised.

“I just didn’t think the News Junkie Stud of the Year would ever commit to one woman,” she said with an impish grin as she played with his shirt collar.

“I think I knew it when I saw you in Khalil’s tent that first afternoon. I wondered what an American woman was doing there, and I admired how you handled yourself with him. You had obviously snubbed Khalil—the head of Hamas—just before I entered. I thought, ‘Now there’s a woman with gumption. That’s the kind of woman I want to find.’ You haven’t proven me wrong.”

Alexana smiled broadly and hugged him. “I’ve been so afraid to give in to my feelings for you,” she admitted.

He pulled away. “Say it, Alexana. I want to hear those words, if you’re ready to say them.”

She smiled again, feeling uncustomarily shy in the face of his need for her love. “I love you, Ridge McIntyre.”

A broad smile spread across his face. “Enough to be my companion for life?”

Alexana drew in a long, slow breath. “Is that a proposal?”

“Yes. It is.”

Alexana studied him carefully. “We’ve only known each other for
a few months. You’re really ready to settle down with one woman for the rest of your life? I want you, and only you, Ridge. Can you say the same thing about me?”

“I’m sure, Alexana. Maybe I once had a reputation as a ladies’ man, but now I want you, and only you, for the rest of my life. I want to marry you and never let you out of my sight again.”

Alexana frowned and pulled gently away. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

Pain and confusion crossed Ridge’s face. “Are you saying you don’t want to marry me?”

Alexana turned to him, her blue eyes wet with tears. A lump formed in her throat as emotions flooded her heart. She swallowed hard, trying not to let her voice tremble. “Oh, Ridge, I do. But what do you mean when you say things like you’re never going to let me out of your sight again? That’s impossible. I love my work. I’m going to go on digs across Israel and beyond. Your work will take you around the world. Is it even possible for us to be together?”

“Of course it is! We may have to make some concessions,” he admitted. “Give up an assignment here and there to be together. But won’t it be worth it?”

Her eyebrows arched into a question. “Give up an assignment? Are you speaking for you or for me?” she asked suspiciously.

“For both of us!”

“For instance …”

“For instance, this Solomon’s Stables dig.”

“Oh no,” she mumbled in frustration. “I thought that’s where you were leading. I’m not giving it up, Ridge. I’m not. No one is going to bully me out of it. Not Hamas and not you. It’s a chance of
a lifetime.” Even as she spoke, Christina Alvarez’s words came to mind:
“Work would never come between us; our marriage would be priority over everything else.”

Alexana pushed away the unwanted memory and turned to face Ridge. “You’re as bad as Khalil! He wanted to marry me to keep me out of trouble, and now you’re trying to do the same thing!”

“No, Alexana. I’m not—”

“You are!” she protested, almost in tears. “I want this, Ridge! I want it as badly as you wanted to be awarded the Middle East news region! Can’t you understand? You risk your life—practically every day—to pursue your dream. Most often, I don’t have to take such risks. But this time, I do. It’s just as important.”

“But, Alexana,” he argued desperately, “there are a lot of men in Hamas who want to kill you.”

“Enough! I don’t interfere in your work, Ridge. Stay out of mine.” Alexana turned away, not wanting him to see how sick their argument made her.

“Fine,” he sighed in resignation. “I’ll leave you to your work. I had better check with my office anyway. I guess there’s no reason for me to stay on leave anymore.”

Alexana glanced at him as he turned to go. “Ridge, I—”

He stopped her. “I think we’ve said enough for one day, Alexana. Your brother should be here any minute. I’ll leave you to discuss your excavation plans, and I’ll pray that you get in and out of the Haram alive.” He hurriedly exited the tower. Alexana stood still and watched him leave, stoically holding back her tears. She swallowed hard, ignoring the lump in her throat, and resolutely awaited her brother.

S
am did an excellent job of assembling the entire team, and by the next afternoon, Alexana found herself addressing them in the library of the École Biblique. The Bedouin costume was a helpful disguise, so she continued to wear the clothing which Lydia had washed and dried. She had told Lydia the whole, messy Ridge story the previous evening through her tears.

Alexana’s eyes were swollen but clear as she excitedly discussed excavation plans with the team. The group Sam had assembled was a skeleton crew; because of the death threats, Alexana was hesitant to include more members of the leadership team.

Rivca Weingarten, the team photographer, sat to Alexana’s immediate right. Beyond her stood Helene Yefet and Sari Nasan, the pottery readers who would collect, sift through, and catalog any pieces of significance. Area supervisors Abu Khadim and Sam, both world-renowned for their experience, would watch over and direct the progress of the dig. Professor O’Malley served as an advisor. Old friends and experienced excavators Moshe Barazani and Haidar Iban would assist Sam and Abu Khadim in directing the fifty or more day laborers who would be doing the bulk of the work.

The last two people present were construction engineers Abraham
Lott and Kamal Khalidi. These two men would be responsible for excavating the massive stone and rebuilding the Haram’s infrastructure. Team members had been chosen carefully to equally represent both Jew and Muslim factions.

Alexana stood and leaned over the table, resting her hands on the solid mahogany structure. She nervously felt along the scratches carved by students over a period of two hundred years. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen,” she said, looking around the group. “I’m hoping we can finally begin this project. I think we have the political pull and financing set up to begin next week. With the peace process faltering, I’d like to treat this as a salvage dig; I want us all to think ‘fast and furious’ when it comes to the Stables.”

She rose and circled the group like an excited professor lecturing on her favorite subject. “Now, although this will be a salvage dig, it is imperative that we not allow our work to compromise the Haram. We will excavate, create temporary reinforcing, excavate some more, then build in cement support piers. We will concentrate primarily on the area around the Double and Triple Gates. We plan to leave the Temple Mount stronger than when we began. I want us to be in and out within two months.”

One of the construction engineers laughed in surprise, then quickly quieted when he saw the determination on her face.

“Abe, you have a problem with that plan?”

Abraham Lott sat back and took up his own defense. “I want to see this happen as much as anyone else. But you plan to excavate a space that measures approximately twenty-five thousand square feet. Plus we’re talking about digging through nearly four stories of rock to get down to it. How can we get in, give you archaeologists time to study each level as needed, and get out in two months?”

Alexana nodded, acknowledging his concern. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But we have little choice. You must realize that we’re in the center of a political hot spot. A Muslim uprising is bound to happen. No doubt, you’ve noticed my wardrobe choice these days …” Alexana smiled ruefully as she indicated her flowing black robes and headdress. “I can’t go home. My life has been threatened. Yours probably will be too. You’ll each need to examine your desires and priorities and decide for yourselves how important this is to you. I can’t be responsible for your lives. It has to be your choice to work on this dig.

“What you stand to gain is incredible experience working on a site no one ever dreamed would be accessible. The trick is, our window of opportunity is closing. If we are to get down to the stairs that Jesus Christ walked and see if there’s anything else of significance below, we need to do it quickly. You all know the political temperature is rising around here. I’m afraid they’ll decide peace in Israel is a pipe dream at best and shut down this dig before it starts. We have no choice but to move fast, before we’re shut out forever.”

“But what if in our haste we miss something pertinent? What if we blast right through exactly what we seek?” Haidar asked.

“That’s where our two construction engineers come in,” Alexana assured him. “We know that the stairs beyond the Triple Gate were partially filled in with rock and mortar after the Crusaders left. Judging from the exposed steps, we can approximate the depth of the remaining stairs and quickly dispose of the filler material.

“If you remember from our notes, excavating east of the Triple Gate would be a waste of time. The Crusaders used it as a quarry during construction and it’s not likely that we’ll find anything of importance there. So we’ll move down and west, watching for the
original arches—which we can, again, approximate in distance—speeding up our excavation process.

“Our pottery experts here,” she gestured toward Helene and Sari, “will not be examining every shard we remove. They’ll be sifting through the removed rock, checking to make sure we’re not missing anything big. The rest of the rock will be placed directly outside the El Aksa Mosque; we can sift through it later. We’re racing toward the original structures first; we’ll examine the filler material at a later date.”

Alexana gazed around at the excited, nervous members of her team. “I know this method is highly unorthodox and somewhat antiquated. But you all must understand: This is our only chance at a site that might be closed again for a hundred, two hundred years, or more. Maybe forever.”

The group nodded collectively, and she looked at her construction engineers. “Abe and Kamal can tell you how we’re going to go about it.” She sat down and listened as the two men explained to the group how they would enter the Haram on the southeastern end, making a hole in the floor big enough to allow two miniature bulldozers and a small crane to enter and exit with ease.

“Is there any other way we could enter without being so exposed?” Sam asked. “That’s practically the worst place on the whole Haram. With us so close to the mosque, every Hamas and Jihad member in the country will want to take potshots at us as they leave worship.”

“That’s true,” Alexana said. “Yet if we go in from the southern side, we’ll have less control in knocking out walls. We could wipe out something vital and be all the
more
exposed. We’ll just have to
depend on the security teams to make sure no one enters the Haram with a weapon.”