Walk Through the Valley (Psalm 23 Mysteries) (21 page)

Martin was fishing. The C.I.A. didn’t know who Jeremiah was although clearly they had their suspicions. They had decided to come at him sideways through Cindy hoping to find out more about him without having to engage him directly. Only their plan had backfired.

“Who can say why anyone does anything foolhardy?” Jeremiah said. “Wedding crashers, purse snatchers, people who stalk and spy on innocent young women.”

It was a threat and Martin knew it. Jeremiah had just let him know that if the man and his team didn’t back off of
Cindy, he was willing and able to do to them what he’d done to the man at the wedding. Threatening a C.I.A. agent wasn’t necessarily a bright idea, but he was too tired to be subtle.

“Some people make promises they can’t keep,” Martin noted, an edge to his voice.

“I always keep my promises,” Jeremiah reassured him. “When I was young I promised myself that someday I would be a rabbi. You know the thing about being a rabbi? I find it to be a very fulfilling career. I like it more than the job I had when I was younger. I like the lifestyle, the quiet, the communion with God and my fellow man.”

And that was as close as he was going to get to actually telling Martin he was retired. The other man nodded slowly. “From what I can tell, you also like a certain church secretary. How’s that working out for you? I imagine there are some real...culture clashes... there.”

Jeremiah shrugged. “Issues of faith and bridging cultural gaps are the only things I’m interested in wrestling with these days.”

“You sure about that?”

Jeremiah looked the man dead in the eyes. “I only fight the battles that I’m forced to.”

“In that case, I hope no battles come looking for you.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Well, as it turns out, I’m probably going to be leaving the conference early. Pressing business elsewhere. I’m sure you understand.”

Jeremiah nodded.

Martin leaned toward him slightly. “What will you tell Cindy?”

“The truth. It’s better she hears it from me than from someone else one day.”

“A bold move. I wish you luck with that.” Martin reached into his coat and pulled out a card. He placed it face up on the table. There were no names or identifying marks on it, just a phone number.

Jeremiah glanced at it then back up at Martin. “I don’t need to buy any medical equipment.”

“Not now,” Martin said with a smirk. “But keep it with you. Call me if you catch wind of any more wedding crashers. I’m sure my services might come in useful then.”

Martin knew as well as he did that the dead man’s “brothers” might indeed come looking for vengeance. Reluctantly Jeremiah reached out and took the card. He slid it into his shirt pocket.

“Good,” Martin said. “I’m glad we understand each other. Give Cindy my best. I’ll be leaving after breakfast and I won’t get a chance to say goodbye.”

“You traveling salesmen rarely do,” Jeremiah noted as he stood.

Martin frowned suddenly. “Oh, Jeremiah?”

“Yes?” he asked, tensing.

“I’m not in the business of sharing gossip, but in my position, one hears things sometimes.”

Jeremiah felt his entire body go still. He knew that whatever Martin was about to say was important.

“A handful of Israel’s wayward sons are going to be called home. I don’t know why. I just know it’s happening.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Jeremiah said, forcing his voice to remain neutral.

“Whatever is going on between you and Cindy. You might want to sort it out sooner rather than later.”

Martin was being sincere. Cindy had gotten to him. She did that. It was almost impossible not to like her, to feel protective toward her.

Jeremiah nodded. “Understood.”

He turned and left the restaurant. His heart was racing in his chest and he could feel himself beginning to sweat. He had succeeded in warning off Martin, but the agent had given him something invaluable. Advance warning.

Retired Mossad agents were being reactivated.

17

Jeremiah made it to the room upstairs and his heart had finally slowed. In the elevator up he’d given serious consideration to trying to find out more information. He had a number he could call. By the time he’d reached the room, though, he had decided against it. His best hope was that he could remain under the radar. Hopefully whatever the reason agents were being reactivated it was something that could be handled by others. If he was lucky they wouldn’t need him or his particular skills. The last thing he wanted to do was go back into the field. It would almost certainly cost him the life that he had spent the last few years building.

Cindy was asleep on the bed, sprawled on top of the comforter where he had left her. Her parents’ bed was unmade with sheets and covers askew where they had risen quickly in response to his call about Kyle.

He had been up for almost thirty hours and he was tired. Don’s suggestion that he get some sleep had been a good one. The only question was, how. The room was a mess indicative of the tremendous strain that the occupants had been under the last few days. There wasn’t an unoccupied section of carpet big enough to stretch out on.

He walked around the bed Cindy was on and sat down on the far edge. He felt uncomfortable, guilty at the thought of just stretching out next to her and passing out. It seemed silly, though, in light of the circumstances. It was a big bed and they wouldn’t have to be touching. Besides, they had slept next to each other in sleeping bags on Kyle’s
miserable cattle drive. He kicked off his shoes and laid down. Within seconds he was asleep.

As Cindy woke slowly she was aware that there was something different. She felt warm and comfortable. Her head was on something firmer than she remembered the pillow being. As she opened her eyes she realized that she had her head on Jeremiah’s shoulder and one arm was flung over his chest. His arm was underneath her neck and wrapped around her back. He was breathing deeply and evenly with his eyes closed.

She lay very still, her mind kicking into overdrive. They had both been asleep in the hotel room. How had that happened? She barely remembered making it back to the hotel after finding out Kyle was going to be okay.

She didn’t move. She told herself it was because she didn’t want to wake him, but she knew it was more than that. It felt so incredibly good to be this close to him. She could feel her cheeks beginning to tingle with warmth. She stared at him, as though trying to memorize every line, every feature. It was funny because she realized she already knew them. As she continued to gaze at him she realized that she felt safe and contented and happy in a way she had never known before. She wished it could last forever.

His lips twitched and his eyelids flickered and she felt a surge of disappointment. This beautiful moment was coming to an end. What would he think if he knew she’d just been laying there watching him? She hastily closed her eyes.

A few seconds later she heard his voice and felt a rumbling in his chest. “Good morning.”

She opened her eyes and found herself staring into his. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt her heart begin to beat faster. The moment felt charged to her. She should move, she should get up, but no matter how much she told herself to do either of those things it was like she was frozen, helpless as she gazed into his eyes.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you look in the morning?” he asked, smiling slowly.

“No,” she whispered.

“I should have. You do. You always look so very lovely.”

“Thank you.”

He reached out with his free hand and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Then he began to stroke her cheek with his fingers. Her skin tingled where he touched it. Slowly he moved his hand down to her throat and then her shoulder. He twisted his body so that he was lying on his side facing her and he wrapped both arms around her, holding her tight.

She felt herself flushing and her heart was racing faster and faster. She could feel his heart beating as well, strong and steady. He was staring at her, a smile on his face, and his eyes half-open as though he wasn’t quite awake. His lips were only a few inches from hers and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin.

She was terrified, but there was a growing part of her that was feeling something else, something that threatened to take hold of her and not let go. She should say something, do something.

“I’ve never been this close to anyone,” she said.

That hadn’t been what she’d meant to say. Something funny would have been better, something to break this spell that was weaving around her head and heart.

He moved closer. His cheek brushed hers and fire raced through her. “Neither have I,” he whispered in her ear, lips brushing the skin.

She shivered at the contact and he pulled back so that he could look at her again. His eyes were wide-open now, quickening with thought.

“What would my parents think if they saw us like this?” she burst out.

“Don’t worry. I told them we were married.”

“You what?” Cindy said, sitting bolt upright in shock at his words.

He remained where he was, but a grin spread across his face. “Okay, a nurse told them. Don’t worry, I straightened it out.”

She picked up her pillow and hit him with it. There were so many emotions coursing through her that she felt sick and dizzy. He quickly sat up, grabbed his own pillow and defended himself.

She squealed as he got in a good blow. She looked at him and he paused, staring at her in return, eyes questioning. “Game on,” she declared and then swung her pillow at him with everything she had.

He jumped off the bed and twisted, taking the bulk of the force on his back. Then it was pandemonium as they raced around the tiny room, tripping over obstacles and narrowly avoiding knocking over the lamps. She was half-screaming, half-laughing and after a couple of minutes she was also gasping for breath.

Suddenly he caught her, pinning her hands and her pillow between their bodies. “Truce?” he asked, smiling down at her.

She struggled, but he was too strong and she couldn’t break free.

“Truce,” she wheezed.

He nodded and stepped back. She had the urge to hit him again with the pillow, but she had agreed to the truce, and if she broke that she knew all bets were off. She sat down on the edge of the bed, pillow still in hand. She hadn’t felt this good in a long, long time. Kyle was going to be okay. Jeremiah was here and he was smiling and the pillow fight had been loads of fun and had helped her work through all the stuff she’d been dealing with the past few days.

Jeremiah’s heart was racing and it had nothing to do with the pillow fight. In a flash he’d understood how much intimacy he assumed with Cindy. He took liberties with touching her that he shouldn’t, that he had no right to. She wasn’t his wife, no matter how many nurses he told otherwise. She was not his
to hold in that way and had he been properly courting her from the beginning he would not have dared. But nothing about their relationship was proper or planned.

He thought about what Martin had told him. If Martin was right and there was a risk of being pulled back into his old life then that should simplify things for him. Somehow it didn’t, though. It just made them feel more complicated. Martin was definitely right about one thing. He needed to sort everything out and soon.

He tossed his pillow onto the bed, literally and figuratively disarming himself. He sat down gingerly next to Cindy, close enough that they were almost touching but not quite. While he had been sleeping he had felt it when she rolled over onto his shoulder and he had not moved away. He had welcomed the contact with her.

“Cindy,” he said, folding his hands in his lap and staring at them. “This thing between us, what is it?”

She had been fidgeting with her pillow, but she went very still at his question. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted, agitation in her voice.

He forced himself to look up at her. “Neither do I.”

She licked her lips. “When I told you I’d never been that close to anyone, I meant that in more than just the physical sense. That was part of it, yes, but I’ve also never been this close...emotionally to someone else.”

He wanted to reach out and take her hand so badly he ached inside. He forced himself to sit still, though. “Neither have I.” He paused then continued, “There are a lot of obstacles in our way.”

“A lot of differences,” she said.

“We don’t even share the same religion,” he said.

“But we do love the same God,” she pointed out.

“Your people believe they have found their Messiah.”

“And yours are still waiting for Him to appear.”

“You don’t know everything about me, about my past,” he said.

“Not yet,” she countered. “But then, you don’t know everything about mine.”