Page 45 of One of Them

“It suits you,” said the woman. “And wait, I have something else.” She rummaged through one of the boxes and pulled out what Anne could see was a matching robe—also white, with the same lace, but with two white satin birds embroidered on either lapel; the birds held banners in their beaks, and on the banners were rows of tiny white satin hearts bordered by white opalescent beads.

“You have to try it on. Make sure it fits,” said the woman.

Anne looked around. There was no dressing room, but there was also no one else in the shop.

She was still wearing the uncomfortable—and unflattering—dress Drew had bought, and she gladly took it off; after this, she was going to buy something, anything, else to wear.

She slipped the nightgown over her head.

It was perfect—the simplicity of the neckline and straps was both elegant and luxurious, and when she added the robe, which the woman had handed her, it became an ensemble, just right for a wedding night. Wedding night! Was she really thinking about that?

“... it’s a bit long, but I could have someone hem it for you. Could you come back the day after tomorrow?”

Anne shook her head. “I’ll be gone by then,” she said. “But I could get it done in Paris—that’s where I’m off to.”

“Paris.” The woman sighed. “A beautiful city.”

“It is,” Anne said. “Do you know it well?”

“I used to go to Paris on buying trips,” the woman said. “But that was before the war. Before everything changed.”

Anne saw the way her face instantly changed, the friendly, attentive expression clouded. She gestured to the piles around her. “Are these things you bought on some of those trips?”

“Some of them, yes. But there was more, much more. I had to leave in a hurry, so I took whatever I could carry,” the woman said.

“I couldn’t take everything... When I think about what got left behind, I feel sick.

” She reached into a velvet pouch that hung from around her neck, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.

Then she took a deep drag. “And even sicker to think that my very best things ended up on the back of some Nazi pig’s wife.

Or mistress.” She tilted her chin up, so that the exhaled smoke rose in a stream above her head.

“Are you from Germany?” Anne asked tentatively.

“Vienna. Do you know Vienna? That was a beautiful city too. Quite beautiful. And cultivated. Refined. I had a shop on the K?rntner Strasse. It was in our family for three generations. But when Hitler got into power, it was all over for us.” She took another drag. “You see, we were Jews.”

“So am I,” said Anne.

“But you’re from America.” Anne nodded. “You were safe over there. Protected. You don’t know what we know... what we saw, what I saw.” The woman’s hands clenched, creating two small, tight fists.

“It must have been... horrible.”

“You can’t imagine.” She gave Anne a hard, penetrating look.

“Anyway, that life is over. I escaped with what I could, and I was lucky to get out. I wanted to go to London, even to New York, but those places, those governments , said no. But Palestine welcomed me with open arms.” She stubbed out her cigarette in a cut glass ashtray.

“Why am I going on about all that? You’re here to buy a nightgown, aren’t you?

A nightgown and perhaps a robe.” She began to fold the garments.

When they were wrapped in yellowing tissue paper and the bundle tied with a bow, she handed it to Anne.

“Thank you.” Anne couldn’t stop the images in her head: herself in the white nightgown, Drew sliding the straps down from one shoulder and then the other. She pulled out her wallet and paid, but before she could leave, the woman laid a hand on her arm.

“Wait,” she said and scurried off again, this time returning with a faded blue shoe box.

She ran her hand over the top of it to wipe away the dust before giving it to Anne.

Inside was a pair of cream-colored embroidered slippers trimmed with white fur.

They looked as if they might fit, and when Anne tried them on, she found that yes, they did.

She peered down at her feet, encased in the soft, luxurious materials.

These slippers had been part of another life, and now they were going to be part of hers.

“I love them.” Anne took out her wallet again, but the woman waved it away.

“A gift,” she said. “From one Jew to another.” She looked at Anne almost tenderly and extended her hand. “I’m Giselle. Giselle Krauss.”

“And I’m Anne Bishop.”

Giselle raised her eyebrows. “Bishop?” Then her mouth formed a rueful smile. “Never mind. I understand. Maybe America wasn’t Austria. But that didn’t mean it was easy to be a Jew there. Maybe it’s not so easy to be a Jew anywhere.”

Anne knew that her own minor difficulties paled before Giselle Krauss’s experience and the experience of so many others; the two didn’t exist in the same universe. “No,” she said. “It isn’t.”

On her way back to the hotel, Anne thought about this.

Yesterday had been the most alarming, most frightening day of her life.

But it was also clarifying in some way. Galvanizing.

She’d experienced, firsthand, just how precarious it was to be a Jew.

Not that she didn’t know that, but she’d known it only in the abstract, from events that had happened long ago or far away.

And what she’d known had been on a minor scale—the sting of prejudice, of snide and hurtful comments.

But that explosion and her panicked dash gave her an entirely different perspective.

Before, being Jewish had been an impediment; now she saw how it could be a matter of life and death.

When she got to her room. Anne put the package away and went downstairs to wait for Drew in the dining room. It wasn’t long before he came in and sat down. He looked tired and, as she looked closer, disheveled, even dirty. “Do you want to go up and shower before dinner?” she asked.

“That’s just what I want to do. I’ll be quick, and then we can eat and I’ll tell you about my day. Did you find your friend?”

“I did,” said Anne. “She’s all right. She was hurt, but not that badly.”

At dinner, Drew told Anne about being at the kibbutz, what he’d heard and seen.

“Did they find out who did it? And why?” Though she essentially knew.

Ahmed had made it clear.

“No. But it wasn’t a very well thought out attack,” he said. “They think it was done by a few teenagers from one of the towns nearby.”

“Teenagers? Really?”

“A couple of weeks ago, a few Arab boys and boys from the kibbutz got into a fight, and two of the Arab boys ended up in the hospital. One of them died. So the attack was their way of retaliating.”

“But that won’t settle it. The people from the kibbutz will want to get revenge.” She thought of a line her father was fond of repeating. An eye for an eye leaves everyone blind.

“Nothing is going to get settled for a long time.” Drew continued eating. “Tell me about your day. What did you do while I was gone?”

When they’d finished eating, they went up to their separate rooms, which was probably the right thing; they both needed to think about how far, all of a sudden, their relationship had come.

There was no discussion of their sleeping together again, which of course was the right thing.

Sleeping together before you were married was just wrong, wasn’t it?

Then why was Anne so disappointed? She knew they should wait; they would wait.

The one night they hadn’t, well, that was an exception.

She pulled back the covers, thinking of the white nightgown and robe tucked under the bed.

Too soon for her to wear them. Just as she was drifting off, she heard a light knocking outside, in the hallway. She got up and crossed the room.

“Who’s there?” Though of course she knew. Knew and was so happy.

“It’s me.”

Anne opened the door. Drew was wearing the clean clothes he’d put on earlier, after he’d showered, but now his striped shirt was partially unbuttoned.

That seemed like a sign to her. An invitation.

She didn’t say a word but took his hand and drew him over the threshold, so that their bodies were almost touching.

Then she closed the door and shot the bolt home.

The next day it was that much harder to say goodbye, especially since Drew was going to be staying in Palestine for another week, and then he was off to other countries in the region—Syria, Egypt, Lebanon.

“I’m going to miss you.” Anne felt tears forming in her eyes, but she wasn’t going to cry, she just wasn’t going to.

“I’m going to miss you too,” he said. “That’s why I bought you this.” He produced a silver ring with an oval stone in a saturated shade of green and slid it onto her finger.

“It’s lovely.” The tears were still threatening, but their source had shifted. A ring. Who could miss the symbolism of that?

“It’s called an Eilat stone,” he said. “I hope you’ll think of me when you wear it.”

Anne’s answer was to move closer and press her lips to his. She’d never initiated a kiss before; that was the man’s prerogative, she’d been taught. But Drew’s passionate response let her know that he didn’t mind.