Kitty took the problem to Dr. Lieberman. He had seen many boys and girls like Dov Landau. Dr. Lieberman had observed that Dov was an alert and intelligent human being who showed great talent. He felt any attempts to force attention on him would work the opposite way: so long as the boy remained harmless and grew no worse, he should be left alone.
As the weeks passed Kitty was disappointed that she did not hear from or see Ari. The statue of Dafna and the Yad El
moshav
below always seemed to remind her. From time to time when she had occasion to pass Yad El she dropped in on Sarah Ben Canaan, until the two women became quite friendly. Jordana learned of it and made no effort to disguise her dislike for Kitty. The beautiful young redheaded hellion made it a point to be rude whenever she spoke to Kitty.
One evening Kitty came to her cottage to find Jordana standing before the mirror, holding one of her cocktail dresses in front of her. Kitty’s sudden appearance did not bother Jordana. “It is pretty, if you like this sort of thing,” Jordana said hanging the dress back in the closet.
Kitty walked to the stove and put on some water for tea. “To what do I owe the honor of this call?”
Jordana continued to look about Kitty’s cottage, at the little touches of her femininity. “There are some Palmach troops training at the Ein Or
kibbutz
.”
“I’ve heard something about it,” Kitty said.
“We have a shortage of instructors. We have a shortage of everything, anyhow. I was asked to ask you if you would come to Ein Or once a week to give a course in first aid and field sanitation.”
Kitty pulled back the drapes and kicked off her shoes and settled back on the studio bed. “I would prefer not to do anything that would bring me into contact with troops.”
“Why not?” Jordana pressed.
“Well, I suppose there is no graceful way of refusing you, and I would like it better if the Palmach understood why.”
“What’s to understand?”
“My personal feelings. I don’t wish to become involved.”
Jordana laughed coldly. “I told them at Ein Or it would be a waste of time to speak to you.”
“Is it impossible for you to respect my feelings?”
“Mrs. Fremont, you can work anywhere in the world and remain neutral. This is a strange place for you to come to work if you want to stay out of trouble. Why are you really here?”
Kitty sprang off the bed angrily. “None of your damned business!”
The teakettle whistled. Kitty snapped it off.
“I know why you are here. You want Ari.”
“You’re an insolent young lady and I think I’ve taken just about all I am going to from you.”
Jordana remained unmoved. “I’ve seen the way you looked at him.”
“If I wanted Ari, you would be the last thing in my way.”
“Tell yourself you don’t want him but don’t tell it to me. You are not Ari’s kind of woman. You don’t care for us.”
Kitty turned and lit a cigarette. Jordana came behind her.
“Dafna was Ari’s kind of woman. She understood him. No American woman ever will.”
Kitty turned around. “Because I don’t run around in shorts and hike up the sides of mountains and shoot cannons and sleep in ditches doesn’t make me one ounce less a woman than you. You or that precious statue. I know what’s the matter with you—you’re afraid of me.”
“That’s funny.”
“Don’t tell me what makes a woman—you don’t know, you aren’t one. You’re Tarzan’s mate and you behave as though you belong in a jungle. A brush and comb wouldn’t be a bad start at fixing what’s wrong with you.” Kitty pushed past Jordana and threw open her closet.
“Take a good look. This is what women wear.”
Tears of anger welled in Jordana’s eyes.
“The next time you wish to see me you may come to my office,” Kitty said coldly. “I am not a
kibbutznik
and I like my privacy.”
Jordana slammed the door so hard it shook the cottage.
Karen came to Kitty’s office after the dinner sick call and flopped into a chair.
“Hi,” Kitty said. “How did it go today?”
Karen grabbed two imaginary cow teats and made a milking motion. “Weak hands. I am a lousy milker,” she opined with teen-age sadness. “Kitty, I am truly brokenhearted. I must, must, must, talk to you.”
“Shoot.”
“Not now. We have a Gadna meeting. We are cleaning some new Hungarian rifles. What a mess!”
“The Hungarian rifles can wait a few minutes. What is troubling you, dear?”
“Yona, my roommate. Just when we are getting to be intimate friends. She’s going to join the Palmach next week.”
Kitty felt a stab of dismay. How much longer until Karen came to her and told her she was going to do the same thing? Kitty shoved her papers aside. “You know, Karen, I have been thinking that there is a real shortage of good nurses and medical aides ... I mean, in the Palmach as well as in the settlements. You’ve had lots of experience working with the youngsters in the DP camps and I’ve taken on quite a crowd of the disturbed ones. Do you suppose it would make sense if I asked Dr. Lieberman to let you come to work with me and let me train you as my assistant?”
“Would it!” Karen broke into a broad grin.
“Fine. I’ll try to arrange it so you skip the agriculture work and report right to my office after school.”
Karen sobered. “Well, I don’t know. It doesn’t seem quite fair to the others.”
“As we say in American, they won’t be losing a farmer, they’ll be gaining a nurse.”
“Kitty, I have a terrible confession to make. Don’t tell the Youth Aliyah, the Zion Settlement Society, or the Central Kibbutz Movement but honest, I’m the worst farmer at Gan Dafna and I’d just love to be a nurse.”
Kitty got up and walked to Karen and put her arm about the girl’s shoulder. “Do you suppose that with Yona gone you would like to move into my cottage and live with me?”
The instantaneous look of happiness on Karen’s face was all the answer that Kitty needed.
Kitty left Dr. Lieberman’s cottage early to give Karen the good news. Dr. Lieberman had considered their duty to dispense love and not rules and decided the cause would not be hurt with one less farmer and one more nurse.
When she left Karen she crossed the center green and stopped before the statue of Dafna. She felt that she had hurt Dafna tonight, she had won a victory. With Karen near her she could keep the child from becoming an aggressive, angry
sabra
girl. It was good to live with a purpose, Kitty knew. But too much purpose could destroy womanliness. She had hit Jordana in a weak spot and she knew it. Since birth Jordana had been given a mission to carry out without question, at the price of her own personal happiness, career, and femininity. Jordana did not know how to compete with the elegant women coming into Palestine from the continent and from America. She hated Kitty because she wanted to be more like Kitty and Kitty knew it.
“Kitty?” A voice called out in the darkness.
“Yes?”
“I hope I didn’t startle you.”
It was Ari. As he came near her she felt that same now-familiar sensation of helplessness.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get up to see you. Jordana gave you my messages?”
“Jordana? Yes, of course,” Kitty lied.
“How are you getting along?”
“Fine.”
“I came up to ask you if you would care to take the day off tomorrow. A Palmach group is going to climb Mount Tabor. It is something that should not be missed. Would you come with me?”
“Yes, I’d love to.”
A
RI AND
K
ITTY ARRIVED
at the
kibbutz
of Beth Alonim—the House of the Oaks—at the foot of Mount Tabor, shortly after dawn. It was the
kibbutz
which gave birth to the Palmach during the war and the place Ari had trained troops.
Tabor was odd: not high enough to be a real mountain but far too high to be a hill. It stood in the middle of flatlands arising suddenly in the shape of a thumb poking through the earth.
After breakfast at the
kibbutz
Ari rolled a pair of packs with rations, canteen, and blankets and drew a Sten gun from the arsenal. He planned to hike up ahead of the rest of the group during the morning hours when it was cool. The air was crisp and invigorating and Kitty was charged with the spirit of adventure. They passed through the Arab village of Dabburiya at the opposite base of Tabor from Beth Alonim and took up a narrow dirt path. Within moments they could see Nazareth in the hills several kilometers away. It stayed cool and their progress was fast, although Kitty realized her first view was deceptive. Tabor rose to more than two thousand feet; it was going to be a long day. Dabburiya grew smaller and began to look quaint as they put distance between themselves and the village.
Suddenly Ari stopped, and tensed.
“What is it?”
“Goats. Can you smell them?”
Kitty sniffed. “No, I don’t smell anything.”
Ari’s eyes narrowed. He scanned the path ahead. It circled out of sight and there was a very gentle slope off to the blind side.
“Probably Bedouins. There was a report about them at the
kibbutz
. They must have moved in since yesterday. Come on.”
Around the turn they saw a dozen haired goatskin tents along the hillside and a flock of little black goats grazing around them. Two rifle-bearing nomads came up to them. Ari spoke to them in Arabic, then followed them to the largest of the tents, which obviously belonged to the sheik. Kitty looked around. They seemed the dregs of humanity. The women were encased in black robes—and layers of dirt. She was not able to smell the goats but she was able to smell the women. Chains of Ottoman coins formed veils over their faces. The children wore dirty rags.
A grizzled individual emerged from the tent and exchanged greeings with Ari. They conversed a moment, then Ari whispered to Kitty. “We must go in or he will be insulted. Be a good girl and eat whatever he offers you. You can throw it up later.”
The inside of the tent stank even more. They sat down on goat-hair and sheep-wool rugs and exchanged amenities. The sheik was impressed that Kitty came from America and relayed the information that he once owned a photograph of Mrs. Roosevelt.
Courses of food came. A greasy lamb leg was thrust into Kitty’s hand together with marrow mixed with rice. Kitty nibbled, the sheik watched expectantly. She smiled weakly and nodded to convey how delicious it was. Unwashed fruits were served, and the meal was ended with thick, sickeningly sweet coffee in cups so filthy they were crusted. The diners wiped hands on trousers and mouths with sleeves, and after a bit more conversation Ari begged leave.
They left the camp behind. Kitty emitted a long and loud sigh. “I feel sorry for them,” she said.
“Please don’t. They are quite sure they are the freest men on earth. Didn’t you ever see
The Desert Song
when you were a girl?”
“Yes, but now I know the composer never saw a Bedouin camp. What were you two men gabbing about?”
“I told him to behave tonight and not try to collect any rings and watches from the Palmach.”
“And what else?”
“He wanted to buy you. He offered me six camels.”
“Why, that old devil. What did you tell him?”
“I told him that anyone could see you were a ten-camel girl.” Ari glanced at the rising sun. “It’s going to get hot from now on. We’d better get out of these heavy clothes and pack them.”
Kitty wore a pair of the traditional blue shorts from the Gan Dafna stores.
“Damn, you look just like a
sabra
.”
They followed the trail which wove along the southern face of Tabor. Both of them perspired as the sun beat down. The trail broke in frequent places and they were forced to climb. Ari’s strong hands led Kitty up the steep inclines. By late afternoon they had passed the two-thousand-foot mark.
The entire top of Tabor was a large, rounded plateau. The south edge of the plateau opened the entire Jezreel Valley to their eyes. It was a staggering sight. Kitty could follow the Jezreel, the square-cut fields, the splashes of green around the Jewish settlements, and the white clusters of Arab villages all the way to Mount Carmel and the Mediterranean. In the other direction was the Sea of Galilee, so that the entire width of Palestine was below them. Through field glasses Kitty followed Ari’s pointing out of Ein Dor where Saul met the witch and the bald top of Mount Gilboa where Gideon was buried and Saul and Jonathan fell in battle to the Philistines.
“
Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain, upon you nor fields of offerings: for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul
...”
Kitty lowered the glases. “Why Ari, you are poetic.”
“It is the altitude. Everything is so removed from up here. Look over there—Beth Shean Valley. Beth Shean
tel
holds the oldest civilized city in the world. David knows more about these than I do. There are hundreds of
tels
around Palestine. He says that if we were to start excavating them now our modern cities would be ruins by the time we are finished. You see, Palestine is the bridge of history here and you are standing on the center of the bridge. Tabor has been a battleground since men made axes out of stone. The Hebrews stood against the Romans here and between the Crusaders and the Arabs it changed hands fifty times. Deborah hid here with her army and swooped down on the Canaanites. The battleground of the ages ... You know what we say? ... that Moses should have walked the tribes for another forty years and found a decent place.”
They walked over the plateau through a pine forest with relics of Roman, Byzantine, Crusader, and Arab all around. Mosaics, pottery, a wall here, a stone there.
Two abbeys, one Greek Orthodox and one Roman Catholic, stood near the grounds believed to be the place Christ was transfigured and spoke to Moses and Elijah.
Beyond the forest they reached the highest point on Tabor. Ruins of a Crusader fort and Saracen castle occupied the site. They picked their way over the rubble and the walls until they had climbed the eastern rampart which hung over the mountain side and was called Wall of the East Winds. Here the Sea of Galilee came into full view with the Horns of Hattin where Saladin the Kurd demolished Crusader forces.