A Remarkable Kindness Read Free

Mediterranean shore.
    Lauren stared at a tall palm tree without any leaves that stood like a naked pole against the sky. “What happened to that tree?”
    â€œThe sniper missed,” David said.
    â€œVery funny.” Lauren laughed—David could always get her to do that, which was one of the things that had made Lauren fall in love with him in the first place. They passed some houses and a chicken coop at the end of a dirt lane scattered with straw, its wire fence stretching across a mass of feathery white.
    â€œHere’s a chicken farm,” David said. “We get farm-fresh eggs whenever we want. And the family over there has horses. We can take them out and go riding. I know you like that.”
    â€œI think the horse will appreciate it more after I give birth and weigh thirty pounds less.”
    â€œAnd smell that? It’s eau de manure. The cows! And look! Jacob and Esther Troyerman’s place. They run a kennel for dogs and cats.”
    â€œIt’s amazing to me how you know everyone,” Lauren said.
    â€œNo,” said Yossi. “We now have more than eight hundred people in the village.”
    â€œWow, a real population explosion.”
    â€œWe have still more cows and chickens,” Yossi told her. “That’s the Garden of Eden Hotel. And over there is the cemetery.”
    The gravestones flashed in the sun, and a scaly lizard sat on a volcanic boulder. Well, Lauren told herself, she’d always wanted to have a pet iguana, but her mother wouldn’t let her.
    â€œThat’s our grocery store,” David said as the car rolled past a plain building. And then the road stopped, spilling into an unpaved parking lot. Yossi bumped over the dirt and turned off the engine. In front of them lay the silvery-blue sea.
    David jumped out of the car, and Lauren watched his robust torso move swiftly around the vehicle.
    â€œLauren.” He opened her door. “‘The time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things.’” She beamed because he’d managed to memorize some of her favorite childhood poem. “‘Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings . . .’”
    â€œâ€˜And why the sea is boiling hot,’” Lauren supplied. “And whether Israeli pigs have wings.”
    He took her hand and held it tightly as she stepped into the scorching heat. With her other hand, she plucked her maternity pants from off the backs of her sticky thighs, aware that there was no ladylike way to go about it.
    They walked to the edge of the shore. Lauren lifted her long chestnut-brown hair off her sweaty neck and shielded her face from the hot sun. “All I need is a few days here and I’m going to be one burnt mama marshmallow.”
    â€œIt will get a little cooler once the sun goes down,” David said. “And in the morning, the sea is flat like a turquoise-blue carpet. I just love this Mediterranean smell.”
    Lauren nodded and took another deep breath, trying to ignore her own discomfort and appreciate the scenery. She knew how hard David was trying to make her feel at home.
    â€œYou’ll be walking our baby to the beach in a few months,” he encouraged. “You’ll make new friends—”
    â€œThey won’t be as close as Emily—”
    â€œNot right away,” David said. “But you’ll really like Aviva. She’s excited that you’re a nurse and you might join the burial circle.”
    â€œAnd I thought I was done with cadavers in nursing school.”
    â€œBut these are women from the village,” Yossi interjected. “You’ll see.”
    Lauren turned to David’s father, suddenly aware that his thin shadow had been next to her the whole time. She watched as he tugged a white handkerchief out of his back pocket and lifted his sunglasses to pat his face. He stood there, his head tilted. Beads of perspiration leaked out from the