Wings of Refuge Read Online Free PDF Page B

cup of tea, Abby. I promise you won’t regret it. Besides, the delay will help us avoid some of this traffic.”
    “I can’t go out in public like this,” she said, gesturing to her bloodstained dress.
    “Israel is a land of much bloodshed. I doubt anyone will even notice.” She guessed by the bitter tone in his voice that he hadn’t meant it as a joke. He retrieved a short-sleeved blue dress shirt from the backseat and handed it to her. “Here, wear this.”
    As he helped her from the car, clothed her in his shirt, and steered her into a restaurant she had no desire to enter, Abby felt angry with herself. She was too passive—too nice—always letting people walk all over her and tell her what to do. She envied assertive women who could get their own way, women like Lindsey Cook, the twenty-eight-year-old systems analyst from Mark’s office. She had decided what she wanted—Abby’s husband—and then gone after him.
    The restaurant was tiny and completely lacking in decor—they would call it a hole-in-the-wall back home. Ari waved away the menus and ordered for both of them in Hebrew. Savior or not, he annoyed her—herding her around like a child, making decisions for her. She decided not to touch the soup, but as soon as the waitress set the fragrant bowl in front of her along with a basket of warm pita bread and a bowl of green olives, Abby’s resolve collapsed.
    “Mmm. This is delicious,” she said, sipping the soup. “What is it?”
    “It is made with chicken and some vegetables. I don’t know how you call it in English.” He broke off a chunk of the bread and dipped it into the soup, chewing slowly. “Tell me about your interest in archaeology. Have you been on a dig before?”
    She exhaled. “Look, I know you’re just trying to be polite, but I’ve already answered so many questions today that I really—”
    “My apologies. You are quite right.”
    They ate without speaking until the silence made her feel rude. Dr. Bazak was trying to be friendly, but they weren’t connecting at all. Was it the language barrier? Her lack of experience with foreign men? Making small talk with an attractive stranger was too much like dating, and the thought of starting that process all over again now that Mark was gone was too distressing to contemplate.
    “Do you have a specialty or something, Dr. Bazak?” she finally asked.
    “A what?”
    “A special field of archaeology—you know, like Egyptian hieroglyphics or Philistine pottery.”
    “Ah, yes, yes. I understand. The Roman era. I have a special fondness for Roman mosaics.”
    “I read about the excavations during last season’s dig. Didn’t they date some of the ruins to the Roman era?”
    He chewed on an olive for a moment, adding the pit to the considerable pile he had amassed before looking up. If it was possible to blush beneath a tan, Ari Bazak was doing it. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about this dig. I joined the expedition . . . eh, last minute, and I haven’t done my research, as you obviously have.”
    Another step on the wrong foot with this man. Abby hoped she wasn’t assigned to work anywhere near him. “I’m sorry if I’ve put you on the spot,” she said. “Maybe you’d rather talk about your other project.”
    “My other project?”
    “The one that fell through.”
    “Ah, yes . . . yes, that one.” His laugh sounded as though it was rarely used. “That was very disappointing for me. It was a promising site.”
    “Where was it?”
    “Have you heard of Tel Hadar?” She shook her head. “It was Tel Hadar.” He returned to his olives and bread as another line of conversation came to a halt. Abby quickly finished her soup and drained her tea.
    “That was delicious. Thanks for suggesting it.”
    “You would like more? A refill, maybe?”
    “No, thanks. I’d really like to go to the hotel now.”
    “We will be staying in Netanya tonight, about thirty kilometers from here. Are you certain there isn’t anything