Wings of Refuge by Lynn Austin Read Free Book Online Page A

dabble his fingers in the water, and a slight smile crossed his face. “Of course, that didn’t stop my people from smuggling refugees ashore, right on this beach, by every means they could find.”
    Abby brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, imagining lights from British patrol ships bobbing on the dark water in the distance, the shivering forms of desperate people swimming to freedom in the night. “What would happen if they were caught?” she asked.
    “Many of them were.” He stood again. “The British shipped them back to Europe or stuffed them into refugee camps on Cyprus. The Israelis who were caught smuggling them went to prison.”
    Ari turned to face her. He stood very close, and for a moment she was afraid he was going to embarrass her by mentioning her tears earlier that day.
    Instead he said, “If you’ve finished your stroll, there is someone who would like to talk to you.”
    Abby’s stomach lurched. Agent Shur must have thought of some more questions. Her heart pounded as she walked with Ari across the beach. He led her to a bench near the steps to the hotel where a lone figure sat waiting in the shadows. As Abby approached, she saw that it wasn’t the Israeli agent but a woman about sixty years old with dark gray-threaded hair and a beautiful, serene face. She wore a long, silky caftan that billowed like summer curtains in the breeze. She looked insubstantial, ethereal—like someone you might meet in a dream.
    “Hello, Abby,” the woman said, smiling. “I’m Hannah Rahov. Thank you so much for allowing me to intrude on your solitude. Won’t you sit down?”
    Abby sank onto the bench beside the archaeologist with relief, her heart gradually slowing to normal. She was only dimly aware of Ari saying good-night and climbing the stairs to the hotel. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Dr. Rahov,” Abby managed to say. “Your cousin seemed like a very kind, gentle man.”
    “Thank you, dear. He was.” She rested her hand on Abby’s for a moment. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to relive what happened today. I simply wanted to meet you and to thank you on behalf of our family for . . . for holding Ben until the end. And for caring. Ari told me how you wept, not for yourself but for Ben. Thank you.”
    Dr. Rahov paused to wipe a tear from her dark, luminous eyes. Then she smiled, and Abby glimpsed the hope in her grief. Once again, Abby was struck by the simple beauty in Hannah Rahov’s aging face, the warmth of her smile.
    “I hope we shall become friends, Abby. And that you will call me Hannah.”
    “I’d like that very much.” Abby already felt drawn to her, as quickly as she had been drawn to her cousin, Benjamin Rosen. “Please tell me about him,” she said. “Was he married? Does he have children?”
    Hannah smiled. “Yes, he and his wife have five children, three boys and two girls. I can’t even recall how many grandchildren now—dozens of them! They’re scattered all over Israel.” She spoke of him fondly. “Ben and I grew up together, almost like brother and sister, though he’s nearly three years older than me. Our fathers were brothers—as well as business partners—and we all immigrated here together in the 1950s. Ben has been a foundation stone in my life for so long that I can’t quite imagine that he’s really gone . . . or how I’ll get along without him. I shall surely miss him,” she said simply.
    “They told me that he was some sort of secret agent for the government.”
    “A spy , yes.” She emphasized the word dramatically, but her eyes smiled as she said it. “Though you would never meet a more unlikely candidate for the job—sweet, gentle Ben. I suppose that’s what made him so good at what he did. People expect a spy to resemble a suave James Bond, not a jolly grandfather.”
    “Was that the reason someone killed him? Was it some sort of spy drama? Who would do a thing like that . . . Palestinian terrorists?”
    Hannah leaned against