Déjà Vu

By Katie S Watson

In dj vu, Zach Montgomery and Ruth Harding take center stage as a romantic duo; replicating the former romantic interlude that existed between Zachs dad, and Ruths mom over 25 years ago. Zach, son of billionaire, Dennis Montgomery, hides his identity; as a poor guy seeks to work as a volunteer at an archeological site in Israel, for room and board. He meets and does not succumb to the beauty of the 15 year old daughter of the head archeologist. After allhes 19. Zach rescues Ruth from a near rape by a student at Hebrew University. She is sent packing to U.S. grandparents. Three years later they meet. Bells, whistles and clanging cymbals swirl round Zachs psyche. He is smitten; he is in love. He courts her via cell phone over the watery waves. She consents to marry him. A hitch occurs. He doesnt want a church affair; admits to being an evolutionist. Ruth demurs, prays, and breaks engagement. No harmony where two are unequally yoked spiritually. Devastated; determined to win her back, Zach enrolls for grad work at Hebrew University. She will have nothing to do with him. Terrorists change the dynamics! Zach and his two Jewish dorm mates are kidnapped and held for ransom. Brutally beaten, Zach uses his cell phone hed hidden in the earth, and calls Ruth, who hears and alerts IDF. Does Israels newest hero win his fair lady? Or is a replay of an old broken romance? A dj vu..? Read the book and see!!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468552416

Katie S Watson

Pastor, Pastor is Katies 8th book. Born Catherine Scott McNeill in Glasgow, Scotland. She was eight years old when she, with her parents, and her siblings immigrated to the United States. She was brought up in Detroit, Michigan and graduated from Northwestern High School in 1935, with a summa cum laude. Catherine met and married Gilbert Hinton Watson in 1939. Seven children were born to this union. She turned 100 in 2017. Catherine (Katie S Watson) entered Eastern Michigan University as a 51 year old freshman. She earned a B.S. degree in education and a MS degree in Library Science. She then worked in the Detroit Public School system until retiring with Gilbert to South Carolina. She worked as a homebound teacher for the South Carolina Board of education for several years before she fully retired. She still conducts and teaches a bible study in her home which see leads and prepares lesson handouts. Her books are written in the Christian genre. Gilbert her husband entered a theological seminary in Ft. Worth, Texas. Their combined ministry focused on started churches in Texas, Colorado, Nebraska, Wyoming, Arizona, Missouri and Michigan. Gilbert passed away in 1992.

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© 2013 Katie S. Watson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 1/23/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4685-5240-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-5241-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012902997

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

In Memorium

Acknowledgments

Written With The Following In Mind...

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Epilogue

About The Author

DEDICATION

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Dedicated with love to the memory of Rev. Gilbert Hinton Watson; passing from this life to glory, May 13, 1992. Sorely missed by wife, Katie; his 7 children; 20 grandchildren; 30 great grandchildren.

‘God testifying of his gifts; and by it he being dead yet speaketh.’ Hebrews 11:4

**************************

Pandora’s box of memories, shadowy detritus of our lives.

Glimpses of our early years, our love, our joy, our strife.

When loneliness pursues me, I root amongst its fold.

Reliving ancient moments, walking lanes of tales retold.

Awesome God!

The gift of recollection, resurrection of pleasures old.

Will one day be redundant, as we walk those streets of gold.

Love, Katie

IN MEMORIUM

In loving memory of my oldest son,

Dr. Timothy G. Watson

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Who departed this life, June 21, 2011; leaving behind grieving wife, Bonnie; son, Timothy II, daughter, Faith; six grandchildren; four brothers, two sisters and ME. His missionary heart, his missionary hands are sorely missed in Guam, and in our hearts. Love, Mom

In loving memory of my oldest sister,

Mary Bremner Glines

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Who entered the gates of glory, February 20, 2011 at the age of 97 leaving behind son Rudy, daughter Karen, 8 grandchildren; 15 great grandchildren and 3 great, great grandchildren

Acknowledgments

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To: Nick and Beverley both of whom have shown love, and means by which I continue to write, via the gift of a Video Eye.

To: My daughters Mary and Becky. For their continued encouragement.

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To: Chris Batson my computer facilitator who put all parts together. Net result, my book.

Cover picture was taken in Petra

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Alicia Gibson - Proofreader

Thomas, Phil, Becky, Mark, Mary, Katie and Bonnie

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Timothy G, Timothy A, Valerie, Stephen, Alex, Mark, Faith, Katie and Cathy

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Kaitlyn, TC, Trey, Trevor, Britanny, Ocean, Katie, Cara, Natalie and Kamryn

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WRITTEN WITH THE

FOLLOWING IN MIND...

Grandchildren.................................................Great grandchildren

Faith..................................................................Timothy C.; Trevor

Timothy G.........................................Brittany, Trey, Katlyn, Cara

Danny......................................................William, Maggie, Mollie,

Allison, Gretchen, Robert

Jeannie..........................................Alex, Andrew, Aiden, Maureen

Phillip II......................................................Greyson, Gaia, Gentry

Alex

Scott

Valerie.....................................................................................Ocean

Mark II

Cathy..............................................................Sarah, Jennifer, Katie

Stephen......................................................................Hannah, Halle

Timothy A..............................................................Kamryn, Natalie

Grayson.................................................................................Addison

Neil, Stephanie, Hamilton, Cameron,

April, Ashley, Jack Phillip

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Jennifer, Sarah and Katie

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an outing with the girls

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Natalie and Kamryn

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Hannah and Halle

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Gretchen, Allison, Mollie, Maggie, William and Robert

Ocean

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Aiden, Alex, Andrew and Maureen

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Greyson

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Gaia and Gentry

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Memorial Day

Weekend 2011

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Katie, Hamilton, Cameron

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Hamilton/Katie

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Linda, Nancy, Karen, Margie

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Katie and son Tim

Other books by Katie

Peter Falls for Nessie

Emmie ‘n Sam

Split

Trevor’s Treasure

CHAPTER ONE

"Hitherto the Lord hath helped us,….

Annie Johnson Flint

‘Well it’s all set; I leave the l5th, just got my flight confirmation.’ He tossed the airline voucher on the leather couch. His mother looked up from her needlepoint. ‘What are you talking about, Zach?’ ‘Come on Mom,…I talked to you and Dad a couple months ago ‘bout my summer plans. ‘Member? You’re not that old you can’t remember ‘bout my summer gig.’ He smiled impishly down at her. Crissie Montgomery looked up at her 6’2 amiable giant of a son, and shook her head. He was a caution…never ceased to amaze her for all his pecadillos and he’d never given them an ounce of grief. While his peers spent time freaking out weekends, wandering from watering hole to watering hole…partying, wasn’t Zach’s scene. He had the mindset of his dad and the determination of his granddad. He was born to create from ideas that flitted across his mind. He preferred boxes, string, glue, tape, to expensive building materials readily available to him . His expensive toys were an abstraction to his creative mind. ‘Look Mom,’ was his constant demand that Mom see what he’d made. Crissie still remembered his painted cardboard creations, and smiled in recollection.

‘You’re talking about going to Israel…working in a dig. That right?’ Dennis looked up from the Sunday paper, folded it, and waited for his son’s reply. ‘You got it, Dad. That’s exactly what I mean I’m all set. Off I go to dig till I blister my hands and brawny my back. ’ He laughed at his corny, descriptive prose. Dennis looked inquiringly at him. ‘You been in contact with Harding?’ ‘Yep. Only it’s Dr. Harding, Dad… the guy’s no slouch.’ Dennis blushed at his faux pas and added dryly. ‘Sorry, I had no intention of demeaning the guy. I knew him when he hadn’t reached the PHD plateau.’ ‘That’s O.K. Dad, no sweat. Yeah, he wrote that it was O.K. to come, providing I pay my own transportation and have money enough for personal needs. Free bed and board comes in exchange for bending the back and lifting the hoe, or should it be lifting the shovel.’ The prospect of doing something different that summer was a tonic he was eager to drink.

‘Does he know who you are?’ queried his mom. Zach bristled. ‘Nah, I don’t want them treating me like some rich kid…’n be afraid to give me grunt jobs. Or look on me like I’m there for a summer lark. Nah. I told them zilch about my background.’

‘You had to sign your surname on your correspondence. What name did you give.’

Zach looked at his folks. and shrugged. ‘I’m registered as Zachary Scott. After all that’s who I am. Just left off Montgomery.’ Scott was the maiden name of Crissie’s mother, Zach’s middle name. ‘That’ll do it’ said Dennis, his interest piqued with the thought of Zach being around the Hardings. Especially Pearl. The thought of her, transported Dennis back some twenty odd years when she occupied his every waking hour. He asked questions to divert unwanted memories. ‘Will you need a new passport or is yours still valid?’ ‘Nah, Dad, it’s good…got a coupla years still on it . I won’t be showing my passport to the guys at the dig.’ ‘What about a credit card with the surname Scott?’ ‘Yeah, I’ll need that for sure’ Zach conceded. ‘I’ll get Karen to tend to that in the morning. You can’t travel these days without a valid credit card.’ ‘Thanks Dad, wouldn’t want to be put in the clink for trying to pass someone else’s credit card.’

‘Do you have any idea what your duties will be at the Tel?’ ‘Nah; I guess I’ll be totin’ and carrying water for the crew…maybe fanning them with paper fans.’ He laughed at the absurdity of that prospect, then in a soberer tone said. ‘I want to see how they do excavations. I’ve been reading ‘bout archeology discoveries. I’m not much interested in the digging itself, but I’d like to see first hand how they extract ancient civilizations out of mountains. Maybe I can come up with some kinda gizmo that’ll help ‘em get buried artifacts out in the open faster. May sound arrogant, but hey, I’m a guy that likes to invent things.’

‘You mean,’ countered his father. ‘You’d like to invent a machine that eliminates pick and shove grunt work, the method in general use for eons. That it?’ ‘Well, yeah, I guess there’s a bit of narcissism in all of us, Dad. But hey, I can’t stop wheels in my head from nagging me to create…something! It’s a curse, Dad. Let me tell you, I sometimes wish I were like Freddie. He never cracks a book; dates every night, loafs all summer. Not a care in the world. The thought of doing something constructive bores him. I don’t know Dad. I just like to be challenged, even if nothing comes of it.’

‘You sure your interest isn’t in getting acquainted with the girl you saw in that DVD?’ murmured his mother.

‘That gorgeous babe? Yeah, I’ll be glad to be around her…but nah… she’s not the reason I want to spend my vacation digging like a little kid at the sea shore. I’ve no intention of getting blistered hands to impress any gal, regardless of what she looks like.’

Dennis laughed, but it was a hollow laugh. Crissie picked up on it, and felt sad. Of her husband’s love, she felt secure. She’d never doubted their bonding was solid. She knew of his vulnerability where Pearl Harding was concerned. Pearl had once been engaged to Dennis, but had broken off the engagement. He’d been recovering from the trauma of a broken heart, when they’d met. Dennis had been open with her about his feelings for Pearl. He’d recognized that Pearl had been right in breaking their engagement. Their life styles were worlds apart. Pearl’s heart was in the desert…while his was in bondage to high tech and high society. She’d been honest with him when she gave him back the diamond. ‘I’d never be able to be the wife you need, Dennis. I have no flare for hosting parties, giving dinners; being part of high society. I’d make your life miserable.’ Crissie, on learning the reason for the broken engagement marveled at Pearl’s fortitude, to walk away from billions. What woman would give up all the trappings of wealth for a desert existence? Most girls would have gone through with the wedding; and after an appreciable time called it quits…walking away with a healthy settlement. Pearl had walked away with nothing but concern for the grief she was inflicting on Dennis. Crissie owed Pearl…she had given her, her Dennis.

When Dennis asked Crissie to marry him, he knew she was the right woman for him. She was the perfect wife, loving mother; recognized hostess with aplomb and he loved her. She kept the insanity of his position ( head of Montgomery Electronics) from overwhelming him. She was his guardian angel, his survival kit always within reach. He seldom thought of Pearl; chided himself when, in a melancholy frame of mind, fantasized about her. She was Pearl of his dreams, but Crissie was queen of his domain…mother of his son…champion of his endeavors. He loved her. But Pearl was still an abstraction…an escape from reality when pressures mounted.

Zach visited a Salvation Army store for his wardrobe. He bought shirts, sweats, well worn blue jeans and scuffed up Reeboks, along with a pair of loafers needing new heels. A windbreaker with Wendy’s logo blazoned on it in bright orange, added a touch of the bazaar to his sartorial appearance. His dad shook his head and laughed. ‘This I’ve got to catch on film.’ DVDs and stills were taken. By the end of the packing, Crissie, now caught up in the farce, added new underwear and socks, towels and handkerchiefs to the duffel bag Zach had purchased at the Army/Navy store. A beat up suitcase with wheels was added to accommodate his well worn wardrobe. In spite of his sorry clothes, Zach Montgomery looked like an upper class guy slumming out.

CHAPTER TWO

‘Hitherto His hand hath led,

‘Dad, I can call a cab. No need of you and mom wasting your day.’ Dennis descended the wide steps of their palatial home in a foul mood and didn’t answer Zach. He was aggravated at his appearance…wondering whom they would meet at the airport. Tony, their all purpose man, parked the Lincoln Town car in front of the curved driveway. Its shiny burgundy exterior reflected the image of a grim Dennis… his son trotting behind him. Opening the door, putting the key in the ignition, Dennis punched the trunk button. ‘Store your gear in the trunk Zach and get in.’ Zach complied. Sitting in the backseat waiting for his mom, Zach whistled abstractly through his teeth. ‘Stop that racket.’ Zach stopped. He watched his mom come out of house, pause to talk to Ella, the live in maid, and descend the front steps. He had one good looking mom. Zach smiled as she slid into the passenger’s seat beside his dad. He looked at his shabby clothes and felt a twinge of guilt. He looked the part he’d aimed for; a, poor slob willing to do grungy work for a meal. He’d given no thought as to how it would look to his Dad’s friends should they meet any at the airport. Their sartorial appearances contrasted screamingly with his shabbiness. He wished he could ditch them at the car park, thus avoiding embarrassment all around.

‘Got your passport, tickets, credit card, driver’s license?’queried his mom dryly. ‘Yep, all here and accounted for,’ he quipped, patting his jacket pocket. Dennis’ shoulders went up and down; a sign of capitulation. Dennis and Crissie stayed with him till he got his boarding pass, and make his way to security. When they hugged him goodbye, no one paid any attention. The general public is immune to mundane things like parents dressed to kill, while their kids looked like the homeless. Zach stood in the security line. Dennis and Crissie, unable to go any farther, drifted away into the crowd. He relaxed, put his scruffy Reeboks in the bin, plus jacket, change and belt, then went through the screening process. Usually his handmade leather shoes earned raised eyebrows. His Reeboks received sneers. At the check in counter he insisted on a ticket for his duffel bag to take it on board with him. The gal at the desk was about to negate the request till she saw he was traveling first class. ‘You’re going first class, Zach,’ Dennis had insisted.. ‘Your long legs will be dead if you travel overseas by coach.’ He had capitulated grudgingly and was now luxuriating in first class amenities. As he stretched his legs in the roomy space, he was thankful Dennis had had the last word in accommodations. He handed his duffel bag to the flight attendant on entering the plane. His small suitcase languished in the overhead bin. Zach closed his eyes, breathed contentedly…contemplating the experiences that lay ahead. The seat next to him was occupied by a middle aged Israeli. Zach took him for a business man or someone who was, or thought he was, important. The traveler gave Zach the once over, and dismissed him summarily…a lackluster companion. How was he supposed to have an intelligent conversation with a guy that looked like a bum. He felt petulant about a seating arrangement that put him next to this reject. Boredom however, is a leveler… a reducer of inhibitions… snobbery…class status. Boredom reaches out in desperation to the common denominator; bridges social differences. Humans on the move, have an insatiable need to talk… about ourselves; find out about our traveling companion. What does he do for a living? Better job, better life style than our own? Does he have kids? They doing O.K.? Whatever. We need to compare self with strangers. Whatever. We’re comparison freaks. We live, breath and have our being comparing self to others. This gives us an outlet to talk or brag; our achievements, our family. If the guy next to us has it altogether…and we come up wanting in comparison…we change…if we can, the subject.

‘You been to Israel before?’

‘No, this is my first visit,’ Zach acknowledge looking over at his companion.

‘Here with a tour group?’

‘No, by myself.’

‘Visiting friends or family?’

‘No, I’m going to work at a dig…somewhere south of Jerusalem. Working for room and board.’

‘You interested in archeology as a future profession?’

‘I doubt it. I’m interested in seeing first hand how archeologists know where to dig and how they get the stuff out of a Tel. I’ve an insatiable curiosity streak…guess it comes from the genes I inherited from my dad and granddad. I like to find out what makes things tick, and see if I can improve on the ticking.’

Dr. Samuel Bernstein was taken aback with the articulate speech of the young man he’d labeled a reject. ‘What profession is your dad in?’

‘Engineering…took after his dad.’

Bernstein looked curiously at Zach whose sartorial appearance had turned him off, and wondered if the kid was bragging about his background, or was it for real. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked turning round to watch Zach’s face.

‘Zachary Scott.’ Zach had no intention of giving further information, and turned the tables. ‘What do you do for a living, if I’m not too inquisitive.’

The man reached into his breast pocket and handed Zach a card. It read. Dr. Samuel Bernstein, professor of engineering analysis; Hebrew University, Jerusalem. ‘I presume you’re going to college this fall?’

‘Yeah, I’m enrolled in Yale. Signed up for engineering courses along with the core.’

Dr. Bernstein’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of Yale. This guy was a conundrum. Yet, in spite of his appearance he had the confidence that the upper class seem to inherit. ‘You might want to consider doing grad work at Hebrew University. It’s a long way off, but time has a penchant for running away with the clock when one is in school.’

‘Thanks, I just might do that. Anyway, I’m grateful for your suggestion.’ Zach pocketed the card in a wallet that looked like it had seen better days. But the professor caught a glimpse of a credit card he knew had no limitations to the holder.

Zach put the conversation on cooler ground when he asked. ‘I suppose buses and cabs are available at the airport?’

‘Plenty of both,’ replied Dr. Bernstein looking away lest he found himself offering Zach a ride.

The plane landed. First class passengers were first to deplane. Perks! Following passengers and signs TO LUGGAGE, Zach descended the ramps, skirted LUGGAGE, and made for CUSTOMS. Standing patiently in line, he surveyed the people around him. Where was the new security at Ben Gurion he’d read about in a glossy plane magazine. Israel was upgrading its international travel security with a new biometric screening system that was supposed to speed up security processing. The info had heightened Zach’s interest in Israel…deeming it to be more sophisticated than he’d been apprised of. Zach, educated in an Ivy league high school, knew only the negative hype delineated nonstop concerning the Israeli/Palestinian problem. Israel was always the bully in the playground. The media joined the chorus of bashing Israel. Zach’s indoctrination of slanted views colored his opinion against Israel. Dennis seldom talked politics; the enormity of his responsibility in the firm took up all energy leaving none for problems that were not his…at present. Reading that the Israelis had developed, for security purposes, the so called ‘smart card’ piqued his interest. According to the article, the Unipass Airport Management System, had developed a system whereby passports were scanned through a machine at the registration desk. The passenger’s fingerprints and facial imaging samples were recorded, and ergo a biometric signature of the passenger was created. It was called a ‘smart card.’ The passenger would swipe his/her card and passport through a machine which would then confirm the biometric match. A touch screen panel would present a series of questions that would confirm the passenger’s identity. The passengers who passed would then proceed to luggage security, where again they would swipe their Unipass cards and send their luggage through X-ray machines. The third layer of security would come at the check-in counter where the Unipass card would be swiped. At this point passengers would have passed all initial security checks; hand luggage would be accepted for scanning and travelers would swipe the Unipass for their fourth and final screening before heading for the duty free shopping area border control, and terminal gates. At present, the article concluded, biometric finger-print scanners were available only to frequent flyers. ‘I’m impressed,’ murmured Zach to himself. Not owning one of the magic cards, Zach and other passengers took off shoes, put articles that might alert suspicion, into plastic bins and watched as their possessions glided under the screening tent, scrutinized and passed on to waiting owner. His beat up Reeboks elicited no interest. It felt good to be one of the masses. Putting on shoes and belt, his Walmart watch; putting his change in his pocket, and toting duffel bag, dragging his suitcase, he made for the exit. His jacket was slung over his back…too hot to wear. On the plane he decided to take a cab to Jerusalem, get on a bus and arrive at the camp on public transportation. Arriving in a cab might put them wondering at his extravagance. Several people were standing near the exit holding up name signs. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw a sign with ZACH SCOTT blazoned on it. Delighted, he made his way to the sign. He saw the tall, graying man he recognized as Dr. Harding. The bearded Harding beckoned as Zach approached. Holding the sign was the girl he’d seen in the DVD. She was one gorgeous chick. He shook Dr. Harding’s hand with great animation and said delightedly. ‘Gee, I didn’t expect to be met…thought I’d have to find my way by bus or cab.’ ‘Cab,’ exclaimed Ruth. ‘Do you know what a cab would’ve cost from here to camp?’ Zach shook his head. ‘C’mon, honey,’ said her dad, ‘Zach’ll find out all about cab fares before he leaves Israel. Let’s get out of here. How was your flight?’ he asked changing the subject. ‘It was OK…no problems.’ ‘Bet your legs are sore from being cramped up in those seats with so little leg room,’ commented Trevor Harding. Zach only shrugged. They hurried to where a dusty, rusty van with Camp Schlomon lettered on its sides, sat waiting for its crew. ‘You get in the front, Zach. Ruthie’ll sit in the back. There’s more leg room up front.’ Zach complied, feeling guilty in that his legs were all O.K.

‘Ever been to Israel before?’ asked Ruth.

‘Nope. My first time.’

‘You’ll love it. It’s full of the past and it’s more modern than some of the States. The people are fantastic. Live among bombs, yet they’re always creating something that blows the world’s imagination. They’ve opened a new world famous BM department store in Tel Aviv. It’s got all the neatest things in it. You’ll have to visit it one day.’

‘I’ll go, if you take me,’ said a smiling Zach.

Ruth blushed and stopped talking. They drove in silence. Dr. Harding maneuvered the van around passengers crossing the street to get to waiting cars; braked when a car stopped suddenly in front of him. It was slow going till they finally moved away from the airport, and wended their way up to Jerusalem. Zach took in the landscape; not much to see on either side of the highway he thought. As they neared the City of Jerusalem, Zach’s senses were suffused with a mixture of peace and apprehension. He attempted to ignore the sensation, but it persisted. Zach was a casual church attendee. His folks attended a Lutheran church regularly. To please his mom, Zach would occasionally slip into their pew. But this eerie, spiritual ambience caught him by the throat and unsettled him. He gave it short shrift. His effete schooling steered him from religion’s demands. According to his learned professors, evolution was for the educated class. God was relegated to the outdated , superstitious masses that still believed the world was created in six days; an exhausted God taking a much needed rest on the seventh. Zach moved away from believing in God in his junior year in middle school. He seldom reviewed the theory of evolution; tuned out any reference re the science of DNA. He was content with the knowledge he ascribed to, in the beginning. Zach Montgomery wanted to be the captain of his ship the master of his soul. Factoring God into his life, would mean losing control of his ship. Freedom was his hands on the wheel; not God’s. He viewed Christianity as a religion of negatives. If one were a Christian…one did not do this, or that. His creative mind yearned for freedom to explore without restraint; negating any ties that bound his restless spirit from experimentation. Zach juxtaposed freedom to create, with freedom from God. Evolution’s glob to man, fitted in nicely with Zach’s desire for ownership. Evolution, he mistakenly believed, required nothing from him. God, was the interloper…a demander of man’s time and being. Thus, the Giver of life; the Creator of all things was relegated to Zach’s rubbish bin.

Riding through Jerusalem, observing the scenery, with Ruth in the backseat chatting away, Zach felt invaded by some intangible something working its way into his psyche. He wondered if he’d made a mistake in coming to Israel. He wasn’t interested in changing deep seated philosophies.

‘Honey, you need anything from a store while we’re in Jerusalem?’

‘No, Dad, Mom and I are going shopping Friday afternoon. Anyway I didn’t bring my purse with me.’ She looked at her dad and laughed.

He looked at her in the rearview mirror and grinned. ‘Was that a hint for a donation I just heard, Ruthie?’ She giggled. Trevor looked over at Zach and shook his head. ‘She keeps me poor, Zach. She’ll have to marry a guy with a good income to keep her happy.’

‘Dad!’ shouted Ruth. ‘That’s not fair…I’m not a spendthrift.’

Trevor laughed. ‘No honey, you just like to spend and thrift isn’t a part of it.’

Zach thought about his own spending habits. He’d never had to ask anything from his folks. When he was old enough, he had his own checking account, and when of age, his own credit card. He couldn’t remember ever asking for money from his mom or dad. He looked back at Ruth, and grinned. She could be the sister he’d never had. Romantic notions of her weren’t in the cards. No bells rang when he looked at her. Putting her in a sister role relieved him…for he’d wondered beforehand, after seeing her picture, if he’d fall for her. He was safe from that…eager to indulge in the plans he had for coming. Zach wanted to see how artifacts were found and taken out of a Tel.

From Jerusalem they traveled south through mountains and plateaus. Crops growing; a sophisticated sprinkling system watering vegetables and fruits, impressed him. He’d expected the country to be more like the average third world country…backward. What he’d seen so far, was anything but backward husbandry of fields and crops. Goats scampered and grazed while shepherds watched and moved them on. A genuine pastoral scene was impressed, in the setting of modern agricultural pursuits. He let his mind wander. This was a strange country…it did things to the mind. About an hour from Jerusalem, Trevor turned right into a large expanse of packed earth and gravel. Zach saw the camp. Cabins lined two sides of the road. A long building ran the width of the cabins making a U shape . ‘Well, here we are Zach. Welcome to Camp Schlomon. Get your gear and I’ll take you to your cabin.’

‘Ruthie, tell Mom we’re back. Charlie’ll have everything ready for our dinner. He’ll be banging on his gong soon. So hurry and wash up.’ Trevor pulling Zach’s small suit case led, Zach followed, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. They came to a large cabin whose double doors announced its reason for being. LATRINE. ‘The latrine has two showers; hot, cold water. Some stalls, urinals; all in working order. Functional, if not new. Your cabin’s next door.’ He stopped, opened the door, reached in, found the wall switch and stood aside for Zach to look in. The room was lit by a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The cabin was small with a narrow metal bed frame, and a bedside table with a reading lamp that took up most of its surface. Hugging one wall was a good sized dresser sporting four empty drawers. An old round mirror missing some silver backing, hung above the dresser. No closet was in sight; a row of coat hooks nailed to the cabin door accommodated hanging clothes. A small window allowed a pitiful sliver of the outdoor to penetrate the dark interior. This was home? Zach hadn’t thought about his accommodations…what they’d be like. He stood still, then remembered a comment was in order. He turned to Trevor. ‘Cool man, this is great. I’ll fit in here like the proverbial bug in a rug.’

Trevor was relieved. He held out his hand to Zach and remarked. ‘I hope you enjoy your stay here as much as I did years ago, when I came here as a volunteer.’

Zach shook Trevor’s hand and said. ‘You came here as a volunteer?’

‘Yeah. It was the best experience I ever had. It gave me a new perspective on life; got me goal oriented. Yep, and I met my wife here. Her dad was the head archeologist then. A great man. Lives near Hadassah hospital; has heart trouble. You’ll probably meet him…he pays us a visit once in a while. Well, I’ll leave you to unpack. See you at dinner…you’ll hear the gong.’

Trevor left thinking how drab the cabin seemed. It hadn’t appeared that way to him before. Was it Zach’s silence at seeing it that made him look at the cabin in a new light. He remembered coming years ago to camp and being content sleeping on an army cot…grateful for the privilege of being there. Trevor sighed. Kids today looked, acted, and were more sophisticated in their tastes than he’d been at l9. He hoped Zach would stay. Seems like a nice kid, thought Trevor and headed for his cabin, and Pearl.

Left alone, Zach emptied his suitcase and duffel bag. He stuffed his underwear, socks, T-shirts, pajamas, into the four drawers and hung two pairs of slacks and an extra pair of jeans on the hooks. His Wendy windbreaker hung on a hook, looking very much at home. With his clothes disposed of, he looked more closely at his ‘Home away from home.’ He sat on the narrow bed. His body was longer than it. His feet would have to find purchase through the end bed frame. The two blankets smelled clean; the linen, not new, smelled fresh. The pillow would give him trouble…it was foam rubber, to which he was allergic. He’d roll up a couple of towels Mom had insisted he pack, and use them for a pillow. Yeah, things could be better…but hey, they could be worse. One good thing, he liked Doc Harding and Ruth. The ambience of the camp pleased his aesthetic nature. He headed for the latrine with shaving kit in hand, towel over one shoulder. The latrine did have hot and cold water. Two toilet stalls separated by curtains