One Last Time

By Eva Fischer-Dixon

After returning to home, Norah Johnson, a popular novelist and lecturer wants nothing more than just to run away as far she could. Arriving at her destination, the Red Sea resort of Eilat, Israel, she desperately wants to forget what she had witnessed at her home, an unforgivable act done by her husband of eighteen years, Gordon. By a chance encounter, she meets and falls in love with a young Israeli Army Major, Zeev Bitan, almost half her age, who for the first time in his life feels that he found the woman he was looking for. He and his three friends are on a pass from the Israeli Army, trying to recover from the emotional turmoil after participating in the battle of Jenin. Norah, as a novelist, takes an interest in their story, and their wish to come clear as to what really happened in that refugee camp, she promises them to write the true story. To be fair, she decides to interview Palestinians, to hear their side of the story. Zeev provides the name of the contact person, but things did not turn out as they were planned with devastating results. There are only two things that keeps Norah alive, one is her deep love for Ze'ev and the hope that help arrives before it is too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 21, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479743629

Eva Fischer-Dixon

I came into this troubled world during the early morning hours of June 17, 1950, in the city of Budapest, Hungary. I was the first and last child of my 41-year-old mother and my father who was 45 years old at the time of my birth. As I did not know any better, I could not possibly understand that we were living in poverty, as I was growing up with loving parents and there was always a bite to eat. My childhood was poor and saddened with tragedies. As a six-year-old child I witnessed the bloody 1956 revolution and received the first taste of true prejudice by those of whom I thought liked us, yet turned against my family. That tragedy did not match the untimely death of my beloved father when I was not yet seven years old, on February 14, 1957. My mother remarried in 1959 and our financial situation was upgraded from poverty to poor. After finishing elementary school I made a decision to earn money as soon as possible to ease our financial situation and I enrolled in a two-year business college (high school diploma was not required). I received my Associate Degree in 1966 and I began to work as a 16-year-old certified secretary/bookkeeper. During the same period I began my high-school education, which I completed while working full-time and attending night school. I discovered my love for writing when I was 11 years old after a movie that my childhood friend and I saw in the movie theater. We were not pleased with the ending and Steven suggested that I should write a different ending that we both liked. Voila, a writer was born. With my family’s encouragement, I entered a writing contest given by a youth oriented magazine and to my genuine surprise, I won second price. My desire to live in a free country and to improve my life was so great, that in 1972, leaving everything, including my aging parents behind, I managed to escape from Hungary during a tour to Austria, (then) Yugoslavia and Italy. I spent almost nine long months in a rat infested refugee camp, located Capua, Italy, while I waited for official permission to immigrate to the country of my dreams, to the USA. In 1975 I met and married a wonderful man, my husband Guy. Thanks to his everlasting patience, he assisted me in my task of learning the English language. He is truly my partner for life and I remain forever grateful to him for standing by me in some tough times. It is difficult for me to describe my love for writing. I cannot think of a bigger emotional joy for an author than to see a published novel in somebody’s hand and to see a story come alive on the screen. I yearn to experience that joy.

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by Eva Fischer-Dixon.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

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

Epilogue

Dedication

I wish to dedicate this book to the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF)

Also available from Eva Fischer-Dixon:

The Third Cloud

A Journey to Destiny (Previously titled "A Journey to Passion)

A Song for Hannah (Previously titled "Hannah’s Song)

The Discovery

The Forbidden

Fata Morgana

Eighteen

The Chava Diamond Chronicles: The Shades of Love and Hate

The Bestseller

Chapter One

IT made all the difference in the world what time she left her campus office. If it was in the middle of the afternoon, she wouldn’t have made it home before six in the evening. It was rather refreshing that she was actually able to leave right after the noon class she held. Her students were young and full of ambition; she often admitted to herself that many of them were also very talented. Norah was not a trained teacher, yet, she was a sought after lecturer whose classes were always full with students; those who wanted to listen to her story telling style, and with those who wanted to hear her encouraging words she always showered into their direction.

Norah could not believe that it was only two in the afternoon when she turned on to her street where she lived for the past several years, in the dream house she always wanted. She decided not to park her car in the garage as she was planning to do some much needed grocery shopping in a nearby home town grocer’s store. She pulled up on the driveway leaving her car door unlocked; Norah entered the house through the front door.

The house was quiet which seemed odd to her as her husband of eighteen years, Gordon, was supposed to be home working on a bid to design a new shopping and cultural center combination. The general idea was to have the design reflect the impression of a small village. It was not one of those things that Gordon wanted to work on at the firm that he founded with a childhood friend, Clancy, who of course also worked in the architectural field.

There was no sound of the usual Indian flute music playing, that Gordon claimed to make his creative juices flow, and most of the lights were also off as well. Norah checked the garage and she found her husband’s SUV parked, the hood was cold, which meant that he was either home or hitched a ride with someone. Norah was becoming concerned as she didn’t see any clues left by him on the kitchen counter where they would usually leave scribbled notes to each other about their whereabouts.

The house was a two story well designed home, built to the perfection of the homeowners, which of course was no surprise Gordon being an architect. He catered to Norah’s every wish when he designed the interior as well as the back of the house, and the front.

As always, Norah took off her shoes when she walked upstairs and headed toward the master bedroom from where the walk-in-closet was accessible. She found it rather strange that the double door leading into the bedroom was closed as she clearly remembered leaving it open when she left for work earlier in the day. She assumed that perhaps Gordon must have accidentally closed the door when he left, if he did leave at all.

Norah opened the door, but she froze before stepping inside. She felt that her legs were about to buckle underneath her and she felt nausea creeping up in her throat. Without making any sounds, somehow she managed to get downstairs and out of the house, into her car and drive away as far as she could. Later on, when she thought about it, she was unable to recall how she got to her friend, Carla’s house.

Chapter Two

THIS is the final boarding call to El Al Flight 111, departing from Gate 220B, said the loud voice through the intercom. Carla gave her tenth final hug to Norah while she kept on whispering to her departing friend.

Are you sure you know what you are doing?

I am as sure as death itself. Don’t you forget that we have an agreement. No one, not a sole will know where I am going, she said with certain amount of threat in her voice, although she knew that Carla would guard her secret until the day she died, or until she let her tell someone. They hugged one more time, and then Norah rushed up to the gate of her flight to Tel Aviv, Israel. The flight was full and lucky for her; the first class section still had headroom for her carry-on. She tightened her seatbelt and began to pay attention to the flight attendant’s instructions, which she had possibly seen over a hundred of times, if not more.

Are you sure you know what you are doing? Her friend’s question echoed in her mind, and no, she was not sure of anything other than the notion that she had to get away. Her entire life, her thirty-eight years on this Earth was completely shattered just several days earlier, and the only thing she wanted to do was to run away as fast, and as far as she could.

Melanie, her travel agent made several suggestions, which included a long cruise in the Caribbean, a multi-country tour, and even a secluded vacation in the outback of Australia. Norah shook her head as a sign of dislike to each of Melanie’s suggestion, until she noticed one particular brochure sort of sticking out from behind the virtually hundreds of others on the rack that was standing against the wall of the travel agency. She got up and pulled out the brochure, and then she sat back down by Melanie’s desk. I believe I found what I was looking for. I need some soul searching myself, so why don’t you make a reservation for tomorrow, if you could please, she handed the brochure back to her travel agent.

Do you want to charge this to your business account or your personal account? Melanie asked her. Norah gave some thought to the question; she leaned forward, almost completely across the desk.

Charge it to my private account, she replied and lowered her voice. Only two other people will have the knowledge about my whereabouts. One of them is you Melanie, and you must swear that you will tell no one, especially . . . , she hesitated with saying the name, but she did. Especially not to Gordon, please promise me that, she demanded.

Melanie knew Norah for a very long time. Throughout the years while Norah and Gordon gave her a great deal of business, she had never seen them travel separately. She considered herself somewhat of a priestess of the travel agency, which included confidentiality between her and her clients. Melanie suspected, although Norah did not fill her in with any details, that something traumatic must have taken place, Norah seemed anxious, and even desperate to get away.

You have been very good to me and to my business, it goes without saying that you can consider this our secret, Melanie promised. Norah squeezed Melanie’s hand and the travel agent went into work while Norah did some last minute shopping in the mall where Melanie’s travel agency was also located. She returned an hour later and by that time, her airline tickets and her itinerary were waiting. She had a pretty basket in her hand that was piled up with nuts, coffee and pastries among other snacks. She placed the basket on Melanie’s desk. It’s for you, just a small token of my appreciation.

Honestly, Norah, Melanie clenched her hands together in surprise. You did not have to do this.

But I wanted to, she replied.

Melanie was touched, although it wasn’t the first time that Norah surprised her with presents. She picked up Norah’s airline ticket and the itinerary and handed to her. Be careful in Israel, and please let me know if you need anything else.

Norah secured her ticket inside her purse, said her goodbye and left the travel agency. She drove to her friend, Carla’s house where she was staying during the past few days and began to pack her suitcase for the next day’s big trip.

Later on in the evening they went out for dinner, and Carla did most of the talking for two reasons, Norah choose not talk about what happened. One, she still had not dealt with what she had witnessed, and two; she did not want to break down in tears in a public place. She was grateful to Carla for not bringing up any subject pertaining to Gordon, and she promised herself that his name would not be mentioned ever again as long as she lived. Realistically speaking she knew that it was not possible, but for the time being, she hoped that it is exactly what was going to happen.

But why Israel? She heard her friend’s question.

Norah shrugged and shook her head. First of all Israel always fascinated me even when I was only a child. I have read so much about it, and even nowadays I follow the political situation there. It’s a truly fascinating country with great people and their culture. Besides, something mysterious, like a magnet of some sort drawing me into that country with it’s thousands of years of history, Norah said but she was unable to finish her sentence as Carla cut her off.

All right, all right, she protested. I think I got it; you wanted to go there just to get away, right? Carla asked not being certain of anything at all about what was going on with Norah. She showed up four days earlier at her doorstep in a daze. Norah later confessed to her that she had no idea how she managed to drive the fifteen minutes distance. She begged Carla not to ask any questions why she was so emotional, which was an under statement as she was extremely upset. Carla obliged, trusting her friend well enough to know that when the time was right and she was ready to talk, her friend would tell her what happened.

It was very unlike Norah to behave that way in Carla’s house. She had always been a cheerful person, happily married to a very nice man, so she thought, and she had a steadily blooming career. She was admired and liked by everyone around her because she had kind and caring words to anyone whom Norah encountered. When Carla looked at her friend sitting across from her at the dining room table, she could not imagine what must have happened to her to become so withdrawn and so quiet. She barely spoke in days and she stayed indoors with her, not venturing outside the house other than to go to the travel agency and for dinner one night. The only thing she asked of Carla was that if Gordon, her husband called, she wanted Carla to tell him that she was not there. Carla hesitantly agreed and sure enough, Gordon called her house at least four or five times a day and in the evenings as well. He sounded genuinely concerned about Norah’s whereabouts.

He told Carla that he called every hospital in the area where they lived and the police refused to fill out a missing person report because she left a note in the mailbox in front of their house. In that note, Norah asked him not to look for her. Carla told him a white lie that she had spoken with Norah and that she was all right, he did not need to worry about her. Gordon in return asked Carla if Norah mentioned anything to her as why she was so upset, but Carla’s answer was negative, she had no idea. Gordon quit calling the house after the third night and Carla was glad because she liked him, too, and besides, she was a lousy liar.

The voice of the pilot brought Norah back to reality. The passengers were just informed that within the next few minutes, the plane was about to land at the David Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv, Israel.

Chapter Three

ALL eight of them sat quietly inside the M113A2 Armored Personnel Carrier, APC for short, as they headed toward the outskirt of Jenin. They were not fond of that particular carrier as they felt trapped having only very small and narrow windows at the upper part of the vehicle. The driver kept them informed when they were getting close to the patrol area and Yakov; the driver yelled back to them that they were only minutes away from the first streets of Jenin, their destination.

Avihu, sitting close to the exit door whispered to the group. I don’t like silence. I always think about that saying that it is always calm before the storm.

Shut up, hissed Daniel at him. You are making me nervous.

This whole business in Jenin is making me nervous, said Mofid who was notorious for being quiet while on duty, they barely heard him speak two words.

None of them ever considered anything as routine during their assignment in the occupied territories. Every single one of them lost a friend, a comrade, a childhood friend or someone they knew for a longer, or perhaps just a short period of time to terrorist attacks after the beginning of the Palestinian Intifada.

Despite the fact that the APC could reach speed of about sixty-six kilometers an hour, they were moving slowly, more like cautiously forward. There was a whistling sound in the air and they immediately knew that it was a very bad sign, and sure enough, only seconds later, they heard the explosion right next to their APC.

What followed was totally chaotic. They heard Yakov, their driver scream from agony and he was covering his face with both of his hands. Although it was obvious to all of them that he was in excruciating pain, somehow he still managed to release the door so they could get out. The radio operator was already calling for back up and he was yelling that they were hit, probably by a rocket propelled grenade. The APC was dead in the middle of the narrow street.

It was vital that they got out of the vehicle right away before it could burst into flames, as it was known to happen before to other similar vehicles. The problem was with that particular APC type that once one of the track shoes got damaged, it was likely that the vehicle would no longer be