Read The Covenant for Free Online

I know what tree that is.
    He tried to return the picture. She pushed it back at him. “For you.”
    “Well, I’m honored. But you have to at least sign it.”
    She dimpled with pleasure, dipping her brush into a plastic cup of water and moistening the dried blue paint. “From Nouara to Doctor Jon,” she wrote in English, and then continued in flowing Arabic script.
    “What does it mean?”
    “One day, I’ll tell you,” she blushed.
    As he walked down the hall to talk to Shawan, he folded the picture carefully, putting it into his pocket.

Chapter Four

    Downtown Jerusalem
Monday, May 6, 2002
4:00 P.M.
    T HE RECITAL HALL in Beit Ha Am was in the center of downtown Jerusalem. It had a real theatre, a real stage. Once a year, all the community center ballet classes took the place over, filling it with doting parents and giggling little girls with flowers in their hair. The children, dressed in colorful costumes, mingled like a field of wildflowers quivering in the wind, their sweet voices a chorus of excited expectations.
    Jon ushered liana through the throng, finding her classmates and her teacher. Then he sat back in the darkened theatre, losing himself in the music and movement of little children delightedly soaking up the spotlight. First the older kids came out, trying their hand at being future stars, stretching, posing self-consciously, keeping laborious track of the music, delighting in the applause. And then came the little ones: their eyes wide, a little scared, their feet fumbling, searching the stage and the crowd for encouragement, dimpling when they found it. Like little kittens, they brushed up against each other, stepping on each others’ toes, their soft beauty almost heartbreakingly fragile under the bright lights.
    And then he saw liana. Her curls had been pulled up and back into a severe chignon on the top of her head, making her face look heartbreakingly older. Tiny and graceful, full of movement and joy, he felt his heart leap up with pleasure at the reality that such a beautiful creature existed and she was his.
    Then all the groups made concentric circles, their colorful pink, fuchsiaand magenta costumes interweaving, exploding into a kaleidoscope of color. Jon stared in wonderment and appreciation, seeing only liana, delighted at every practiced movement of her knees and elbows as she went through her simple routine.
    When he took her into his arms afterward, he felt her body exude the dew of happiness and exertion.
    “Was I good? Was I, Aba?!”
    He hugged her. “The best. I took pictures, so Ima can see too.”
    At the mention of her mother, Jon felt her hands hold him a little tighter. “Ima will like what I did?”
    “Of course! She’ll be so happy!”
    It was already getting dark as she skipped beside him to the car for the trip back home, chattering nonstop. As the car door clicked shut, Jon turned to face his daughter in the backseat, double-checking if her seat belt was fastened. As his eyes met hers, he saw the dimples in her cheeks deepen and her face light up.
    His little girl. He’d left the clinic at the last possible moment, annoyed and irritated at having to cut his workday short, begrudging the time. He’d found her sitting dejected and miserable in day care. This pregnancy was taking a real toll on her, he realized, leaning over to pat her hand and touch her cheeks, which blushed the same pretty color as her tights. It took so little to make her happy, he thought, ashamed, vowing silently to spend more time with her until things got back to normal.
    He turned around, automatically reaching for his own seat belt, then stopped, thinking of Dov Kalmanovitch—the first victim of the Intifada—who had been forced to open his seat belt with a broken arm as a Molotov cocktail turned him into a flaming torch. By the time he’d freed himself, three-quarters of his body had been left with third-degree burns, and his face—it had simply been erased.
    Jon remembered meeting