Free One Fine Day the Rabbi Bought a Cross by Harry Kemelman

rope—”
    â€œGood.” And hoisting the other bag on the roof, he took the rope from her and proceeded to thread it through the handles of the bags and then through the supports of the luggage carrier.
    â€œAnd where are you going? Tel Aviv?” Gittel asked.
    â€œNo, I’m going to Jerusalem. Maybe I can catch a sherut , or take a cab.”
    â€œTo Jerusalem? But that’s where we’re going. So come with us.”
    â€œI’ll be crowding you.”
    â€œNot at all. It’s a big car. Miriam can sit in front with me, and you two men can sit in back. Women’s lib.”
    The sun had already gone down, and dusk was soon followed by the darkness of night. Although they could see little beyond the roadway, Gittel persisted in pointing out places of interest. “You can’t see it now, but that’s a kibbutz on the right.” And, “If there were light, you could see the armored vehicles that were hit by the Arabs during the War of Independence.”
    Miriam made noises of interest and appreciation, and Skinner even turned to peer out of the window, which the rabbi thought was very polite of him, since he had no doubt been over that road dozens of times.
    As they neared the city Gittel asked, “Where do you go, Mr. Skinner?”
    â€œPlease don’t bother. You just drive to wherever you’re going and I’ll take a cab from there. Besides, you’ll want me to help you with the bags.”
    â€œOh, I can manage to slide them down, all right,” said the rabbi. “It’s not like lifting.”
    â€œWell, if you’re sure you can manage … I live in Abu Tor, Rabenu Tam Street.”
    â€œNear the American Yeshiva?”
    â€œThat’s right. Next door, in fact.”
    â€œOh, now I remember where I heard the name. You had some trouble with them,” Gittel continued.
    â€œI didn’t personally because I wasn’t here, but my manager, Ismael, reported some. They wanted to buy our place to expand their operation. It’s quieted down now.”
    â€œNevertheless,” she insisted, “it was hooliganism. I would apologize to you, Mr. Skinner, for the behavior of these young men of the yeshiva if they were Israelis. But since most of them are American, I think maybe you should apologize, David.”
    Skinner laughed. “Since I’m an American myself, I’m just as much to blame. Ah, here we are.”
    Gittel brought the car to a halt, and almost immediately a light appeared above the door. As Skinner got out of the car, an elderly Arab woman came hobbling out.
    â€œMr. James!” she exclaimed, and making a kind of curtsy, she seized his hand and put it to her lips.
    Embarrassed, he explained, “Martha has worked for the family for years.” And then as she reached for his bag, he added, “She still thinks of me as the youngster she took care of when she first came.”
    To cover his obvious embarrassment, Miriam exclaimed, “What a lovely old house!”
    â€œIt’s an old Arab house,” he said. “Would you like to come in and look around? I’ve remodeled some, but I kept the original floor tiles in the hall and the decorated ceiling.” At his side, Martha, still trying to wrest the bag from his hand, continued in voluble Arabic, to which he nodded every now and then.
    To his new friends, he explained, “It never fails. Whenever I come back after being away for a while, I’m treated to a litany of disasters that occurred during my absence. There was some emergency up in our Haifa office, and my manager, Ismael, had to run up there. And then he called to say that the car had broken down and that’s why he wasn’t able to meet me at the airport. And the stove had to be repaired and it still isn’t working properly. And there’s trouble with the water so that she’s had to buy bottled water, and Lord knows what else, but do come in.