Free Living Stones by Lloyd Johnson Page B

reason, their opinion mattered . . . a great deal.

Chapter 19
    So, how are you feeling, Ashley?” her mother inquired after Najid left.
    “I hurt, but the pain medicine is enough. I have a little button here I can push when the pain gets worse . . . every ten minutes if I need it. I’ll be upright tomorrow and start walking, they say.” She chuckled and then winced, eyes closed. “Sounds impossible right now.”
    “How long will you be in here, assuming everything goes well?”
    “About a week total, Mom. Dr. Thompson says I’m doing fine. The ribs should feel better by that point. By the way, you don’t need to stay here since the crisis is over.”
    “We’ll decide that later, Ashley. Tell us more about Najid. He’s not an American is he? He has an accent I can’t place.”
    “He’s from Israel, here on a Fulbright Scholarship, a graduate student in zoology, finished in Haifa at the university there. I asked him to go with me to the synagogue to go to a Shabbat service. He speaks Hebrew, so he could translate for me. That’s how he happened to be with me when the bomb went off.” Ashley sighed. “We both could have been killed.”
    Dorothy Wells shook her head, gazing out the window. After amoment she said, “I didn’t realize he’s Jewish. That’s great, Ashley. We’re so pleased that you’re making international friends from Israel. They are such wonderful people who have gone through so much difficulty.”
    “He’s not Jewish, Mom. But he’s an awesome guy.”
    “I thought you said he’s from Israel.”
    “He is, from a town near Nazareth.”
    “So if he’s not Jewish, what is he?”
    “He’s Palestinian, Mom. But he’s a Christian.”
    “Wait a minute!” Frank Wells said. “I’ve never heard of a Palestinian Christian. Are you certain about his faith? His name sounds Muslim.”
    “Dad, he’s part of an ancient church, the Melkites, who trace their history back to the first gentile church in Antioch of Syria. The one Paul taught. And his name is an Arabic name, not a Muslim one. Their family can trace their history in that village back three hundred years.”
    “How do you know he’s really a Christian, Ashley? Besides, some of those very old churches are dead and formalistic from what I hear.”
    “How does anyone know another’s faith, Dad? I take Najid as his word. His life is consistent with what he says.”
    “Yeah, but he could be talking a good line and you’d never know it. He could be here on some kind of mission, posing as a ‘Christian.’ I would wonder with his proximity to the bombing, whether he might even have had some involvement in it unknown to the police. Anyway, I think you should stay away from him. I don’t trust him, Ashley. I don’t trust Palestinians after what they have done to the Israelis!”
    Ashley lay silent in bed, overwhelmed with her dad’s tirade about Najid. She didn’t know about other Palestinians and generally trusted her parents’ beliefs. But Najid would not lie to her. What would she tell him on his next visit? She hoped her parents wouldn’t be around.
But what is the truth? Is Najid not who he says he is?
    “I think you’re tired, Ashley,” her mother said. “You need to rest, so we’ll be going now and come back tomorrow. Have a good night and God bless.” She and Frank leaned over to kiss their daughter good night.
    “Good night, Mom and Dad. See you tomorrow.” But Ashley couldn’t go to sleep despite the morphine. And not because of pain.

Chapter 20
    The next afternoon her parents came and sat with Ashley, sometimes chatting and other times reading as she slept. She had been up and walking in the hall and wanted to rest. She awakened and began to talk.
    “Do you know why we went to the synagogue in the first place?”
    “No, you haven’t explained that,” Dorothy replied.
    “It’s because of the Seattle church’s support of Israel, just like ours in Oklahoma City. I wanted to find out how Jewish