Free The Land Agent by J. David Simons

the corrugated roof. It had been a long time since he had felt so much a part of something. He would have to go back to his time spent with Sarah and the rest of the Ten Lost Tribes. Since then, his existence in Palestine had been a lonely one. He had his relationships with Mickey, Madame Blum and Sammy but beyond that, he had no family here, no other friends, no connection to any community. The singing, the dancing, the camaraderie, it had deeply moved him. He turned restless in his cot, was about to get up to make himself some tea when he heard someone enter at the far side of the room. He looked up. The figure moved into the light of the lantern. Without thinking, he called out her name. ‘Celia.’
    ‘Who is that?’ she said, moving towards him, peering into the darkness.
    ‘Lev. From the station. From PICA.’
    ‘I didn’t realize you were here.’
    ‘It’s all right. I couldn’t sleep.’
    ‘I’m just going to sit by the lantern. I want to write a letter.’
    ‘At this time of night?’
    ‘It is the only time I have.’
    ‘I was just getting up to make tea.’
    ‘Stay. I will bring you some.’
    Her sudden kindness surprised him. He propped himself up on his cot, watched as she worked, firing up the charcoal in the samovar, testing the temperature of the water, filling up the teapot. She poured out two cups, brought them over. He saw that she was wrapped in a blanket, her body inthe bathe of the lantern casting strange shadows around the room. He felt excited by her presence as she crouched by him, passed him his cup, then again surprised when she pulled up a chair, sat by him, placed her own cup on the floor. He watched as she stretched her neck, massaged the nape with her hands, the movement causing her blanket to drop slightly to reveal a glimpse of her upper breasts. He realized she might be naked underneath.
    ‘So?’ she said, with a quick smile as she recovered her cup. ‘Can you solve our land problem?’
    ‘It could be complicated.’
    ‘Everything is complicated here.’
    ‘Land is an emotional issue in Palestine.’
    She sipped at her tea, staring at him over the rim of the cup. Then she closed her eyes, blew on the liquid so the warmth rose up to massage her face and she relaxed into the feeling of the heat. She opened her eyes again. A soft, dark brown, like smooth leather freshly shone. He saw a hidden warmth in her gaze, but an insecurity resting there also.
    ‘Since we are talking about land,’ she said, ‘where is your land?’
    ‘I come from Poland. A small town. Not far from Warsaw.’
    ‘And what brought you here?’
    ‘I came with a
kvutza
. A group from the Young Guard. The plan was to build a settlement together. Probably something quite like this one.’
    ‘And now you are a land agent for PICA.’
    He took a sip of tea. It was bitter and lukewarm. ‘Everything changed.’
    She nodded. ‘It often does.’
    ‘And you?’ he asked.
    ‘I wanted a fresh start. But I’ve learned you can never really do that. You’re always building on what is already there. Either within yourself, or within others. And within the land itself. There is so much ancient history here.’
    ‘My grandfather told me the same thing. Coming here is like grafting new branches onto old vines. He said if I really wanted to start from the
    ‘I don’t know about America. All I know is life in this community can be extremely hard. But it can also be very beautiful.’ She rocked the baseof her foot against the leg of his cot. ‘I saw the way you sang along with us. Perhaps you should try this way of life again.’
    She held out her hand to take his empty cup. Instead of giving it to her, he grabbed her wrist. It was such an instinctive move, surprising himself with his own boldness. For a few moments, they both looked at where he held her.
    ‘Not now,’ she said, pulling her arm away. ‘I have to write.’

Nine
    L ETTER 10
    Kfar Ha’Emek, Jordan Valley, Palestine
     
    My dearest