Free Chosen by Lisa T. Bergren Page B

Christian sister. “How have you been?”
    “Busy, busy. We’ve been working on a special order from the States.” Lydia Nusseibah ran the Palestinian Christian Women’s Needlework Shop and had successfully put hundreds of women to work creating elaborate weavings and needlepoint artwork for tourists and foreigners. The pay had helped to sustain many families over the years, and the shop was hailed as a prime example of how a business should be run.
    The two women seated themselves in iron chairs outside Lydia’s bedroom, on a small balcony. Her view encompassed much of the Old City, and against the cold night’s backdrop, the twinkling lights before them seemed comforting. “Will you be warm enough out here?” Lydia asked.
    “Yes,” Alexana said, motioning down at her warm sweater. She could not hold it in any longer. “Lydia, I’ve been told there is to be another bus attack.”
    Her friend groaned. “Jew or Arab?”
    “A Hamas attack outside the Old City.”
    “You are worried because it might delay your dig at the Haram?”
    Alexana shot her a sharp look. “I am worried because there has been enough bloodshed for one week. Have you not heard anything?”
    “I am afraid not. But I will ask some friends and see if I can get some answers.”
    “Please be careful in your questioning. I got the news from a correspondent who would like to set up reliable contacts with Hamas and others. If they get wind that it came from him …”
    “I will make it sound as if I had heard it from a Hamas soldier myself.”
    The two women sat for a while in silence, sad and lost in their own thoughts. Lydia was the first to speak. “I had such high hopes last spring,” she said. “I thought this would be it … that finally we would have a chance at peace. Instead, it is worse.”
    Alexana nodded miserably. “Maybe we can stop some of the bloodshed this time,” she said.
    “Maybe,” Lydia said. But her eyes held no hope.

C HAPTER E IGHT
F EBRUARY 1
    A lexana rose early, bathed, and headed to the École Biblique to speak with Professor O’Malley, a renowned expert on the subject of the Temple Mount. He was also one of the few allowed frequent access to Solomon’s Stables.
    Alexana entered the ancient monastery, which housed the school. As usual, the escape from the busy street outside soothed her soul. The complex consisted of a series of monastic buildings and crusader arches, built to stand the test of time. She walked directly to the library, a magnificent building that was heralded as one of the best biblical archaeology libraries in the world—and had once been the
only
biblical archaeology library in the world.
    Walking under a stone arch, she studied the various familiar faces, already hard at work. As he had for years, Jean Baptiste sat in his corner, cutting up photographs of the Dead Sea scrolls and taping them together under a magnifying glass hooked to the cherry wood table.
    In another corner, Marcel was nearly hidden behind a stack of nineteenth-century excavation reports from Megiddo, as he carefully combed the pages for information.
    The others in the room were young monks, studying for exams. Professor O’Malley had not arrived, so Alexana quietly drew out achair, trying not to disturb the students, and stretched her neck in an attempt to release some tension.
    The scope of knowledge covered by the volumes in the room astounded her, no matter how often she visited. Many of the books were ancient, bound in lambskin and adorned with ornate artwork. These volumes had been meticulously copied in broad script by French monks of centuries past. The library encompassed eight centuries of history related to biblical archaeology. Alexana reflected on the countless days and nights she had spent there, researching one project after another. Her father, Samuel Sr., had started using her as a research assistant when Alexana was only twelve.
I’ve probably spent years in here,
she thought, realizing why the