I don’t know why I didn’t just tell Nelly about the meeting. Why I didn’t explain it might actually help. She might have said it sounded like a waste of time, but she would have understood. Maybe she would have even said it was worth my waiting until she returned from her conference and she’d make sure to take time off work and stay with the girl one morning so I could go to Tel Aviv. I had convinced myself it was the fear of letting her down that had made me hide the whole thing from her. But if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t think there was any logical reason for me to be so surreptitious about it.

11.

TWO DAYS LATER, on a Wednesday morning, I dropped off Nelly at the bus stop. We made it there early, at 6:00 A.M., and I struggled to heave her suitcase from the trunk. Through the window I saw how Nelly caressed Shira’s cheek before getting out to help me. It took a herculean effort and more than a few drops of sweat on my forehead to yank out the heavy suitcase and lower it carefully onto the sidewalk.

“Okay,” I said to Nelly. “You’re allowed one sarcastic remark, I deserve it.”

She considered me for a moment, then hugged me tightly without saying a word.

We were the only ones at the bus stop. We held each other until the bus arrived. Nelly boarded the no. 660 to Tel Aviv, promising to return with a Toblerone from the central bus station, and I drove back to the farm with Shira. I sat her by the table and let her write in her notebook while I made her her favorite breakfast—an omelet with cheese and onion, a chopped vegetable salad, and a piece of toast with Nutella. I wanted to spoil her, to soothe my conscience over leaving her on her own.

“I have to go out for a bit,” I told her while cutting her omelet. “I’ll be back real soon, okay?”

She didn’t answer. I gave her a shower, changed her clothes, tucked her in, and drew the curtains. Darkness fell over the room.

“Go to sleep for a bit, okay?” I told Shira, and kissed her forehead. Her gray eyes slowly drooped to a close, and I suddenly thought that maybe, somewhere inside her, Shira was giving me permission to go. That maybe that very moment, she was the only one who understood me. The girl nestled her head deeper into the pillow. I couldn’t tell whether she had fallen asleep, but I took it as a sign that I could leave.

I walked out of the B&B and locked the door behind me. I swept my gaze across the farm and didn’t see Nabil anywhere. I rushed to the car, started the engine, and turned onto the northbound highway.

12.