After finishing four chapters Kathryn decided to fix lunch. She slipped a bookmark in place and set the book on the window sill. Emilia stood up with a yawn and a good shake then looked Kathryn in the eye, wagging her tail expectantly.

‘C’mon girl,” she said.

Both headed for the kitchen with Emilia leading the way.

Kathryn scanned the fridge hoping something might look good. Sunday afternoons were usually spent preparing meals for the coming week and she found nothing left from last week. She turned her attention to the pantry and decided to fix tuna with bowties, one of her favorites. It was an easy fix and she could make enough for 4-5 extra meals.

She pulled out a bag of noodles and 3 cans of tuna and shut the door with her foot. She set them on the counter next to the blender. Pulling a pan out from the bottom of the stove, she filled it with enough water to cook the pasta and set it on the stove and turned the gas for the burner on high.

“Emilia,” she said.

Emilia began yapping excitedly as Kathryn shook a bag of her favorite treats.

“Talk to me. What do you want sweetheart?”

Emilia’s whole body wiggled back and forth as she wagged her stump of a tail. Pulling out a large piece of imitation bacon Kathryn bent over and look directly at Emilia.

“Talk to me girl. Tell momma what you want.”

Emilia stood on her hind legs, front legs clawing at the air. She yapped a few times before she went back to all fours. Kathryn tossed her the treat and smiled.

She pulled out a can opener and started on the first can of tuna while watching some birds fight for position on the feeder outside her kitchen window.

Some children in the backyard next door were making snow angels, oblivious to Kathryn’s observation. She smiled as she remembered how she loved to do the same when she was a young girl. Playing in the snow was one of the few bright spots in an otherwise demanding childhood on the farm.

Using a fork, Kathryn removed the tuna into a bowl and started on the second can. Emilia barked a few times hoping to coax another morsel of food from Kathryn. When she had all three cans in the bowl she pored the pasta into the bowling water and pulled out her cookbook to check what else she needed.

She chopped 2 garlic cloves and dropped them in the blender. She then drained and chopped 1 jar of roasted red peppers and added them into the blender also. She continued adding the rest of the ingredients, then pureed them until smooth. She poured the puree into a small saucepan, stirred in a taste of salt and pepper and set the pan on the stove, setting the heat to medium.

She stirred the pasta and set a lid on the pan allowing for venting the steam. She then retrieved her coffee cup from the small living room. As she returned to the kitchen she picked up the Times and scanned the front page. A short article on the death of a prominent businessman caught her attention. Someone by the name of Levi Thomas, a vaguely familiar name.

She set the paper on the table and checked the pasta. Satisfied it was done she drained it and placed it back in the bowl. She stirred the puree until it was ready then poured it over the pasta. She added the tuna and stirred everything together.

Kathryn placed a lid on the pasta and put a couple pieces of bread in the toaster. She picked up the paper and continued to read about Levi Thomas.

The paper said the police believed he may not have died from natural causes, even though he was 89 years old. It listed several businesses he owned and stated he was a philanthropist. It listed the World Antiquities Library and Museum of New York as a primary recipient of much of his charitable donations, stating that he had been on the board for over 30 years.

Kathryn realized who he was now. She had met him the previous spring at the silent auction the World Antiquities Library and Museum of New York had sponsored. Professor Rivka had introduced them.

The police said someone had searched his home but there did not appear to be anything missing according to his wife and children.

Kathryn set the paper down and took a long sip of coffee. Something did not feel right. Not only that, Professor Rivka had been acting a bit strange lately. He seemed very preoccupied with something but would not discuss it.

Toast leapt from the toaster. She buttered the toast, scooped some pasta onto a plate and set down to ponder the current situation.

Outside, the city grew quieter as the snow continued to descend, one flake at a time.

© 2009, John Pearson. All rights reserved
All content in this website is the sole property of B4eternity, LLC. All rights reserved

Kathryn cherished her Sunday mornings. Her usual ritual of curling up on the sofa with her toy poodle Emilia and a fresh brewed cup of Seattle’s Best created a necessary rhythm in her weekly routine. The welcome solitude was a departure from the barrage of questions that consumed the rest of her week.

Her flannel jammies comforted her as she watched the first winter snow accumulate on the window sill behind her sofa. She wrapped a comforter around her legs and feet and took a first sip of brew.

She slipped her finger beneath the cover and first few pages of Tolstoy’s classic Anna Karenina, and opened the musty old novel. How she loved the smell of an aged book. The feel of a worn cover felt like the hand of an old friend embracing hers. She flipped a few pages until she found the familiar beginning of her favorite story.

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

“Emilia,” she said, searching for the first glimpse of her best friend bounding across the wooden floor. “C’mere girl.”

Emilia emerged from the kitchen and slowly trotted to the sofa. She vaulted onto Kathryn’s lap and found a comfortable place to curl up. Kathryn took another sip of coffee and set the cup on the old wooden sofa table, then settled in with Mr. Tolstoy for one more read of Anna.

* * *

Aaron opened another drawer in his desk and began pushing items around at random. He searched diligently but did not find the slip of paper he was sure was somewhere in his office. Rubbing his chin he tried to remember where he had placed it. He picked up the picture he kept on his desk and slid the back out of the frame. He took a quick glance but found nothing. He slid the back into the frame and set it back on the desk.

How could I have been so careless, he thought to himself.

A faint tap on his door drew his attention away from the task at hand. Looking up he saw Rachel, a first year student at Yeshua University, poking her head around the corner.

“Professor Rivka, do you have a minute?” she asked.

“Certainly Rachel, come in, come in.”

Snow clung to her blond curls and the shoulders of her black wool coat. She slipped her satchel over her head and set it on a chair.

“What do you need my dear?” Professor Rivka asked.

“Well, I have to write a paper on the history of the land God gave to Israel. I keep coming across the term, Levant. What exactly is that?”

“Ah, yes, Levant. It is Arabic you know, and simply means “where the sun rises” or “where the land rises out of the sea”, a meaning attributed to the region’s easterly location on the shore of the Mediterranean Sea. It was the geographical area which today encompasses the countries of Lebanon, Israel, Syria, Palestine, Jordan, Iraq, and occasionally Cyprus and the Sinai.”

Heading for the door he motioned for Rachel to follow. She grabbed her satchel and trotted to catch up.

Professor Rivka made his way down the hall and into the main room of the World Antiquities Library and Museum of New York.

He looked Rachel straight in the eye and asked, “Have you called your mother this week?”

“I have been very busy the last couple of weeks. I have finals next week and I have 4 papers to write as well as preparing for the tests.”

He stopped and grasped Rachel by both shoulders. “That is no excuse. Your mother, what did she ever do to be treated this way by you? Hmm? Where is your cell phone?”

Rachel flipped the satchel open and searched until she found it.

“Here it is,” she said.

“Good. Now call your Mother while I find the book you need.”

He turned and continued towards the bookshelves leaving her with no choice.

He scanned the rows until he found the section he was looking for. He ran his finger along the neatly stored books until he found a copy of The Levant: History and Archaeology in the Eastern Mediterranean.

He pulled the book off the shelf and returned to eves drop on Rachel.

“But Mom, I can’t do that. I have things I need to do here at the University this weekend.”

Rachel eyed Professor Rivka and stuck out her tongue at him.

“In my day, young ladies respected their elders,” he said, pointing his finger at her nose then motioning her to follow him to the checkout desk.

“I know Mom, but I just can’t come home for a dinner with Joseph what’s his name.”

She set her satchel on the counter and searched for her wallet. She pulled her library card out and handed it to the Professor.

“Ok, ok, Joseph Goldman. But I can’t come home.”

“But Mom. Ok, but just Saturday, alright? Yes, goodbye.”

Rachel tossed her phone in her satchel and glared at Professor Rivka.

“This is all your fault you know. Now I have to pretend to be interested in the nice Jewish boy momma wants me to meet.”

“Well, who knows. Maybe he is a nice Jewish boy.”

Rachel stuffed the book in her satchel and headed for the door.

“I don’t know why I bother coming here to ask your help.”

“I promised your mother.”

“Well, I didn’t. Gotta run. See you next week.”

“Goodbye Rachel. Good luck on your test. Say hello to that nice Jewish boy for me.”

© 2009, John Pearson. All rights reserved
All content in this website is the sole property of B4eternity, LLC. All rights reserved