Pizza Uri on Malkei Israel Street was packed. American Yeshiva students in sleek Borsalino fedoras and dark suits sat at one table. A family of eight filled two others.
David and Stacey squeezed into a corner table with their mushroom and olive slices.
“I still can’t believe you’re a reporter for the L.A. News,” Stacey said over the noise.
“I can’t believe you’re an archaeologist,” David countered. “I thought you went on that dig junior year to sort out your life. I figured you’d go into alternative medicine or something.”
“Boy, you have a good memory.” Stacey’s cheeks flushed. He had been paying attention.
She paused, the memory softening her. “When you left that summer, I stayed. Took classes at Hebrew U.”
David remembered the letter she sent him that summer, the one he never answered because he didn’t know how to say goodbye.
Stacey continued, “ I met Dan Porat on the next dig. He took me under his wing. Now I’m one of his assistants at the Rockefeller Museum.”
David paused for a moment thinking. “The guy with the bushy mustache at the cave tonight?”
“Yes, that was him.”
A baby started to cry at the next table.
“So, since you’re on the archaeologist team,” said David, “what was all the fuss about tonight? Why was everyone shouting at each other?”
Stacey glanced around at the Haredi customers, and lowered her voice. “A burial cave was uncovered during construction work to widen a road. Dan says it’s from the time of the Roman occupation—just before the Temple was destroyed.”
David nodded slowly. “And you always agree with Dan?”
“Actually, something weird happened tonight. He pulled us out of our party, sounding frantic.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “While we were driving, he told us: ‘if anyone asks—police, media, the Authority—this is the first time we visited the cave.’”
David stopped to think.
“That means he was already inside,” he said flatly. “He’s using you as an alibi.”
Stacey pulled back sharply, her green eyes losing their sparkle. “No,” she shook her head. “He wouldn’t.”
“He just did.”
Silence stretched between them, thick as the oven heat.
“Maybe he just wanted to secure the permit? Maybe he was protecting the site from looters?” she offered feebly.
David just looked at her, silent.
Stacey looked down at her slice, lip trembling. The man she’d trusted like family had lied to her face.
“Listen Stacey, if he took something before the Authority logged it, and you lie to the police for him, you’re not an assistant anymore. You’re an accomplice.”
She looked up, eyes hard. “I need to know what he took. And why.”
David met her gaze. “I need a source inside. Someone I trust.”
“Deal,” she whispered.
The noise of the pizzeria crowd seemed to fade away as they clinked their cheap plastic soda cups.
Shmuel’s Corner: I need your help!
Your perspective is important to me.
Did the emotional shift from the chaotic cave scene to the intimate pizzeria conversation feel natural and engaging?
How did you respond to the dynamic between David and Stacey — did their history feel believable and compelling?
Did Stacey’s reaction to Porat’s lie feel authentic, and did it make you more or less invested in her character arc?
Please share your answers, suggestions and corrections in the comments below. I read every single note you leave!
For me, when David mentioned “accomplice,” I thought of how many times we, when we fail to deal with a situation we know would cause God grief, we are just that: accomplices. No lie is of the Truth.
Shmuel
· January 25, 2026 at 12:07 pm
Good point. Did you listen to the podcasts? Were they helpful?
Lora Dalton
· January 25, 2026 at 1:08 am
Everything in this chapter was engaging to me except when Stacey’s lip trembled when she found out she was lied to. I feel a reaction of annoyance or anger would be more probably than crying.
Shmuel
· January 25, 2026 at 12:06 pm
Good point. I was trying to describe her losing her hero and mentor, anger and annoyance are part of it, but she saw him as a father figure. It’s more complicated when you discover your father has lied to you. Any suggestions?
GUSH HALAV, UPPER GALILEE – SPRING, 33 C.E.
The rhythmic clanging of his father’s chisel was the heartbeat of the morning.
Eleven-year-old Yossi sat perched on a massive, sun-warmed basalt boulder just outside the synagogue’s construction site. He leaned forward, crushing a sprig of wild hyssop between his palms, the peppery scent mingling with the fine white dust of pulverized limestone that hung in the air.
JISH, UPPER GALILEE – SUNDAY, DAWN
A dark silhouette emerged from the mist. Ibrahim, a man with tough hands and a weathered face, approached the van.
“Ya hala... bil-akhir,” he said, his voice a low growl. “About time. The plane’s waiting.”
Samir scanned the farm.
A small, unpaved road cut through the field. Wide enough for a small plane to take off and land unnoticed, though recent rains had made the earth soft.
FRENCH HILL, JERUSALEM – FRIDAY, 3:45 P.M.
Fifteen minutes before he died, Ahmed wiped rain from his eyes and jammed the bulldozer’s throttle forward. The site was deserted. The other workers had left hours ago for the weekend, but Ahmed needed the overtime. It was a cold Friday afternoon in March 1999, and his son’s medication had to be paid for by Monday morning.
The engine roared, flooding the cab with the stench of diesel and wet earth as he drove the blade toward the final ridge of Judean limestone. He braced for the familiar jar of impact, but it never came. The machine lurched as the metal shovel punched through the rock face and plunged into a void.
4 Comments
Susan Smith · January 22, 2026 at 12:50 am
For me, when David mentioned “accomplice,” I thought of how many times we, when we fail to deal with a situation we know would cause God grief, we are just that: accomplices. No lie is of the Truth.
Shmuel · January 25, 2026 at 12:07 pm
Good point. Did you listen to the podcasts? Were they helpful?
Lora Dalton · January 25, 2026 at 1:08 am
Everything in this chapter was engaging to me except when Stacey’s lip trembled when she found out she was lied to. I feel a reaction of annoyance or anger would be more probably than crying.
Shmuel · January 25, 2026 at 12:06 pm
Good point. I was trying to describe her losing her hero and mentor, anger and annoyance are part of it, but she saw him as a father figure. It’s more complicated when you discover your father has lied to you. Any suggestions?