Now in the Pike Place Market Area, with newspapers of different countries on display, Dor recognized German and French. A minstrel with a little girl beside him sang as nicely as any musician Dor had heard.
Dor pointed to another display: large prawns, Dungeness crab, oranges, apples, melons, cantaloupes, King crab legs, Alaskan shrimp, baby lobster, smoked salmon. . .seafood delights. He squeezed Brianna's hand, smirked at her and spoke to her in an exaggerated Texas drawl. "In Texas we call those things shrimps," he said, pointing to the prawns. "Those are mighty big."
Brianna hit her thigh and laughed. . .so soft and melodious a laugh. "I thought Jews didn't have a Texas drawl."
A jewelry stand loomed ahead of them. He bought her wooden necklaces which she slipped on. They suited her, brought out the colors of her personality.
In a restaurant they sat, faced the window; the waters of Puget Sound glimmered. He saw in her eyes she still longed for him. It pained him; he wanted to love her more than anything in the world. It seemed their spirits danced on the waters, whirled around each other, but never met. Her eyes yearned again for him, and a rush of feeling came to him. He took her hand and left the restaurant. "What do you think of the Holocaust?"
Her eyes lost their life, lips trembled. "It breaks my heart to think about it."
He squeezed her hand. What a heart she had. "You know how Jews feel about it."
"Do you think the Germans are responsible for the Holocaust?"
"They did the killing."
Her head bowed in shame.
He'd forgotten she was practically all German.
"The Roman Catholic Church encouraged the Germans to persecute the Jews." Her eyes burned. "And now they're trying to start a Holocaust here in the United States! Once international forces are employed against ordinary citizens, all hope will be gone. Our federal agents are using Nazi German helmets, Nazi black uniforms, the standard Nazi 9mm round, and they've added black Cadillacs and helicopters."
Noblest and deepest feelings burst within him. He respected her far above any woman; never ever would he use her. He subdued his desire for her. Only in marriage would he have her. "You're a great woman."
Brianna blushed. "I admire your courage in writing your book." Her eyes cast themselves down. "Can I help you with it? Anything to stop another Holocaust."
Rachel hated his book, thought him crazy for writing it. Brianna. She soared him to the heavens with her spirit and faith in him. Her love brightened; her balm soothed. "I'm honored. I'll show you how you can help me when you come to Houston." He looked toward the Sound, took her hand, and gazed into her eyes. "I must repay you. . .for the years and years you waited for me."
She cast her face down. Her eyes blushed, roused in him the old desires. To hold her in his arms would be sublimity, in her presence he felt himself a king. The softness in her face; the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He kissed her hand and watched her eyes struggle to contain desire. He led her to another booth. Move, Dor Ben Habakkuk, mingle with the crowds; forget how her hand throbs in yours. The shimmery waters of the Sound pulsed.
They came to a jewelry booth with wedding rings. One ring on a mount had diamond and sapphires: the purest diamond he’d ever seen and the sapphire loyal blue. To buy it for her and place it on her finger would make up for her sacrifice and the waiting for him with no definite promises. She looked depressed. Her pain! Why must he be married to a woman who didn't understand him? The woman of his dreams was before him. He bought it.