Fare Forward (33 page)

"Papa, you're here!" I run to him and hold him close for several minutes. I need to reassure myself that we are really together.

"You see, there was nothing to worry about. I told you that I was safe and that we would be together in Jerusalem."

We sit in the garden for hours, the questions I have for him finally surfacing from the dark places I had relegated them to. The ancient and modern city of Jerusalem behind us—our past and future everywhere.

"I can't believe everything that's happened in the last few months."

"But now we're here."

"Together, " I say.

"You know, it was a decision I made. To spend my life searching, looking for answers—and I know how difficult things have been for you, too."

"No, I'm fine, I—"

"I know that you didn't always understand, Gabriella. Especially when you were young."

"Some of your choices."

"My choices and my reasons."

"Your work. I know it was always about your work, Papa."

"We made our choices, whether they were right or wrong. We tried to do our best. I pursued my research and your grandmother, her search was—"

"Different." I finish his sentence.

"Yes." He smiles. "In the undeniable force of her mystical gift."

"That she inherited?"

"That you
both
did." He stops and takes a deep breath, as if what he is about to say is very difficult for him.

"It's all right, we don't have to talk about her now."

"I want to. You deserve to know. I've seen you grow into everything you have been given. Even if you didn't always understand." He takes my hand and looks into my eyes. I understand what he is telling me. "She is still with you, always. You know this don't you? You are beginning to understand many things about yourself and the things you are connected to."

"Yes."

"Good. She knew you would."

"There is something about this house. She was here wasn't she? You all were here together?"

"Many years ago."

"I can feel it."

"This is a very special place. This house is," he says and looks up toward the timeless limestone building, "where I fell in love with your grandmother. That was the beginning, the start of everything in my life."

"I know what you mean, Papa."

"However, I need to tell you something. Things may change."

"Change? In what way?"

"I told you once before, things aren't always what they seem. Sometimes they are— "

"Better?"

"Yes, maybe better. If you're ready."

"I am."

"Gabriella, you are, but the world simply may not be."

"What? What does that mean?"

"I might choose not to."

"Why, after everything, would you stop now?"

"We wouldn't be safe, I mean
you
wouldn't be safe—after. I need to think about the future. Yours and—"

"You have worked so hard for this, your whole life. You can't stop now!"

"I didn't say I would stop. I'm very stubborn as you know."

"I love that about you."

"Just like you. Our convictions have led us through much adversity."

"Despite the criticism of the people who thought you were throwing your life's work away?"

"On dreams and fantasy.
Science fiction,
they called it. Using empirical data to measure and mysticism to find meaning. But, I just don't know. What good has it done? Look at the world—are we in a better place now?"

I try to absorb everything that is happening: the overwhelming sensations I am feeling about what he is telling me and the suggestion that the moment he has worked so hard for might not come to be. The moment I always hoped we would share.

"You have found it."

"As you have, Gabriella."

For the first time, I recognize something in his face. It is a resolve, an acceptance.

I want to feel grateful that, finally, after so many years of questioning he has found what he sought. Like the sculpture in the Cathedral Church of Saint John the Divine, of the divine breath being blown into Adam's nostrils, I feel a new conviction about so many things in my life. The journey that I have been on has led me back to where I started, to my family, and to finding the answers that have always been in my heart.

"Maybe there are things that simply cannot be measured," I whisper.

"You do understand," he says.

E
VERYTHING IS HAPPENING the way it was intended to. The sun begins to move farther into the western sky, and I realize we have spent most of the afternoon together, talking and finding a new understanding of each other. The delicious lunch we had been served marking what seems now to be a celebration.

"Things will be as they were meant to. This is a very special time for you, Gabriella."

"And for you, too, Papa." I don't take my eyes away from his as I try to understand the sadness. I know somewhere in my heart the undeniable truth in what he is saying.

"Come here, I want to give you something. I've saved it for a long time. Actually it is not from me—it's from someone else who loved you very much. Someone who told me that this very day would arrive." He shakes his head at the memory and reaches over to lift a silk bag that sits on the chair between us. "Open it."

I reach into the pouch and pull out a small book. I touch the exquisite silver cover and look at the inlaid colored stones. It is the
Song of Songs,
written by King Solomon. I know that this is the book of one hundred and seventeen verses from the Old Testament that speak directly of love and one of the most important texts in the Kabbalah. I remembered clearly reading from this treasured collection with my grandmother as she introduced me to the powerful poetry and the symbolism that defines the importance of spiritual, emotional, and even physical love.

"Go ahead," he encourages me. "There is something I want you to see."

"I remember reading this book with her."

"That's it, the one that is marked," he says and points to a small piece of paper that holds the place. I move the bookmark aside, feeling its roughness under my fingers and begin to read the ancient words.

Therefore do worlds love you
one generation after another,
a love transcending lifetimes.
Every soul is connected to every other.

Suddenly she knows
or seems to remember something
that she could not possibly have yet experienced.
These memories survive the forgetting
that seems to separate
one lifetime from another.

I wait to look at him, hoping that the tears in my eyes will not reveal the emotion welling up inside of me. The sheer force of this beautiful excerpt, connecting everything we have spent the last several hours speaking of, overcomes me. The discussion of mysticism and the suggestion of other lifetimes.

Other
worlds.

Slowly, I turn over the bookmark in my hand and see an embossed image of the symbol that I know so well. It is the same as the amulet I have, the icon of the great mystical tradition of our family.

"It was your grandmother's."

I look up and see him wipe the tears from his eyes. Through these words and this sublime gesture, I know he is giving me the greatest gift I could have ever hoped for: acknowledgement of the special qualities I possess that tie me to my family history and the confirmation that the secrets I have held in my heart are, in fact, grounded in a timeless spiritual tradition that connects me to my past.

And future.

My grandparents, my parents, my friends—we were all looking for our own place in the world, on our own journeys, searching for our purpose.

"Thank you, Papa."

And then, as if scripted by a benevolent divine source, my grandfather looks up and smiles at something behind me. He takes my hand and lifts it in a gesture reminiscent of the bride being presented to the bridegroom.

"Gabriella."

It's the voice I had prayed I would hear.

I turn around slowly, wanting to confirm that this moment is really happening. I am not in a dream but I am awake.
Alive.
I want to savor the reunion I hoped would come in this city. For a moment we stand facing each other as our eyes meet. Mine are filled with tears of gratitude and Benjamin's with the joy and pleasure I have seen before when he looked at me. I run toward him and practically knock him over with the force of my body as I throw my arms around him.

I know I won't let go, ever again. This is a promise I have made to myself.

E
VEN THOUGH I HAD dreamed of this moment, willed it to happen, the reality of it is better than anything I could have imagined. I want to fill myself completely with everything that is
him.
I close my eyes because I want to feel it, all of it: the cool Jerusalem breeze that swirls around me, my hands wrapped tightly in his, and the presence of my grandfather. All those who stand with us and those who were not here.

"Gabriella." My grandfather's voice finally breaks the silence. "There are so many things I need to tell you, but first, I want to apologize."

I turn to face him. "No—please, there is nothing you need to—"

"Yes, listen to me. I was wrong about many things, and you—you are the one who made me understand. You helped me to see things differently, really for the first time. So much has become clear to me now. Especially things about your grandmother."

"I see," I whisper the words as I look at him, searching his face.

"I blamed so many people for losing her, for her death. But there was really no one to blame, least of all Benjamin. I know we will be together again. Soon."

"What do you mean?"

"You were right about her, and I know why you could understand so clearly. She wanted me to understand this and she told me that I would, one day."

"That you would understand what, Papa?"

"That she was right, especially when I would see the two of you. You and Benjamin. Together," he says the last word slowly and deliberately.

My grandfather holds my face in his hands, his eyes are sparkling with delight. "I will see you in a few days."

"Where are you going?"

I turn around and see that a black car with the United Nations security force emblem on its doors has pulled up in front of the iron gates.

"I've been invited to spend the weekend with several of my colleagues, at the Prime Minister's estate. It is an invitation that I could not refuse." His eyes are shining with his own secret as he looks at me.

"Yes, of course, but—"

"We have waited many years to arrive at this time. In all of our lives." He takes a step closer. "Benjamin?"

I watch them embrace; a deep intimacy in their exchange, that of old friends. The common bond and deep understanding that unites them is beyond the need for words. Despite everything that has happened in the last few months, this is the first time the three of us are together. As they hold each other's gaze, I see an understanding that could only come from the familiarity of many years together. Then, at the same time, they both turn and look at me. These two men whom I love so deeply and so differently.

Benjamin moves to stand behind me, the strength of him supporting me, balancing my trembling. My hands are wrapped protectively inside of his, and I know that this moment is, in the most unexplainable way, the realization of a wish, a dream. I know what my grandfather is giving me. It is the gift of time alone with Benjamin. His
blessing.
The acknowledgement of our being together, made evident by his insistence on leaving and returning to his life.

Leaving me here with Benjamin to begin mine.

T
HINGS SLOW DOWN as peace and rest begin to blanket the golden hills. People prepare for the Sabbath, the time when the holy city stands still. I feel the power of the sacred energy, the changing light in this magical place as it washes over us. The wind carries messages from earlier centuries, and I am sure that I can feel the souls of those who have loved me; confirming, encouraging the path we are on.

Benjamin reaches for my hand and brings it to his mouth and kisses it softly. "The sun will be setting soon; let's go for a walk."

I want to savor every second, what has brought me to this place and more, everything that is ahead. The realization that we have this time alone together. His arm is around me, and I let go. This is everything I have waited for.

We walk through the gates of the house, turn down the steep hill, and enter into the Old City together, taking in the beginning of the Sabbath celebrations. We pass through Dung Gate, the closest access to the Western Wall and approach the heart of the Jewish Quarter. The iconic wall before us is the only remaining architectural element from the Second Temple that had been destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE. The
Kotel
as it is called in Hebrew. We stop in the center of the large plaza that faces the holy space and are swept into the energy and activity of the worshippers. I want to approach the wall; I can feel its magnetic pull.

"Go, touch it, Gabriella."

Reluctantly, I slip my fingers out of Benjamin's hand.

"Wait here—
don't move.
I'll be right back."

"Of course, where else would I be?"

Whenever I have been in Jerusalem in the past, I had always needed to mark my return by coming here. To let the power of this place encircle me, connect to unnameable energies. I look up at the multitude of tiny scraps of paper tucked into every crevice and opening of the wall that contain messages and prayers, the hopes and requests of so many who have stood here, before me, searching for answers. My fingers run across the polished surface, worn from the many thousands of years of loving touch. I lean my forehead against the ancient limestone and close my eyes as I whisper a prayer. "Thank you for bringing me to this moment, for giving me this life, and allowing me to see, understand, and accept what has always been in my heart."

I back away and glance over my shoulder to see Benjamin standing exactly where I had left him. He never takes his eyes off of me, and I try to get back to him as quickly as I can. I navigate through the path of worshippers and finally, when I reach him, I throw my arms around his neck and start to kiss him. I know that unlike many of the other prayers being made on this day, in so many ways, mine have already been answered.