The Sea of Aaron (18 page)

Muffy was so exhausted from Masada and the Dead Sea excursion that she decided to remain in her hotel room instead of accompanying them to El Neve Kibbutz, the place where Aaron had grown up and where his uncle Gabriel lived. No one argued with her decision and Aaron suggested that Valerie might prefer to remain behind as well, but she insisted on going.

In hindsight Valerie decided that Muffy had made a wise decision, and she wished she had done likewise.

The first warning came when Aaron's amiable mood began to head south en route to El Neve, and most of the conversation during the short drive was between Valerie and Drew.

“Aren't there other family members we could visit?” Valerie asked Aaron.

“No.” He focused his attention on the road.

She shrugged. “You told me you have half-sisters and a brother.”

“I also told you that we don't communicate.”

“Such a warm, loving family.” Drew smirked from the back seat. “There is a reason for the big chill, if you really want to know.”

“What's the reason?”

“Ask
yours truly
.”

Valerie glanced at Aaron, who said nothing. She turned back to Drew. “Yours truly isn't talking. Tell me.”

“Four years ago when his father, whom I also never met, died, my father had the body shipped out of Israel and buried in Africa next to his mother. This was totally against the wishes of the second wife and children. He had the dastardly deed done before they could even get a court order to stop it.”

Valerie shook her head. “Really, Aaron. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Aaron replied coldly. “Two days before his death, my father told me that's where he wanted his remains.”

Valerie wasn't sure whether to be flabbergasted, appalled, or morbidly amused. Yet at the same time she wasn't surprised. “Hmm…well, I guess I do see how that might cause a rift…just a little.”

Drew laughed. “Kudos to Captain Congeniality.”

The moment they set foot on the grounds of the kibbutz, Aaron became completely dour. He didn't reminisce about his childhood, encourage exploration, or offer to escort them around the sprawling farm complex. Instead, they went directly to the large private home where the uncle lived with a woman named Sarah Schulman.

Gabriel, who had long ago changed his surname from Weiss to Ben-Jacob, was formidable, looking a little like a towering Hollywood version of Moses. The man was in his late eighties but stood ramrod straight. He had a silvery beard and a head full of wavy silver hair. He greeted them in an emotionless, perfunctory manner and Valerie noticed that he possessed the same glowering stare Aaron had perfected, only there was something vitally amiss; a touch of madness lurked in his faded blue eyes. He told them that his companion—he didn't even lie and refer to Sarah Schulman as a wife—was out, and he invited them inside.

The shades were drawn in the sparsely furnished sitting room, which reeked of cigar smoke. Once the three of them were settled on an overstuffed velour couch, Gabriel sat in a separate wingback chair facing them like an interrogator and commented, sans humor, that he was surprised that Aaron was married and that Valerie resembled Aaron's Cushite mother—Cushite was exactly the word he used. Valerie wasn't too sure, but she sensed that the word was used disparagingly. He then went on to say that it was about time he met Drew, who he hadn't even realized was an adult. Afterward, he fixated on Aaron, whom he neither embraced, shook hands with, or smiled at.

“You've been away much too long,” he said.

“I'm here now,” Aaron said.

While Valerie fought back the urge to vocalize her displeasure, the conversation switched to Hebrew, which neither she nor Drew understood, and after a few minutes, Gabriel stood and, with a wave of his hand, dismissed her, asking that she please wait out in the garden because he wanted to have a private discussion with his family.

Valerie was all too eager to leave; in a few more seconds her mouth would get her in trouble.

Sensing her chagrin, Aaron rose and escorted her down a hallway and out into a blindingly sunny garden of climbing roses, where there was a secluded bench. “This shouldn't take long,” he said. “I apologize for him. Gabriel's become even more insensitive with old age.”

Valerie sat heavily on the bench. “Insensitive? He's outright rude.” She sighed. “Well, I guess I was warned.”

When he had gone back inside, she stood up and paced, hating having been sent outside like an ostracized child. The sunlight and flowers mocked her so terribly that she ventured back to the house and found her way into the hallway. The cathedral-like arched door to the sitting room was now closed, and all she could hear were Aaron's and Gabriel's muted voices. The hallway was actually quite fascinating.

The walls on both sides were covered with framed museum-quality photographs of people—handsome young men and women with that distinct Israeli Sabra look, all captured in various poses and various locales. She walked farther down the hall, wondering who all the people were. In the midst of the adult faces was a larger picture of two gorgeous little twin red-haired girls, holding hands and standing in a field of wild daisies. She stared at them for a long time before moving on.

At the very end of the hall, an empty picture frame hung. Puzzled, she studied it. A small bronze plaque was in the bottom edge of the frame announcing a certain year followed by a hyphen.

“Hey,” Drew said, causing her to jump.

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Hope that crazy old lion didn't offend you too much.”

“No, I'm okay. Did he dismiss you, too?”

“Yes. I hate to imagine what you must think of this bizarre excuse for a family.”

“Don't worry about me. Uncle Gabriel doesn't matter. It's your father I care about. Plus, it seems you and I are getting along okay. That's really all that matters.”

Drew smiled slowly. “I'm glad you're in my father's life, and I hope you stay there. Doesn't seem he's got anything here in the way of family.”

“Thanks, Drew. I'm sorry about the way your uncle is. It's kind of appalling that you came to Israel for the first time hoping to meet some family, and this is what happens.”

“Means nothing to me,” he said with a shrug. “But I'm learning all about where my father gets his charming disposition.” He studied the pictures on the wall. “Did you know that Uncle Gabriel's a famous sculptor and photographer?”

“No. Actually, Aaron's told me very little about him.”

“Gabriel Ben-Jacob has pictures in the Holocaust museum, the Smithsonian, and in quite a few galleries. Most of them are Holocaust-related.”

“Interesting. Any clue who all these people are?”

Drew took a deep breath. “Before the Great One dismissed me, he told me to look at the pictures. He calls this the hallway of heroes and martyrs. All of these people were personal friends of his, who were either soldiers, special agents or loved ones who died in the struggle to keep Israel a Jewish state.”

Valerie sighed. “That's sad. There are so many of them. Who are the little girls?”

Drew studied the twin redheads. “I'm not too sure, but I believe they must be Uncle Gabriel's daughters. I've been told he married really late in life and that he had twins. They were six years old when they died.”

“How did they die?”

“A car bombing. Gabriel and his family were vacationing in Switzerland. The bomb was meant to kill him, but instead it killed his children and his wife's brother. His wife left him after that and I think eventually committed suicide.”

“Oh, God. Does it ever end?” Valerie looked away.

“Did you wonder about the empty frame on the end?”

“Yes,” she admitted warily.

“That one's waiting for Aaron. Uncle Gabriel told me a few minutes ago that he dusts it off every day.”

A wave of dizziness swept her. “Drew, I think I've seen and heard enough. I'm going out to the car to wait.”

***

Late in the evening, in their hotel room just outside of Galilee, Valerie lay on her side of the bed, half-heartedly thumbing through a travel brochure. She was swathed in a thick lavender-colored robe, even though the room was not cold.

“I hope you're not still thinking about Gabriel,” Aaron said.

She shrugged. “I'm okay. You did warn me not to go.”

“I should have insisted.”

She put the brochure down. “I told you I'm okay. What I really want to know is, are you?”

“Me?” He looked puzzled. “Why shouldn't I be?”

“Well, for God's sake, you're human, aren't you? You haven't been back home in what? Twenty years? And that's the kind of greeting you get? What did he say to you?”

“What he said to me is irrelevant. He's old and not to be taken seriously.”

His voice trailed off as he went into the bathroom and turned the shower on full blast.

Valerie sighed, reached up, and switched off the nightlight. Lying in the dark, she couldn't shake a feeling of sadness for Aaron having grown up around such callous people, and she wondered if he really was as unruffled and detached as he led everyone to believe. When she was young she had considered her own mother to be emotionally cruel, but her life had been a stroll in the park compared to his. The feelings turned to anger. She didn't care what Gabriel Ben-Iceberg thought about her, but how dare he be so cold and hostile to his nephew and to Drew?

Aaron, a towel wrapped around his waist, returned to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed in the darkness.

Valerie reached out and traced a finger down the smooth length of his back. “What did he say to you?” she whispered.

“It's not important.”

“Aaron, please.”

“He told me I was wrong to abandon my country, and that I'm a fool for getting married.”

“Oh, please,” Valerie said angrily. “The
married
part is none of his business, and you didn't abandon your country. If anything, the country abandoned you and then turned around and pardoned you. Sounds like being jerked around like a puppet on a string to me.”

Aaron looked over his shoulder. “You're angered by this?”

“Darn right, I'm angry.” She moved closer to him. “Gabriel's just so preoccupied with death, dying, and so-called honor. Please tell me you're not even thinking about ever moving back here.”

“If that's what you're worried about, don't be.” Aaron sounded vaguely amused. “Israel doesn't speak to me in the way it did when I was a kid. I would never live here again.”

Valerie breathed a barely audible sigh of relief. “I just don't get your uncle. I never got to meet your father, but, from what I've heard, it seems like your family has such little regard for one another. No one's appreciated until they're dead. No love at all. Did your father ever hug you…make you feel special?”

She couldn't see his expression because his back was facing her, but she sensed his surprise at her question.

“It's unthinkable that he would do such a thing,” he said. “My father was not openly demonstrative in that sort of way, but not long before he died, he said something that surprised me a little.”

“What?”

“He apologized to me. I didn't expect that…didn't even want it. He said he was proud of what I had accomplished and sorry for not being the father he should have been. It was at that point that he made me promise to have his body buried in Cielo Vista near my mother.”

Valerie inhaled slowly. “I'm glad he finally told you he was proud of you, but why…why do you think he was so unavailable?

“It was my unspoken belief that he blamed me for my mother's death.”

“Oh, please, that's so ridiculous. How could he blame a baby? You didn't cause your own birth.”

“Ridiculous, I agree. But I imagine every time he looked at me, he remembered losing her.” Aaron rubbed his eyes wearily. “None of this matters now. It's true, we didn't go around embracing and commending each other, but we still cared.”

“Unacceptable. Not good enough,” Valerie said. “I think it's about time someone showed you some real love.”

“And I suppose you're going to do that,” he said, slipping under the covers, a definite hint of a smile in his voice.

“I'm certainly going to try.” She shed her thick robe, exposing bare skin, and snuggled up closer, wrapping her arms around him.

The chill of his body immediately alarmed her. “My God, you're freezing.”

“You used up all the hot water.”

As if he needed more cold
. She embraced him tighter, rubbing him, warming him with her own body heat. Slowly her hand moved down to unknot the towel. Immediately, they flowed into the rite of lovemaking, and she noticed for the first time that there was no protection—no physical barrier between them.