Fare Forward Page 24

  "Like what better?"

  "To live in a world of infinite possibilities, where anything can happen."

  We cross over the bridge and turn toward Kennedy Airport. I see the skyline of New York City in the distance.

  "Anything," I whisper as I look out the window of his car.

  "That's right."

  "So exactly what is it that I've taught you, Philip?"

  "Something really simple. It's not always about what's in your mind—what really matters is what's in your heart."

  * * *

  Kennedy Airport. Where one can board an aircraft, sleep, endure the passage of time, and then emerge in another world. Looking around at the variety of passengers, I wonder where people are going, what significance this travel represents to them, and how it might change their lives. Coming here reminded me of the many trips I had made with my parents, flying across the world and into the past.

  "There's the TWA Terminal. That Saarinen." Philip whistles. "Now there's an architect with a vision of the future."

  His car speeds quickly through the airport and comes to a stop in front of the iconic building.

  "You're in the middle of the road, pull over!" I say.

  "Just look at that building."

  "I know, it's amazing."

  "He makes concrete look like wings of a bird in flight." Clearly in awe, he continues, "When he designed this, it was the height of the International Style, but he didn't care. He completely bucked the system—went against all the purists to create a building that expressed new ideas. Optimism."

  "I know, architecture with something to say."

  "He wasn't trying to fit into the status quo. He used his knowledge of technology to create something new and here it stands. Still."

  "Science and art," I say very quietly.

  "That's right. Just what I told you, Gabriella, exactly what you're doing." He shifts the car into gear and accelerates away as I look back out the window at the beautiful building. "Let's get you to your grandfather."

  * * *

  54

  * * *

  WE HAD PLANNED TO meet in the business class lounge of EL AL, the Israeli airlines. It seems to be taking longer than usual to pass through the rigorous checks, and I feel as if I'm going to jump out of my skin.

  "What's going on here?" I ask the young Israeli security officer who carefully looks through my suitcases.

  "I'm the one supposed to be asking the questions," she answers as she eyes me carefully.

  "I mean, I haven't traveled on EL AL in a while but it does seem like—" I look quickly around the terminal and see the unmistakeable uniform: sunglasses, blank expressions, young dark men blending into the background but carefully watching every passenger. It's dark outside, no need for sunglasses. "There's a lot more security. Everywhere."

  She compares the name on my ticket and passport again, identifying me.

  "Someone important on the flight tonight." She winks at me.

  "Oh."

  "Don't worry, we take good care of you. Our pilots are the best."

  "I know they are."

  "Go ahead, we are done here."

  I am glad to complete the security check and find the lounge where I hope my grandfather will be waiting. I walk in and immediately feel better.

  Recently renovated, the space reflects the sophistication of the international design community, furnished with icons of modern design, flat-screen televisions, and a large buffet of my favorite Israeli delicacies. I drop my backpack, computer case, and coat on the floor and walk over to the windows that face the runway. I see the blue-and-white 747 parked at the gate and the pilots in the cockpit going through their preflight preparations. To me, it is an amazing sight, all that it represents, the memories, and the many times I had flown on this airline. With my parents.

  "Look at it." My father had pointed to the Star of David boldly emblazoned on the tail of the plane, the beautiful aircraft that would carry us across the globe. I stood on my tiptoes, my chin on the window ledge, my small form barely reaching the glass to look out.

  "Never forget. Never forget what it means, Gabriella."

  "I won't."

  "That star is a wish—it's a promise to you."

  "My wish is that we'll always be together."

  But that's not what happened.

  I remembered the flight that had carried my parents back to Israel after the explosion that had killed them in Paris. Their bodies stored below in the cargo hold while I sat with other passengers above them, clutching my grandmother's hand. So much death was woven into the thread of my own life and my history. I thought of the millions who had died to make the small country I was traveling to a reality, what must have seemed like a completely impossible dream. After thousands of years, we had a land to call our own.

  I sit down in an Arne Jacobsen Egg Chair and spin slowly away from everyone in the room and close my eyes. I take the moment to consider everything that is ahead, the beautiful sacred land that I am traveling to that holds so much meaning for me. The irony of my grandfather's life-changing scientific findings being presented there.

  "There's my girl."

  I feel the chair being turned back to face the interior of the room. It's the voice I have waited to hear. He must have recognized the puddle of my belongings on the floor. I jump up and hug him tightly.

  "Papa! It's so good to see you." I wrap my arms around his shoulders in a gesture reminiscent of when I was a child. "When did you get in?"

  "My flight from California was early, and the traffic from New Jersey to Kennedy was lighter than I expected. So I've been here talking to my old friend Eyal. He is the head of security in New York now."

  "Why?" I try to conceal the concern in my voice.

  "Stop worrying. He promised that they will take special care of us on this flight."

  "I'm not worried," I lie.

  "Hmmm, I can see something in your eyes. What is it?"

  "Everything just feels different this time. There is so much more security than I can ever remember. By the way where are your—friends?" I look around for his private security detail.

  "I don't need them here."

  "Still."

  "Gabriella, I believe there may be some government representatives on board or other scientists heading to the conference."

  "Like you?"

  "I'm sure we'll recognize them." He winks at me.

  I'm not satisfied. I want the nagging anxiety to go away. I want to believe him, the explanation of why there seems to be so much security present—more than usual. The distinctive appearance and unmistakeable shape of the machine gun outlined by their clothing. I look at him and take in every detail of his face. I search it for evidence of anything unusual and I know he can sense my apprehension.

  "Come, sweetheart, let's board now and get settled."

  "I'm ready."

  We begin the procession down to the gate. He talks about the details of his meetings and lectures in China and the global excitement building in anticipation of the International Physics Conference.

  "But mostly, I'm so happy you're with me." He takes my hand.

  There are so many questions I have, but they can wait. As we approach the gate, I see the body of the large jet through the windows. We find our seats in the upper deck and settle in to prepare for the long crossing. I lean back into my seat and buckle the seat belt around me as I hear the engines warming. I try to relax, feeling safe next to him, in the cradle of the vehicle that will transport me to everything that waits at the other end. Known and not. I look down at our interlocked hands, their union clearly showing how time has affected him.

  "Papa?" I remember something he had said.

  I turn to him and see that his eyes are closed, but I believe he has not yet fallen asleep. There are so many things I want to discuss with him, so many questions I know he can help to answer—about myself, my parents, and, specifically, about Benjamin.

  "Do you think it's the right time?"r />
  "I don't know."

  "Is the world really ready?" I had never asked him that.

  "I'm not sure about the world, but you are. It's time."

  "Yes, I am. I'm ready."

  "You will see how everything is connected."

  "I understand."

  "Your grandmother told you, that you and she were different." His hand tightens on mine as he mentions her name.

  "Papa, please, you don't have to—"

  "I've spent my whole life looking for the connection. In our family's mystical background and the laws of science."

  "And have you found it?"

  "I needed to do these things. It was not a choice I made. It was to understand myself, to understand her, and find the missing link."

  The one that somehow Benjamin was tied up in.

  As the plane takes its place in line, the captain's voice comes through the speakers telling us to prepare for takeoff. And then, I remember—something he had said earlier that didn't make any sense.

  "Papa, you said you came from New Jersey to meet me here, but you never travel through Newark airport."

  He opens his eyes, looks at me, and leans his head back onto the leather headrest, a satisfied smile on his lips. As if he knows that the words he is about to say will reveal a multitude to me. "Not Newark, Gabriella. Teterboro, where the private planes are. I flew in with a colleague." He exhales and says the next words slowly but deliberately. "Someone you know quite well I believe."

  * * *

  55

  * * *

  WE ARE FLYING HIGH above the Atlantic Ocean, moving through time. Through worlds.

  I feel the transformation taking place inside of me. The obligations and responsibilities of my life in New York have been a good distraction the last few weeks. The perfect excuse to avoid what I could no longer deny. In a few hours, we would be landing in Israel and, I prayed, finding out the answers I needed to know about Benjamin. One thing I know for certain, I will never forget everything that has happened—all the things that have brought me to this moment. I am carrying it with me. All that I have lived in this life, the knowledge that I am not alone, and especially that those who are no longer here, are with me.

  Lighting my path.

  I see the dim overhead light from the galley where the flight attendants are whispering to each other. They keep looking back toward our seats. I get up to stretch my legs and walk toward them as they immediately make themselves busy.

  "Hello," I say.

  "Everyone is sleeping, you are not tired?" She offers me a glass of water.

  "Yes, I am but I can't sleep."

  "Is it your first time going to our country?"

  "No." I think back to my childhood when I spent most of the year in school in Israel with my parents—counting the days until the summers in Gloucester with my two friends. "I used to live there."

  "Ah." She nods. "So you are going to see someone you love."

  I look down at the floor. "Yes," I say quietly.

  "Beautiful. Our country is a wonderful place—everyone can find what they are looking for. For thousands of years this is where people have ended their journeys." She looks at the other flight attendant then back at me. "You are traveling with him?" She points several rows down to my grandfather's sleeping face. "We know he is very important, to so many. We will take good care of both of you."

  "Thank you." I turn around and return to my seat. Very cautiously, I raise the shade on the window. It was closed to keep out the morning light of the continent over which we are flying. The tops of the Swiss Alps emerge from the cloud cover, their majestic presence a reminder of Earth below. I remembered taking this trip as a child, and the wonder of seeing the world from this perspective, from high above. The land reduced to graphic shapes. How different things seem depending on your perspective and where you are in your life.

  Relativity.

  This time, this trip, everything is different.

  The angle of the sun is low in the sky, and I know that we are approaching the exact day of the winter solstice. I remembered a discussion with my grandfather on the significance of our planet in its orbit.

  "The concept of the solstice is embedded in ancient Greek celestial navigation," he had explained. "Throughout history, we have looked to the heavens to guide our journeys. We are all voyagers aren't we?"

  I had agreed. And then I remembered, the kidnapping and executions at CERN, the bodies found at the Cafe Solstice. I try to push those thoughts away and think back instead to my visit with Wallace Gray. The small, fragile volume he had shown me in his office, given to him as a gift by my grandmother, filled with the prophetic words she had inscribed: "May we always remember not to be burdened by the past, nor fear the future. We have far to travel."

  "Nor fear the future," I say softly, reminding myself. "We have far to travel."

  "Gabriella, you will find your answers, simply trust your heart." Wallace Gray had spoken her words.

  I could see it in his eyes, I had felt my skin tingling, responding to the layered sensation of memories in the room.

  He could see my doubt but continued,"Yes, they reside deep within the spacious architecture of your mind—fare forward, voyager."

  I remembered. How those words encouraged my spirit. Now, I try to absorb the enormity of everything that was happening. The voyage, the crossing that I knew I was on.

  I lean back into the seat and reach out for my grandfather's warm hand. I close my eyes to rest and then, time slows down, I am somewhere else. I know sleep has found me and that I am in a dream.

  It is all so clear. I can see her, my grandmother. And the light—the way it comes in from above. It is dark, it looks like a cave but it is filled with a warm glow. She is so young, so incredibly beautiful and strong. She is not afraid. She is talking, answering questions about herself, what she wants and what she is looking for. I can see his face, the way he looks at her. His beautiful, familiar face.

  It is him.

  Then everything changes. They are in a white stone house under the stars. So many stars and candles—everywhere. People and music and food and happiness. Celebrating. But she needs to get away, something is drawing her into the garden. A beautiful garden, filled with roses and trees—twisted, gnarled olive trees—as old as the oldest thing she could see in the ancient city everywhere around her. She hears their voices, his and Papa's. He is there too, only she doesn't know him yet. She hides in the shadows—she isn't supposed to be there.

  They are gone and it is quiet. She enters the dark house, and he finds her. He hands her something small, round, and shiny. It is the amulet. She holds it to her heart and keeps it with her, always. Until she dies. The house overlooking Jerusalem, the dark garden that smells like rose oil, the perfume she always wore, the trees that have seen so much. I see it all.

  But there is more, much more. The sun is setting and the garden has changed. It is a different season, a different time. There are people everywhere, happy, celebrating, looking toward a wedding canopy covered with roses from the garden. A white aisle, petals on the ground, music, and a face. The smiling face with beautiful green eyes that waits for the veil-covered bride as she walks toward him, and he raises his hand to—

  "Gabriella?"

  I wake suddenly to the clatter of dishes, the smell of coffee, and my grandfather's smile as he looks down at me.

  "Good morning, sleepy head." The back of his hand touches my cheek. "You looked like you were having a wonderful dream, hmm?"

  I straighten up in my seat, surprised, as well, that sleep had found me. "Where are we?" It feels as if I had just been looking out the window at the mountains moments before.

  "I think we have less than two hours until we land, but if there weren't so many clouds we could probably see the islands of Greece."

  I lean back in my seat to make a place for him as we both strain to look out the small window and down toward the surface of the earth. We take in the majestic sight. I know this is
my chance. I need to talk to him and I don't know how to begin.

  "I want to thank you."

  "Yes? For what, my dear?"

  "My birthday gift—that was very special. Incredible."

  "I'm glad you liked it. He is quite the musician. Among other things."

  "So much has happened in the last few months. I feel so disconnected from you."

  He sighs deeply. "Nonsense."

  "Every single thing in my life has changed. Even you."

  "A lot has happened."

  "I just want to understand."

  "It's not so complicated, Gabriella. Quite simple, actually. It has always been a goal of mine to use science to find the answers. Maybe simply to confirm what I already knew in my heart was true."

  "What do you mean, something you already knew, but why?"

  "In a way, similar to what your parents were working to understand. Finding a synthesis of solutions."

  I look at his profile, his bent shoulders. "My parents?"

  "And then, of course, the greatest gift I could ever have hoped for. Something I could never have anticipated nor expected."

  "A gift?"

  His voice is very low. "Because I now understand, that I would have lost you too. That night on the beach."

  I am incredulous. "Benjamin."

  "Yes."

  "He changed my fate."

  "He changed all of our fates. Something he began so many years ago."

  "How could it be that you knew him? That you were all together?"

  But, my grandfather is not listening to my words; he is not answering my questions. Rather he is talking to himself, as if he needs to hear these things spoken aloud, to believe that they are true. "He has shown me many things and changed so much, especially in my work. But I now realize that I've arrived back to a concept I was taught when I was very young. I am back where I started. Where my parents and their parents were looking, and so many before them."

  "I don't understand. Where you started?"

  "And as you already know very well, I have found my answers."