Fare Forward (30 page)

"And?"

"Well, it's just that he hasn't seen him in
years,
Gabriella. Why now?" She waves her hands in the air in front of her as if she is pushing away her thought. "He's usually quite organized when he goes away, but this time it feels different. I have never seen his library like this, I don't know what came over him, really."

I feel goosebumps on my skin. The information she has just shared with me shakes me to the core.

Philip puts his hand on my back. "Come on, Gabriella, let's see what Maggie's talking about."

We continue to his library and turn the corner. I stand in the doorway and cannot move. I understand immediately what Maggie means.

The library has never looked like this. Empty—organized, with no trace of his recent presence. The usual disarray of papers, evidence of his rich mind pursuing many ideas at once, is absent. Instead, the desk is wiped clean, nothing but the gleam from the polished wood reflecting back the photograph of him with my grandmother. The books are all put carefully away on the shelves, filed in alphabetical order, the usual backlog of mail and personal items—missing.

"See what I mean, Gabriella?" she says.

"Where is everything? His papers, computers, all of his . . ." I can barely finish my sentence. "His
work?"
I turn to look at Maggie, then at Philip, and wonder whether they can hear my pounding heart, sense my fear. "When, I mean, who did this?"

I am unable to believe that this is the work of my grandfather. I need information to try to understand the mystery of this completely uncharacteristic behavior.

"Well," Maggie begins and tries to steady her voice. "I was away for a few days, you remember don't you? I went to visit my sister in Ireland. Anyway, he was here—in the house, he just insisted I go. I think he had a
visitor
then."

I feel all the blood rushing to my head as I sit down in his chair.

"What?"

"I mean, it made me feel better to know that he wasn't alone. You know I hate to leave him when he's here in Gloucester, but I had no choice. Anyway, I came back, and he had already left for the Far East. I found everything in the house as it usually is—except for
this."
She is clearly frightened.

"Yes." I look around the room one more time then back into her eyes. "Now I understand."

In that moment, I realize that Maggie and I are two people who love Sydney Vogel very much, our futures, in different ways, inextricably linked to his.

T
HERE IS NOTHING else to say. Nothing to do at the beach house except worry and wonder what is going on. Why nothing about my life seems familiar anymore. So Philip and I head back to New York for my flight to Tel Aviv.

"Gabriella?" Philip's voice is concerned. "Maybe I should come with you. Your grandfather would like that I'm sure. Right?"

"That's ridiculous. Everything is fine; it's all going to be just fine."

I am going to make it that way. I need to see my grandfather, to reassure myself that he is well and to share the luxury of the many hours alone with him on the flight. This would be a rare opportunity to be uninterrupted—no appointments or cell phones. I couldn't wait to have him all to myself, there was so much we needed to talk about.

"Are you listening?"

"Yes, of course."

"When I fly home to London, I can easily continue on to Tel Aviv. I've talked to my parents about it, and they agree I should go with you. They also said your grandfather is everywhere." His voice drops down. "Front page news."

I feel sick.

"No, Philip, that's not necessary." I reach out for his hand. "But, I've been meaning to tell you something for a while. Everything you have done for me, Philip, it's all too much—more than I deserve. I'm going to be a better friend to you in the future. I promise."

"You are an amazing friend," Philip says.

"No, I'm not."

"You've given me so much, Gabriella, taught me."

"What could I possibly—"

"To really
see
people, and things, in a new way, the many possibilities. Things I could never have imagined."

"Really?"

"Yes, I thought I had it all figured out. That I had all the answers, but now I see how wrong I was."

"You do, you know so much. You are so good at everything—music, architecture."

"No, it's okay, Gabriella. I like it better this way."

"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."

W
E 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?"

"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."

W
E 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.