Fare Forward (36 page)

"For very different reasons."

My eyes move away from his burning gaze to the mountain that is the site of so much bravery and death. I see the ruins of Herod's palace on the north face. The mountain is odd in its architecture—perfect for a fortress and geographically isolated from its surroundings by deep gorges on all sides.

We step out of the car, and I slam the door and wait for him to come around and stand behind me. I need to collect myself. I don't want my grandfather to see me like this.

"They were all here, Gabriella, so many have stood in this very place."

Seventy-five years after Herod died, a group of rebels and their families fled Jerusalem after the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE. They established a large camp on the top of the mountain and began their resistance to the Roman Empire. In my mind, this had always been our story of David and Goliath. For two years almost one thousand people survived.

"What is it about this place, Benjamin? Why? Ten Roman camps, unlimited wealth and funding, the greatest army in the world, and they couldn't conquer those few at the top of the mountain. Men, women, and children? It just doesn't make sense."

I knew that in 73 CE the Roman governor, Flavius Silva, led an attack on the mountain with almost fifteen thousand militia. This time, the Romans were determined to quash the rebellion, knowing that escape from the summit was absolutely impossible. With sophisticated weapons and massive fires they broke through the defenses and prepared to take all their prisoners.

"The Romans did not anticipate the spirit and conviction of the defenders up above. Almost one thousand men, women, and children, who had other ideas, ready to face the Roman Empire." He looks at me.

"What do you mean?"

"They decided that rather than being taken alive they would choose their fate. So they took their own lives. They burned everything but left all of their food. They wanted the Romans to know that they had
chosen
this."

I look up again at the northern edge of the steep cliff. I can see terraces connected by rock-cut staircases. I know that above there are living quarters, a small private bathhouse, a synagogue, store rooms, throne rooms, and cisterns to collect and store water. All covered in frescos of multicolored geometric patterns, mosaics, and cut marble. It would have been a remarkable construction project anywhere and at any time. But it was accomplished two thousand years ago, on the top of a mountain, in the middle of a desert.

"The bravery of individuals, to push forward into the unknown."

"To choose freedom," he says.

"To fare forward." The words slip out of my mouth. I remember the poem from
Four Quartets,
and my grandmother's encouragement to
not be burdened by the past, nor fear the future.
Something I needed to keep with me always. A good luck charm and reminder, a link to my own past. "She wrote 'we have far to travel.' My grandmother, so many years ago in the inscription."

"I know." He smiles at me. "She always said that."

"The poem is all about time, the ideas seem illogical, yet—completely coherent. It is so personal, almost prophetic."

"You have done as she predicted."

I can see the new structure that has been built at the base of the mountain. The magnificent museum and visitor center where the reception is being held is completely surrounded by armed guards and security barricades. Soldiers stand still with their weapons at their side, and there are hundreds of press vehicles everywhere.

"Oh my God." I catch my breath at the sight of the massive security. "This is insane."

Benjamin is completely unfazed by the activity in front of us. "Gabriella, there is something else, about the poem. You know the third chapter, the 'Dry Salvages?'"

"Why are we talking about this now?" I don't want to talk anymore; I can't think straight.

"Because, it's named after a group of three rocks that are very close to your home in Gloucester, right off of Cape Ann, where I found you in the water. Did you know that T.S. Eliot wrote his poem there before he left and moved to England?"

"No, actually, I didn't."

He takes both my hands in his. "You are the music, while the music lasts."

I recognize the words from the poem and I don't know what to say; I'm numb.

"Benjamin." I fight back my tears. "Maybe it was enough just to know that the
possibility
of you existed." I turn my head away from him but feel like I can no longer breathe. "When this is over, all I will have left of you—will be words."

"Just promise me, Gabriella, that you will remember what I told you. There were families and children on the top of that mountain, and they had to choose while the Roman soldiers surrounded them. There are moments in history when the correct order of things is so violated that—"

"Fates must change," I cut him off.

"That's right, there are rules."

I
FEEL THE SACRED MOUNTAIN.

The familiar sensations I have experienced ever since I was small of the unmistakeable energy, a layered knowledge of the souls and hearts of those who have been in this place before. The density of those experiences somehow floating in a zone that I have access to, as if there is no space or time separating that moment from this one. I am sure that it is with my heart that I understand an essential part of my own history and who I have become. The many secrets of my world, all finally being revealed.

I hold tightly to Benjamin's hand as we approach the building. It contains all the modern elements of a comfortable tourist destination. A museum, theatre, reception hall, gift shop, and even a cable car that brings visitors to the summit. I try to imagine this place before any of that existed, two thousand years ago.

"Here, Gabriella, put this on."

Benjamin hands me a laminated badge that has my photograph on it, a barcode, and other numbers and symbols.

"Where did you get this?"

"Always so many questions." He smiles but doesn't answer. "We can go through the other door with this pass. Come this way."

The reception hall is bursting with people, and I hear many languages being spoken. A wall of cameras and international press photograph everyone who comes in through the door in a blinding, continuous burst of flashbulbs. There is the undeniable sense that this group of people is at the forefront of something that will change everything—and my grandfather is at the very center of it.

"Look, there he is."

A large group of reporters surround my grandfather.

"Yes," Benjamin says. "Go to him, Gabriella, I will find you after."

I am relieved to finally see my grandfather. The familiar shape of his shoulders from behind are slightly bent forward. In one hand, he holds a stack of papers and the other hand rests on a colleague's back, steadying himself, allowing him to place his ear close to the speaker's mouth. He never wants to miss a word. His hearing had been declining in the last few months, and this, along with several other physical changes that I had noticed, was disconcerting. I promised myself that we would have him visit his doctor when we returned to New York. Seeing him again in his element helps to alleviate the worry I have felt about his well being since we had been separated on the ground in Istanbul.

I run to greet him.

"Gabriella." He tries to disengage himself from the bear hug I have him in so that he can look at me.

I stand and wonder if he can see the invisible but dramatic changes in every part of me. "I've been so worried about you," I say as his eyes meet mine. He reaches for my hands and kisses them both in the way he has always done since I was small.

"You are a sight for sore eyes." He takes my arm and loops it through his. "Come, I want to talk to you."

We push our way to the back of the room, stopping briefly to acknowledge the many who are attempting to speak with him. The flashing lights of the cameras are making me dizzy, and I feel overwhelmed by everyone pulling at my grandfather. I keep looking around hoping to see Benjamin, but he is nowhere.

"Quite a group," my grandfather whispers into my ear.

Suddenly, a young woman dressed in military fatigues has both her hands on him. "Dr. Vogel, come with us. We need you at the front of the room. Now."

"Yes, yes." He pries her hands off of him. "I will be there in a moment."

He ignores her request and continues to push me in the opposite direction toward the back of the room. Clearly, he wants privacy.

"Papa, where are we going?"

"Look at you, so grown up." He moves a stray hair away from my eyes. "So much is happening more quickly than I ever imagined and now, Benjamin and you."

I feel myself blush deeply, but he continues, "You must listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you."

There is an urgency to what he is saying. Even though the program for the evening has started, he leads me out the doors and away from the auditorium into the hallway.

"Of course, what is it?" I ask and force myself to push away the growing anxiety I feel. "Shouldn't we go back in? Can this wait?"

"All this." He ignores my questions and points to the other room."Is very gratifying. However,
you
are the one who has shown me many things."

I look at him as I try to block out the sounds of the applause and the speaker from the other room.

"What do you mean? Tonight is about you,
your
accomplishments. In a few more days everyone will know. You're going to show everyone that you've been right all along."

"Although these ideas have always been more the stuff of science fiction than scientific fact . . ." The speaker has begun his introduction in the auditorium.

"You have taught me one of the most important lessons of my life," my grandfather says.

"Papa, listen, the speaker, they've started. Let's go back. They are talking about you—your work." What could he possibly have learned from me? And then, I remembered what Benjamin had said about my experiences somehow influencing him. I can't understand what he is doing and I try to lead him back, frightened by the tone of our conversation. "We need to get back in there, Papa, now—"

"Gabriella, please stop.
Listen
to me. I want you to know that you have shown me what I always wanted to believe."

"What? No, please, I don't understand."

"The work of Dr. Vogel will finally prove that a truly advanced civilization might be able to circumvent the obstacles associated with these theories . . ." the speaker continues.

"Simply by seeing it—in you."

"Seeing what?"

"That one could find happiness, find everything they are looking for not by looking outward but by looking in. Finding the answers that reside deep in your heart."

And then, I realize what he is saying. I can see it. The acceptance in his eyes, a peacefulness that I have not seen before. "But you've done it! Everything you've worked for your whole life; it's all coming together for you right now."

He shakes his head slowly and smiles at me. "This has been an interesting time. I have had the opportunity to really reflect on things, my own accomplishments and my contributions to the field of science. More important, I have recognized the incredible gift we have been given to be together for so many years and I now really believe what Einstein always said."

"About time?"

"Yes." He pauses. "And that things are not always what they seem."

The speaker in the other room starts to wrap up his introduction. "What has always been the realm of science fiction will now become fact. The very thin line between physics and metaphysics will finally be bridged. This is the proof that humankind has waited for."

There is something about what my grandfather is saying and how he is saying it. I know he is preparing me, saying things that need to be said before there are no more opportunities to do so. I recognize the feeling. I know it well and I know what it is.

It is a farewell.

"So, in preparation for the World Conference next week, where he will present his proof that will change everything we know about our world, please welcome, Dr. Sydney Vogel!"

Just as I am about to respond, he places his index finger over his lips and quiets my objection. "They're calling me, Gabriella." He kisses the top of my head and turns to hurry away. "I'll see you, right after."

"I'll be right here." I try to hold his hand for a few more seconds.

"Think about what I said." He turns and walks away.

When I go back into the auditorium, I see him standing at the podium and hear thundering applause. Hundreds of cameras flash and everyone pushes forward to get a glimpse of the humble scientist who is about to change the world. I stand alone, the crush of people pushing past me toward the front. As I back away to the rear of the room, I look up at my grandfather and notice something very unusual and out of character for him. Rather than greeting the applause with his usual good-natured humor and warm self-conscious smile, he looks down at the floor.

W
E WALK OUT OF THE hall together and into the night. The stars are unlike any I have ever seen before.

Brighter.

I feel the shift in the air. It's the kind of wind that would rustle the leaves on the trees—if there were any here. I look around and realize that we are quite alone. The scientists have boarded buses and departed for Jerusalem and the various hotels where they are staying, ready to attend the next event on their carefully orchestrated itineraries. All in preparation for the conference—where my grandfather is expected to reveal his proof. I look at him as he turns to face me and remember everything I love about him.

"So many have stood in this place before us, Gabriella, and they will continue to after we're gone. Moses, the Israelites, Herod, Alexander the Great, Caesar, Napoleon—"

"It's as if time is collapsing."

"Yes."

"This place is amazing," I whisper.

"It's a different kind of desert, a different kind of place." He shakes his head.

"Not one of sand and dunes, a desert where the wind leaves its fingerprint. Time is
erased
here."