Nothing could be more photogenic than side-by-side images of Galia coming out of the hospital and Naama entering prison in handcuffs; the contrast was made for the front page. The media blackout order had been rescinded, and the telephone in their home never stopped ringing.
Galia watched television while Doron spoke with Udi, explaining to him that there was no chance that he’d come back to work now, not while Galia was still healing.
The police commissioner, interviewed by Channel Two, praised the security forces for their tireless work in catching the true perpetrators.
The prime minister stood in the Knesset plenum, praising the police and the GSS and calling on right-wing extremists and opponents of the Disengagement to reconsider their next moves.
He proclaimed, “This is a fateful hour for the Jewish State. It must unite and support the most sacred value of all, the value of democracy. Right and left must join hands and learn the lesson of these exceptional events, moving forward with the ideal of national cohesiveness…”
As Doron sat down on one of the armchairs in the living room, he told Galia, “Udi sends his regards.”
Gaia smiled. Everything appeared routine now, but she could not let the good feelings mislead her. She knew that she had a number of confrontations ahead of her. First, she had to hash things out with Doron. For the moment, doubtless due to her injuries, he was leaving things be, but he could not ignore everything that had happened for long. She would have to pay, one way or another, for her many lies. Then there was Daniel — could she still work with him in the future, and how? She yawned dramatically. The hour wasn’t that late, but she felt utterly drained.
“Doron, I’m so tired. I’m going to bed before I fall over.” She got to her feet, as did Doron.
“Do you need help?” he asked.
“Thanks, I’ll be fine.”
She walked over to Shir’s room with silent steps, peeking inside. Shir was enjoying the sleep of the righteous. A true smile came to Galia’s lips, as she took a deep breath and thanked God for her daughter’s safe return home. Then Galia moved on to her own bedroom, where she had to lean on the closet. Despite her unwillingness, she might have to call Doron for help anyway. During the daytime, Yael was there to help her. Now, the task of changing clothes seemed to be impossible to her. She tried to stifle the cry of pain, as she noticed Doron was there, holding a glass of water.
“You forgot your medicine.” He put the glass down on the dresser, seeing the grimace of pain on her face.
“Wait a second. What are you doing? You don’t need to be a hero, let me help you.” He walked over to her. Her blouse was loosened, and Galia recoiled from him. She didn’t want him to put his hands on her; his touch would burn her flesh.
“Doron, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” She sat on the bed.
He appeared not to be listening. Gently, gingerly he bent down and began unbuttoning her blouse. She avoided looking him in the face, but she felt his eyes resting on her. Slowly, so slowly Galia thought it might drive her mad, Doron stripped her of her blouse. She was grateful that she had decided to wear a top under it this morning. His hand fluttered over her shoulders, aware of its effect.
“Galia?” His voice was hesitant.
She closed her eyes, certain that she would give in to the temptation to give herself to him, as long as she could be sure that he had forgiven her.
“Doron?” Was the pleading in her voice for his pardon or his touch?
His two hands gripped her face, angling it towards him, as her eyes were still closed. The pain in her arm, so palpable a few minutes ago, had disappeared. Instead, there was unrestrained desire. Doron went down on his knees, searching for her gaze.
She sensed that he was also struggling internally. Her uninjured hand caressed his face, he shut his eyes too, and when they opened again, Galia could see deep pain in them. “You don’t intend to forgive and forget, do you?” she asked, immediately regretting it.
Doron did not answer right away. He stood up to get the glass of water and the pill.
“Drink,” he ordered.
“Is that pill going to do something for my broken heart?” she tried to joke.
Doron’s face was serious. “If it could, I would have brought myself the whole bottle,” he replied, opening another wound in her heart.
He headed out of the room. “Tomorrow, Gali, I’m leaving. I need to go back to Kfar Saba.”
“So soon?” The desperation in her voice was clear.
“Yes, you seem to be recovering,” he explained.
She wouldn’t make it easy for him. “That’s because you’re here with me.”
Doron left the room without another word.
“Stay,” Galia asked once more, the following morning, whispering, as he stood next to the door and blew goodbye kisses to Shir.
He turned to look at her. Unlike the bruises on his body, his mind had still not recovered from all its injuries. “You know, we’ve been through a lot these past few days. You and I need to take some time for ourselves, to see what happens next. We’ll talk during the week, and we’ll definitely see each other when I come to pick up Shir.”
He bestowed a light kiss on her lips and shut the door behind him.
Chapter Eighteen
That was a month ago, Galia thought as she sat in her office.
She could not shake the memories of the last four weeks; as the media pursued her relentlessly; as she visited her sister in prison; as Daniel tried unsuccessfully to apologize for his actions, telling her that he intended to leave the newspaper and sell his share in it. In the meantime, the chasm between her and Doron yawned wider.
She thought about everything she’d experienced. One thing at least left her satisfied: she had escaped the demons that had been pursuing her. She had nothing left to hide, no secrets. She would ignore the investigation into her sister, and she knew what would help her do that. Her attention was focused entirely on her work and on Shir. Throughout the day, she would keep herself occupied. She needed a new partner at the paper; and the rest of the hours of the day were dedicated to Shir, until the time her daughter closed her eyes, safe, snug, and warm in her bed. It seemed that routine had returned to the newspaper, as it had returned to her life: hard work, spending time with Shir, and a massive effort to ignore her fragile relationship with Doron.
It was all for the sake of appearances.
Galia recalled the realization she had reached: she could not put her past behind her until she gathered her courage and faced her sister. Only afterwards could she hope for her life to get, bit by bit, back on track. She scheduled the visit with the corrections authorities, but she told no one else about her plans. She fearfully counted every step as she approached the holding cell where she would meet her sister, each time wondering if she should turn on her heel and avoid those cold eyes and that emotionless voice.
And then she was standing there, staring into her own face, a shocking experience. It seemed that, despite her expectations, a crack had formed in the iciness of her sister’s eyes. They looked at each other, and it was obvious that Naama was as deeply affected by the experience as Galia.
“You’re the last person I expected to see here,” Naama said bitterly.
Galia moved closer and now saw that Naama held a prayer-book.
It was hard for Galia to swallow. “I came to get to know my sister. I want to understand you. I would really like for us to talk, once at least, and for you to tell me about your life, about our father…”
Mentioning their late father caused Naama’s breath to catch. She looked different now, softer.
It was the first time they had spoken, rather than arguing. Galia took advantage of the opportunity. She took another step forward, looking straight into Naama’s eyes as she said, “Please, tell me about him. About you.”
In a quiet but heartfelt ton
e, Naama told her sister the story of her life: her youth, her close relationship to their father, his influence on her. She did not spare on the description of her strict upbringing. She explained her love of faith, the place in which she grew up, and above all Immanuel. She described him as the love of her life, how he got her to the hospital amid the violent chaos of that demonstration, how he almost gave up his own life to shield her from the terrorist bomb with his own body. How he earned her love through devotion and dedication. How it was this love that had made her do what she had done.
“He wanted you to take Shir? How could you have thought of such a thing?” Galia shook with the very thought of what might have happened if such a plan had been put into action.
Naama looked into her sister’s eyes. “You need to understand that Immanuel can never father children. Never. Because of me. Because he protected me. He knew how much I wanted children. He wanted to do this for me. And I almost agreed.” She explained that, with a last effort, she had managed to persuade Immanuel to leave Shir at the airport. She had argued with him, in the midst of everything, and she had told him that if he insisted, she would turn herself in.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about everything. I just hope that one day you’ll be able to forgive me for everything you experienced because of us.”
The tension in the air suddenly lessened. The two of them wondered about where their lives would go now.
Suddenly, there was a noise from outside. The corrections officer came in. “I’m sorry, but we have to end the visit now, Mrs. Yellin. Your time is up.”
“Yes, of course, I’m leaving.” Galia gave Naama one last, long look and left. As she made her way out of the prison, she thought to herself that if she could forgive her sister one day, perhaps Doron could forgive her and return to her.
A few days later, Galia was in her office, looking out the window. The weather had cleared up a bit, she noted, thinking about the day she had looked out into a thunderstorm and recalled her first meeting with Doron. The clouds in the sky were few, and the weatherman said they weren’t rain clouds. Between them, she could see the deep azure of the sky, and a ray of sun which managed to break though. It was the day of the unveiling of Grandpa Yehuda’s headstone.
She hurried out of the office. Not many people would show up by the fresh grave, and she wanted to be there to welcome those who did come to pay their respects.
She remembered the telephone call from the director of Maoz Yom Seniors’ Residence, the day she got out of the hospital. She learned that Yehuda had died just a few hours earlier. It was heart-wrenching for Galia to hear the horrible news, but the director consoled her, saying that Grandpa Yehuda waited to pass from the world to help her, and having achieved that mission, he could peacefully go to his eternal reward. For the rest of her life, Galia would be grateful to her grandfather for the fateful words he had whispered to Doron, the message had prevented the worst pain imaginable: losing her daughter forever.
The journey to the Kfar Samir Cemetery was smooth. The relatively pleasant weather allowed them to avoid unnecessary traffic, and she found herself thinking sadly about how she wanted to share the day with her loved ones. It was the day of Doron’s weekly visit, and she regretted not asking him to escort her while he was in Haifa. His broad shoulder would have been a great comfort.
At the cemetery, a small number of acquaintances were gathered. Her close friend and lawyer Roni was there, and he was in charge of the unveiling ceremony. Galia could not stop crying. She wondered if the cloudburst she had encountered would now shower her parched life with nourishing, tear-like raindrops — or would it just be a destructive torrent drowning and rotting every fresh bud? She felt a deep yearning for long-gone days, for her grandfather, for her mother; but also for Shir, whom she’d just seen that morning, and Doron, whom she’d spoken to last night.
She suddenly felt nauseous.
She begged the pardon of the other attendees, walking away to splash some water on her face and some more down her throat. But the drizzled water didn’t quell the nausea. Her legs trembled, and she sat down heavily on a stone bench nearby.
“Hey, are you all right? What’s going on? Are you sick?” She heard Doron’s voice next to her, and she looked up to see sincere worry in his eyes.
She weakly smiled. “Yeah, I guess so. For a couple of days now, I haven’t been feeling good,” she answered as she emptied the water bottle in her hand.
“Yeah, you do look pale,” he agreed.
“Thanks,” she said cynically. “Look… I need to join them,” she said as she stood up.
She started to walk back to her grandfather’s grave. Doron walked quietly alongside her. “So what are you doing here?” she asked. “You’re supposed to bring Shir back home tonight.”
“Yeah, that’s true, but I wanted to pay my respects to your grandfather. I owe him so much.”
“Yes, we all do.” She joined the small crowd around the grave. Doron and Shir stood beside her, looking at the gravestone.
HERE LIES
YEHUDA HADOR
LOVING GRANDFATHER
WHO LIVED FOR TRUTH
These were the words of the director of Yehuda’s facility as she consoled Galia, inscribed on the brand-new headstone.
Shir stayed close to Galia and hugged her. Mommy looked sad, and Shir knew that a hug would put a smile on her face.
Fifteen minutes later, Doron escorted them to her car. They marched silently alongside each other on the path leading to the parking lot. There were so many things in the air, but not a word was spoken.
“Feel better.” He kissed her on the cheek. He picked up Shir and hugged her. “Keep an eye on Mommy.”
Galia turned on the car and drove off. Shir waved to her father as he stood there, talking with Roni. The nausea washed over her. The disappointment was hard to swallow. Whenever she spoke with Doron or met him for a couple of moments, she hoped he would say something. She expected him to respond to what had happened, to express his emotions and plans, but nothing happened.
That’s how the days passed. Galia was absorbed in her work, as Our Haifa increased its circulation. She kept on looking for a new partner in the paper, who would replace Daniel as CEO.
“Yael!” she called her assistant.
Yael came in and looked at her worriedly.
“Galia, are you feeling all right? You’ve been looking pale for a couple of days. You should go get yourself checked out. Tell me, have you eaten anything since morning?” Yael came over and held her hand up to Galia’s forehead.
Galia smiled apologetically. “The truth is I haven’t. I can’t bear to eat even a crumb.” She riffled through the papers put in front of her, but she couldn’t concentrate, as her stomach was doing somersaults. “You know what? Do me a favor, cancel the meeting I have in the afternoon. I’m going to the clinic. I hope that the doctor is there, and that he’ll see me.” She closed her bag and left the office.
Galia’s doctor, whom she had been seeing for some years, did not seem worried about her condition. He smiled at her, beaming with happiness, as he came back with a form for her blood test.
“Make sure you get this test done today,” he ordered her. “And make an appointment with your OB/GYN, so you’ll know what week you’re in.”
“What week?”
“How long you’ve been pregnant.”
Galia thought she had misheard. “Pregnant?”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure. Your face alone gives it away. When you were pregnant with Shir, I also guessed that!”
“Pregnant?!”
“Yes, of course, why are you so shocked? This is good news, no?”
It was a huge surprise for her — totally unexpected. She wasn’t sure she was ready for it. How would Doron react? But firstly, how would she tell him? Galia decided not to go back to her office that afternoon. After gettin
g her blood test, she went back home, determined to relax, to think clearly and in particular to rest.
The telephone rang the moment her head hit the pillow. She stretched out her weary hand to pick up. It was Doron.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asked.
“Everything’s okay.”
“Really? That’s not what Yael told me. She said you didn’t feel good and went to the doctor. So are you all right?” Sincere worry was in his voice.
“Yes, everything’s okay, I’m just feeling a little weak. That’s why I went home early. I want to rest before Shir gets home from kindergarten.” Her voice was hoarse.
“You’ve been dealing with this for a couple of days now. What did the doctor say? Did he prescribe anything?” He sounded concerned.
“No, no medicine. I think I just need some rest…”
“No problem, I won’t bother your rest. Should I take Shir today? I’m on my way to Haifa anyway, for a meeting.”
Galia was quite tempted by the offer. She desperately wanted to see Doron. Perhaps they’d finally have a chance to speak. But if Doron saw her, he might figure it out right away, just like the doctor. She still wasn’t ready for the revelation.
“It’s fine,” she insisted. “I’ll pick her up. I just need to nap a little first.”
“Whatever you like. Just take care of yourself. Bye!”
Now there was no chance she could rest and relax. She had to tell Doron about her pregnancy, but how would he react? She could not bear any response other than joy. So what if the news displeased him? What if he suggests they reconcile after she told him? How could she know if this was really what he wanted, not what he thought was required of him under the circumstances?
Damnit, they had to sit down and talk. Tomorrow.
That was it. Tomorrow it would happen. She would insist on getting answers from Doron. She would take matters into her own hands. She had to know what do next. She would say everything that needed to be said to Doron, and he would say whatever he had to say. Que sera, sera. She would not spend another day of her life in uncertainty.
Forced Silence Page 24
