picked up in the last few months, but it is being monitored very carefully. They seem to be, well, reorganizing. In response to all the press I suppose. The international excitement about our work at the Supercollider and all that." He looks right at me, as if he is deciding whether he has said too much.
I wait to steady my voice before I ask the question. "Are they the same ones, from Paris?"
The three of us stand in the small room together, the two men looking at me as I look down at the floor and hold my breath. I wait for his answer.
"Yes."
We rarely spoke about the extreme right-wing religious cult who had killed my parents. Elusive and mysteriously funded, they represented a powerful group of religious fanatics who did not want anyone disturbing the status quo. They called themselves the Divine Order. If science was about to introduce the possibility of the existence of other
dimensions,
then the Divine Order was sworn to destroy those leading the way.
"Gabriella, your grandfather is too important to be left exposed. This is all just a precaution."
I notice a brief look between them. I want to believe their reassurances.
"I'm sorry, Philip. I don't know what's the matter with me. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that before. I am really so glad to see you."
"I know you are. Besides—I'm used to it."
"Look, all I'm saying is that I don't know what either of you are up to, but you don't need to protect me. If there's anything going on,
anything
different that I need to know about, you need to tell me."
I wanted to tell them both that I could feel it, that something wasn't right, but I had promised myself that I would not acknowledge the intuition. The feelings, the premonitions, the memories—they were all back. Stronger than ever before.
"I'll see you in a few days, Gabriella." Philip takes my hands in his. "At Columbia. And don't tell me you didn't miss me—because I know you did."
My grandfather laughs and says, "You know her, Philip, there's so much in that head and heart of hers. But she would never tell."
"Yes, I did miss you, Philip." I reach out for him and hug him tightly, truly happy that he will be with me in New York. Surprising even myself.
----
10
----
I LOOK AROUND THE octagonal space of my grandfather's study. The design framed a view of the ocean in the east and the golden grasses of the marsh to the west, an almost three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the landscape. A perfect space to follow the tracking of the sun from early morning to its disappearance at the end of the day behind the dunes. Marking time.
"Well, here we are, finally, alone together."
"I wanted to have everything unpacked before I left, Papa."
"Never mind." He carefully steps over moving boxes that still cover the floor and pushes a button that fills the room with the soft melody of piano and violin. As I stood on the threshold of my own new adventure, I recognized the irony of his New York life ending as mine was beginning.
"I see
this
made it here safely." I point to the desk that had been given to him by Einstein. His most prized possession, it stood proudly in the center of the room.
"Witness to so much invention, a container of memory and possibility." He pats the desk.
"Memory and possibility, you always say that. Do you mean the past and the future?"
"You might say that."
"Being here with you in the
present
means everything to me. I feel so disconnected from the rest of the world, all the noise. I love it when it's just the two of us—and all the books of course." I feel sad to leave.
He turns to the shelves and raises his hand, pushing away the air. "Too many."
I look over at the shelves that hold my grandmother's things: books about art, poetry, and the mysterious tradition of Kabbalah, volumes that remained untouched on the shelves since she had died. It had been many years since the painful realization that the typical family I longed to be a part of was an impossibility. I knew there was a
I wait to steady my voice before I ask the question. "Are they the same ones, from Paris?"
The three of us stand in the small room together, the two men looking at me as I look down at the floor and hold my breath. I wait for his answer.
"Yes."
We rarely spoke about the extreme right-wing religious cult who had killed my parents. Elusive and mysteriously funded, they represented a powerful group of religious fanatics who did not want anyone disturbing the status quo. They called themselves the Divine Order. If science was about to introduce the possibility of the existence of other
dimensions,
then the Divine Order was sworn to destroy those leading the way.
"Gabriella, your grandfather is too important to be left exposed. This is all just a precaution."
I notice a brief look between them. I want to believe their reassurances.
"I'm sorry, Philip. I don't know what's the matter with me. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that before. I am really so glad to see you."
"I know you are. Besides—I'm used to it."
"Look, all I'm saying is that I don't know what either of you are up to, but you don't need to protect me. If there's anything going on,
anything
different that I need to know about, you need to tell me."
I wanted to tell them both that I could feel it, that something wasn't right, but I had promised myself that I would not acknowledge the intuition. The feelings, the premonitions, the memories—they were all back. Stronger than ever before.
"I'll see you in a few days, Gabriella." Philip takes my hands in his. "At Columbia. And don't tell me you didn't miss me—because I know you did."
My grandfather laughs and says, "You know her, Philip, there's so much in that head and heart of hers. But she would never tell."
"Yes, I did miss you, Philip." I reach out for him and hug him tightly, truly happy that he will be with me in New York. Surprising even myself.
----
10
----
I LOOK AROUND THE octagonal space of my grandfather's study. The design framed a view of the ocean in the east and the golden grasses of the marsh to the west, an almost three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the landscape. A perfect space to follow the tracking of the sun from early morning to its disappearance at the end of the day behind the dunes. Marking time.
"Well, here we are, finally, alone together."
"I wanted to have everything unpacked before I left, Papa."
"Never mind." He carefully steps over moving boxes that still cover the floor and pushes a button that fills the room with the soft melody of piano and violin. As I stood on the threshold of my own new adventure, I recognized the irony of his New York life ending as mine was beginning.
"I see
this
made it here safely." I point to the desk that had been given to him by Einstein. His most prized possession, it stood proudly in the center of the room.
"Witness to so much invention, a container of memory and possibility." He pats the desk.
"Memory and possibility, you always say that. Do you mean the past and the future?"
"You might say that."
"Being here with you in the
present
means everything to me. I feel so disconnected from the rest of the world, all the noise. I love it when it's just the two of us—and all the books of course." I feel sad to leave.
He turns to the shelves and raises his hand, pushing away the air. "Too many."
I look over at the shelves that hold my grandmother's things: books about art, poetry, and the mysterious tradition of Kabbalah, volumes that remained untouched on the shelves since she had died. It had been many years since the painful realization that the typical family I longed to be a part of was an impossibility. I knew there was a
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