"Of course you must go. Didn't I tell you that in the first place?"
"Oh, Mum, you are so good for me and to me," said Dafna. "But are you certain that you will be OK? It will be hard to come back… "
"Don’t worry about a thing, dear. I've got Mrs Bergman watching over me and I really do feel a lot better now. Whatever happens, you must be with Adam now. That poor man has been through more than his fair share of pain."
Dafna flew into Ben Gurion airport several days later, nervous about being in the airport building again, anxious to be with Adam, impatient to be in Tel Aviv where he was now at home with his parents. As soon as they knew she was coming to Israel they had immediately told her that she must stay with them for a few weeks. Adam's father would be at the terminal to meet her.
As she came through the Arrivals gate, she scanned the crowd in front of her for a familiar face. Mr Lavan spotted her first and hurried forward to greet her, kissing her on the cheek and took her suitcase from her hand. Taking her by the arm, he pulled the case along behind him, telling her straight away of Adam's progress. He was recovering well from the head wound, his bruising had all but faded, but his sight was the concern of all the family.
Dafna asked, "Is there no sense of light at all?"
"Nothing," he replied. "We'll take him to Dr Feldman as soon as he returns to Israel. It is our hope that something can be done to restore him to his previous level of sight, which was poor admittedly, but better than no sight at all."
"I still can't believe it all happened. You had both your children in hospital together - you must have nearly gone out of your minds!"
"Well, it wasn't an easy time for us, but the children are more important to us than our own situation. We managed and are still managing OK. It will be better now that you are here, especially for Adam. I think he will lift himself out of his depression now that you are with him."
They drove home in silence, both pondering the events of past weeks.
When Dafna entered the living room where Adam was sitting, she could tell that he was still troubled with pain. His face was lined and he was dark under the eyes. His mother came to meet Dafna and threw her arms around her, holding her, rocking her. They exchanged greetings while Adam pushed himself up out of the chair and came towards her.
He stood with his arms out, waiting for her. Swiftly, she moved from his mother to him, wrapping herself up in his arms, his cheek against her hair. They stayed locked in this embrace for a long time. His parents discreetly excused themselves and went into the kitchen to prepare a tray of coffee and sandwiches.
Lifting her head to him, she reached his lips with hers, kissing him as deeply as he kissed her. When she drew back from him a little, she could see tears running from his eyes. Her eyes filled with tears, too, at his distress.
"Don't cry, darling. Don't cry." She wiped his tears away gently with her fingertips. Whispering, she said, "I love you, Adam. I was so frightened when I heard what happened. I thought I would never see you again. Finding out you were alive was so wonderful… I can't describe how I felt."
"But how can you still want me, like this?" he asked. "I don’t know if I will ever see again. I might be like this for the rest of my life. Dafna, can you imagine… "
She put her fingers against his mouth, stopping him saying any more.
"Adam, whether you know it or not, whether you want it or not, you are my man. I can't imagine life without you. I will be with you, wherever you go, whatever you do, whenever you do it. Understand me, darling. I will be with you. I will be beside you. If you never see again, and I hope for your sake that isn't so, I will be your eyes."
This whole concept was foreign to Adam. A woman prepared to spend her life with an invalid…
Adam, still holding her, put his forehead down onto hers, eyes closed, unable to believe that someone like Dafna would still be interested in him. He was overwhelmed with feelings, not the least of which was relief. Until this very moment there had still been a doubt inside him that Dafna would come to him. To him it was a miracle that she still wanted him.
His mother came into the room then to take Dafna to the bedroom that she would be using. It was Susan's room. She wouldn't be home for some weeks yet, so Dafna was free to use it in her absence. Meantime, Adam's father patted his son on the shoulder, roughly hugged him and wiped the last tears from his cheeks with a handkerchief.
"She is a good woman, your Dafna, son," he said.
"I know that. I still can't believe she's here. But I'm so grateful that she is. It makes everything all right now."
Dinner that night was a joyful occasion. Dafna sat next to Adam, helping him with the food. After the meal, she sat with one hand resting on his thigh, his hand covering hers. The tension in his body was gradually easing away as he relaxed beside her.
He told her of the dreadful sounds during the hijacking. People being hit and kicked, screams and thuds. Of not being able to see what was happening, what was coming. Of the rage at being singled out for death, knowing they were going to kill him and throw him from the aircraft as an example. Of his quick struggle with the hijacker sent to kill him… the blow to his head that sent him tumbling to the ground, unconscious, presumed dead.
His father picked up the rest of the story, as related by other survivors. Adam was a hero again. The only person on board to resist the madmen, was a blind man. The whole country was enthralled with the news of his bravery.
Dafna gripped Adam's hand tightly throughout the story-telling, her emotions barely under control. Her eyes shone with unshed tears and she gulped several times, trying not to sob. Slowly, she reached up to touch the back of Adam's head where the hair was growing back, short and prickly. She could feel the ridge of scar tissue; see the raw slash across his head. Horrible! She shuddered.
"Do you still have pain, dear?" she asked him.
"Sometimes. It's sharp for a while, then goes away again. When that happens, I just have to lie down for a while. I have medication to help."
A short time later, Dafna looked so weary that Adam's mother suggested she should rest after her journey. Adam, too, was exhausted from the emotional tension. The young couple was persuaded to call it a night, as they would feel more refreshed in the morning. Before they went to their respective rooms, Adam pulled Dafna back into his arms. They stood in the hallway, holding each other close, murmuring soft words to one another.
Finally, Adam moved his lips down across her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, resting firmly, passionately on her full lips. Her lips parted under his, just as she felt his body react to her nearness. He was shaking when he at last released her. She smiled knowingly up at him.
"Adam, I think you should go to bed, now," she laughed softly, delighted.
"Come with me," he said with a grin.
At this, Dafna laughed aloud. "Behave! Whatever would your parents think?" she asked playfully.
They went their separate ways, both to fall asleep within a short time, from sheer exhaustion.
CHAPTER 18
When Dafna woke the following morning, she was startled to find Adam sound asleep in an armchair beside her bed. He was sprawled out, long legs stretched in front of him, head lolling to one side, arms hanging over the sides of the chair. He was snoring gently.
She wondered how long he had been there. If it had been for some time he was going to feel a different pain when he awoke, because of the angle of his head. She sat up and quietly pulled the covers back, revealing a lace-topped nightie, slid off the bed and stood in front of him. She straddled his legs and gently, carefully, placed her hands on either side of his head and ever so slowly started to move his head back into an upright position.
He stirred and opened his eyes, to grimace immediately from the sharp pain in his neck.
"Stay still. I'll help you," she said.
He frowned in discomfort as his head was eased back off his shoulder. A small groan came from his mouth.
"What on earth are you doing in h
ere, Adam? How can I explain this to your mother?" she said in a soft whisper.
"I just wanted to be near you, to hear you," he said, equally as softly. "I've been listening to your breathing. You sounded so relaxed. I didn't mean to fall asleep."
Gently, Dafna massaged the side of his neck, to bring some feeling back into it. Gradually, he pulled himself to a more comfortable position, before finally standing up. Her hands were still beside his face, and when Adam pulled her into his embrace he could feel the outline of her body beneath the thin, soft nightie. She felt so warm, like a little puppy just woken up.
"Dafna, I… "
"Adam, don't even think about it. Not here. I couldn't… It wouldn't be right somehow. The time and place will come one day soon I hope, but until then, please wait.
He nodded in acquiescence, reluctantly releasing her body from his grasp, which was growing stronger by the moment. It was with difficulty that he moved to the door, not wanting to leave her, but realising that it would be detrimental to their relationship to push the issue just yet. He loved her so much! Being near to her was a torture if he couldn't be touching her, holding her. The fact that she thought the time would come, and soon, was enough of a balm to his feelings. That alone gave him some confidence in the future. He stepped out into the hall.
Dafna released the breath she had been holding. She didn't want him to leave her there, but she knew that it simply wouldn't be the right thing to do to keep him in her room, Susan's room. It would be an insult to his mother's hospitality to let their feelings run away with them while in the house. A long sigh escaped from her. God, she wanted him.
The visit to Susan, later that day, was an ordeal. She looked like a broken doll, lying in the hospital bed. Various lacerations had been stitched, and although the scars were healing she was still attached to a variety of tubes, which hung above her as well as over the side of the bed.
Dafna couldn't wait to get out of there. She was able to take Adam outside, leaving his parents with Susan, and walk out into the gardens where they found a bench beneath a tree.
"What am I going to do with you?" she asked with a laugh in her voice. "After this morning, I'm not sure I'm safe alone with you."
"You're not," he said shortly, then laughed himself. "Do you know," he went on, "you never did take me on that picnic we'd planned. We never got to the beach to do some fishing. How about we organise that all over again? Tomorrow would be a good day, I think."
She thought she should be wary of the twinkle in his eye, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came. She was pleased about the twinkle, if the truth was known. Looking at him now, it was hard to remember that he couldn't see her. His expression wasn't vacant, vague. It was almost as if he really could see her.
"Alright, I'm game if you are," she said. "Where would you like to go?"
"How about a drive up to Kesariya?" he asked.
Caesarea! There would be people all over the place. It was a very popular tourist attraction… the old harbour built by Herod, with the interesting old buildings leading down to the beach. Maybe that was a safe choice, she mused.
"Beseder, Kesariya it is."
He laughed at her. "You don't know which language you're speaking in, do you?"
She realised what she had said and laughed with him.
"I give in. Let's go find your parents. I think they might be waiting for us by now. We can talk about the trip up the coast this evening."
It was a beautiful, sunny day. Adam was in a jocular mood and Dafna kept smiling at his obvious enjoyment at going on a picnic. They drove in Adam's car, which hadn't been used for some time. The run would be good for the battery… charge it up again after such a long time idle.
The fishing rods were in the back, partly in the boot, partly in the car over the lay-down back seat. They were only six feet long, suitable for boat fishing, rather than beach casting, but neither minded. They would buy some bait along the way. A tackle box rattled in the boot, whenever they went over a rough patch of road. The lead sinkers were rolling about in their containers.
On the back seat was a cooler, or as Dafna called it, an Esky, filled with containers holding sliced meat, cheese, bread rolls, lettuce and tomatoes. Two bottles of a good Chardonnay were packed into the corners along with two apples, some picnic plates and cutlery, and two crystal glasses wrapped in a tea towel to stop them clinking together.
Adam wore dark glasses and his Akubra, which Dafna had bought for him in Australia. He would be well-shaded from the bright sun, although the glare from the water might prove to be too much for his eyes. Time would tell. Both of them wore shorts and a loose T-shirt and sandals. Dafna's wide-brimmed sunhat was thrown on the back seat.
It was almost 10 a.m. when they arrived at the ruins of the ancient harbour city of Caesarea. Dafna turned down the track beside the high stone walls surrounding the ruins and parked the car near a wide entrance gate. They were lucky to be able to park so close to the gate, as usually, the area was filled with tourists, cars, buses etc.
They collected the rods and the picnic gear from the car. Adam carried the Esky, it being the heaviest of items in the car. Dafna juggled the rods and the tackle box and they proceeded to walk through the ruins to the lovely little beach. Some early swimmers were already frolicking in the shallows. They skirted around the edge of the water, following the breakwater out beyond the beach to a narrow gap, which had served to protect the inner harbour from the elements and wild seas for centuries. She turned to admire the old town, what was left of it. The centuries-old stones in the buildings glowed under the morning sunlight. They provided an aura of history, of age. The soft creams and beiges dipped into deeper golds in the shadows, where sunlight hadn't yet penetrated on the harbour side of the buildings. The restaurants were being prepared for the influx of visitors. Tables were wiped over; gaily-coloured umbrellas were set up for the comfort of patrons. Tourists from all over the world flocked to this site to see the harbour city, the hippodrome and the aqueduct built by Roman engineers - all in close proximity to the beach.
Lapping against the wall, in a slight swell, the waves had trapped an accumulation of flotsam on the incoming tide. Small twigs and seaweed mingled with modern-day rubbish - an empty Pepsi bottle and a discarded plastic bag. A thin line of dark, dried weeds marked the height of the previous high tide along the beach. Children were playing close to the weeds, using them as decoration on a large sandcastle they had built close to the water's edge.
An artist had set up his easel near the end of the breakwater. Dafna paused to watch him daubing paint onto a canvas, capturing the colours of the water beneath him. She held Adam's arm so he wouldn't wander towards the edge.
She helped him move along to the end of the walkway where he set down the Esky next to the tackle box. He sat on the Esky while she prepared the rods for the coming sport. Dafna put the bait on the hooks and handed a rod to Adam. She faced him in the direction he would be casting, let him feel around with free hand and feet to get his bearings on the breakwater and watched as he cast the line out into the sea. Considering he couldn’t see a thing, he had done that remarkably well. He had such a pleased expression on his face!
Dafna cast her own line out a little to the left of Adam's. They settled back to enjoy the time together, companionably silent, while they waited on some hungry fish to be tempted to take the bait. It didn't really matter if no fish were caught, as it was the relaxation, the togetherness, which gave them pleasure. The delight in each other's company. They would have a picnic lunch on the beach when they tired of the fishing.
Adam felt a nibble and tensed, ready to lift the rod sharply if it was repeated. It was, and he did. He said, in a stage whisper, excitedly, "Dafna, got one already!"
He turned the handle of the reel, pulling the fish towards him. His rod was bending and jerking with the weight of a fish doing its best to escape.
Interrupted Romance Page 10