Excerpt from THE GILBOA IRIS

An excerpt from THE GILBOA IRIS, soon to be released by Gefen Publishing House. An epic tale of personal and national survival...turbulant, heartrending and triumphant!

Inside the radrah, the Israelis commended us for our work in the fields that morning. Apparently, Roni wasn’t the only one who was impressed, and it was a good feeling to gain their respect. I headed to the kitchen in the back of the radrah and washed my hands in a small sink just off the main preparation area.

“Damn!” I cried out as the soap burned my open cuts. Arched over in pain, I grabbed a couple of paper towels, squeezing down on my palms to stop the burning. Without warning, two golden, tanned hands gripped my wrists. My heart stopped. I was afraid to look up. When I did, I was prepared to see Roni’s mocking glare, but that was not at all what I saw.

He lifted the paper towels and turned my palms face-up to examine them. “Come with me,” he said and led me to another room off the kitchen. It was a small storage room that contained shelves of unopened boxes, canned goods, bottled water and first-aid equipment. Roni searched through the first-aid supplies purposefully and found what he was looking for. “Hold out your hands for me, Dara.” I did as Roni asked and he squeezed some ointment out of a tube and dabbed it over the cuts on my hands, tenderly massaging it in until the pain ebbed.  

          

When he was done, he raised his eyes to mine, his lips curving into a slight smile, “How does that feel?”

“Better…thank you.”

“Good, but I think I should bandage them for now. You’ll have a hard time working in the orchard if I don’t.”

“Okay,” I breathed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He turned back around to the shelf, searching once again, and brought out some gauze and tape. The gentle manner in which he cradled my hands was contrary to his overall temperament, I thought, as he wrapped my palms with the gauze. “There, that should help,” he said, holding each of my hands in his, “I didn’t make it too tight, did I?”

“Um…no…it’s fine.”

“Well, I couldn’t be sure. Your hands are very delicate.” There was no taunting in his voice. “You might want to eat something. We’ll be leaving in twenty minutes.” 

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t – riveted as I was by the power of his gaze – like penetrating shards of ice…hot ice. He let go of my hands and left the room. It took a long moment for me to get back to myself. I couldn’t decide whether to be in shock or if Roni was just playing with my head. So instead, I decided I was ravenous and went over to sit with Jenny and Alana at the table.

“Say, what happened to your hands?” Alana asked.

“I fell,” I shrugged. “Well…actually,” I admitted, rolling my eyes, “I was an absolute klutz. I tripped over an irrigation hose when Roni asked me to go with him to check on some pipes.”

Alana let out a hearty laugh, her chin-length curly brown hair bobbing in rhythm. 

“I was wondering what happened back there. I bet Roni’s never going to let you live that one down!” 

I smiled at her buoyant energy. Alana had a knack for finding humor in just about everything.  

Just then, three young Israeli men joined our table, sitting across from us, and I was able to relax with the easy conversation. It was not before long, however, that the topic of discussion shifted. One of them, Yaniv, had just finished his turn at guard duty and would be joining us to work in the grapefruit orchard after our short break. He told us how he recently completed his army service, and he and a friend decided to join the kibbutz for a while. “You know him… Roni.”

“Oh, yes, we know Roni all right”! Alana giggled.

“The problem is – he doesn’t want to know us!” Jenny added. I elected to remain quiet, concentrating instead on my tomato and cheese sandwich.

Yaniv smiled at Jenny’s words. His rich show of well-defined lashes adorned his kindly eyes, which rested beneath a crown of wavy, ash-brown hair. He sported a baby face, out of place on his tall, wiry frame, which afforded an easy, dimpled smile, giving off such warmth that one felt instantly comfortable with him. “Roni is a good guy,” Yaniv said. “But,” he explained, “he’s been through a lot and…well, he’s…seen a lot.” Pausing for a moment, he continued, “I know that Roni can come across somewhat… severe, but try not to take it personally. He walks around carrying the burden of the world on his shoulders. Well, to be more accurate – the burden of the Jewish people. I suppose he was always like that – only…different.”

“What happened to him?” Jenny asked, drawn in by Yaniv.

It seemed as if a shadow fell across his face as he furrowed his brows in thought, his eyes seeing things the rest of us could only imagine. 

“Roni and I were part of an elite reconnaissance unit of the paratroopers,” he began. “Back in Lebanon, we were fielded with an armored brigade when we were hit with a Syrian ambush in Sultan Yacoub. Many of our friends fell that day. There was a failure in intelligence…we were surrounded, trapped for hours…and the Syrians were picking us off.” 

Shaking the scene out of his head, he continued, “It wasn’t Roni’s fault of course, but being that he was an officer, he took personal responsibility. He internalized it all. Every one of our fallen men ate away at him until there was nothing left – except for the anger.” 

Then as an afterthought, Yaniv added, “Roni used to be religious, you know, but, after Sultan Yacoub, well…now he just thinks that God is looking down and laughing at all of us.”

“And you don’t think the way Roni does?” Jenny asked.

“To tell you the truth, Jenny, I’m better off not thinking. That’s how I get through it. Roni is different. He doesn’t stop thinking about it. It consumes him.”

Listening to Yaniv talk about Roni like that had me lost in a spiral of thoughts. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so quick to judge him. I knew it was impossible to understand what he had suffered through – what so many of our men endured while trying to protect our people in our land. A sad achiness washed over me as I contemplated this. Still, I couldn’t help but feel confused by Yaniv’s account. I wanted to hate Roni, and here Yaniv was giving him a soul. I was still fuming over Roni’s obnoxious manner back at the cotton fields, and I was sure he was toying with me. I just didn’t understand why he selected me as his prey. But then again, how could I hate someone who was hurting so deeply inside. Roni did appear to carry the burden of the world on his shoulders. He was always serious, always brooding. At my first visit to the watering hole at Sachna, I had noticed that he never laughed or joked around the way his friends did. He sat just a little bit off to the side, drawing on his cigarette, seldom allowing himself to smile. And, even when he did, it was…guarded. 

That was the first time I saw Roni…and the first time he glowered at me.

“Yaniv!” I heard Roni’s voice bellow over my head. “Two minutes, be outside – you, Ben, Joey and the five girls. We’ll take the jeeps. I’m due for guard duty but I’ll drop some of you off at the orchard first. Yallah!”

“Sure, Roni, two minutes – no problem,” Yaniv winked at us and devoured the rest of his sandwich in one bite.

“Yallah?” Jenny scrunched her eyebrows in question.

“It’s Arabic. It means ‘hurry up,’” explained Yaniv. “And I think we had better – once Roni gets in this mood…well…there’s nothing more freaky than a blond speaking Arabic.”

We left the radrah and I trailed a few paces behind everyone, looking down at the ground and staring at nothing in particular, still preoccupied with what Yaniv had disclosed about Roni. I didn’t even realize that everyone had already piled into the jeeps.

“Dara?”

I looked up. It was Roni, holding the front passenger door open for me. “Looks like you’re my driving partner today.” He eyed me with curiosity.

“Thank you,” my words fell out in a hush and I slid into the seat, his M16 resting at my side.

The conversation in the back of the jeep was loud and animated during the short drive to the grapefruit orchard. Unlike the drive earlier this morning when he imparted a blatant disregard for me, I noticed Roni glance at me every now and again while he drove. We rode in silence, yet it was not irritating as before. At least he was no longer glaring at me. He also appeared to have dropped his arrogant disposition. At one point, I met his gaze and thought I detected a softness in his eyes. It was the same look as he had when he was bandaging my hands back at the radrah. He’s trying to gaslight me; there’s no other explanation.

“You’ve worked in the orchard before?” he asked, looking ahead at the road.

Was he making conversation with me? “Um, yes.”

“It’s hard work. The thorns are nasty and the grapefruit are heavy to lug around.” He turned his attention from the road, trailing his eyes over me. “You’re kind of delicate.”

“I can handle it,” I responded in a small voice, sounding too defensive. Why do I let him get to me? 

He smirked, as if I said something amusing. Feeling awkward, I turned away to look straight ahead at the road.

We arrived at a metal gate, and Roni stopped the car, got out, unlocked the gate with his set of keys and pushed its doors inward to make a wide opening for our cars to pass through. Yaniv’s jeep was right behind ours. As Roni was making his way back to the jeep, he stopped and hung back – a look of concentration set in his brows gave way to wariness as the muscles in his face and neck tensed in suspicion. He turned around, his back now facing us, and cocked his head to listen.

Turning back, his eyes shot past our jeep to Yaniv. Roni trotted to the jeep and grabbed his M16. 

“Stay down,” he commanded everyone before zipping back into the orchard. I saw Yaniv in the side-view mirror leap out of his jeep, pull the strap of his gun over his shoulder and run up to Roni. They both walked several more yards into the orchard, their M16s at their ready as they searched the area through the trees until I couldn’t see them anymore.

After several drawn-out minutes, Yaniv and Roni reemerged. Yaniv turned to Roni, slapped him on the back and with a smile, nodded for him to return to the jeep. Roni shook his head in disagreement, engaging Yaniv in what seemed a small argument. They disappeared again. Everyone in the jeep remained quiet. The waiting was tense. When they came back into view I observed Yaniv place his hand on Roni’s shoulder; it appeared as if he was trying to convince him to head back to the jeep. Roni gave Yaniv a long hard look, and finally agreed.

We continued driving on a long dirt road surrounded by huge grapefruit trees on either side. I noticed that Roni’s knuckles were taut around the steering wheel. I looked at his face and saw he was rigid as stone. “Roni?” I asked. “What is it – what did you think you heard back there?”

He shook his head, “Nothing, I…nothing to be concerned about…sometimes I overreact. That’s all.”

“Oh,” I said simply, though understanding that there was much behind his restrained words. I thought it best not to press him about it and turned my attention back to the front window.

A strong citrus scent hovered in the air. I enjoyed working in the orchards and loved the shelter from the tall trees – their branches arching, protective over all who passed beneath them. This place, truly a paradise, never failed to brighten my mood.

After several more minutes, both jeeps came to a stop and everyone piled out. I turned to Roni and thanked him for the ride, my hand reaching for the door handle. He leaned over me to get it at the same time, his hand ending up clutching mine. “Force of habit,” he chuckled as his eyes glistened into mine. I tried to smile casually, but I think I stopped breathing altogether. Mental note: buy Roni sunglasses.

“Dara?” he hesitated, turning serious. He crinkled his brows as he lifted my bandaged hand from the door handle and caressed it in his. What was this?

“What is it, what’s wrong?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Just…stay with the group…don’t go off on your own. Besides,” he abruptly changed his tone and smiled with intent, “if you should trip over your own two feet again, I’d want someone close by to catch you.” I ignored his little dig and paid more attention to the words he didn’t say.

“Roni, what are you not telling me? You thought you saw something or heard something back at the main gate, didn’t you?”

The smile on his face quickly vanished and his chiseled features hardened, “Izvi et zeh! Just leave it, Dara. You’re reading too much into things. I told you…I just overreacted. Let it go!”

The sudden severity in Roni’s tone stunned me. Although there was instant regret in his eyes, I was unable to hide the hurt from my face. “Dara,” he began, and then…he just stopped. I looked down and withdrew my hand that was still in his.

“I better go. I have some grapefruit to pick.”

“Wait…look, I…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” I said flatly and turned to leave the car.

“Dara, please,” he leaned closer to me, resting his arm over the back of my seat, and with his other hand he placed his fingers beneath my chin, turning my head to face him. “It was terrible of me to blow up at you like that.” His tone was soft and apologetic, and he continued, “To answer your question…I didn’t hear or see anything…. It was just…a feeling…that’s all.” He seemed unaware that his manner was impossibly seductive as he moved his hand from my chin to curve around the side of my neck. “Will you forgive me?”

He was making it very difficult to remain upset with him. But, there were too many questions to Roni – too many layers to him – and a deeply embedded pain I couldn’t begin to comprehend. He ran from hot to cold and from harsh to gentle; he was mystifying. Who was he? What did he want from me? And…why was he touching me this way? My next words seemed to slip out all on their own. “What do you want from me, Roni?”

My question caught him off guard. He clenched his jaw and stared at me with such concentration, as if I held the answers he couldn’t give. Ensnared by him, I watched his gaze gradually grow softer – his tensed features relax. He looked as though he was distracted, his eyes drifting down to my lips. The space between us became smaller, and I feared that he could hear my heart pound like a jackhammer against my chest. 

“Roni,” I breathed, not sure if I was stopping him or prodding him on. 

He caught himself, refocused his gaze back to my eyes and murmured, “I just want you to forgive me. That’s all.”

He suddenly looked sad as his thumb tenderly stroked the side of my face. I forgot how to speak. A long and tense moment hung thickly between us. My neck felt as if it were on fire from his touch, and my eyes watered from the heat. I was going to go up in flames, I just knew it. I searched his eyes for a hint of insincerity, but there was none. He was being real – so real that I was too dazed to utter a sound, let alone come up with a coherent sentence. What was clear to me at that moment was that I had to get out of the jeep before I fainted – but I couldn’t trust myself to move. I was frozen and on fire all at once. What was happening to me?

“I suppose I can’t blame you for being angry with me,” he said in a muted tone when I didn’t answer right away. Then with an impish smile, “I know that I…behaved a little badly this morning. But…really, Dara,” he boyishly shrugged, “I’m not so terrible.” God, he was killing me.

“Roni, I don’t think you’re terrible,” I managed to say at last, mindful not to betray the havoc stirring inside me.

He looked thoughtful and said, “I guess I don’t deserve more than that.” Lowering his eyes from mine, he let his hand fall from the side of my neck, his fingers casually moving to toy with a stray lock of my hair that fell from my ponytail onto my chest. I trembled, for a moment losing my composure. It was a moment too long. For God’s sake, it was hot in the valley, and I was trembling! It was impossible for Roni not to have noticed.

His eyes flashed up to mine, narrowing at first, and then sparkled with a new energy as if he had unearthed a deep secret, his lips curling into a wicked smile. I wanted to crawl under the seat. “Hmm…can I take that to mean that you do forgive me?”

I died a thousand times. He pursed his outrageously sensuous lips, no doubt to hold back a triumphant grin. I had to, somehow, save face from this perfect Nordic god with his ridiculously perfect golden curls and his perfectly irritating magnificent eyes. I forced myself to find my voice. “There’s nothing to forgive. You obviously can’t help yourself,” I said, trying to sound indifferent and failing miserably at it.

He found that amusing as well and snickered under his breath. “Well then, looks like everything is settled between us,” he answered, with the wicked glint still in his eyes, his fingers still entwined in my hair. For an instant, his focus darted past me, out the side window. “Looks like your friends are very interested in our conversation.”

I stole a quick look and saw them all gawking in our direction. Great, now I would be too embarrassed to leave the jeep, and too embarrassed to remain in the jeep. I glared back at Roni. “You may think this is amusing, but I prefer not to be the topic of hot gossip!” I shook my head, exasperated.

“I’m sorry, Dara; really, I am. I don’t know why it is, but you seem to bring out the bad in me. And…about before…you may not believe me, but, I am sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that.” 

I was too furious to answer. He no longer bothered to suppress his smile and continued, “I have guard duty down at the other side of the fields now. Yossi, one of the kibbutz old timers, will be guarding this end, but I’ll be by later. Yaniv and I will take all of you back to the kibbutz in a couple of hours.”

“Fine,” I shrugged. Like I care where he goes or what he does. I hated him. I was sure of it. And I hated myself more for being so attracted to him. His fingers were still gingerly twisting my lock of hair when I grabbed the door handle to exit the jeep.

“You know, Dara, like I said, I’m really not so terrible.”

“You know, I really don’t care,” I shot back – this time meaning it.

“Are you sure about that? Perhaps you might care…just a little?” He let the lock of my hair drop from his hand onto my chest, his eyes drifting again to my lips, this time taunting as he slightly parted his own lips as if he meant to kiss me, and back again to my eyes. 

I turned to leave but he curled his hand around my arm and whispered in my ear, “Dara, you might want to compose yourself before you go.” I definitely, without any doubt, hated him! I opened the door and slid from beneath him, slinking out of the seat to join the others.