We've been married for five years now. Five, wonderful, happy years. We've had some nerve-wracking moments, but mostly we've felt safe and secure in our own lives.
Our guest house is not spectacular, but we make a decent living. I take care of guests and front of house, Ari cooks and porters, and we both clean. The island is our home. It's peaceful, remote, secure.
Ari has healed here. Not just his shoulder, but other darker things that used to come to him in the night. The past is dead. The final catalyst for our happiness is our four-year-old daughter, Talya.
Ari is a good and rather obsessive father. He spends hours a day bonding with his daughter, playing with her, tending to her. If she ever falls over, he gets there before me, he dries her tears, cuddles her, soothes her and she adores him. Toys, clothes, the list of things he likes to buy for her is never ending.
And it isn't just Ari who likes to buy things for our daughter. We don't see the team every month, just flying visits in and out. Gibbs comes as often as he can. Abby spends a lot of time here. Tony, McGee, Ducky, even Jimmy, and Ziva.
Ari and Ziva have put the past to rest between them. And Ziva dotes on her niece.
...ooo0ooo...
Most nights when we're on our own, or guests are happy and settled in the lounge, we curl up on the couch in our private apartment together, and Ari reads. I am not particularly well versed in languages, Ari speaks many, sometimes he isn't even sure how he knows some of them. He reads to me from all sorts of books. English literature, German poetry, Russian plays, songs in Hebrew. He teaches me Hebrew. And Arabic. But mostly Hebrew.
Some nights, I sit down with Talya on my lap, all sleepy and warm after her bath, and Ari cuddles us both and reads children's stories.
I have never been so happy. We are at peace, and I can almost forget the past.
...ooo0ooo...
Our first real hint of danger came when the new director changed the team around. They were all scattered, except for Gibbs. Suddenly we felt more exposed.
Ari could almost sense his father's malevolent presence.
But nothing came of it. The team reassembled. We relaxed.
There was something nagging at the back of my mind.
...ooo0ooo...
It began innocuously. We had to repaint the reception area. Now Talya wants to help, but she's four... she gets paint everywhere... it takes us as long to clear up after her, as it does to get the job done in the first place.
Betty Field is a neighbour and friend, and she watches Tali on occasion. So off to Betty she goes, chattering happily. Her little hand clutched firmly in her father's large one.
We worked fast. I don't know what it was, but I couldn't rid my mind of this nagging anxiety. We were nearly done when the phone went. It was Betty.
She was crying and sobbing so hard at first I couldn't make sense of what she was saying. Then my world began to wobble on its axis.
Our daughter was missing.