Very Castle Celebrations
Chapter 18
Emerging from post-dawn dreams, Castle pictures a tall white-haired figure looking through a scope at a village below. The buildings and streets are all labeled in English. The man's lip-reading software tells him that the words spoken by the people talking on a street corner are in English too. Soon the buildings will be no more. There will be enough rumblings to spur the residents to evacuate, but after a few hours, a massive landslide, helped along by some very specialized explosives, will destroy everything in its path.
It's a fanciful vision, but possibly not far from reality. A small town west of the Urals was destroyed with only minor casualties reported. The destruction has been confirmed by aerial photos. The Russians could be lying about the lack of fatalities, but Castle hopes not. None of the denizens asked to have their embryos swiped.
The Russians may build another village and restart their operation, but if they do, Castle is sure that now that the CIA is on to Putin's version of The Parent Trap, whatever agents emerge from a new settlement will be carefully tracked. And if two individuals, other than those already identified as identical twins, turn up in any database, they'll be checked out as well. Danberg implied as much.
His mental parade of images of his own father reminds Castle that it is Father's Day. On every previous one that he can remember since Alexis' chubby little hands were capable of hefting a tray, his daughter brought him breakfast in bed. That won't happen today, and Kate has another mouth to feed, but the family will be going out to a restaurant later. In the meantime, he can get breakfast for himself and Kate, fulfilling his supportive husbandly duties.
A batch of locally grown strawberries hit his neighborhood produce market yesterday. Rather than the enormous but almost tasteless ones that are shipped in from California, starting in February, these are small, darker red and almost bursting with flavor. They're more work to prepare. Hulling enough to fill a bowl takes a few minutes longer than removing the leaves from their larger cousins, but it is worth it. He doesn't always have the desire - or the patience - for the delicacy of crepes instead of Castle family special pancakes, but this morning he feels the urge to make tender wrappings for the sweet berries. Pureeing a few of the succulent fruits to make a sauce won't hurt either.
Kate has finished nursing Jackson but has yet to shower and dress when Castle lays out his culinary offerings on the counter. With Jackson contentedly sleeping off his first repast of the day, she proposes that for the first time in a while, they might scrub off - or whatever else - together.
Kate adjusts the water to a hot pelting spray that stimulates the blood flow in their skins and even more sensitive organs. She slides her hands over his slickened back and thighs. He was already aroused at Kate's suggestion for the morning's activities, but as the spicily scented steam swirls around them, he's at full attention. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he lifts her, cupping the firm globes that so perfectly fill his hands. Her endless legs encircle his back as he buries himself in her velvet sheath. He braces her against the back wall of the stall, thrusting even more deeply.
The rushing of the water and rattling of the enclosure create the illusion of a surrounding storm, reflecting their inner passion. Kate presses her mouth to his, their tongues cavorting in a sinuous dance. Kate's breasts jerk upward against his chest, as the ripples that presage a tsunami begin within her. He's caught in the wave, his own response coming hard and fast, as he grasps her tightly against him. For a moment the world stops, even while the water continues to flow.
Kate slowly slides down his legs until her feet reach the shower floor. Languidly, they wash each other off. As Kate wraps a towel around him, the warmth of her breath caresses his ear with a whispered "Happy Father's Day."
Lunch will be early so that Mother can attend before performing in a 3 p.m. matinee. It went without saying that Castle's clan would need a family-friendly establishment. He decided that he wanted a repeat at Meir's - if for nothing else to taste the exceptional kosher dill pickles. He would love to try their corned beef, but Ruben sandwiches are out of the question. At Meir's, meat and dairy would not be in the same kitchen let alone on the same plate, but the deli cuts are piled high, the coleslaw is crisp, and the rye bread soft and fragrant with caraway seeds.
Alexis is bubbling about a summer seminar she's taking that explores how fiction can be used to ameliorate society's prejudices. The curriculum is addressing the spurring of changes in public attitudes all the way from Huck Finn's struggle against his fear of eternal damnation for helping his friend, escaped slave Jim, through the charm of Will and Grace easing television viewers' anxiety about the gay community. She notes that there will even be a short study on Nikki Heat as a portrayal of a strong, intelligent woman. She does manage to sneak into her exposition that it wouldn't hurt if Castle could make a guest appearance to explain how he pens female characters who maintain their sexuality while excelling at their jobs. Castle's delighted by the compliment and agrees to make an appearance.
Seated in his first restaurant high chair, Jackson is surveying his surroundings. Both his hands are curled around a rattle with an animal head at each end. Castle has dubbed Jackson's toy, "Pumpy," after the two-headed push-me-pull-you character in Dr. Doolittle.
Castle is genuinely surprised by the cake that Kate obviously ordered ahead, which is brought out at the end of the meal. It is topped with an edible copy of a family picture featuring Castle holding a wide-eyed Jackson. Almost hating to cut into the pastry, he pulls out his phone to capture an image of the touching confection. Kate knows him well. The knife reveals chocolate layers with peanut-butter-bit-studded fudge frosting in between.
While he's savoring his dessert, Castle notices the arrival of gaily costumed dancers. He doesn't recognize the melody that accompanies their exhibition, and the lyrics are in Hebrew, but he catches the phrase "Shivuli Pez" several times while the troupe executes kicks, jumps and complicated turns that take off one-footed and land on two. The diner's enthusiastic applause is interrupted by one gray-haired patron who rises and begins to hurl what appear to be insults at the performers. Again, Castle can't understand the words, but the hostility is evident as the tirade ends with a hissed l'chi l'Az.
Restaurant employees rush to calm the red-faced man down. Eventually, the dancers start another number, and the mood brightens again. Castle can't help wondering what touched the incident off. His waiter tells him that it was about Israeli politics, which like American politics can become heated at times. That just serves to make Castle more curious. He asks for the name of the song in Hebrew and English characters so he can research it when he gets home. Who knows? He might get a story out of it. Political disagreements have led to murders and outright wars. He can't wait to dig up some background on what he witnessed. But first, he is going to make sure all the leftover cake makes it back to the loft.
A/N if you are motivated to look the inciting song up on Google, (try שיבולי פז) you will find the name of the composer, Yankele. He was my choirmaster at camp the summer between my junior and senior years of high school. At the time, he was pretty famous in Israel, and it was a blast work to with him. He was a great director. He liked to put a jazz spin on things. I doubt you'll discover why the tune would upset anyone. You can find it listed as holiday music. You'll have to read on in my tale for the backstory. The curse is the short form of l'chi l'Azazel, more or less the equivalent of, "Go to hell!"
