Rifiuto: Non Miriena
The mug was warm in her hands, and she smiled at him. "Toda." He smiled softly at her, as he took a seat. His gaze strayed to the box, and he couldn't help but ask,
"Why didn't you want to leave this at the apartment?" She took a sip and then set the mug on the coffee table, before getting up and picking up the box. When she returned to the sofa, she set the box on the floor at her feet, and opened it up, removing a small, beautifully hand-carved chest. There was a single Star of David on the lid, and gently, she ran her fingers over it, becoming lost in thought.
"Oh Ima, it is beautiful. What is it for?" Rivka gave her a small smile, and took a seat across from her; the chest between them.
"It is to hold all the things that are precious to you during this special time, sweetheart." She noticed the confusion on her daughter's face and chuckled softly. "When this little one," She said, reaching over and laying a hand on the small swell of her daughter's belly. "is no longer a baby in need of your constant care, you are to take the things you gathered during this time, and place them in this chest. It is a memory chest; for the most special time in your life." Rivka sighed. "I had hoped to give you these at your wedding, but... well, life takes surprising turns, as we both know." She said, reaching up and taking her daughter's chin her hand.
"'These?' Ima, how many-"
"Three." Her mother replied. "Your Saba built a series of these; three for you and three for Tali; he was convinced he was going to have lots of great-grandchildren. Each one is meant to hold the memories of each pregnancy, Zivaleh. You are to fill it as you grow and get closer to birth, with photographs, sonograms, little things, and as the baby grows and becomes a child, you are then to place their baby clothing and toys within. It is tradition in my family."
Ziva's eyes filled with tears, and she took a deep breath. "Toda, Ima."
"Ima gave me three, a chest for every child I have, starting with Asher. At that point, she knew that no other children would be in my future, because you were not in it. She told me, that if ever we did find each other, that the other two are to be used; that she did not want Asher to be our only child." She sniffled.
"It's beautiful, Ziva." He whispered, brushing his fingers gently over the smooth woodwork. It reminded him of Gibbs' and his boats. Each built and shaped with tender, loving care. She nodded, and slowly, lifted the lid. Then, she pulled something out, handing it to him.
A stuffed bird.
"One of the neighbors made that for Asher when he was born. When he was a toddler, I used to tell him that if he closed his eyes and thought of something real special that he wanted you to know, then the bird would come to life and fly off to find you and deliver his message to you. I cannot tell you how many times he would come running in to tell me that his bird had flown away and found you." Tears slipped down her cheeks, and gently, Tim brushed them away.
She returned to the chest and removed a small pair of knitted pink booties with white ribbons, along with a small pink jacket and cap. "The older women in Be'er Sheva believe in the old tradition that blue is a girl's color and pink is a boy's because-"
"Pink was the stronger of the two colors, and therefore associated with fire, making it ideal for boys in the early twentieth century. And blue was for girls, because-"
"It was the daintier of the colors and therefore more delicate, as to be associated with water." She nodded, finishing his sentence.
"I've heard that." He chuckled. "I think it fits; he certainly is a strong little boy and very set in his opinions when he feels he is right about something and needs to prove it." She grinned, returning to the chest. She showed him everything, from the clothing to the blankets to the charts her midwife had given her. The last thing she pulled out was a stack, tied with a green ribbon. Setting the chest gently on the coffee table, she scooted closer, until they were touching, and untied the ribbon. "What are these?"
She took a deep breath. "Letters, that I had written over the course of my pregnancy. For you. But I never found your address, and so they sat in my desk, collecting dust, until I placed them in here with the photographs. I told myself if I ever did find you, I would give them to you, and..." She shrugged, tears gathering in her eyes. "And hope you did not turn your back on us."
He reached up, caressing her cheek. "Oh, Ziva." She sniffled. "I could never turn my back on you. Never." She nodded, pressing a kiss to his palm. Then, she removed the first letter from the stack, opened the envelope, removed the letter, and began to read.
"'Tim,
I... I do not know how to say this, or even where to begin, but... that one night resulted in a small human being beginning to grow within me. I started to get sick a week after you left, and... two pregnancy tests later and... every time I try to write these three simple words, my mind shuts down and I cannot make my hand move. I have tried, so hard in the last two weeks, to write to you and tell you this, but something holds me back. I never thought it would be so hard to put these three small words to paper, but it is.
I am pregnant.
It is yours, Tim.
I... I am so sorry.
- Ziva'"
When she looked up, he was brushing the tears off her cheeks. "Oh, Ziva. I'm so sorry you had to go through that alone. I'm so sorry." She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting the tears slip silently down her cheeks. When she finally pulled away, she found herself staring into his own tear-filled eyes. Her eyes darted quickly to his lips before returning to his gaze, and then slowly, she closed the gap between them.