Eitan was a bit weary from his flight the night before from Tel Aviv, but that did not stop his wife Emma from peppering him with questions with the skill of a professional journalist. He had informed her before he left Israel that his job was not yet complete, and that he still had a role to play in helping the Jews of Ukraine. He promised to answer all of her questions as soon as he had his morning shower. Walking towards his bedroom bathroom, he smiled at his wife, who was staring at him from her seat on their bed. Entering the shower, he thought to himself how fortunate he was to be married to this strikingly beautiful and kind woman.
Rabbi Groh’s wife was a French-born woman named Emmanuelle Tivon, better known as Emma. She was tall and slender with short-cropped brown hair that accentuated her profound cheekbones. She had the sort of striking beauty that always popped out at readers of the local Miami magazines that published glossy photos of Miami’s elite at swanky fundraisers on their back pages. But truly it was her kind personality and disarming charm that always made everyone feel comfortable in her presence. She was the daughter of a proud family that had French roots dating back nearly nine hundred years. According to family lore, the Tivon family descended from the line of the famous Jewish philosopher and scholar Samuel ibn Tibbon. The Tivon family had been leaders in France’s Jewish community ever since. Her father was a well-known professor of religion at the Sorbonne University, and her mother had been an accomplished artist before she succumbed to breast cancer when Emma was in high school. Emma’s endearing warmth and compassion made her a perfect fit for the role of rebbetzin, a role she accepted with grace and humility.
Most of her time was spent buried in her work as a writer for a Jewish newspaper based in France. Her articles focused mainly on political trends in the States and how they affected America’s Jewish community. The rest of the time was spent with her friends on the tennis court, mainly as a distraction from the hours Eitan spent at work and on his adventures abroad.
Now that Eitan was back home in Miami, she was relieved. She wasn’t sure for how long he would remain. It was clear whatever he was working on was totally consuming him. All she knew was that he had to go alone to Washington the following week.
When he finally stepped out of the shower and back into the bedroom, he was met with Emma’s first inquiry. “I don’t understand how the Holocaust Museum has anything to do with the Jews in Ukraine?”
“Emma, honestly, I wish I could tell you every detail. And someday I will. But for now, all I can say is that it involves very powerful people with extremely important and sensitive connections.”
Emma slowly rose from the bed and positioned herself directly in front of Eitan, placing her arms around his waist. “So you aren’t going to tell me anything?” Emma said in her most seductive voice.
“I see the Ukrainians aren’t the only ones who know how to play dirty,” Eitan said, enjoying the warmth of Emma’ touch. “I promised them I wouldn’t say a word about this to anyone, including you. Just know that I am trying to help the Jewish people and the Israelis, and eventually I will tell you all about it,” Eitan said honestly.
Emma understood, but it didn’t stop her from sharing her frustration at being left out of the process. Emma was every bit the Zionist her husband was. She too was always interested in a chance to get back to Israel. Israel had played a very special role in their relationship. After all, it was where they first met.
It happened in the summer of 1997. They were each living in the Holy City for the purpose of pursuing advanced degrees. Rabbi Groh was a first-year rabbinical student, and Emma was pursuing a master’s degree in Journalism at the Hebrew University. They met on Ben Yehuda Street when Rabbi Groh and a bunch of his rabbinical school friends sat down at an outdoor café next to a table of beautiful women speaking a mixture of French, English, and Hebrew. Eitan’s chair backed up into Emma’s, though she seemed to be doing her best to avoid the raucous American group behind her. Try as she did, by the end of the meal, Eitan had managed to introduce himself to her, learn about her background and studies, and walk away with a telephone number that he hoped was real. It turned out that it was, and their romance began almost immediately. That was twenty years ago. They had been back to Israel many times, but always as tourists. This was the Eitan’s first foray into espionage.