suffered over the years from that episode. He could no longer push the knowledge to the back of his mind of his guilt for her mental state. How could he ignore what he had done? His foolish actions and the bungling of the kidnapping years ago had contributed to Mary’s illness.
As he sat up, wincing, the face of Mary, groaning in pain from the headaches, morphed into the face of another woman. Her dark, flowing tresses damp with perspiration, her face contorted in the agony of childbirth. Her eyes that had been filled with love for him, now glazed with pain. Her life was ebbing away and he could do nothing. He put his head in his hands. Hadassah. How he had loved her. The ache in his heart was almost unbearable as he remembered the last moments he held her in his arms, crying out to HaShem to spare her life. His tiny son, born early and not yet ready to enter the world, had been buried only hours before. As Hadassah slumped lifeless, his anger rose against God. They loved each other. They had looked forward to a long life together, children and grandchildren. Now she was taken from him and his bitterness against their God consumed him.
How worthless his life had been these past years, full of himself and his wants. He had gone through the motions in the synagogue, but his heart was far from worship. Now Zerah saw himself as he was, and he shrank back in shame. Why had the Most High, blessed be his name, seen fit to spare his life? He sank to his knees, begging for forgiveness, pouring out his heart to his God. And the cleansing came. He looked up toward the heavens, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, and finally, to his amazement, gentle waves of peace washed over his soul. He raised his arms in thankfulness.
How long he had been on his knees, Zerah didn’t know, but when he opened his eyes, he heard a flock of sparrows in the olive trees nearby chattering to one another. He rose to his feet, feeling more alive than he had since before Hadassah died. He washed his face in a basin of water and put on fresh clothing. HaShem had given him another chance and he would not waste it.
As Zerah stepped from the house, Saffira and Jokim eyed him warily. They knew he was given to moods and watched to see what he would do.
“Ah, a good morning to you both. Is that good bread ready yet? I find I am famished.”
Saffira’s mouth opened and then closed again. She raised her eyebrows toward Jokim, who stood as if in suspended motion with an armload of wood for the fire.
“It will be out of the oven in moments, sir.” She set a platter of ripe figs in front of him and began to slice a round of goat cheese. “You are feeling well this morning?”
He heard the curiosity behind her words. “I am well, Saffira. More so than I have been in a long time. Tell me, what am I paying you and Jokim?”
She named the sum, omitting the fact that it was paltry for the work they did.
“I must increase that, starting today. You should be paid fairly for your work.”
Saffira stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.
He chuckled. “No, I have not lost my mind.” He looked up at the sky, where the gold and pink of sunrise was giving way to the deep blue of morning, and stroked his beard. “Perhaps I have instead found it,” he said softly.
20
T he eyes looking back at him were not Mary’s. Strange sounds came out of her mouth and she sank to her knees. “Leave me alone,” she growled.
Hearing the guttural voice, Nathan backed against the wall, his heart pounding in his chest. This was the worst he’d seen her. He wanted to cry out to the Most High, “I cannot take this anymore. It is too much.” Day after day, month after month, year after year, the woman he’d loved was no longer. Instead he lived with a sick woman who resembled a crone more than the beautiful woman he married. In spite of Keturah’s constant care and help, their household had become a place to dread at the end of the day. He slipped out of the room and
As he sat up, wincing, the face of Mary, groaning in pain from the headaches, morphed into the face of another woman. Her dark, flowing tresses damp with perspiration, her face contorted in the agony of childbirth. Her eyes that had been filled with love for him, now glazed with pain. Her life was ebbing away and he could do nothing. He put his head in his hands. Hadassah. How he had loved her. The ache in his heart was almost unbearable as he remembered the last moments he held her in his arms, crying out to HaShem to spare her life. His tiny son, born early and not yet ready to enter the world, had been buried only hours before. As Hadassah slumped lifeless, his anger rose against God. They loved each other. They had looked forward to a long life together, children and grandchildren. Now she was taken from him and his bitterness against their God consumed him.
How worthless his life had been these past years, full of himself and his wants. He had gone through the motions in the synagogue, but his heart was far from worship. Now Zerah saw himself as he was, and he shrank back in shame. Why had the Most High, blessed be his name, seen fit to spare his life? He sank to his knees, begging for forgiveness, pouring out his heart to his God. And the cleansing came. He looked up toward the heavens, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, and finally, to his amazement, gentle waves of peace washed over his soul. He raised his arms in thankfulness.
How long he had been on his knees, Zerah didn’t know, but when he opened his eyes, he heard a flock of sparrows in the olive trees nearby chattering to one another. He rose to his feet, feeling more alive than he had since before Hadassah died. He washed his face in a basin of water and put on fresh clothing. HaShem had given him another chance and he would not waste it.
As Zerah stepped from the house, Saffira and Jokim eyed him warily. They knew he was given to moods and watched to see what he would do.
“Ah, a good morning to you both. Is that good bread ready yet? I find I am famished.”
Saffira’s mouth opened and then closed again. She raised her eyebrows toward Jokim, who stood as if in suspended motion with an armload of wood for the fire.
“It will be out of the oven in moments, sir.” She set a platter of ripe figs in front of him and began to slice a round of goat cheese. “You are feeling well this morning?”
He heard the curiosity behind her words. “I am well, Saffira. More so than I have been in a long time. Tell me, what am I paying you and Jokim?”
She named the sum, omitting the fact that it was paltry for the work they did.
“I must increase that, starting today. You should be paid fairly for your work.”
Saffira stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.
He chuckled. “No, I have not lost my mind.” He looked up at the sky, where the gold and pink of sunrise was giving way to the deep blue of morning, and stroked his beard. “Perhaps I have instead found it,” he said softly.
20
T he eyes looking back at him were not Mary’s. Strange sounds came out of her mouth and she sank to her knees. “Leave me alone,” she growled.
Hearing the guttural voice, Nathan backed against the wall, his heart pounding in his chest. This was the worst he’d seen her. He wanted to cry out to the Most High, “I cannot take this anymore. It is too much.” Day after day, month after month, year after year, the woman he’d loved was no longer. Instead he lived with a sick woman who resembled a crone more than the beautiful woman he married. In spite of Keturah’s constant care and help, their household had become a place to dread at the end of the day. He slipped out of the room and
Similar Books
