by Daron Fraley
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Jacob wheezed as he set his heavy burden next to the waist-high stone fence at the top of the grassy knoll. He glanced behind himself to be sure neither of his dogs had followed. As far as Jacob could tell by squinting, the dark specks he assumed were sheep dogs still slept in the shade of a well. He wiped sweat from his stinging eyes with a sleeve, brushed his nearly ink-black hair out of the way, and glanced upward. A white puff in the summer sky hid the sister-suns from his gaze.
He grabbed up the cloth-covered reed basket and gingerly leaned over the rock fence, then stretched and let go. His mother’s basket dropped but did not topple. He heaved himself to the other side, picked up his burden once again, and started down the the hill. About halfway down, he again noticed the full fury of both Aqua and Azure beating upon his back.
I should have brought a hat.
A bleat from a goat caused Jacob to look eastward across the narrow valley where a few of the animals milled about near a stone hut almost too small to be called a house. The stone structure did not seem to get any bigger once he found himself at the bottom of the valley. He stepped onto a wooden foot-bridge which spanned a mountain stream. Thick planks bounced under his weight. Jacob shifted the bulging basket to his other hand and started up the hillside towards Eder’s home.
He purposefully avoided looking to his right, where a bow-shot away, a burnt-out oak tree stood alone. The dark, leafless remnant was a contrast to forested peaks in the distance. But averting his gaze did not help—once again he experienced the haunting image of fierce lightning and pounding rain. His father, Joshua, and Eder, both sprinted through the field, calling out loudly, telling him to run. Terrified, Jacob hugged the trunk of the tree. As they approached, Jacob finally let go. A bolt of energy hit the tree and sprang forward, striking the men.
He saw them fall.
Rain mixing with Jacob’s frantic tears could not obscure the surprise graven into Joshua’s features. Both men lay perfectly still. Fleeing the burning tree, Jacob stumbled. Violent gusts of wind lashed his back with stinging pricks of icy water. He crawled forward, then collapsed onto his father’s chest and sobbed.
No matter how many times Jacob had traversed the valley, the blackened oak always reached into his dark memories, taunting him. It had been seven years. Jacob wondered if he would ever be rid of the pain of that night. He squared his shoulders and hastened on.
The goats grazing on the eastern slopes mostly ignored him, but some chewed their grass almost thoughtfully as Jacob passed by. Their heads turned to follow. After passing Eder’s well, Jacob shuffled up the dirt path made hard by frequent use.
“Jacob, is that you?” came a voice from within the stone hut.
Amazing. How did he hear me? Jacob hadn’t made a sound, or so he thought, and the only window in Eder’s home didn’t have a clear view of the pathway.
“Yes—Mother sent me to market this morning. Did you know the grapes are turning? I brought you some.”
“Wonderful! Please come in.”
Jacob turned the door handle and stepped into the dimly lit, but cool, room. He left the door slightly open. The thin beam of light that fell upon Eder’s round table swirled with dust. Just the thought of it made Jacob sneeze.
“To health!”
“Thank you, Eder,” Jacob said as he pushed the basket to the center of the table. He turned and shut the door. The small home was a single room furnished only with the table and two chairs, a wide stone fireplace, a dry sink, cupboards, and a goose-feather bed in one corner. Eder sat on the edge of the bed with hands clasped in his lap. He looked as if he had been recently napping. Jacob pulled a chair close and sat down.
Eder reached for Jacob’s knee, and then fumbled until Jacob moved his hand where the old man could find it. The gray-haired goatherd pulled Jacob closer and patted the top of his hand.
“I am so pleased you came, Jacob! It has been awhile since you have come to visit. Where is your younger brother?”
“Mother sent Micah to check on the flock.”
Eder patted Jacob’s hand more firmly. With a knowing smile, he said, “I asked your mother to send you in Micah’s stead.” The old goatherd didn’t let go.
Guilt swept through Jacob like a winter blast. I knew I should have come last week. He sighed.
“I am fine, Jacob. But I miss our visits.”
Eder reached for his walking stick that leaned against the bed, and stood.
Jacob followed him to the table. “I’m sorry. I have been so busy.”
“Hmmm. What did you bring?”
Eder was feeling his way into the basket with both hands. He found a cheese wheel and pulled it up to his nose, inhaling deeply.
“Ah! This is a ripe one! Good and strong.”
Jacob smiled. “Picked it out myself.”
“It will be delicious. May I share lunch?”
“The cheese is yours, but since I thought you might ask me to stay, I packed our lunch separate from what I brought from the market.”
“You are a fine young man, Jacob! Just like your father.”
Eder sat expectantly at the table. Jacob pulled two leather bags from the basket and set them to the side. He described the rest of the items as he placed them carefully on a cupboard above the dry-sink. In addition to the cheese, there were grapes, breads, dried meats, dried fruits, a bag of wheat flour, a flask of oil, and oats—enough to feed the old man for a few days. Eder was particularly excited about three tin containers: salt, sugar, and dried mint leaves.
Jacob tidied the area, filled two fired-clay goblets from a water bucket, grabbed a wooden platter, and sat down. He opened the first bag and placed a chunk of cheese and small sausage on the platter. He watched Eder’s reaction closely as he pulled a small wicker bowl from the second bag. It was brimming over with berries. Eder’s eyelids fluttered over lifeless orbs as the scent of the berries reached him.
“Thank you Jacob, those are my favorite!” He started to reach for the berries, but immediately pulled back, clasping his hands together. “May I pray?”
“Yes, of course.”
Eder thanked their Creator for the bounty. He asked for a blessing to be upon Jacob, Micah, and their mother. The words he chose in closing were heartfelt and touched Jacob deeply. They ate in silence.
When they were done, Eder insisted that they take the chairs outside to sit in the lengthening shade of a birch tree next to the house. They were grateful for a cool mountain breeze flowing down the valley. Eder’s goats still wandered over the grassy hillside.
As they sat there, both quite content from their lunch, Eder began to sing a tune known throughout much of Gideon. He sang about the beauties of mountain flowers, verdant trees, and cold, pure waters. He sang about a king who would come from a far-away land, and a promise of a peace.
Eder’s voice was clear and strong, the notes in perfect pitch. Jacob’s chest tightened as he recognized the melody as one his father would often sing when Jacob was a boy. Jacob turned away from his father’s closest friend and fought back emotion.
When Eder finished, he sat as if in quiet reflection. Jacob was grateful for the silence. He did not comment on Eder’s singing.
“Joshua was a fine singer. He actually helped me to improve my technique. Do you remember your father’s singing?”
Jacob looked down the hillside and his eyes found the burnt-out oak tree. Why he had momentarily associated the charred tree with his father’s talent, Jacob did not know at first. Then it came to him: Years ago, his father had sung to him under that very tree when it cast pleasant shadows over the field on hot summer days. But now it was dead. The giant oak had died with his father. Jacob looked away.
“Jacob? Jacob?”
“Yes?” Jacob replied after some delay.
“I am going away—the day after the crossing of the sister suns.”
Jacob was surprised. “Where are you going?”
“I am going to live in Hasor for a while, but I do not know when I shall
return. Would you help me?”
“Help you?”
“Yes, with my herds. I have asked your mother. She consented to let you stay here at my home. She is proud of the young man you have become.”
Jacob swelled with pride. Mother considers me a man? He was only fourteen, but having her confidence meant the world to him. He looked over at Eder, who was smiling.
“Yes! I . . . I . . .” Jacob stumbled over his words.
“Thank you. It is settled, then.”
