Necessary Heartbreak

by Michael J. Sullivan

  Although she had gathered everything she needed, Leah was overwhelmed by a sense that something was still missing. Of course, the leafy lettuces, handful of nuts for the charoset, and spicy roots were sufficient. Mentally, she knew her list was complete. Yet something felt just beyond her grasp, waiting in the mist of her thoughts to be plucked out and examined. She decided to circle the market stands again, hoping the walk would jar her out of this odd reverie.

  As she worked her way around the jostling, frenzied crowd, she suddenly realized with startling clarity what was troubling her. Yochanan might be everywhere today, but for her, the thought of him was now tied to someone else, another man: Michael.

  She stopped abruptly and immediately felt a woman’s hand on her back. They apologized to each other silently, a raised hand in forgiveness, a concerned smile. But all of it made Leah feel guilt and remorse. It was easier to focus on Elizabeth, and in doing so, she decided to pursue one more purchase.

  She cut into the current of the crowd and headed toward a stand of plump melons. She felt sympathy for Elizabeth, abandoned in this world, a sensation that Leah understood all too well. Now with the sacrifice of the lamb—the name Cassie came to mind, but Leah fought to repress it—Elizabeth would be even more isolated. Leah picked up a melon in the front, purposefully concentrating on everything else but how Yochanan would thump them with his thumb. She settled on a medium-size one. She guessed it was eight or nine pounds, bigger than the usual. I’ve got more mouths to feed this year.

  Her mind turned back to Michael, and the task that lay ahead. From the afternoon of their first encounter, she remembered where the tunnel was and mentally charted a course to it. As each step brought her closer, she found herself wondering what it would mean to have them leave. She had certainly felt the anxiety of harboring people who some would consider outlaws or even possible criminals. And Michael’s physical nearness had at times made her feel uncomfortable. Yet there was no denying that they had given her a new mission, a goal that provided her solace for the first time in years. If they could freely leave her, then where would it actually leave her?

  She walked the remaining three hundred yards until she was at the corner of the alley on which the tunnel was located. She slowed, instantly alert to any signs of soldiers. She drew nearer to the building on the corner and peered around its facade. After a few moments of waiting for the crowd to thin, she was finally able to spy the series of grates. A white cloth was tied on the arching bars over one near the center. There it is, like he said!

  But then she realized a soldier was to the left of the tunnel’s opening. He was leaning comfortably in the shade of the stucco wall, perfectly at ease, with the appearance of a man waiting for a friend. She wondered if this was the man Michael feared: he was dressed in the traditional uniform, yet he could have been anyone. But then on the ground next to him she saw his helmet with a remnant of Elizabeth’s shirt still affixed to it and knew he was the one.

  As she stared at him, another feeling coursed through her, one that she couldn’t decipher. Something about him resonated with her, but still, every soldier was a threat. As she tried to shake off her unease, she noticed another soldier walking toward her, his eyes thankfully averted. Leah stepped back, ducking into the darkness of a recessed doorway, pinning her back against its interior wall. She let the basket slip down her frame, coming to rest on the ground. Sheltered from view, she listened with keen interest as people passed by, failing to notice her slim shadow projected obliquely on the opposite wall.

  Through the din of the crowd, Leah could hear the two soldiers greeting each other. Being part of the military, they were gallant and loud, their voices carrying over the rumble in a way that no villager would ever dare to emulate. They were complaining about Passover and how the need for surveillance brought them back again to this city. They obviously abhorred this duty, and their annoyance was tangible. As they spoke, a clanging, rhythmic sound of metal hitting the cobblestones cut through the air. Leah shivered. The blunt end of one of their deadly spears was repeatedly striking the ground, as if in boredom. She concentrated in earnest, trying to filter their speech through the metallic sound.

  “Yes, I’ve been waiting here for a few nights now,” said one man.

  The other man laughed. “How long do you plan to stay?”

  The clink of metal striking stone obscured the man’s response. Then the noise stopped, as if something else had drawn their attention; Leah prayed it wasn’t her.

  “I’ll find that woman.” The first man’s tone was even and dry.

  The other man snorted. “You always do.”

  They both chuckled in unison. “You know me too well, my comrade.”

  Something in the voice was eerily familiar to Leah, and she felt a rush of panic. It was as if a door were opening from within while she struggled to hold it closed.

  She slid away from the wall and took a quick glance out into the street. Their backs were to her. The first soldier was holding the spear, turning it into the mortar between two paving stones. He raised it nearly a foot before letting it drop through his hand to the cobblestones below, catching the shaft again when it rebounded upward. It had a sharper sound this time.

  “I’ll find that woman by finding that man,” said the first soldier. “Are you with me?”

  “Of course,” the other soldier replied. “I owe you a favor, Marcus.”

  “That’s right,” the voice echoed back.

  It is him. Leah’s knees buckled and her stomach lurched as she felt transported back. She remembered the view from her rooftop, her excitement tangible at Yochanan’s return, then cut short by the horrific scene that played out before her: Yochanan slumped in the street, blood everywhere. The soldier before him that night with the crimson-tipped spear was the same jovial one leaning by the grate before her now. She vomited on the ground in front of her, fearing that they would hear her retch. As she pulled her body back, only one thing shook her: How can Michael not recognize him?

  Leah grabbed her basket from the ground and stepped over the puddle of vomit. She edged to the corner, determined to make her escape. As she did, the one she now knew as “Marcus” glared right at her. She bowed her head in respect but, with her heart pounding, stepped out too quickly in her attempt to blend in with the crowd. She glanced back quickly and saw Marcus pointing at her, his head bent in speech toward the other soldier. She forced a smile again, then joined a group of women walking in the opposite direction, toward the city wall. She tried in earnest to engage them, all the while her mind racing.

  Yet only one thought remained constant: He’s coming after me now!

  Elizabeth spent the entire morning petting the lamb and fingering its tightly wound curls. At times, she would place her head against the back of the lamb’s neck, her face mixed with both anger and hopelessness.

  Watching Elizabeth, Michael once again felt helpless in this other world, unable to save the lamb and ease his daughter’s pain. He thought about kidnapping the lamb and telling Elizabeth to make a run for the tunnel. But he knew this was reckless and disrespectful to Leah, particularly after the risk she was taking at the moment to help them.

  How can I not say good-bye to her?

  Michael walked over to Elizabeth and gently rubbed her back. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

  “Can you tell Leah to stop this? She’ll listen to you.”

  “I tried, Elizabeth. I really did. It’s a special holy day for her. And this is how they celebrate, much like we celebrate by eating turkey on Thanksgiving.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “Daddy, I love Cassie. Would it be so bad if we just took her with us?”

  Michael leaned over to hug Elizabeth. “I know Cassie means a lot to you but she belongs here, and it’s not our place to interfere.” He stroked her back, noticing a tear roll down her cheek. “Please, don’t get upset. You know how it upsets me when you cry.”

  She pulled away. “Sometimes, Dad, I just need to cry. Is that okay?”
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  “Yes, yes, it’s okay,” he whispered in her ear, reaching down to hold her hand.

  Michael knew something was terribly wrong when he saw Leah crouched directly behind the front wall, watching the gate intently. Leah’s face was drawn, and her eyes wide with fright. When he started toward her, she flailed one hand in the air, waving him back toward the house. She listened for one long moment before spryly leaping to her feet, surprising Michael with her agility. She met him at the kitchen, but when he reached for the basket she was carrying, he was startled to see that her hands were shaking.

  “What happened?” he whispered, taking the basket from her. “Are you okay?”

  “Michael, the soldier was there, waiting for you. Where’s Elizabeth?”

  “She’s upstairs. You saw Marcus? Did he follow you?”

  “No. I don’t believe so. But go tell her to stay there. Please don’t scare her. Give me a moment and I’ll bring you both lunch.”

  “I don’t care about eating. Just come up where it’s safe.” Michael climbed the steps quickly, trying not to look concerned. But instead of stopping at the second floor, he hurried up the ladder leading to the roof. He peeked out and looked around in a circular motion. No one out there. Thank God.

  When he descended back down to the dining area, he saw Elizabeth smiling. “What’s going on?” she asked curiously.

  “Um . . . nothing.” I’ve told Elizabeth too much already.

  She gave him a look of disbelief, noticing her father’s face was milky white.

  The awkward silence was broken as Leah began preparations for lunch. She removed the lettuce, herbs, and horseradish root from the basket before following him. As she reached the top of the ladder, she called out sweetly, “I got you some watermelon, Elizabeth.”

  Despite her grief, Elizabeth didn’t want to offend Leah. She rose from her bedroll and joined them at the dinner mat, where she and Michael had already set out bowls of cheese, almonds, and cucumber.

  Upon seeing the simple yet elegant lunch, Leah whispered to them, “Thank you.”

  Michael smiled. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t find any bread.”

  “There isn’t any in the house because of the seder. This is just perfect.” Her breathing became more even as she ate.

  “So was he waiting at the tunnel?” Elizabeth asked, adding a piece of watermelon to her plate.

  Leah nodded.

  Elizabeth frowned, looking at her father. “So what does that mean?”

  “It means we’re not leaving yet,” Michael murmured.

  Elizabeth quietly ate three slices of watermelon, each bite precise and deliberate. Leah and Michael chewed on nuts, enduring Elizabeth’s stoic silence.

  Finally Elizabeth asked quietly, “Why do you have to kill Cassie?”

  “Elizabeth, please?” Michael begged.

  “No, it’s fine, Michael.” Leah raised her hand. “Elizabeth, this is the tradition of our people. Each year a lamb is sacrificed to show our devotion. Our people have done it for a very long time.”

  After a moment of thought, she added, “Don’t you have traditions where you come from?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “My father doesn’t believe in traditions.”

  Michael grinned uncomfortably. “She’s right.”

  “Can I be excused?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes, yes,” Michael said anxiously. “Just stay out of the courtyard.”

  Elizabeth looked away and went down the ladder, avoiding eye contact with them. They heard her outside Cassie’s stall.

  “She’s not taking this well,” Michael said to Leah, moving to the upstairs window to watch Elizabeth playing with Cassie below.

  “I know.” Leah quietly removed the cups and plates from the mat before starting down the ladder.

  Michael followed her downstairs to the kitchen, where he watched Leah. She was puttering around the room, cleaning and moving plates to different parts of the tiny kitchen.

  Why is she lingering?

  After a moment, he finally asked, “Can I help you?”

  “No, no, no. I just need some time.”

  Michael watched Elizabeth continue to pet the lamb. He was fixated on his daughter, but soon realized that Leah was intently watching too. When Michael’s eyes met Leah’s, she turned away from him.

  “I need to speak with you about something.”

  “What is it?” Michael asked.

  Leah hesitated as she covered her head with the veil and took a short length of rope from the wall behind her. She moved toward Cassie’s stall. “It should wait,” she said, nodding in Elizabeth’s direction. “It’s time for me to take Cassie to the Temple, Elizabeth.”

  “Are you sure you should go?” Michael asked urgently.

  “Yes, I think I just panicked before.” Leah smiled at him.

  Elizabeth looked up into Leah’s face and solemnly nodded. She hugged Cassie one last time, then slowly stood. “Bye, Cassie.”

  Leah tied the rope loosely around the lamb’s neck and gently guided it out of the courtyard. Michael watched the front gate close behind them before he turned to look at Elizabeth. She was standing alone, under the fig tree, without a single tear in her eye—something that made Michael feel as if his heart would burst.

  Michael sat against the wall in Cassie’s stall, watching Elizabeth. “Honey, we have to think about getting back.”

  Elizabeth looked at her father. Her eyes were now red and puffy from saying good-bye to Cassie. “I just want to get back home to my friends. I don’t like it here.”

  Michael nodded in understanding. “I know. I want to leave, too, but until that soldier leaves, it’s impossible.”

  Elizabeth shrugged in agreement. She picked up a piece of straw from the ground. “Dad, do you believe in life after death? Do you think there’s a heaven?”

  He was surprised by his daughter’s question. He had dwelled on the subject quite a bit over the past fourteen years. “Honey, you’re so young, why are you worrying about this right now?”

  “Because I think of Mom a lot, especially around her birthday. Can we do something together on her birthday next week?”

  Michael’s head dropped. “It’s a tough day for me, Elizabeth. I don’t feel much like doing anything on that day.”

  “I know.” Every year for as long as she could remember, her father had shut the blinds in the house on April 17 and sat in his dark bedroom.

  She looked at him searchingly. “If that man you saw really was Jesus, do you think he could bring Mom back somehow?”

  The question hung in the air. Michael had no idea how to answer. He had been sure of what he’d seen on Palm Sunday, and somehow, on that day, he’d felt something stir within him. Was it faith? Hope? Whatever it was, it had been fleeting but genuine. But now, in the practical light of day, that possibility seemed ridiculous. The last thing he wanted to do was alarm his daughter with some far-fetched idea, all because he couldn’t find it in his heart to let go of the past.

  “Elizabeth, I think what I saw was amazing,” he said slowly. “But I really doubt Jesus, God, or anyone else could bring back Mom.”

  “Why not? Jesus was supposed to work miracles. Why couldn’t we try to find him?” Elizabeth leaned forward in excitement. “Why couldn’t we ask him for a miracle?”

  Michael shook his head. This was getting out of hand. “No, Elizabeth. It’s dangerous enough already for us here. The last thing I want to do is jeopardize your safety. I’ve already lost your mother. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”

  She glared at him. “You’re always using me as an excuse. You just don’t want to try.”

  He didn’t bother answering. He reasoned that she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, fully understand until she was a parent. He didn’t have the energy to explain that he tried all the time. To be a good father. To be supportive. To fill two parents’ shoes instead of just his own.

  They sat in silence. Finally Elizabeth asked with a sidelong glance, “Dad, what do yo
u think of Leah?”

  “Hmm . . . I don’t know. I don’t know her well enough to say.” He looked at his daughter; to him, she had matured so much over this past week.

  Elizabeth snapped the piece of straw between her finger and thumb. She scowled in frustration. “Ugh, I hate waiting here. We should be back at the tunnel by now.”

  “Yeah, me, too. I’d do anything to get rid of that soldier. Leah thinks it won’t be safe until after sundown.”

  Elizabeth gave a look of displeasure. “Now you’re talking like her.”

  Michael walked over to Elizabeth and sat down. He put his arms around her.

  “Elizabeth, the only thing I want right now is to get you home safely so you can be happy.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “That sounds nice.”

  “I hope Leah gets home soon,” Michael said to Elizabeth with a wink, “because I would hate to have to light some of these lamps.”

  She just stared at him, motionless.

  Michael grew restless. Night fell quickly here, and they needed to get home.

  Suddenly, he heard heavy footsteps on the road. Elizabeth wanted to investigate, but Michael motioned for her to stay down.

  “Shh,” he said, putting a finger over his lips.

  Panic seized him. It’s a soldier! Is it Marcus? Leah was followed! Fear spread through him as he leaned near the window, trying to look outside. The noises grew louder and were coming from near the courtyard now.

  He grabbed Elizabeth and pointed upstairs. “Go, go to the roof. Quickly!”

  When they got up to the second floor, Michael pushed Elizabeth over to the roof ladder. “Up!”

  Elizabeth stumbled. “Ouch!”

  “Quiet,” Michael whispered to her. “Go to the other side of the roof!”

  Elizabeth looked at him in horror.

  “Whatever happens . . . I love you,” he said.

  Elizabeth mouthed, I love you, too.

  Hearing the front gate screech, Michael spun back, frantically trying to find a weapon. He pushed over a group of baskets near the far wall. Out fell balls of yarn and a couple of four-inch metal weaving pins. Michael crouched down, grabbing one.