Mountain of Full Moons

by Irene Kessler

  “The leaving Sarah and Isaac, of course, and knowing I may never see them again.”

  “I was hoping you might be referring to the remark Sarah made.”

  I look away. “Which remark?”

  “Becoming close companions. Added to Abraham’s comments, it warrants consideration.”

  “Do you give it significance?”

  I turn to watch his expression. “I would rather you answer first.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “And?”

  His face tells me what I want to know. “I think they told us what we have been avoiding telling each other.”

  In one graceful movement Doron pushes the food away and is by my side. He takes me in his arms. His lips graze mine with such tenderness only the shivers that run through me can assure his mouth is real.

  “No, Doron. No, I cannot.” I push him away, scramble up, and run toward the donkey.

  He runs after me. “What is wrong? Tell me, please. You feel something for me.”

  “I do, but I cannot.” I walk around to the donkey’s other side.

  “Do you not trust me?”

  “I trust you. It is my problem.” I go back to the mat.

  “Anything that troubles you concerns me.” His words stop me. “I care about you. My feelings are sincere, and my wish is to know who you are.”

  There is no place to put myself. “You would not choose to have knowledge of this.”

  “I do but will not insist.”

  He is so sad, so alone, so disappointed, my heart breaks. I cannot . . . “Please, leave me alone.” He walks away, slumped shoulders and head down. I will not let him leave like that. “Wait. Please sit. I cannot stand and speak the words.”

  I am on the ground next to him. He takes me in his arms and strokes my hair. I am safe. Really safe. The happenings in Urusalim. Kotharat’s meanness, Resheph’s crafty ways, the Sacred Prostitutes, the violation, the lie to Abraham all spill onto his welcoming chest.

  I sit up. “I think about how he attacked me and it still seems like it is happening now. I scrubbed myself inside and out, over and over, but could not wash away his smell. I did not trust love would come to me again.”

  His answer is to pull me closer. The strokes of his hand on my back bring tears. Doron does not move, does not pull away. The tears grow less and I lift my head. I reach up, pull his head down, and fix my lips on his. There is urgency in my blood. His insistence matches mine.

  Doron introduces me to the essence of making love, the basic animal urge, the depth of the feelings, the pleasure, the glow afterward, and the sweet lingering scent of my lover. We hold each other, my head on his chest.

  “I have been long overdue to the experience of love. There is no one I would rather have as a tutor. The way you are looking at me right now makes me realize that you are the first man, except for my brother, to peer into my heart. It was as if not just our bodies came together but my soul became one with yours. Knowing each other as we now do, I can accomplish anything.” I kiss him on the lips again, savoring the sensations running through me. “I love you.”

  “I know, and I love you too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  We set out for Lachish with the sun well over the horizon. At every turn, a messenger appears from another village and asks us to entertain. Most of the communities are nameless, so keeping track of them is difficult and finding them even more so. No name is something they have in common with my village. Most of the men are planters and elders greet us and are in charge, like at home.

  “Sometimes I wonder what they would think if they knew my tribe banished me.”

  “We are here to do our concert,” Doron reminds me, “not to become friends and share our histories.”

  “You are right. But it feels like a lie.”

  “Shall we leave this as a truth unspoken?” I nod.

  “Elisha? I have a question for you. When we stayed with Sarah, you were different.”

  “Different?”

  “Yes, comfortable as if they are your family.”

  “They were my family for an uncountable number of full moons. Leaving them was hard. I never had my own home.”

  “There is more than that.”

  “A part of me is barren, like Sarah was. My heart is filled with love not given to a husband or child. I used to dream of how I would play with my little ones.” Doron lowers his eyes. “Loneliness was always a part of me whether alone or with others, even with Abraham and Sarah. I never thought about the loss until Sarah had Isaac. Then I understood what a woman is meant to accomplish, what was never going to be mine.”

  Doron runs his hand through his beard. “I am sorry and wish I could have filled that place. One thing I need to make clear. I have no interest in marriage or children.”

  Disappointment fills me. The tiny bit of hope that survived, dies.

  Whether a village or city, we are welcomed by crowds with greetings, food, and drink. We stay in someone’s home and are given provisions to continue.

  “This wandering takes us far from our destination. It seems we will travel for a lifetime before we reach my village.”

  “Do you not enjoy my company?” Doron grins and has a twinkle in his eye.

  “For a long time, Nathan was the one person I could speak to. Now I have you and nowhere in the world is there a place better than right here.” I kiss his cheek. “You made this a glorious time in my life. I am with the man I love, doing the things I love most. This journey is tiring, and I hope we never grow stale.”

  “Music and being together will never wear out.” His smile is broad.

  “You restored my trust in people. For the first time I am equal with a man, like Sarah. The wonder of it is that I can be me, all of me, and I no longer am a dependent girl-child. Thank you, Doron.”

  Things go well in Lachish. And that is repeated in the many villages where we perform. Then we move north to Beit Lahm. We arrive in the evening. After watering the donkey and unpacking the few things needed for the concert, we partake of a tasty meal. Tired from our trek we excuse ourselves and are on our mats ready to sleep.

  “The next large city after this is Urusalim,” I muse. It may take four moons for the donkey to plod that far. “I would like to stop and visit Melchizedek. He made this possible.”

  “Of course we will. As we move closer, perhaps we can find a messenger. Then Melchizedek will be aware of when we arrive.”

  “No, Doron. We must find a messenger. He is always on the move and might not be there.”

  We do not come across any one willing to do it. We reach the house and Doron knocks on the doorpost. There is no answer.

  “We missed him, Doron. What shall we do now? I told you he might not be here.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” He glares at me.“You did not find anyone.”

  “Do not blame me. You did not search to find one.”

  He turns away. “I did not because you said you would.”

  “Yes, I know it is always my fault.” Despite what was predicted, we are getting tired and a bit stale. “What do we do now?”

  “I have an answer.” I follow behind him bubbling like stew, letting him find the solution. He comes across a gorgeous setting not far away. Or did he know about it from jaunts with Abraham? “Doron, I am sorry I got angry. Melchizedek is important to us.”

  We take two suns of leisure walking through the countryside to admire the foliage, warming ourselves in the sun and making love in the grass. We eat as soon as we are moved to, and sleep when we are tired. Our time there is divine and at the end, energy and joy return.

  We make our way back to the house and Doron knocks on the doorpost again.

  “There you are. I expected you many moons ago. I was concerned at not hearing anything. Beersheba is not near, but not so far. Then I received news of the many communities where you performed with much success.”

  I give him a big hug. “We must apologize. We could not find a messenger. Eve
ry city, town, and village wanted to have us. Word travels like the wind and no village wishes to be left out.”

  He precedes us into the house. “But that is wonderful. What an accomplishment.”

  “Poo, poo,” says Doron.

  “What is that?”

  “My lord, the saying is to ward off evil. We still have a long way to go and I do not care to reverse our agreeable fortune.”

  “Please sit.” He calls the servant. “Please bring food and drink.” He turns back to us. “Did you see Abraham and Sarah?”

  We sit across from him and Doron signals me with a look that warns. “We saw Abraham in Beersheba,” I tell him. “He is still involved in business dealings.” Doron’s nose flares. “Did you know that he is there with Hagar?” Doron’s eyes glare like a sharp blade.

  “No, he never said anything. I am surprised.”

  “We had a wonderful time with Sarah and Isaac. Sarah is lonely and although she did not say it, I think she is not well. It was difficult to leave her.”

  Doron takes my hand in his. Melchizedek notices the movement. His only reaction is a tightening of his cheeks as if to control a grin.

  “Doron, do you agree?”

  “Yes, my lord. She did not seem to be as well as she used to.”

  “I am sorry. I will send a servant, and we will find out if anything is wrong.”

  “Thank you, my lord, I will rest better with knowing.” My second mother is ill.

  Melchizedek has much to do, and we spend time together only for meals. In between Doron and I walk through the city. “This house is where I lived.”

  “The one with Kotharat and him?”

  “Yes. Come, we will walk around to the wash stand. No one is home at this time.” The sight of the courtyard makes me want to throw up. “This is where we cooked, washed, ate, did everything. Let us go.”

  Resheph walks in. I grab Doron’s hand. He should not be here if he is still studying. “Resheph. I hope you do not mind, my friend wanted to see where I used to live.”

  “That is fine with me.” One eyebrow is raised, and a smirk is on his face. “Pleased to meet you.” He nods to Doron.

  “Thank you. Elisha told me about you.”

  The corners of Resheph’s mouth turn up. “I am sure she did. And you, Elisha, what are you doing back in the city?”

  “We are here to thank Melchizedek for the success of our concerts.”

  His voice changes. “Success.” He hesitates. “Congratulations.”

  “And you, Resheph? Do you still study?”

  “Of course.” He turns his head, confirming my guess. “I am glad for you. We must be on our way. Regards to your family.”

  We are away from the house and Doron stops. “Did seeing him make you sad?”

  “Yes. He is the same. Superior and untruthful. The father was not nasty, just distant. They were not loving people, except for the daughter, Nikkal. She was the kind one who understood that the lack of love breeds anger and shame.”

  “Like in your home?”

  The shock goes through to my bones. “My parents did not put love into words, but the caring was real. It was in the covers my ima stayed up the whole night to weave. It was in the small size water skin Abba made for me. No, my home was different.”

  “Were the results not the same? Do you not suffer the same feelings?”

  My feet pound the earth as I walk away. “They did the best they could. Doron, I do not wish to discuss this with you.”

  “Who else can you talk to?”

  I stare at him but will not say more. “I am not sure I want it to be you.”

  Melchizedek returns and we have a delicious feast. “I am sorry to say my messenger was not able to confirm Sarah’s health. She refused to discuss it.”

  I smile. “Thank you for trying.”

  Sipping the libation loosens the men’s tongues, and they talk until dark. I listen but cannot join them. Melchizedek describes the new class he is teaching and the work he is involved in. I nod so he knows I am listening. Doron describes some places we visited and the reactions of our audiences.

  “My dear friend and teacher,” I interrupt, “we must leave on the morrow. I, for one, need some sleep before we start out again.” I give him a kiss on the cheek. Doron stands and joins me.

  “Yes, we both need rest.”

  “May I offer you provisions?”

  Doron bows his head. “Thank you, my lord, but our hosts have been too kind. Our animal carries as much as he can.”

  “You are well taken care of. I will see you in the morning.”

  “Are you all right?” Doron speaks as soon as we are out of hearing.

  “I am now. You brought up those feelings and I could not say a word.” We go to our room. “I was a lost child,” I whisper, “left alone because they were busy in the house and fields. The worst part was the whispers of being peculiar and doing evil. It drove away friends. I wandered by myself. The empty part in me needed to be filled. I was angry and resentful of anyone who was hugged or kissed.” I go to Doron. “I thought something was wrong with me because the tribe said it was true. I was ashamed. Is that what you want to hear?” I throw myself onto the sleep mat and turn away.

  He turns me over and puts his arms around me. Our love-making is different. We finish and he holds me while I cry the feelings out. I do not tell him a gateway closed. My blood did not flow the past three moon cycles.

  We are on our way right after we finish eating. The concerts in the cities of Gilbeah, Gibeon, Gezer, and their surrounding areas go as before. We enjoy our hosts and the audiences show their appreciation. Once those appearances are over, everything changes.

  We do the concerts in the surrounding communities in the same way, but the audience reacts differently. They yell out, “You could not study with Abraham. You are a woman.” Rotten flowers fly at us. “How can we be sure those are his words?” Rotting vegetables join the flowers. “You are a liar.” “You are a harlot. That man is not your husband.” Sheep dung misses us. We evade the stones they throw.

  Doron has his arm around me as he pulls me from the gathering and heads back to the safety of our tent. “What happened? Why do they say such terrible things, Doron? They do not challenge you. I feel dreadful, like I did something so wrong I should be punished.”

  Doron examines my face. “Your expectations of yourself are out of proportion. You cannot change people.”

  “Did I not sing well? Did I mix up any of the words? Was I not loud enough?”

  “Your singing was beautiful.”

  “Then why were they so furious. Did they not understand?”

  Doron stares at me. “Do you expect to make them grasp the teachings?”

  “I thought they would want to. That they would recognize Abraham’s and Sarah’s wisdom.”

  “And is it your fault they do not?”

  “If I am not doing it right, then yes.”

  “Tell me the mistakes you made.”

  His request surprises me and I push him away. “I did not make any. At least I do not think so.” I watch his face.

  “You did not. Are you one who makes sure you predict yourself a failure in case you are not perfect?”

  I look into his eyes and remind myself he loves me and is trying to help. “I think I always have been. Bad feelings happened each time the tribe reminded me I did not marry, or that I was odd and no man wanted me. Abba said I could never learn to cook, and Ima said my breads were hard enough to grind the flour. Nothing I did was valued, especially my singing, and then there was the humiliation of not being a son.”

  “If a child is different or criticized, they feel shame. Shame is one of the most painful things we face.”

  I am curious. “Were you different?”

  “Perhaps not in the same way as you were. But I had my share.”

  The tone of his voice makes my heart reach out to him. “Now hush and let me hold you.” I climb into the heaven of his arms.

  Th
e following morning as we move toward Mizpah, I decide to discuss my plan with Doron. “There is something we must speak about that may affect both of us.”

  “I am grateful to have something to occupy me as we plod along.”

  “I wrote another song. With my own words.”

  “Wonderful. What is the problem? We can add it to the program.”

  “What if you are not pleased with it?”

  “Sing it for me.”

  “I would rather we practice it first.”

  He ties the donkey to a tree, gets his lyre, and I sing the tune.

  He has a big smile for me. “It is perfect. Now with the words.”

  “I would rather you consider the words at the concert.”

  He inspects me and his brow creases. “You are being very mysterious.”

  His request brings back the fear of the past few days. What might happen because of my words? Will we get hurt? Will someone else? I am afraid. I need his opinion. I relent and sing the words.

  “Are you ready to be stoned to death?” I do not answer. “It is a wonderful song and I appreciate the desire to speak out, but you know as well as I it will bring unrest. The women may applaud but they will suffer later.”

  “I agree. That is what I struggle with. The words need to be heard. It is time men learn to accept women as having intelligence and able to do more than keep the home and have children. You treat me as equal.”

  “You say that you are not able to speak your mind. I can assure you that indeed you do.”

  That makes me angry. “What about the words? Should I add some that tell men what they do is wrong and hurtful?”

  Doron’s face is red. “Do you want to die on the spot?”

  “It is the truth and they do not recognize it. We were students of Abraham and Sarah and learned how to talk to each other.”

  “That is true. Why do you say women are nothing if they cannot share their ideas, that they have been shamed into silence?”

  “Because that is the truth. Many women are beaten for speaking their thoughts and opinions. Would you like that to happen to you?”

  Doron sighs. “I understand what you are trying to say. It does not change the truth of our society. You may not survive.”