Chosen

by Ginger Garrett

  You could argue that Esther had only been entrusted with the littlest of little things: clothes, makeup, jewelry, confined in a palace to serve the whims of a pagan king. And on the eve of the greatest Jewish genocide the world had yet seen, she did not abandon what she had been given. She did not call down from heaven for resources beyond what she already had; she called down from heaven and asked that what she had been entrusted with would be enough.

  She hosted a dinner party. She dressed up. She dabbed on her perfume and placed her jewelry. It’s what she had, and it’s what she used. And she was about to become one of the greatest women in history.

  When you are frustrated with your circumstances, when you feel you are being held back, perhaps God is keeping you there because He doesn’t want you to overlook the little things. Abraham Lincoln once said, “The doors of history swing on small hinges.” Your job today is to embrace the insignificant. Accept life when it seems to go in slow motion. Pay attention to the mundane, and the humble. They may be your greatest assets when your own divine moment of truth is revealed.

  COMMENTS ON THE LOST DIARIES

  M. C. Rosenblum, Curator of the Lost Diaries, continued

  No one knows how Esther or Mordecai died. King Xerxes was buried in a tomb carved into a mountain, just outside of Persepolis. He was laid to rest with his father, Darius. Little is known of what became of the other women of his harem, or his many wives. Popular Iranian legend has it that Esther and Mordecai were buried together in the town of Hamadan. Religious pilgrims and tourists visit this site almost daily to pay respects to the fallen hero and heroine.

  Although King Xerxes was assassinated, scholars debate whether the evidence points to his son, Artaxerxes, as the assassin. Ironically, Artaxerxes was himself poisoned, as were his sons. Artaxerxes assumed the throne but would never recapture the glory of his father’s empire; indeed, his reign began the freefall decline of the Persian Empire. Revolts and insurrections would surface. While Artaxerxes and his successors would busy themselves with defending the kingdom, hoofbeats could be heard in the distance, for the time of Alexander the Great was quickly approaching.

  … a little more …

  When a delightful concert comes to an end,

  the orchestra might offer an encore.

  When a fine meal comes to an end,

  it’s always nice to savor a bit of dessert.

  When a great story comes to an end,

  we think you may want to linger.

  And so, we offer ...

  AfterWords—just a little something more after you

  have finished a David C. Cook novel.

  We invite you to stay awhile in the story.

  Thanks for reading!

  Turn the page for ...

  • A Sneak Peak

  • Q&A

  • Notes

  • About the Author

  Sneak Peek

  The LOST LOVES Series

  BOOK TWO

  You who hesitate, cast aside all illusions.

  —Abba Kovner

  PROLOGUE

  He saw the spirit only briefly, a glimpse of its dark hair and slight body moving silently through the forest. He had known it was there before he saw it. The hair on his arms had raised, and he held up a hand to the men following behind him, who all drew their horses to a quick stop. Birds called above them, and monkeys fled from lower branches to the higher perches. A few threw fruit at the men. A lion growled and they could hear his steps. They held their breath until they knew he was moving in another direction.

  When the lion’s steps grew faster and fainter, he knew the spirit had come. The unknowing men stooped and retrieved the fruit, laughing at the ones who had reached for their swords too quickly. He saw the spirit in that moment, her bow drawn tight against the gutstring, sliding between the trees in front of him. She lifted her head to draw the scent from the wind and let her arrow fly. Then she ran.

  He jumped from his horse and followed. The forest was nothing like his arid home, and he tripped and fell as vines caught his ankles and branches slapped his face. He tried to move faster and leap higher, but the forest had broken many rash men and she prevailed again. Panting, he leaned against a tree.

  He had heard the land in the north worshipped a goddess, one who hunted and killed, then loved and birthed, but he had never imagined she would seduce a man so perfectly at a glance. Her magic wove its way into his flesh, biting and burrowing, devouring weaker memories of love and promises made. He held up his hand and looked at it as the leaves above parted with a breeze to allow the sun a view.

  His skin was pristine. He looked unchanged.

  “Our bodies lie until age forces them to tell the truth,” he whispered. “Keep then my secret from my men so that I will not be made a fool.”

  He staggered back to his men, torn and bleeding, and resumed the journey north.

  e

  That night he slept close to the fire, and the forest fog stole around the men as they made camp, blanketing them in the way of the wild, that bitter mother, who welcomes and warns in the same caress. Darkness was alive here. Eyes blinked from behind the trees. Throats opened and sang. Footsteps broke through vines and dead wood as the creatures drew closer to smell the men and horses. The horses snorted and circled.

  A thick brew was passed around, an elixir they called “saddle cure” because of its powerful magic that put a trail-weary explorer to sleep in minutes and soothed sore muscles. The next morning they would feel worse for drinking it, but no man on the trail thinks of tomorrow. The lions crawling through the underbrush nearby reminded them there may be no need.

  So Ahab drew nearest the fire and let the other men take the outer edges of camp to sleep. He felt a few sparks land too near and brushed them away. He would rather suffer a small singe than a bigger bite. Life as a king meant weighing which pain should get preference. Ahab had grown up watching his father get devoured by the needling little wars of politics even as he crushed armies. King Omri had been dead for two weeks, and Ahab knew the world was changed. The wars for new land were over; now men would die for gold … and gold alone. His first bold move as the warrior king of Israel would be tomorrow, when he claimed a bride he did not want.

  He had gone on many such journeys with his father to claim lands and peoples. It was a simple matter: He who struck first and hardest, won. The sword was impartial to temperaments and whims. Politics and war were alike in that neither gave room for desire; all was won and weighed by leverage. So it was with this expedition. A princess would be given as a treaty between the kingdoms, and the kingdoms would unite against the savage Assyrians growing in power along the borders, who would go to war for the trade routes in the heartland.

  Ahab was not pleased to take a wife. He had a harem of women he could call on to serve him and then be silent. A wife was a burden he was ill equipped to handle, for what arguments could be solved with the sword? He lived for blood, not love. But this woman was a necessary cost. Ahab spit into the fire thinking of it. The fire didn’t blink and his gesture was lost. Ahab sighed and turned over.

  It was deep into the night when the sparks singed him along his arms. The first one was so slight that Ahab only acknowledged its victory in his mind and went back to sleep. The heat from the fire had kept the night bugs away but made him too warm to sleep in his clothes, so he slept naked, covering only the essentials with his blanket. Then the sparks came more frequently, spitting and poking into his exposed skin along the thick part of his arms and chest. Finally he sat up in disgust, determined to move away from the fire’s reach.

  The fire was only glowing embers now. There were no sparks.

  He heard a soft laugh catch in a throat, and he reached for his sword. A hand shot from the darkness and caught his. The creature edged closer and smiled. Ahab froze. Her eyes were large black holl
ows. Her lips were dark and sharply edged, though full through the middle. And she was beautiful. The moonlight made her pale olive skin look like polished marble, and he wondered if she would return to stone by morning. The goddess crawled across the dust and dead sparks. She dropped the arrow she had used to rouse him.

  He drew back, holding his breath, arranging the blanket where it was suddenly needed. Her long fingers moved across his face, and she closed her eyes when she touched his mouth. She breathed deeply, then looked at him. Her arm moved to her belt and brought up a knife, which she brought to his face. He could not move. No man in the camp made any sound beyond snoring and turning. She released his hand and crawled closer so that her knees were against his hip. She lifted a section of his hair and cut it loose, returning the knife to her belt and the hair to a pouch next to it. She looked at him again now and waited. She did not blink.

  He remembered a dream he had once, as a boy, of falling. In this dream, he fell from a very safe place into a deep, cold well where no one could hear him. He remembered how every revolution, every stone that passed by as he fell into the darkness, marked the dark descent. When he awoke that morning, he saw he had only fallen from the bed as he slept, but he cried anyway. He had wiped his tears with vigor so that his servant Obadiah would have nothing to report to his harsh father at breakfast.

  But now he fell and did not dream. He moved his hands to the small of her back and felt her strong frame, moving his hands up her back to the shoulders and drawing her face to his now. He saw the lines of her mouth split into a smile, and he kissed her. He held her there, and she released a soft breath into his mouth. He swallowed and kissed her again, then reached to pull her on top of him. She slipped from his grasp and stole back into the darkness, like a little songbird that only needed a moment’s distraction to make its escape.

  He lay back on the earth and cried.

  Q&A

  with Ginger Garrett

  Q: Why did you include Chosen: The Lost Diaries of Queen Esther in the David C. Cook series Lost Loves of the Bible?

  A: I chose these diaries for the Lost Loves series because of the potential for love that Esther lost.

  The moment Esther was chosen for the harem, whatever hopes she had for her future, her heart, and her family were lost. She became one wife among thousands. She lost freedom and many days, she lost her dignity in the treatment she received.

  However, Esther is foreshadowing the story of Christ, who tells us that to surrender our own desires and plans will lead to blessings unimaginable, and overflow goodness into the lives of others. Esther’s loss, and her submission to a cruel turn of events, resulted in the saving of a nation. Millions of Jews were saved throughout history by her sacrifices.

  Q: What are the other books in the Lost Loves series?

  A: I’ll be adding two novels: the stories of Jezebel and Delilah. Both women have been sorely overlooked by history, painted as cardboard villains without any understanding of who they were and why they acted as they did. Their stories are more poignant, and disturbing, than what we’ve ever imagined.

  Q: Will you ever complete the Serpent Moon series?

  A: Since I get this question every day on email from readers, I thought I’d answer it here, too!

  Dark Hour began what was to be a trilogy of evil women from the Bible. However, due to circumstances well beyond my control, I had to stop work on the series, while certain events sorted themselves out.

  While I won’t be returning to the trilogy, I will be returning to my desire to tell the stories of two epic women from biblical history: Jezebel and Delilah. Their stories, their passions, and the loves they lost compel me to finish the work.

  It’s fitting, really, that these women be allowed to tell their tales without the stigma of being in a series about evil women of the Bible. Until we get past that label, and see their hearts, we can’t begin to understand the lessons they would whisper to us across the generations that separate us.

  Notes

  1 Gavin de Becker, Protecting the Gift (New York: Random House, 1999), 30–33.

  2 Andy Stanley, Visioneering (Sisters, Oregon: Multnomah, 1999), 24.

  3 Naomi Wolf, Misconceptions (New York: Doubleday, 2001), 28.

  About the Author

  Ginger Garrett is the author of the Chronicles of the Scribes series (In the Shadow of Lions, In the Arms of Immortals, In the Eyes of Eternity), Dark Hour, and Beauty Secrets of the Bible. Chosen: The Lost Diaries of Queen Esther was recognized as one of the top five novels of 2006 by the ECPA.

  Focusing on ancient women’s history, Ginger creates novels and nonfiction resources that explore the lives of historical women. A frequent media guest and television host, Ginger has been interviewed by Fox News, Billy Graham’s The Hour of Decision, The Harvest Show, 104.7 The Fish Atlanta, and many other outlets.

  A graduate of Southern Methodist University with a degree in theater, she is passionate about creating art from history.

  Visit Ginger at her Web site: www.gingergarrett.com

  Author photo © Don Sparks Photography