“I don’t deserve—” he began, but I cut off his words by bending forward and pressing my lips to the ones that I hoped would sing me many, many more beautiful songs.
“You hurt me,” I said, looking into his eyes, which were so luminous and full of remorse. “You lied. You deceived. But I also empathize with your justifications for doing so. If I would have been taken in by someone like Abiram, I might have made the very same choices. I can only be grateful that it was Elazar who adopted me and afforded us both grace for our mistakes.”
A shudder went through his body as I placed my forehead on his. “I forgive you, Ronen,” I whispered. “And I would be honored to be your wife. To be your family.”
With a smile that outshone the sun and moon and all the stars, he surged to his feet, pulling me into his arms and making the gentle, sweet kiss I’d given him a distant memory.
Forty-One
Once the two of us floated back down to earth, Ronen reluctantly released me to slide the strap of his satchel over his head.
“This is my pledge to you,” he said, pressing the familiar bag into my hands and then another soft kiss to my lips. “So that you know I will return in a few months for my bride.”
“I believe you, Ronen. You do not have to give me anything, let alone your most valuable treasure.” I tried to shift it back into his arms, but he resisted with a shake of his head, curling his hands around mine so that we both had a firm grip on the lyre.
“It is not my greatest treasure anymore, Eliora.” He delivered another brush of his lips to my cheek and then my forehead. “You are. And have you forgotten the story of its origins? There can be no greater mohar than an instrument made by a man who adored his foreign bride beyond all description.
“You keep it safe while I am away. And when I return to you, I will write new songs about how much I cherish you. About these green eyes that remind me of a sunlit wood . . .” He pressed a feather-light kiss to each of my eyelids. “About this golden hair that has been taunting me for so long . . .” He reached up to run his hands through my locks and then bent forward to bury his nose in my neck, inhaling deeply. “And about a Philistine woman who I would gladly shave my own head for.”
I laughed loudly at his sly mention of Delilah, feeling his body vibrate against mine as he chuckled at his own jest. “I wouldn’t sharpen your razor just yet, though I’m glad your strength is not dependent on it. I like your hair.” I tugged at the portion that had slipped free of the knot at his neck and tucked it behind his ear.
“Do you?” He grinned.
“I always have found your appearance . . . how did Miri say it? Oh yes . . . pleasing.” I matched his mischievous grin. “In fact, I used to—” I stopped, realizing how ridiculous my admission would seem.
His brows lifted high as he held me closer. “You used to what?”
I dropped my eyes, my cheeks blooming with heat. “I used to think about you when I was younger. . . . I used to dream that you would come back to Kiryat-Yearim and see me as more than a terrified orphan hidden behind a wall.”
“You can be assured, my love, that I in no way see you as a girl anymore.” He pulled me in for another kiss, then whispered in my ear. “And these months apart will be the longest of my life.”
They would be the same for me as well, but knowing that soon we would be together in Ramah and be part of a community of people under Samuel’s tutelage would make the wait a little more bearable. And at least I would have some time to adjust to the idea of leaving my family before he came for me. Thankfully, Ramah was less than a day’s walk from Kiryat-Yearim, and I knew my separation from them would not be a permanent one.
“Oh!” I said, pulling back from him. I’d been so absorbed in joy that I’d nearly forgotten there was one more person who would need to be consulted about our plans. “Natan! I cannot leave him behind, especially now that Shoshana is betrothed and his Gibeonite friends have been arrested. I wonder if he might benefit from coming to Ramah as well. It may give him a chance to heal. To learn more about Yahweh.”
Ronen nodded. “Of course. Perhaps Samuel might allow him to take part in studies as well.”
His easy acceptance of my idea made hope take flight in my chest. “Yes! And I am certain my father will agree. He and my mother love him dearly, but they have been bereft of ideas for breaking through to him. Perhaps a fresh start in a new city might help him to see things in a different light. I know he is restless here on the mountain and desires to see other places.”
“Convincing him to go may not be as simple as you hope. I have some groveling to do with your brother,” he said with a sardonic smile. “You are not the only one whose trust I abused.”
“He’ll forgive you,” I said, fully convinced. Natan had been at the trial after all and heard the entirety of Ronen’s contrite explanation. Even if he might struggle with it at first, eventually my brother would not be able to deny Ronen’s remorse, nor the sincerity of his love for me.
I slipped the strap of the lyre Ronen had given me as a betrothal promise over my head. Someday we would pass this treasure on to our own firstborn child, along with the story of how we’d found our way to each other because of a golden box on the back of a cow-drawn wagon and the prophetic words of a Hebrew slave who gave her life for mine. Then I tangled my fingers with his and gave his hand a tug. “Let’s go talk with him now. I know just where to find him.”
It had been a long time since I’d been to this side of the mountain, but once I found the trail along the southwestern ridge, slithering back and forth like a serpent, it was fairly easy to make my way to Natan’s cave. As we hiked, Ronen told me more about his revelations regarding his father and brothers, his answered prayer for rain as my tree burned, and how Azuvah’s words had agreed so perfectly with Samuel’s that he could do nothing but believe the truth. He even told me what Samuel had said to Natan, about being a wild branch and being carried away by the sea. Stricken by the confusing and foreboding prophecy, I’d kept quiet for the rest of the walk, pondering what it all might mean.
The mouth of the cave was a gaping black maw in the hillside, but I knew it was the same one I’d found him in before because it faced the gap between hills in the distance and the narrow line of sea-blue that edged the horizon. I wondered how much of Ashdod Natan even remembered after so long. I still needed to talk to him more about Azuvah and help him understand why exactly our father had left and how it had nothing to do with him. And also to explain how I’d learned to embrace my past, instead of despise it.
“Natan?” I called out, stepping into the mouth of the cave, with Ronen right behind me. I blinked my eyes, hoping they would adjust quickly. I would not put it past my brother to be hiding here in some niche and jump out just to hear me squeal. In fact, after all that had happened, I almost wished he would. At least it would be something affectionate and teasing between us.
I called his name again, threatening to make him pick the rest of the peas in the garden by himself if he did not answer me. But instead of his ever-deepening voice responding to my jest, a small sob reached my ears.
Gut clenching, I rushed forward into the cave, searching out the origin of the muffled cry and found Yonah sitting with his back against the far wall, hands over his face as he wept.
“Yonah!” I knelt and wrapped my arms around his small body. “What happened?”
“I tried,” he said, shuddering as he attempted to drag in a breath. “I tried to follow him, but my leg . . .” He huffed out a tearful growl through his teeth as he slammed his twisted foot against the stone floor. “I hate it.” His face was mottled red as he dissolved into tears again, pressing his forehead into my chest.
“I don’t understand. Where did Natan go? Is he back at the house?”
He shook his head, his voice small. “He hates it when I follow him, but I wanted to help. He went to the charcoal mound, and you were there”—he looked up at Ronen, his eyes red-rimmed—“both of you. And then he was so mad
and he told me not to follow him, but I did, and when I got here, he had his ax and his pack and then I couldn’t keep up—” He pressed his face against my shoulder, grabbing my tunic with both hands. “I tried, Eliora. I’m sorry!”
I rocked him back and forth, pressing kisses into his sweaty hair. “It’s all right, Yonah. You know Natan loses his temper and stomps off, but he’ll come back. He loves you, even if he’s not so good about showing it.”
He just shook his head, weeping as though his little heart was in a thousand pieces on the floor.
“Eliora,” said Ronen, from the side of the cave where he’d been looking around as I comforted Yonah. His expression was so troubled that I pressed one last kiss to my brother’s forehead, told him I’d be right back, and disentangled myself in order to join Ronen.
“What is it?” I asked.
With a frown, he took my hand in his and filled it with a handful of pebbles. Confused, I took a step back toward the mouth of the cave, shifting my hand so the sunlight would illuminate whatever he’d found. But what lay in my palm was not pebbles at all. It was Ronen’s lion-claw necklace, smashed to pieces. And among the fragments of his family heirloom lay another familiar trinket. A six-sided piece of bone, once smoothed into a soft patina by years and years of handling and being carried in a pouch around a young boy’s neck, now gouged deeply by what looked to be the sharp edge of an ax. It was a miracle that it was still in one piece. I fingered the remaining holes on one side of the die, tears pricking my eyes as I remembered the day I’d found it in a drain by the road and the smile on my brother’s face when I tipped it into his small palm.
“What does this mean?” I whispered. “Why would he do this?”
Ronen’s arm came around my waist, holding me tightly to him, and perhaps bracing me against whatever he might have to say. “Look over there,” he said, gesturing toward a spot a few paces away. “It looks like he’s been storing provisions in here. Stockpiling food and such.”
Curling my fist around what remained of the gifts both Ronen and I had given him, I held my breath as I pulled myself from Ronen’s hold and went to examine the pots and baskets he’d indicated. They were empty. Only a few crumbs of salted meat and a trace of roasted barley remained in the pots. With my heart throbbing, I estimated that if he was carrying with him all the provisions that had been in these vessels, he would have enough food to last him for a good many days, perhaps even weeks. Also missing was the large pack that he used to haul wood, and as Yonah had indicated, the double-edged ax he carried practically everywhere was gone too.
“It looks like there was a pallet laid out here,” said Ronen, brushing a foot over the dusty cave floor. His tone was gentle and hesitant. “He likely rolled it up and took it with him as well.”
No. No, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t do this to me.
“Natan!” I yelled, gripping his once-treasured possessions so tightly in my hand that I felt something pierce my skin.
“Natan!” I shouted from the mouth of the cave, again and again, hearing my voice echo down into the valley while tears burned my cheeks and my throat went raw from the force of my desperate calls. Ronen’s strong arms slipped around my waist from behind, his own body shaking as he pulled me into himself while uttering promises that my dazed mind could not comprehend. My knees buckled as I let out one last agonized cry.
“Lukio!”
Epilogue
Lukio
ASHDOD, PHILISTIA
Everything looked smaller, and yet in some ways, the city of my birth was far grander than I remembered. Or perhaps they’d rebuilt it in these past years with even more splendor than before. As a boy, I’d been much more concerned with running about with my friends, playing dice games, tossing stuffed goat bladders in the dusty street, or snatching fruit off of traders’ tables when their backs were turned.
With their impressive façades facing outward, stately white-plastered homes lined the roads in well-disciplined grandeur, nothing like the rough-hewn stone Hebrew dwellings whose function was far more important than their form. This cultured and prosperous city put to shame the tired little town among the trees where I’d been living.
Most of the buildings had two, or even three, stories of tiered rooms, with open-air colonnades or canopies from which all sorts of fabrics and ribbons fluttered in the sea breeze. The columns themselves were painted with bright reds, yellows, and blues, and intricate carvings and carefully designed swirls, birds, gods, or animals decorated the archways and doorways of each shop and home. The enormous variety of colors and shapes were so dazzling that my eyes barely knew where to land.
A group of four wealthy women passed by, and unlike the drab, earth-toned tunics the Hebrews wore, these women were attired even more vibrantly than the buildings. Their skirts were multilayered and tasseled, a style I vaguely remembered my aunt Jacame wearing, and instead of the demure braids most Hebrew girls tucked beneath headscarves, these women seemed to be competing with one another for the most complicated hairstyle. Tiny shells and gold or silver beads were woven among their oiled and curled strands, and in the case of one of them, gemstones sparkled among her deep black tresses. Most shocking was that their torsos were covered only by the sheerest of linen fabric, and I was helpless to peel my eyes away.
One of the women lifted a brow as she caught me gawking at her brazen nakedness, and my face blazed with embarrassing heat. She returned my stare with an obvious perusal at my own form and offered me an enticing smile that caused me to stumble in surprise. She laughed and passed me by, but not before dropping a small wink and making a comment to her friend that I could not discern but made it clear that she appreciated what she saw.
Immediately Shoshana came to mind, her wide and fathomless hazel eyes looking up at me with innocent admiration, but I pushed away the uneasy feelings of guilt by reminding myself that she’d chosen Medad. She would be his wife. She would bear his children someday. I was less than nothing to her anymore, no matter how many pretty lies she once told. The excuses she’d given me when she found me at the charcoal mound meant nothing. If she’d truly cared for me like she said she did, then she would have let nothing come between us, not even her father’s demands. If the women of Ashdod found my appearance pleasing, then I would take pride in it and not allow myself to be drawn back into regret over a girl who did not want me.
Even Risi didn’t want me anymore. She’d made that abundantly clear with her decision in the garden, while wrapped in Ronen’s arms. I hadn’t meant to spy on them, only to finish rebuilding the charcoal mound.
But there she and her lover had been, entwined in each other, making plans to abandon me like everyone else had. I had no idea how she could possibly even forgive that traitor after what he’d done to her. I cared nothing for the Ark and had in fact laughed when I’d heard that something as silly as fog—a common occurrence during the rainy months—had scared away the thieves. But the fact that Ronen had slithered his way into Risi’s favor and pretended to care for me was far more damning than his machinations to steal a box.
I’d thought perhaps he truly had cared for me, especially after the night we’d worked together side by side with the burning tree. He’d treated me like a man then, not some throwaway child. But he’d gotten what he wanted and would have given up the pretense of friendship eventually. That’s what liars did, after all.
So, of course I’d not waited around to hear Risi justify marrying such a deceiver. There would have been no reason to do so. She’d made her choice, and I made mine. But I could not lie, even to myself, and say that I did not miss her. Even ten days later, I still felt as though someone had taken my ax to the center of my chest in the same indiscriminate way I’d destroyed the charcoal mound the moment Shoshana left me. I rubbed at the ache, wondering how long it would take to go away.
I wandered through the town, passing by the temple of Dagon, where a new and larger image of the god I remembered had been erected. I had a vague recollection of thinking
that the original one was frightening when I was young, but now it only reminded me of when Adnan and Padi had taken me up to one of their ancestral high places the night after my fight.
When I’d been hesitant to accept their invitation, my Gibeonite friends had told me that my own people worshiped in a similar manner, that they had seen it with their own eyes when they’d recently traveled to Ekron with a load of timber. Both my pride and my curiosity had finally won out as they described all the fearsome Philistine warriors they’d met while they were there and the cultured and sophisticated ways of my countrymen. What I had seen on that mountaintop had shocked, fascinated, and disgusted me all at once. However, I’d fled like a coward when I thought of my sister knowing what I was standing witness to, and how disappointed she would be.
Afterwards, Adnan and Padi proved to be just as loyal as everyone else. They’d had nothing to do with me since that night and had only been too quick to get involved with the scheme that put Risi in so much danger. Their betrayal mattered little, though. I’d only began associating with them as a means to provide for Shoshana and a future that now would never be.
I glanced back at the temple one more time before turning away, remembering the sick feeling in my gut as I’d observed the proceedings on that supposedly sacred high place. I had no desire to set foot in any place of worship ever again. My choices were my own. My destiny a path only I could determine. No god, Philistine or Hebrew, had any sort of appeal to me.
My feet found their way to the front of the first house I ever remembered living in. As I stood at the door, I wondered if this place too would spit me out the way Elazar’s had done.
To Dwell among Cedars Page 34
