“Everything went fine,” I said glibly.
“That’s good to hear.” An awkward silence followed. He took several sips and burped. “It was a long trip from Jerusalem. I came as quickly as I could, once I received word of your coming. ”
I fumbled with the egg in my pocket, not saying anything. A few more minutes passed. My father gulped down the last of his drink and set the cup on the table. “Shale, let’s take a walk outside and get some fresh air.”
“Sure, that sounds great.” As we headed to the door, Scylla’s beady eyes followed me like a radar gun.
Outside, Daniel rounded the corner. “Good afternoon, Mr. Snyder.”
“Did you meet my daughter, Shale?”
Daniel smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir. A very nice young lady.”
“Good, good.” My father reached over and gave me another warm hug.
We left the back courtyard and headed out on the dirt road that led to the front of my father’s rich estate. Without jealous ears eavesdropping, I could study him—his mannerisms, the way he walked, the inflection in his voice.
“Shale, it’s good to see you. I don’t want to lose you again.”
How different my life would have been if he hadn’t left when I was young. The gentle knocking of rocks by our sandals in the gravel was the only sound.
“Scylla and I have been married for a few years. Time passes quickly. She’s the best wife I’ve had. Maybe after the fourth, I can get it right, huh?”
“I suppose.” I wouldn’t say what I really thought—like what do you see in the woman besides her fading beauty?
After a while, we turned to head back.
My father said, “I have to return to Jerusalem tomorrow. There has been a lot of trouble with the Jews. They are a noisy bunch, prone to causing disturbances. It’s my job to keep the peace.”
“What is it you do?”
“I’m a diplomat for the Roman government. I speak three languages—Latin, Greek and Hebrew.”
“You speak Hebrew?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes. It helped me to get this job.”
“What about me? Am I to stay or go back?”
“You and your mother didn’t discuss that?”
“No.”
“Oh.” My father rubbed his eyes as if he were tired.
Four doves flew off out of the tree nestled in the bend of the road. Worldly Crow had spooked them, eavesdropping.
My father shuffled his feet. “We’ll discuss it more when I return. I shouldn’t be gone long.”
“How long?” I asked.
“A few days, perhaps. I left in the middle of a potential uprising, but I had to see you. I couldn’t wait. Is there anything you need? Money?”
“A few days? Promise?”
“It won’t be fourteen years again,” he laughed. “I need to be sure we don’t have a revolt on our hands. Jerusalem is restless with rumors concerning the prophecy of a new king. Thirty years ago, strange signs appeared in the heavens and a political massacre of young babies in Galilee occurred. The prophecies have yet to be fulfilled. Some believe the time is right. A man named John the Baptist has stirred up the masses.”
I wanted the answer to one question. “Why did you leave my mother?”
“Why did I leave your mother?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see.”
A minute passed and he didn’t say anything. I counted the goats in the field and the butterflies on a nearby bush. Would he respond?
“The truth is, I couldn’t get along with your mother.”
I laughed. “I can understand that. I can’t get along with her either.” At the expense of not making her look bad, I added, “but she means well.”
“I’m sure she does,” my father said blandly.
“But even if you couldn’t get along with my mother,” I pointed out, “you didn’t have to be a stranger all those years.”
“I know. That was my mistake. I should have tried.”
“Why didn’t you?” I persisted.
“I didn’t want to interfere. She had her life, boyfriends, and then she remarried—it would have been difficult and complicated. I didn’t want the conflict.”
“I know she doesn’t like you, but it’s sad that I couldn’t have a relationship with you.”
My father reached over and gave me another hug. “Listen, if you need anything, Scylla will be here. Daniel takes good care of Nathan in my absence.”
“Can Nathan talk—at all?”
“The only one he can talk to is Daniel.”
We walked for a while without saying anything else. I was glad to be with him but it would never be enough to make up for the fourteen years of his absence.
“Do you know what it feels like to be abandoned?” I asked.
“I didn’t abandon you. I sent your mother money and sent you presents.”
“They all arrived broken. Whether you call it abandonment or not, that’s what it felt like. I didn’t have a father like most of my friends—to do things with me, to love me, to hug me, to be there for me.”
“You do now—since your mother has remarried.”
“If you didn’t abandon me, what did you do?”
My father shrugged. “I met your mother on a blind date. She was controlling—too controlling. We weren’t made for each other.”
Why was this so difficult? I needed to know the truth. I’d try again. “I used to wonder what it would be like if we met. I dreamed of spending time with you. I didn’t like growing up without a father. Something was missing. I felt like a doughnut with a big hole in the middle. Mother never understood me—and she sure didn’t like you by the time I was old enough to realize everyone else had a father but me.”
“I was always afraid—it’s difficult to be rejected once, but what if it happens twice? I don’t know which is worse, rejection or abandonment, but in the end, they feel the same.”
My father grimaced at my bluntness. “Shale, I’m glad to see you. I really am. I won’t leave you again.” He hugged me reassuringly. “I hate that I can’t stay here longer, but I have to head back to Jerusalem tomorrow.”
I reached into my pocket fumbling for the egg. “By the way, I have something to show you.”
“What’s that?”
I pulled out the gift he had sent me.
A frown crossed his face when he saw the broken pieces. “How did that happen?”
“I don’t know. The package arrived broken.”
A dark shadow fell on us as the sun slipped behind some clouds. “Are you sure your stepfather and mother didn’t break the egg?”
“What?” Why would he accuse them of such a mean thing? “I received it when the box arrived. I opened it.”
He eyed me skeptically.
“Actually, everything you’ve sent me arrived broken.”
“I’m sure they broke them.”
“They didn’t.”
My father looked away irritated before he regained his composure. “Shale, I really am glad you’re here. I never want to lose you again.”
He stopped and gazed into my eyes. That instant, I believed him.
“Shale, do you need anything?”
“Yes. I’d like something to write on.”
“Write?”
“Yes, so I can keep a diary.”
“I can get you a reed-pen and papyrus paper.”
“That would be great.” My father gave me one last squeeze.
When we returned to the house, a messenger from Jerusalem had arrived on an important business matter. My father took him into his private quarters and I waited in the veranda. They spoke another language, but I heard my name a couple of times.
I wandered about the room, picking up pieces of pottery, examining them, and setting them down, passing the time until he was finished. Why was I here? I related better to the animals than I did my own family. I felt like a stranger rather than my father’s daughter.
Nathan sat by the small windo
w, staring out, which was how he spent most of the day. With our father here, he had perked up, perhaps anticipating spending time with him.
I walked over and sat beside him. Both of us were trapped in similar ways.
Scylla walked in, surprised to see me. “I thought you were still out for a walk.”
“We just came back. He’s talking to someone.”
“Oh.” She walked past us and stuck her head in the door. I wasn’t sure if she understood him or not.
She shrugged and asked Mari, “Can you fix us another drink.”
I didn’t know how they could drink that horrible stuff.
“Did you and your father have a good conversation?”
I nodded.
“He’s a brilliant man. I’m sure you must have inherited some of his talent. You look like him.”
“That’s what my mother told me.”
“How is your mother?”
“She’s fine.” I didn’t want to talk about my mother. She was nicer to me when my father was nearby. Would she talk this way to me in private?
Soon my father came out of the room with the messenger. He looked distracted—indecisive. It bothered me.
I didn’t want to admit I was like my mother or my father. I wasn’t even sure if I met one of them on the street, I’d want to be friends with either.
Regurgitating noises came from Nathan. He threw up on the floor. The suddenness caught us all by surprise. My father grabbed some rags from the table and rushed over to him.
Father patted him on the back and Nathan grunted, looking embarrassed. “It’s okay, Nathan. We’ll clean it up.”
Scylla rolled her eyes at the mess and walked out. “I’m going to be sick,” she mumbled.
I laid the rags on top of the mess.
“I’ll come back later,” the messenger said. Mari and I were left to finish clean-up. My father escorted Nathan off, gently speaking to him. I was encouraged that my father had compassion for Nathan. It gave me hope.
Mari smiled at me. “You’re a good daughter,” she said. “You have a kind heart.”
Later that evening in my bedroom, I stared out the tiny window at the stars, counting how many I could see. A shooting star skimmed across the sky and I made a wish, skeptical that it would come true. When I returned my gaze to the inside, dark cartoon characters were once again climbing the walls.
Chapter Sixteen
Disturbing Discovery
A dream awakened me. I had dreamt it before but this time it seemed more real. Much-Afraid stood waiting for me for a very important event. She was washed and combed and groomed to perfection. How long had it been since I held her in my arms? Were we to attend an important event together in the future?
I had been preoccupied with meeting my father. I knew Daniel was taking good care of the animals, but I had to see Cherios right away. Impatience has its virtues.
I snuck out and shivered in the cool morning air, When I opened the cave door, Cherios, Much-Afraid, and Lowly greeted me with hugs and kisses.
“It’s good to see you.” I wrapped my arms around Much-Afraid and plucked Cherios off the floor, setting her in my lap. I smiled at Lowly. I still didn’t want to hug a pig. Then I noticed Baruch wasn’t in his stall.
“So where is my favorite donkey?” I glanced at the three of them. Was Baruch outside getting some fresh air or taking a walk in the field?
“Oh, he left while the moon was still shining,” Lowly said.
“What did you say?” A red panic button started blinking. Where would Baruch have gone so early in the morning?
Much-Afraid spoke up. “I can tell you what happened. I was suspicious. Maybe it’s nothing.”
I stood and dropped Cherios on the floor. “What are you talking about?”
“No, I’ll tell,” Cherios said. “He told me more than ya’ll. He tells me everything.”
“Could one of you tell me where Baruch is?”
Some of the other animals stirred as our voices alarmed them. Assassin was in the pen in the back. Did he have something to do with this?
Cherios wiggled her nose and looked brightly into my eyes. “Why are you so upset? He went to get some apples.”
“Get some apples? There aren’t any apples around here.”
“No?”
“Start from the beginning and tell me.”
Cherios took a deep breath. “Assassin told Baruch there were apples in the valley, but you had to pick them early or scavengers would get the best ones. He tiptoed out the wooden gate before anyone except me awoke. Even before ole Worldly Crow, and before the rooster cock-a-doodle-doo’d.”
“Keep going.” I wished Cherios could talk faster.
“I-I knew later,” Lowly said. “I just wasn’t awake y-yet.”
“Keep going,” I pleaded.
“Assassin found an old crinkled map of the famous Apple Orchard in the valley between the Temptation Mountains near the Wilderness Pass. He promised Baruch even though it was a long journey, it would be worth it when he tasted the red apples. As Baruch left, Assassin assured him he would tell the others he was bringing them a surprise.”
I glanced back at Assassin. He either was asleep or pretended to be asleep—probably to avoid my probing questions.
Cherios continued. “Assassin said he would get Judd to bring in some fresh oats and Baruch could have the big stall with the best view, though he already was in that stall, so I don’t know why Baruch even listened to him.”
I rolled my eyes. Donkeys weren’t the brightest creatures in the world, and Baruch was far too trusting to be good at even being dumb.
Cherios hopped around in a circle wringing her paws. “Baruch said he misjudged Assassin. Assassin wanted to be his friend. He promised to bring some of the apples back to Assassin—those he didn’t eat.”
“Did Baruch say how far it was?”
“About a half day over and a half day back.” Cherios twitched her nose. “You know how much Baruch loves apples. Since he’s missing the king’s garden so much, he said he would do anything to eat one.”
“Not good.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Where did he say he was going again?
“The valley beyond the Wilderness Pass of the Temptation Mountains.”
I leaned on the gate, staring at the empty stall beside my three faithful friends. I glanced at Assassin. He had put Baruch up to this hoax, the jealous, conniving donkey that he was.
“But even worse than that,” added Lowly, “he dropped the map on the way out the door. I saw it fall out of his knapsack.” Lowly held the scrunched-up map in his mouth.
“Here, let me see that.” I took it out of Lowly’s mouth and studied the crumpled page as I headed over to Assassin’s stall.
The red donkey smiled, displaying his white pearly teeth, as if to intimidate me.
“Why is your name Assassin?”
His nostrils flared crookedly as he swished his tail. “I’m a wild jack ass and all the jennies belong to me. There’s no room for another jack ass in my territory. I will assassinate him.”
Could I find Baruch in the wilderness before it was too late?
Chapter Seventeen
Wilderness Journey
The sun arched over the horizon and bathed the hills in a soft, crimson orange. The roosters were late crowing and the silence welcomed me. Draped like curtains in the distance were the Temptation Mountains—bold, majestic, and inviting. Assassin said it would take two hours to get there, not a half day. I planned to be back by mid-afternoon. How much of a head start did Baruch have?
I tucked the half-torn map back into my dress pocket. The well-marked road meandered easily through the hills but split into three unpaved stretches of gravel that disappeared in the mountains. I glanced around to get my bearings. The hills all looked the same. Which route would Baruch have taken?
If I went straight and took the middle road, I’d arrive sooner, though it would be a harder trek up the mountain. I made good progress for a while, but
soon the climb became overwhelming. The rocky ground, barren except for a few clusters of brown weeds, was all I could see for miles, even up the mountainside. I stopped to rest on a rock beside a cactus plant. I was thirsty but would save the little I brought for later.
I longed to swim in the cool water of the king’s garden as I sweltered in the heat. The sun was high and the shadows short. Without warning, pollen splattered my face and burned my eyes. I slid off the rock, smearing the sticky goo on my cheeks. Without a wet cloth, my feeble attempts to wipe it off made it worse. Did the pollen come from the cactus plant? I took some of the little remaining water, cupped my hands, and wiped the pollen out of my eyes as best I could.
My throat burned from dryness as I kicked up the dry sand when I walked. How many people died out here? What did I know about trekking around in a desert wilderness? The farther I went, the more I wanted to turn back. Shade was sparse where it could be found—under a few scraggly trees and large boulders.
The hard surface cracked beneath me and reminded me how stupid I was for being here. Deep empty rivulets in the gullies betrayed times of flash flooding. The occasional wind that whipped up from the south offered flashes of relief, though when the wind stopped the air became like fire. Still, I pushed ahead. I wasn’t going to leave Baruch here to die.
A short distance ahead, three vultures circled. I expected the stench of something dead and looked for an unfortunate victim, but all I saw was smoke bubbling from the hot surface. As I stared, rising vapors wiggled up from the ground in squiggly shapes.
The snaking vapors attracted the vultures that circled in the sky. I rubbed my eyes. Maybe the pollen from the cactus was causing me to hallucinate. When I quit rubbing my eyes, the vultures still circled, but the wavy, snake-like creatures were gone. The unexplained vision spooked me.
I pulled out the map. Less than a mile to go. I was making progress. I noted the different peaks around me—the one to the left had a little crook in its side. In the middle was a pointed one, like a church spire, and to the right was a round pancake top rock formation. South, the lower rambling hills picked back up again. I gathered five medium-size stones and plopped them down in the shape of an arrow, pointing back in the direction from which I’d come.
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