The Journey Begun (35 page)

A bubble of spittle formed at the stricken soldier’s mouth. His chest heaved. He squeezed out a single slurred word. “Lea…”

Jonah nodded. “She’s all right, Moshe. Leah’s all right. It was the man from the stable, Moshe, Jachan’s last victim. Did you see?”

Benjamin, glimpsing the agony on Jonah’s face, felt helpless. He looked at his wife for some advice or assurance. She gave no response, just rocked and hummed, her cheek pressed against Leah’s head. He looked back at Jonah. “If we can get him to my sleeping mat—”

Jonah shook his head but kept his eyes on the stricken warrior’s face. His voice settled almost to a whisper. “Moshe, you were right. You told me there was still something left for you to do before it was your time to go. You did it, my friend, and it was a big thing.” He wiped a sleeve across his wet eyes. “A very big thing.”

Benjamin was sure he saw Moshe nod ever so slightly and even imagined a slight smile curl the quivering pale lips. The failing soldier pushed out one more word. “A-abby.”

Jonah choked. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she knows.”

A final spasm rocked the old man’s frame, and his eyelids slid closed as a final breath whispered through his lips. He went still.

Benjamin sat back on his heels, closed his eyes, and sighed. Jonah bowed his head, his shoulders rocking with silent sobs, and prayed his dear friend’s soul into Sheol.

Lll

Dawn daubed a lilac mural of cirrus clouds onto the eastern sky as the two men carried Moshe’s body across the yard and lifted him into the back of the cart. Jonah paused and looked at the slain veteran’s staff leaning against one of the wheels. He laid it beside the body and mused, “I don’t think I ever saw Moshe without this.” He swallowed and tucked the rod into the crook of the fallen man’s arm.

Benjamin retrieved the blanket from the ground where it fell when the injured veteran dragged himself to the house. The men paused as they drew the shroud over his head. Jonah felt compelled to say something, but no words would come.

Benjamin glanced up. “It’s still the Sabbath. We can’t bury him until tomorrow morning.”

“I know.” Jonah rested his hands on the edge of the cart and studied the shrouded form of his friend and protector. Suddenly a thought that his nephew, Elias, once voiced returned to him. “Some men were born to serve. I think we take them the most for granted while they’re alive and miss them the most when they’re gone.”

Benjamin nodded as he studied Moshe’s still outline under the blanket. He stepped back from the cart. “What will you do now?”

Thirty-six

iriam dabbed at the sheen of moisture on Deborah’s cheeks with a moistened square of soft wool. She dipped it into a saucer of water, wrung it out, and eased it onto the unconscious woman’s forehead. Shaking her head, she sat back onto her ankles.

Deborah had stirred little in the past two weeks, regaining consciousness only enough to take what sustenance she needed to stay alive. The ugly scene with Jonah had taken a heavy toll, and she hadn’t seemed to recover from it. In fact, the entire household had not recovered since that evening.

Ehud spoke little. The entire load of the family business now rested on his shoulders, and he seemed at a loss as to how to handle some of the points of business his brother usually managed. She heard him muttering to himself a week earlier, as he stared into a half-empty cup of wine after dinner. Were there deliveries Jonah had set up Ehud didn’t know about? Had he negotiated prices for sales or supplies that he didn’t pass on to his brother? She knew questions like these kept the new head of the household awake at night and terse during the day.

She saw Sarah, likewise, retreat into silence. To care for Deborah, she and Ehud moved into the Ben Amittai homestead, leaving their own dwelling unattended. Sarah went about her household duties efficiently as always, but now with a perpetually creased brow. Her subdued demeanor provided fewer occasions to rankle Miriam, but the young woman felt she’d almost welcome the friction just to have her mother-in-law back to normal. Miriam reflected on how close the family had always been, and how divided and withdrawn it was now. There was little conversation and no laughter.

What was worse, for the first time since Amittai and Deborah had wed, the family forwent the annual Passover pilgrimage to Jerusalem. The holiest of festival days had come and gone nearly unnoticed. Things were wrong in so many ways.

“How is she doing?” Miriam felt her husband’s hand on her shoulder. Elias knelt beside his wife and peered at Deborah’s expressionless face.

“The same.” She wiped her eyes with a sleeve. “I don’t know why she’s hanging on.”

Elias glanced at her face. “What do you mean?”

Miriam cocked her head and sighed. “Before the last Sabbath, your mother said Grandmother is dying. I riled at the notion, but she was right. It’s as though everything but her breathing has given up the will to go on.” She looked at her husband with moist eyes. “I hate this. Nothing is right. Not since Uncle Jonah left.”

Elias put his hand on her arm. “I know. I feel it, too, but I have no idea what to do.”

“There’s nothing we can do.” She took a deep breath. “Where are the boys?”

“Out front. I gave them some play time to—”

“Father?” Jesse stood in the doorway, a puzzled look on his face.

Elias looked over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“I think Uncle Jonah’s home.”

Lll

Jonah looked up from the path to see Sarah standing at the gate, wiping her hands on her smudged apron. He searched her frown, which appeared less one of annoyance than of perplexity. He knew she had spotted him as soon as he came around the copse of wild olive trees at the head of the village road. With barely a pause, she strode from where she’d been working by the storage shed and positioned herself just inside the gate, arriving nearly the same moment he stepped up to the rocky threshold of the entryway to the Ben Amittai tanning yard.

Jonah stopped. Sarah stood her ground. She propped her hands on her hips, signaling that at least a cursory word was in order before allowing him onto the property. Jonah leaned on his short walking stick and met her gaze. He searched for the right words, what might be expected of him. He had no intention of exerting any rights he had as a family member to enter the grounds. No, his place in the family was to be earned back, not demanded.

“Shalom
, Sarah.” Jonah nodded and dropped his gaze to the gatepost.

“Jonah.” She returned his nod. Her tone was not harsh, but he knew she expected more than that. She deserved more than that.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” He looked back up. “I don’t know what else to say.”

She pursed her lips just short of a smile. “That should do. For now.” Sarah lifted the wooden latch, swung the gate open, and stepped aside as he set his first hesitant foot back onto his beloved home ground after being gone far too long. He stopped after stepping through the gate and turned toward his sister-in-law. A faltering hand searched for her arm. He grasped her lightly on the forearm and, after a moment, Sarah stepped forward. He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her as though he would never let go.

Elias stood beside Miriam in the doorway, their hands resting on their sons’ shoulders. All four stood mesmerized by the reunion by the gate. A movement to their left broke their trance as Ehud walked slowly down the slope from the stable paddock. Words beyond their hearing were exchanged when the youngest Ben Amittai son confronted his older brother. After a few moments, Ehud and Jonah grasped each other by the wrist. Sarah punched Jonah in his upper arm and the first laughter they’d heard in weeks drifted up the path to the house.

Thirty-seven

iriam returned to the table after putting the boys to bed in the loft. She refilled her husband’s cup with wine and cleared the shallow plates from the table as Jonah, Ehud, Sarah, and Elias continued their discussion in low tones. She worked quickly, not wanting to miss any of the fascinating tale Jonah had been relating throughout dinner.

“I just can’t believe it. Why didn’t you tell us all this before?” Ehud frowned at his brother.

Jonah shook his head. “There was still a lot of uncertainty in my mind after the trip to Samaria, I guess. Although I knew this was of
Adonai
, I still wondered why so many years had passed since those first words in the tanning shed.”

Ehud laughed. “Oh, I remember that like it was yesterday. I thought you’d gone completely out of your mind. I can still see the look on your face when you crawled out from under the table.”

Jonah chuckled. “Yes, it must’ve been quite a sight. But I still don’t understand the years and years of silence before the call came to go to Samaria. I can only guess that there was something I was supposed to do during that time, or maybe there were things in Samaria that were supposed to happen before I went.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows and prodded him. “Well, of course you were to ‘prepare yourself.’ What could be simpler?”

Jonah chuckled again. “Oh, yes. What could be simpler? If only the voice had given me just a little more information, like how to prepare myself. Or what to prepare myself for.”

Elias interjected a thought. “But really, what would you have done with a little more information? If there were still over twenty-five years to pass before the voice would speak again, what more could you have done in that time? Perhaps the time passed for
Adonai
to allow you to work with what you had.”

Jonah nodded. “Maybe you’re right. I didn’t really think of it that way.”

Miriam spoke up tentatively. “And the call did come right as King Jeroboam was taking the throne. Maybe there was a reason he had to be on the throne.”

Elias shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. God can work his will with anyone on the throne.”

Miriam tinged red at the cheeks and dropped her eyes.

Jonah tapped his finger on the table. “No, she may well be right.”

 
She glanced up and her uncle winked at her.

“God can use anyone,” Jonah continued, “but He doesn’t choose just anyone. He picked the artisans who built and adorned the Tabernacle by name and gifted them specifically for their tasks. He chose only Levi as the patriarch of the priesthood, and Levi was faithful to his calling. He could’ve called and gifted anyone, but He didn’t. The pieces to His plan are meant to fit perfectly together. We just don’t always see how…” Jonah’s voice dropped at the irony of his own words. “…even when we’re one of the pieces.”

“So, why Jeroboam?” Elias pressed his point.

“I don’t know for sure, but consider something. King Jeroboam is of the house of Jehu.
Adonai
promised King Jehu that his house would rule Israel to the fourth generation. Jeroboam is the third generation after Jehoahaz and Joash. His son, Zechariah, has already come of age.”

Ehud was thoughtful. “That’s right. Zechariah serves in the army now, doesn’t he?”

Jonah nodded. “Yes, but according to what little I’ve heard, almost all of it through Eli, the son is not the image of his father. God’s promise to Jehu limited his dynasty to the fourth generation. Although Jehu destroyed the temple of Ba’al and killed his prophets, none of the king’s descendents have served the Lord, but have allowed idolatry to return and even flourish in Israel.” He knit his brow. “So has Jeroboam, in fact, despite the conditions I delivered to him in Samaria concerning the restoration of the land. Jeroboam is a strong king, though, and God has chosen to restore Israel under his reign. Perhaps Zechariah is not to fare so well during his time, which could bring a quick end to the house of Jehu.”

“Do you think Jeroboam’s reign is near an end?” Sarah’s eyes were wide.

“No, I don’t think so.” Jonah shook his head. “God said the land would be restored from Lebo-hamath in the north to the Sea of Arabah in the south. So far Jeroboam has concentrated his efforts northward but has only gone as far as Damascus, I think, according to what Eli told Benjamin and Hadassah. King Uzziah of Judah is looking south toward Arabah, but no news has reached us yet as to how far he has actually gone. And remember, conquering the land is only the beginning. It still must be reinforced and resettled to truly be considered part of Israel again. No, I think there is still some time, if
Adonai
intends to complete the restoration under Jeroboam as He said.”

Elias sat back, apparently not ready to cede his point. “So, you’re saying that
Adonai
needs Jeroboam to do His will.”

“Elias, by all appearances God has gifted Jeroboam with the strength of character and military prowess to serve as His instrument—a gifting that is not readily apparent in Zechariah. No, God doesn’t
need
Jeroboam personally any more than He needs me personally to go to Nineveh. But it’s His timing and His plan—and Jeroboam is the chosen king to carry out His will. In that sense, yes, you could say Jeroboam needs to be on the throne.” Jonah sighed. “The people of Israel have suffered much under Assyria and Aram. It’s our cries He has answered, not Jeroboam’s ambition.”

“Something we haven’t considered is how it may tie into your call to Nineveh.” Sarah looked pointedly at her brother-in-law.

Jonah stopped short. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure, but could that have been a time of testing? The message you delivered to Samaria was a joyous one, one that was bound to be well received and exciting to deliver.” Sarah raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it certainly was exciting.” Jonah absently rubbed his chest over the spot where the soldier’s spear connected with the gold amulet.

“I think I see what you’re saying,” Miriam interjected. “Although it was joyous, there were still challenges along the way and
Adonai
proved His faithfulness in seeing you succeed in delivering His message.” She blinked, as though not sure of her own words. “The call to Nineveh is much less appealing and much more dangerous. There are so many things you don’t know and so much that will be out of your control. But He will still be faithful to see His word accomplish what He would have it accomplish—regardless of the threat.”

Sarah displayed a rare broad smile and slid her hand over her daughter-in-law’s. Startled, Miriam’s eyes widened at this first outward display of affection from her stoic mother-in-law. Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she quickly curled her fingers around Sarah’s fleshy hand, determined not to allow the moment to slip away. Typically, the tenderness of the moment eluded the men at the table, but Miriam would forever cherish her mother-in-law’s touch even if it never happened again.

“Zhonah?”

Everyone at the table jumped as the frail voice pierced the ambiance of the room like the crack of a distant thunderclap. Jonah was out of his chair first as they all hurried across the floor to Deborah’s side.

“Mother?” He dropped to his knees and looked into the piercing hazel eyes of his beloved mother. “Can you hear me?”

“Of coursh. Don’t be shilly.”

They all laughed in relief at the first words their dear matriarch had uttered in days.

Ehud, Sarah and Elias hovered over Jonah’s shoulder, and Miriam knelt to retrieve the wool gauze lying beside Deborah’s head. She noticed that her grandmother still struggled to speak, but she seemed so much more vibrant at this moment than at any time since her stroke.

“I came to you as soon as I returned, but you were asleep.” Jonah caressed her hand, tears welling in his eyes.

“Returned? Did you…go shomewhere?” Deborah shivered at the exertion after days of inactivity.

Jonah glanced at Ehud. “I meant today. After I went to the village for wine and oil.” Miriam noticed her uncle grimace at the lie, but realized that the story of the past two weeks would be beyond her ability to absorb. She appreciated Jonah’s discernment that Deborah’s condition was far too fragile to stress with something that should never have happened in the first place.

Deborah’s eyes suddenly narrowed. She lifted her head off the mat and craned her neck toward her son. “Zhonah. Nineveh. Are…you?”

Jonah rested his hand on her forehead. “Yes, Mother. I’m going. Soon.”

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, a gentle smile curving the corners of her mouth. “Hold me.”

Jonah eased her head onto his lap and cradled her thin shoulders in his arms. He stroked her arm, and Miriam watched a single tear drop from his cheek and dissolve into her hair.