Providence (21 page)

She surveyed the tiered fields outside the city walls. Squares of brown and green hues blanketed the terrain. She studied a grove of olive trees in the distance, jealous of the shade they cast. “Then let us hide the horses in the grove.”

Gil shook his head. “We do not need to sneak into our city.” His voice was confident, but the flex of his shoulders told her otherwise.

“Then let us hurry.” She urged her horse forward. “So my father is as unprepared as I.”

Gil stayed at her side, a few feet in the lead of their pairing. The eastern gate towered over their arrival. Men and women crowded around the city walls. Some called out as if to greet a governor. Who else would ride a bejeweled mount? Hands waved, beating down the rising heat. Hannah pulled on her head covering to shield her eyes so she could concentrate on the narrow street ahead. The road grew smaller and smaller with the girth of the horses and the push of spectators.

A boy, not much older than the one she had seen the prophet heal, ran alongside Gil.

“Can I ride?” the boy yelled, tapping Gil's leg with the familiarity of a brother.

“I have work in the city, Uzzah. Come by later and you can tend to the horses as in the fields.”

The boy raced off, no doubt to brag in the alleys.

She caught sight of her aunt, her forehead thick with a scowl. Feigning a slip in the bridle, Hannah grabbed at the leather strap. Did her aunt blame her own loose lips about the arrangement with Azor for her niece's disappearance? Hannah patted down the mane of her horse and decided it was too late to care.

As they neared her father's two-story house, the temple loomed in the distance. The crowd fell away. Did they fear the chief priest would chastise them for their exuberance? Closer she rode toward acceptance or judgment. Her parents and Shimron waited outside the courtyard wall that surrounded their home. As she viewed her family, the desert air smothered her lungs. Her breaths hitched. Love and longing entwined in her chest.

She and Gil halted their mounts a respectful distance from the dwelling. She slid from her horse and hit the hard ground with a jolt. Gil urged her forward as he tended to the reins. She hurried into her mother's outstretched arms.

“Where have you been?” Her mother's sobs dampened Hannah's tunic. “We thought we had seen the last of you.”

She relished her mother's embrace. Her mother began to shift the cloth from Hannah's ear nubs. Hannah stepped back, and left the covering where it lay.

“I traveled north to see the prophet. I waited, but he did not return to us here in Jerusalem.” She glanced at her father. Surely he would understand the prophet was her last hope. “I wanted him to heal me and lift the shame I bring to this family.”

“You are whole?” her father asked. His worn voice rose with a hint of triumph. He stretched out his arms, ready to join in her mother's embrace.

In all the ways that matter
.

“I am not.”

Her father's fancy robes buckled at his waist. Her mother wailed. The cry washed over Hannah like a cool rain sending a shiver throughout her body.

“The prophet refused me. He was not harsh.” Not at the refusal.
She thought it best not to mention the harlot accusation.

“Then it is all the same,” her father said. “Azor has agreed to our sum.”

“And what of her abundant sins?” Shimron's harsh tone and pointing finger were like the sting of a lash. “Shall she not pay for abandoning her father's household? Deceiving her family? Her mother has mourned. She has brought anguish on the house of Zebula.” Her brother's spit wetted her face. He stood on the hem of her skirt. “Azor may not be a forgiving husband.”

Gil stepped from the shade of the horses. He seemed to have grown taller in the preceding moments. Bigger. Broader. Bolder. “I am her husband.”

“Is this man speaking the truth?” Her father searched her face for validation. Her mother had become a shadow at her father's side.

Shimron clicked his tongue. “You are a laborer. You are not a Levite. What is this wicked scheme?” He whirled on her father. “It is all lies. I saw them together. She did not seek the prophet. She sought out this man. With lust in her heart.”

“Gilead is my husband.” The affirmation rushed from her lips. Gil stepped closer, showing the reality of their union. His presence renewed her strength. Without his fellowship, her bones would have withered like a shorn leaf.

“How can this be? I did not give my blessing.” Her father protested with the intensity of a gale force wind. Anguish wrinkled his face. “This man is not even a kinsman or a priest.”

“Hah. He is nothing.” Shimron spoke in disregard of Gil's presence. “Who is his father?”

Gil stiffened.

Grasping her father's hands, Hannah beseeched him. “Truly, I sought the prophet. We sought the prophet.” She included Gil to show them how much a part of her life he had become. “But we were taken captive in a raid near Mahanaim. By Arameans. Our lives were spared, but I was forced to serve in the commander's household.”

Her mother stumbled backward, her face as pale as whitewashed stone. Hannah raced forward and settled her mother on the courtyard wall.

“No harm came to me.” Hannah made sure everyone within the city walls was assured of her purity. “The commander of the army gave me to Gilead in marriage. We were not immoral.”

“It is against the Law of Moses to be married by a pagan priest.” Her brother's voice shook with rage.

Gil pushed Shimron aside. He stood like a strong guard in front of her father. “The prophet of Israel bound us together. On a sacred mountain near Mahanaim. We are husband and wife.”

Her father gripped the courtyard wall. “But the prophet knows you belong to the house of Zebula. He knows your heritage as a Levite. I came to him…on your behalf.” The grooves on her father's face deepened. Betrayal shrouded his stare.

Should she let the prophet take her father's scorn? No one knew when the man of God would return to Jerusalem. If ever. Her heart slammed against her ribs as sure and violent as a blacksmith's hammer. She licked her lips, but her palate had become a sheet of linen.
Testify to the truth.

“It is my doing,” she blurted out. Her mother hesitated, but pulled back all the same. “The prophet joined us together because he witnessed something he could not ignore.”

“Hannah.” Gil's eyes flashed a warning. “What happened on the mountain was a miracle.”

“A miracle?” Shimron laughed. “Do confess, Sister.”

“Wait.” A flicker of understanding brightened her father's gaze. “Can the prophet testify to this miracle? To this act of God?” Her father's question gave her hope.

“Yes.” Sweat trickled down Hannah's forehead and cheek. Her vision blurred. Would they believe the craziness on the mountain? “The commander I served was cursed with leprosy. We brought him to see the prophet.” She nodded toward Gil. “We had to scale a mountain to seek the man of God. A soldier of Aram struck Gilead with a sword. I called for the prophet and his healing power, but he did not come.”

Shimron hissed like a cat.

“I prayed to God.” She beheld her father. “The prayers you taught us. When I thought Gilead dead, I mourned him and lay upon his body in grief. I asked God to hear my petition—”

Shimron's hand swept Gil's direction. “You laid on this fool?”

Gil clasped her brother's hand. “It was not in lust.”

Shimron grimaced. “Unhand me. Have you no remorse?” Gil let go and Shimron flexed his hand. “Father, can't you see what they have done? She is no better than a runaway prostitute, except the prophet forced her to be honorable.”

“Oh, daughter. What can be done now?” Her mother's countenance crumbled.

“No.” Her throat rasped. “Do not say as such. My brother has twisted the truth. I wanted to make you proud. I left to find healing. To have this curse lifted.”

“It would seem it is aptly placed.” Her father pronounced judgment.

Her eyes filled with tears. “Do you not believe me? I speak in truth.”

“Come, Hannah.” Gil tugged her gently toward the horses.

Shimron stalked past her to address Gil. “What of the money we promised to Azor to accept a cursed wife? It is not an unhealthy sum. We accepted his livestock. If we do not pay him, he may disgrace your wife in the town square. Or stone her for adultery.” The possibility of her death did not seem to bother her brother.

Hannah's chest burned. Could her brother not see past the curse to the sister that played and labored at his feet? His passing glare was as hard as his heart.

She turned to her parents. Certainly they would support her claims in public. All they had to do was talk to the man of God. Had her father given up after years of sacrifices and offerings? “Father? Will you not defend me?”

His expression was firm as baked clay. “We must make good on our debt to Azor. He is a respectable man.”

And Gil wasn't? Her father did not speak the words but his demeanor implied them. She could not see her mother's face. Her mother's head covering shielded her grief, but Hannah noticed a renegade tear plunge to the dirt below.

“I will make good on this debt,” Gil vowed.

“He speaks the truth.” Hannah emphasized her last word. She untied a satchel from her mount and met her brother's skeptical glance. Reaching into the bag, she pulled out the bracelets Reumah had given her. One by one by one she let the gold glimmer in the sun.

Shimron's eyes widened. His hand shot out to claim the wealth.

“Return the animals and any offspring. This should be enough to pay Azor.” She intentionally dropped the gem-laden gold bands, one by one by one, into the dirt at Shimron's feet. She flung the last bracelet onto Shimron's dusty sandal.

He flinched as if the metal had branded his flesh and then kicked at her offering.

She slipped Reumah's ruby bracelet onto her mother's wrist. An imposter for her father's gift. The gift that had emboldened her heart. “I'm sorry I disappointed you.”

Her mother held onto the bracelet but didn't look up. The silence haunted Hannah's soul.

She unfastened a golden arm band from underneath her sleeve. When it appeared, even her father twitched at the price it would beget.

“If Azor protests, bribe him with this bangle.” She held up the gold and let it glisten for a moment before letting it drop with a thud.

Before anyone could question her on where the gold had come from, she mounted her horse. Gil followed her lead. They rode away in haste.

Gil's presence gave her comfort. Together, they would start a new home.

And a new home with Gil was all she needed, wherever it was located.

31

Hannah walked in front of her horse, leaving the bronze-adorned animal to be the spectacle instead of her.

“Mother. Your son has returned,” Gil called out as they neared his alley.

Doors opened. Faces peeked from windows.

Just like that fateful day of their meeting, Hannah desired to hide behind the soiled curtain where no one could leer at her.

Jogging to catch up to her husband, she placed a hand on his back and beseeched him to be quiet. “You are calling attention to us.”

“As I should. I have returned with a beautiful wife.”

His proud grin filled her empty vessel of a body.

The door to her mother-in-law's house flew open. She wondered how long it would take before it would be commonplace to call someone else
mother
.

“Gilead,” his mother rasped. Her eyes grew wide and wetted with tears. “You have come home.” The attractive woman Hannah had appealed to weeks ago—no, months ago—grabbed hold of Gil's face as if to make sure he wasn't a ghost. “Where did you run off to? I have been burning incense since that first night.”

Hannah stood, envying Gil's warm homecoming. Oh, to have a joyous caress on her face.
I should go to them.
But she did not inch forward. Her body was a scorched reed, chewed on, flattened, and then spit upon the rocks.

“Have you grown?” Gil's mother asked, trailing her hands up and down Gil's arms. She hesitated over a few scars.

“Do not worry. I have been away to see the prophet, but now I am home to stay.” Freeing an arm from his mother's hold, Gil extended a hand. “With my wife.”

Hannah forced a gracious smile. A smile that hid the sorrow of the last hour.

“My daughter.” Gil's mother swung her arms open in greeting. “Come inside.” She ushered them off the street and into her home.

Gil hesitated in the doorway. He scanned the small sitting area before entering.

His mother sat on a stool. “There's a chair for your wife in the back room.”

Gil headed toward the kitchen like a thief unaware of his surroundings. Her soul ached for him having to live as an outcast with his mother on the other side of a thick wall. He returned with a straight-backed chair. Hannah cherished the seat of honor. Gil sat nearby on some crates.

“I have earned a reward.” Gil patted his purse. “Hannah and I helped a wealthy foreigner. Perhaps now I can purchase land from Zadok.”

Hannah rested a hand on the expensive weave of her husband's cloak. “He speaks the truth.”

Gil's mother leaned in secret-sharing close. The wooden stool she sat on tilted forward. Hannah thought the woman might fall to the floor. “You are the one who came for my son before he left. You are the daughter of Zebula. There was talk in the market that you had gone to Hebron and wedded a priest.”

Bright waves of light clouded Hannah's vision. She blinked hoping to regain her sight and clear her head. Did people think she was Azor's wife? “I did not go to Hebron.” She wrapped her arms around her waist to keep herself centered on the chair. “Gil and I sought the prophet in Mahanaim. We have been blessed with those coins and each other.” She massaged her bare arms.
Oh, God, please let the gold be enough to keep Azor away.