Esther nodded, though she would have wished for a little more enthusiasm. Perhaps it was just eclipsed by surprise. “Do you love him, Kasia?”
Kasia’s eyes came into focus on Esther’s face. There was no gleam she would have called love, but there was something. Something sure, something calm. “I could very
easily, if I let myself consider it. The very possibility of such a union—it is much more than I dared dream. I have so little to offer, and he is so well respected.
Although . . . I have heard that he has a pesky daughter. On second thought, maybe I would not want to deal with the little—”
“Ha!” Esther rammed her side into her friend, and they both dissolved into laughter. Satisfied, she sighed. “Well then. Your Persian man has not come to your door,
demanding to speak with your father?”
“Obviously not.” Though Kasia rolled her eyes, Esther did not miss the hint of disappointment within them. Ah, well. Mordecai would banish it soon enough.
Esther leaned close. “What did you do with the torc?”
“I am still wearing it. I was afraid the girls would find it if I took it off.”
“Oh! My mother’s silver bracelet—I cannot find it, and the last time I wore it was when I came over the other day. Have you found it around your house?”
Kasia shook her head, concern saturating her face. “I will ask Ima, though. You do not think . . .”
The very thought made tears sting her eyes. “I hope not. If I lost it at the river, I will never find it again.”
“You could.” Kasia leaned over to touch their arms together. “If Ima does not have it, I shall check at the river this afternoon. We will find it, little one. I promise.
”
Knowing Kasia would look for it eased the knot of anxiety inside—she could simply smile, and all of creation would jump to help her. A girl could not ask for a better
friend, a better neighbor. She would be blessed indeed when Kasia married Mordecai.
*
Kasia fell to her knees, bent over until she was prostrate, and wished for some extra light. Granted, in the summer she appreciated the protection their roof afforded with
its three-foot thickness, but at the moment the way it blocked the sun was more curse than blessing.
Her mother clucked behind her. “Kasia, what are you doing? Searching for dust?”
“No, for Esther’s bracelet.”
“You still have not found it?” Ima sighed. “Perhaps you ought to retrace your steps from the other day.”
Kasia straightened and rubbed at her neck, sore from all the craning and stooping she had done that afternoon after Esther left. “I suppose I shall have to. Poor little
Esther. It is the only thing she has left of her mother. I cannot bear the thought that she lost it.”
Ima gave her a small smile and reached out to cup her cheek. “You are a sweet one, my Kasia. Go now, before darkness falls.”
“Do you not need help with the meal?”
“I shall make do. It is for Esther’s sake, after all.”
Kasia smiled at her mother and turned to find four-year-old Sarai standing behind her, thumb in mouth. The wee one removed the finger long enough to ask, “What you looking
for, Kas?”
She scooped up her little sister and gave her belly a tickle. “A silver bracelet that Esther dropped the other day.”
Sarai’s eyes went wide. “Silver? And round? Like this?” She traced a circle in the air.
Ima fisted her hands on her hips. “Have you seen it, Sarai?”
The child tucked her head into Kasia’s neck. “I found it in the kitchen. It is safe and pretty. On my doll. It is a belt.”
Ima lifted one dubious brow and reached for Sarai. “Come, little one, let us go get it. Kasia, would you stir the stew while I take care of this?”
“Of course.” She turned and headed outside to the kitchen. Perhaps after the meal she would run the bracelet over to Esther to ease the girl’s mind.
Although the trip would probably not ease her mind.
Kasia drew in a shaky breath as she passed the threshold into the moderate winter sun. Her friend’s news from that morning still rocked her. How long had she known
Mordecai? He had always lived in the house three doors away, in a modest part of town despite his wealth. She remembered when he wed Keturah, how happy he had seemed. She
remembered the bliss on his face when he shared with Abba that a babe would join them soon.
She remembered the stark pain that etched age onto his countenance when Keturah and the babe died.
Though only eleven at the time, Kasia had wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold on until the pain went away. It had seemed as though nothing would ever ease his agony.
Until Esther. Esther had brought joy back to his eyes, a smile back to his lips.
They were lovely eyes, well-shaped lips. Mordecai was a handsome man, though she rarely stopped to consider it. It had seemed pointless. He had already found his perfect
mate, had lost her. He would not marry again lightly. If he spoke for her, then . . .