Leah took another deep breath and looked down at her hands, resting now in her lap. “He spent many days away from me. He wouldn’t talk much. He wouldn’t let me hold him anymore. He was angry at times, and so sad and quiet at other times. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I didn’t do enough to help him through it. But I was having a hard time myself.”
She paused a brief moment. “He would go away for days at time, leaving me alone for so many hours. He sought out that preacher. He told me he found peace when he listened to him.
“I wanted to help him but he wouldn’t let me. I tried everything to reach him but he only wanted to talk about what he had heard. I didn’t listen. I couldn’t listen.
“He had been gone for several days when it happened. I heard men yelling outside. As much as I didn’t want to think it was him, I knew it was. I was afraid. I went up to the roof of the house thinking I would safely see who was there. When I looked down, I saw him lying down on the ground, bleeding from his head.”
She wiped her tears away with her own garment this time. “He died the next morning.”
Michael grimaced.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at Michael. “I haven’t cried much since Yochanan died. When word of his death went around the village, no one came by to talk to me.”
“Why?”
“Because of his battle with the Romans! The soldiers remained nearby for many days.”
“Looking for who?”
Leah shook her head. “For you.” Her eyes searched his for meaning.
Michael stared at her before shaking his head. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Leah sighed, then continued, “We were both so lost in our pain that even in this small house, it was as if we could never find each other. Yochanan spent much time away with that group, listening to them talk about a world of peace and love. Yet he died so violently. Is that peace and love to you? Is it?”
Michael looked into Leah’s eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know how it can be,” he whispered to her. “I can’t imagine living in this world you live in. In prison, it was just horrible.” His voice trailed off.
“What happened?”
“There were some things I could see, other moments I could only hear.” Michael squirmed a bit. He grimaced. “This woman, she must have been the prisoner’s wife. The prison guard seemed nice at first, allowing her to bring her husband some food. I heard the guard tell the man and woman he was going to let him go. I saw him unlock the gate, and as the man went to hug his wife, the guard stabbed him in the heart.”
Leah gave no reaction. She just stared at Michael.
“I started to scream for help. But he came over and swung his spear at me. So I backed up against the wall. The woman was bent over her husband, screaming and crying. She was hugging him. I could tell he wasn’t dead yet, just bleeding from his chest. The guard came back and grabbed her. I could see the blood was all over his hands and face. And he laughed. He just laughed.”
Leah gently stroked the top of Michael’s head. He looked up at her and continued, “He pushed her into the cell. I couldn’t see anything then. I just heard her clothes ripping and her screams. It was sickening. And the poor guy, I could see him taking his last few breaths, watching his wife get beaten and abused. And I couldn’t do anything.”
Leah remained silent.
Michael looked at her. “Why are you so quiet? Do you believe me?”
Leah nodded. “I do. Yochanan was imprisoned at Antonia for a short time. I thought I would never see him again. Days went by and I would wait near the front of the prison, hoping someone would tell me what was going on. I heard the screams, too, Michael. I saw many bodies carried out of there, dumped like trash by the gate for the families to find. Yochanan told me later that these were the lucky ones; some of the dead were just left in chains, to terrify the other prisoners.”
“What a terrible world you live in,” Michael said angrily.
“And what makes your world better? Do they have a greater reverence for life where you live? If so, I would like to see it.”
Her words hit home. “My town is pretty safe,” he said thoughtfully, “but, no, there are parts of my world that are no better. I can’t say we’ve come very far in the ‘respect life’ category.” He paused briefly to measure his words properly. “There are many men who talk of peace, yet send many men to kill others in faraway places.”
The night air was getting cool, and Michael could see the stars were shining more brightly in the crisp evening air. “You know, my wife, Vicki, showered me with love and it was the only peace I ever found.”
He paused and looked at Leah. “We’re more similar than you think. When she died, I thought I lost everything. But I didn’t. Maybe you didn’t either. You know, for the longest time I didn’t think I was worthy of anyone’s love.”
Leah’s eyes widened. She turned directly to face him.
“Everyone is worthy of love. You just need to be open to others, and it will seek you out. It has taken me a long time to learn that.”
They sat there in silence, watching the shooting stars dance across the sky.
“It’s so peaceful up here,” he sighed. “So peaceful.” Michael slid down the side of the balustrade. “Come here.”
Leah gazed at him a moment before joining him on the ground.
“Look.” He pointed up at the stars.
“What?” she asked, looking up, her hair grazing his shoulder.
“That’s the Big Dipper.”
“Do you mean the North Star ? It’s how the fishermen always find their way home.”
11
LIZZIE HAD
A LITTLE LAMB
The sun glistened over the horizon, directing its soothing morning rays onto Michael’s face. Feeling the warmth, he awoke, rubbing his eyes and instinctively putting his hand out on the ground next to him to see if she was still there. He felt nothing.
Hmm, he thought while opening his eyes, where is she?
Surprised by his initial reaction, he stood up quickly. She wouldn’t be here; she’s not like that.
Michael gathered up the bedroll and quietly walked down the ladder to the second floor. He crept into Elizabeth’s room and watched her sleep peacefully. He touched her shoulder, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. Then he started down the ladder leading to the first floor, noticing Leah preparing breakfast in the kitchen.
“Let me try to cook for you again,” he said eagerly.
Leah looked up at him. “Do you really think that’s best?”
Michael pressed his lips together before saying, “I’m not sure, but I figure it’s worth a shot.”
In response, she put her hand over her mouth and laughed nervously. When she heard Michael chuckle slightly, she burst out in laughter.
“Okay, okay . . . I get the message. My cooking days here are finished.”
“No, please, I’m sorry.” She waved her arms, trying to calm herself. “Why don’t I try to show you how to make some porridge? It’s the easiest to cook.”
“Oh, maybe you have the book Cooking for Dummies for me?” he said with a smile.
Leah’s face went blank, puzzled by the reference.
“Oh, sorry . . . it’s a joke between me and Elizabeth. Sorry, again.”
She laughed. “Sometimes you talk strangely.”
Michael nodded. “I can understand why you would say that.”
She pulled out a basket of grains, ready to begin her lesson. After dropping a handful of grain into the bowl, she said, “Pour some water into this.”
Michael did as he was told.
When Leah picked up a spoon to stir the porridge, Michael reached for it, touching her hand. “May I?”
She looked at him. “Of course,” she said softly, handing him the spoon.
Michael began stirring, slowly dragging the spoon through the watered grains and mashing them against the outer rim of the pot. As he worked toward the center, he caught her looking at him and smiled.
“Do you ever cook for anyone but yourself?” Michael asked.
Leah’s eyebrows lifted. “And why do you ask that?”
He was quiet for a few seconds. “No reason. Just making conversation.”
“Hmm . . . keep stirring but a little quicker. Good, very good.” She took the bowl and placed it above the fire. “Okay, it’s ready to cook.”
“Do you want me to help with the fire?”