style="font-size:15px;"> “No, I did not realize how much he loves me…” relieved by her tender smile, I go on, “until this morning when I could feel his heart breaking.”
“As your new life begins with Yeshua, you must let nothing come between you.” A pillar of hayye pours down. Pure white, translucent pulsations hold the space around us, drawing my attention away from her face. The energy shifts and I hear in my head:
Beloved, you are learning that love is the vibration that connects you to other dimensions. You share a path with Teoma as well as Yeshua. One is your ever-faithful protector, while the other is your fervent lover. One will meet you at the end of your journey, while the other has met you well in the beginning.
Looking intently at me, Miriam is silent. I wonder what I saw in Teoma’s eyes.
You witnessed, dear one, your shared paths through the ages to come. You will need a faithful partner to watch over you. Your destiny has been sealed by your love for Teoma. But now it is Yeshua’s turn to dance with you.
Tears slip from my lashes while the hayye recedes, bringing the garden back into focus. Miriam kisses my forehead. “Please rest now, dear. You will be guided to know how to handle Yeshua.”
Handle Yeshua? I close my eyes but soon the hammock rocks with the weight of another.
“Why do you cry, Mary?” Smiling, I hold open my arms. This is the way to handle Yeshua, I think, as we begin kissing softly. “Teoma took his leave in sadness; I hope he comes to the wedding.” I look into his eyes for a sign of malevolence. There is none. “Do you love him?”
“Until this morning, I did not know that he loved me…,” but how to say this without upsetting my betrothed? “Nor did I know that I had feelings for him.”
Yeshua’s hayye draws away from me, his hand cool upon my hip. I stay his touch.
“What? How can he have a piece of your heart when you gave yourself to me?” His jealousy tinges his aura with an olive hue.
Taking his hand, I hold it against my breast, “Yeshua, although I truly love you, my heart nearly broke when I saw the depth of Teoma’s love for me and the bitterness of his disappointment.”
He turns away, his hayye compressing into a narrow cord. I will not be with him like this, but when I try to leave, he holds me fast. Ignited by my frustration, my energy surges forth, forcing him to release me. “I can give myself to whomever I choose.” His eyes widen. “And I choose you. But I will be well met!”
His brown eyes soften with unshed tears. “I love Teoma, too. I do not know how I can feel this way when one of my greatest wishes was that you would come to love one another… just not as you do.” His hayye, now liquefied by his honest expression of despair, expands into its original fullness. He responds to my tentative kiss with a fervent passion that threatens to consume. Will our relationship always be so volatile or will it mellow with time?
At dusk, I slip on grass green silk in preparation to celebrate Yeshua’s eighteenth birthday. Delighting in the sensuous feel of the gown, I twirl around the room and nearly collide with his mother. Raised hands clasped together, I attempt to beg her forgiveness, but she lowers my hands to the level of her breasts, looking intently into my eyes. A golden energy surges from her hands into mine and the next moment, I am transported to another time.
We are in the desert with wild flowers blooming all around. I am very young, perhaps six or seven, dressed in a pure white tunic. Walking quickly with my hands tightly cupping something fuzzy, I see her coming toward me from some large white tents. Tall and light-skinned with auburn brown hair, she holds my small hands gently as a warm golden hayye begins to seep from her palms. The tiny fuzzy body begins to move and gasping, I open my hands. The once injured queen bee explores my palms before taking flight, pausing briefly to buzz her dance of gratitude. I look up into my mother’s soft brown eyes.
And I am transported to the present time, looking into Miriam’s eyes. “You see, Mary, why it is so natural for me to treat you as my daughter.” I am overwhelmed by emotion. “Come, dear, it is time to greet the guests.” Taking my hand, she leads me down the corridor. I am home.
Wandering through the crowd of strangers with sweet pomegranate wine warming my blood, I seek Yeshua but he pays me little heed attending instead to his teachers from the east. Children play around the fountain illuminated by many oil lamps. In the midst of all the foreign tongues, greetings in Aramaic catch my attention. Yeshua embraces an imposing figure on the landing. My knees begin to shake.
Broader in the chest and shoulders, Teoma takes his leave when Yeshua turns to greet another guest. He heads my way. I do not move for I wish to speak with him. “Mary, you look lovely tonight.” Although his eyes are intent only on my own, I feel naked under his gaze.
“Teoma, may we speak in private?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Why certainly, but first let us share some shekar in celebration of Yeshua’s birthday.” After securing two cups of wine from a servant, he leads me deep into the pepper tree grove south of the outer courtyard. The delicate branches touch the ground, but close to the trunk is an open space. We are alone, hidden from the crowd.
Setting the wine aside carefully, he takes off his cloak and spreads it before me. We sit. “First, we drink to Yeshua’s happiness,” he raises his cup to mine and swallows down half of it. I sip mine, already feeling dizzy. “What do you want to discuss?”
Was it not just this morning that we parted, heat steaming off our chests? Taking a deep breath, I begin, “Teoma, I did not realize how you felt about me and the depth of my feelings for you.”
He looks down at the cup in his hand and, lifting it to his mouth, finishes the shekar in one swallow. His voice is gruff now perhaps from the wine but I sense it is emotion, “What are you saying, Mary?”
When I gently touch his hand, his deep green hayye melts like candle wax. “I love Yeshua, truly I do, but I believe that I also love you.” His breath stops for a long moment and I wait till he catches it again. “I knew that I had to release you this morning but selfishly I did not.”
The masculine thickening in his throat rises like a wave. Sitting up, he clasps his hands together as if in prayer, staring at me expectantly. I take his hands in mine. Born into wealthy Tzadokim families, ours would be a more socially acceptable match. I love Yeshua, but our breach with custom will make our lives difficult indeed. “Teoma, I wish to choose my own destiny…” Halting, I breathe deeply, “if you will but…kiss me.”
Teoma’s jaw stiffens as he gathers his resources, “You are a temptress, but Yeshua is like a brother to me and I cannot do this.”
I knew he would be honorable, but I must be sure. So moving a bit closer, I clasp his hands to my heart. His breath quickens. “Teoma, please, how can we live like this, not knowing?”
“Mary,” his voice is hoarse with emotion, “no matter what you might find in our embrace, my feelings will not change. I love you. But I also love Yeshua. I am committed to honoring what is his…,” swallowing, he says resolutely, “you and your future children.”
Music interrupts our reverie. “Mary, finish your shekar and go dance. I must take my leave.” He draws his hands from mine gently before standing and helping me to my feet.
“At least you can watch me dance before
