black eyes. It was as if he asked Ari to have faith in him. To trust him. But Ari’s secrets were not his alone to keep. However, admitting he hailed from Jerusalem would harm nobody. At least he hoped not.
“You could say. Yet I’ve been bedding down in the desert for a few years, now.” Ari smiled at his master.
“Yes, so it seems you have.” Caleb laughed. His laughter quickly changed to a bout of coughing, and Ari worried if his master would return home to his family, or if he would perish here and now. Ari pulled the stopper from the bladder of water and touched the edge against Caleb’s lips.
“Better?” Ari asked once Caleb’s chest settled.
“Thank you, my son.” Caleb laid his hand against Ari’s shoulder. The unspoken meaning went straight to his heart. It was like a searing brand sizzling deep into his being. How could he disappoint this man? Even if his presence here was a lie, he had come to love Caleb and his family. But his duty to God, his duty to his kingdom and his secrets, kept him from staying. Kept him from accepting Mira as his bride.
Ari bowed his head. “I am unworthy, adon.”
Caleb slid off the donkey’s back before Ari could help him. He pressed his hands on either side of Ari’s face and looked him in the eye for long moments and then nodded as if pleased with what he saw. “I’ve never seen a more worthy man than you, Ari.”
The searing in his chest returned, thrusting deeper, encompassing the whole of his breast. Caleb’s words were like a hammer upon his conscience. Like an earthen jar crushed beneath the weight of a boulder. It was more than he could bear. Lord, give me strength.
“I will not press,” Caleb said. “Come, sit beneath the shade with me awhile.”
Ari looped the donkey’s lead around a low branch and eased beside Caleb. High clouds shadowed parts of the rocky outcrops while the sun illuminated others, leaving them more mysterious to the eye. He had no doubt the shadows held many secrets, much like his heart.
“We are far from prying ears, Ariel.” He turned his gaze fully on him, piercing Ari to the core.
Ari held his breath. He was not ready—
“I could not be more certain.” Hands clenched, Caleb paused. “I am certain...
“Certain about what, adon?”
* * *
Hefting a cruse containing oil from last year’s crop of olives, Mira carried it toward the bake oven where she intended to brush a small amount to each cake of bread.
“Why so downcast, Mira?” Rubiel asked as she placed an earthen jar on the ground in front of her.
Mira pressed her lips together. Ari and her father had not been gone long and she missed them. Missed him. Feared his absence if the soldiers should return.
“It is difficult, I know but you must do your duty to Abba and marry Esha.” Rubiel leaned close. “I saw the way you watched the slave last eve. I contend he’s handsome but he is a slave, Mira. You must remove your heart from him.”
The cruse slipped from Mira’s hand, shattering on the ground. She thrust her hands on her hips and glared at her sister as oil oozed over her feet. It would do no good to argue the condition of her heart or where it lay. She had watched him with new eyes, and her heart was curious. Perhaps, even interested a little if the increased beat in his presence was any indication. “He is not a slave.”
“Servant, slave, they are one in the same.”
“And soon he will be a free man. What say you then?” Kneeling, Mira began gathering the shards of pottery. A few small pieces clung to her flesh leaving her blood to intermingle with the thickness of the oil.
“I say he no longer belongs to us. He will most likely sell himself to a higher bidder. I hear there are women among Athaliah’s court who would pay a high price for a man as handsome as your slave.”
Her sister’s mean words pierced her heart. It seemed the more she ignored Esha’s marriage pursuit the meaner her sister became. Mira did not like Esha and would not marry him unless she was forced by her father. He was a deceiver and a drunkard, unlike Ari. “Ari’s not a slave, mine or anyone else’s,” Mira argued, knowing it would not matter.
“Daughters!” Her mother clapped her hands together. “There is no need for argument.” Her mother pierced Rubiel with her sternest look. “Child, you must learn to speak with caution. Your tongue is like a viper.”
“Ima!”
Mother held up her hand. “No, Rubiel, I blame myself for spoiling you as I have done. Now, where is your betrothed?”
He was probably hiding near a camphire hedge with Esha. The two, no doubt, were drunk on wine, after all, one of the pitchers was missing, but she wouldn’t speak as harshly as her sister had done. It never did well to give an eye for an eye, although treating her sister with kindness had not gotten her anywhere, either. Besides, Ima’s question was enough to set Rubiel in a huff. It’d take her a few hours to find her betrothed. When she did, she’d suffer angry embarrassment and would hide until her temper cooled.
“Thank you, Ima.” Mira glanced up at her mother.
Her mother pressed her fingers to her temple as if to ward off a head pain. “A blessing it was only a small jar and not a larger one.”
“Forgive me, Ima.”
“You worry over much, Mira. Of course, I forgive you.” Her mother gave her a quick hug, careful not to step in the oil. “Now, go wash your feet. I’ll have someone clean this up.”
“Yes, Ima.”
Mira walked to the cistern. By the time she had reached the well, her feet and sandals were covered in a sticky, dusty mess. Much of the desert clung to her toes. She sat on the rock wall, slipped her sandals off and placed them in a trough of water to soak. She plunged her feet into the tepid water next to her sandals and began to scrub them with the linen cloth tucked in her girdle.
Mira tried to calm her anger. She should not find fault with her sister’s concern, no matter how misplaced it was. Perhaps Rubiel believed Ari would treat her harshly because of her disfigurement as others had done. Could her sister not see Ari had never done so? He was different?
It angered her that Rubiel thought so little of him. Especially when he was obviously a man of integrity who lived by God’s law. He did everything her father had asked of him and more. He held God in the highest reverence, as all men should.
She gasped. All the time he’d offered his help, he had only been doing as God required him and she had treated him with scorn.
“Forgive me, God.” She bowed her head in shame.
She had treated him abhorrently. Lashing out with her tongue because she lacked confidence in who she was in the Lord.
How could she have treated such a handsome man with raven-black hair the color of the darkest night, with a silver shine as if the moon had kissed each strand so awfully? A man with a kind and generous heart?
Her pulse quickened even as the space in her chest closed as if to keep an image
