My Enemy, My Love (Truly Yours Digital Editions)

by Darlene Mindrup

  Tirinus walked with him to the door. Emnon reached the portal at the same time.

  “Amman has disappeared.”

  Nine

  Anna tended to Barak’s wounds throughout the day and long into the night. He seemed no worse, but then neither did he seem any better.

  Emnon entered the room and took up a position near the door, his burly arms crossed against his chest. His huge sword glinted menacingly at his side.

  Always before, Anna had resented her father’s protectiveness. Now, she was grateful. Knowing she didn’t have to watch her back allowed her to concentrate fully on Barak.

  A servant came in and lighted the lamps. Already the sun was sinking low behind the horizon and the light from the lamps cast eerie shadows around the room.

  Anna leaned forward. “Barak, can you hear me?”

  There was no answer and her heart sank. She had been praying all day, and she would continue throughout the night if need be.

  A girl brought her a tray of food, but Anna shook her head. “Take it away, Beniah. I don’t want anything.”

  The girl looked distressed. “Your father insists, my lady.”

  “Tell him that I will fast for tonight. I will eat something tomorrow.”

  Beniah watched her mistress’s fingers graze ever so slightly across the forehead of the stranger. “I will tell him.”

  Anna should have known that that wouldn’t be the end of it. Her father strode into the room and drew up beside her.

  “What’s this I hear? You will make yourself ill if you don’t eat.”

  Sighing, Anna glanced up at him. “Not for one night, Father. Just for one night, I wish to fast and pray.”

  His smile was gentle. “You think to influence Jehovah that way?”

  She smiled in return. “It can’t hurt. I want the Lord to know how serious I am, that my prayers are not just a fleeting thought.”

  Tirinus studied the man on the bed. He could see no change, and for the first time he realized just what it would do to his daughter if the young man were to die. Annoyed, he wondered how this whole thing would turn out.

  “I don’t wish you to leave the villa without Emnon. We are still searching for Amman.”

  Anna had no intentions of leaving the villa until Barak returned to health, if God would so will it, but she didn’t say this to her father.

  “I understand.”

  Tirinus left her, and Anna went back to her vigil. She talked to Barak softly, hoping that he could hear her. She smiled slightly. The things she said to him, she could never say if he were awake. He would walk off and leave her.

  She told him of Christ’s virgin birth, of a woman named Elizabeth who bore the prophesied “Elijah” that would come ahead of the Messiah. She quoted him Scriptures that she had been taught by other believers that showed the way of the Lord’s salvation.

  “Oh, Barak,” she pled softly. “Please believe me.”

  And so she continued on through the night, talking to Barak, talking to God. When her eyes grew heavy, she got up and splashed water on her face. She was determined to stay awake all night. Sleep could come when she was assured of Barak’s safety. She covered him with her prayers as she covered him with the silk sheet.

  Before the night was half over, Emnon was replaced by her father’s second favorite bodyguard. Cleopas wasn’t nearly as large as Emnon, but he made up for in tenacity what he lacked in size. He and Anna had been friends for a long time.

  Sometime toward morning, Anna could detect a change in Barak’s breathing. It no longer sounded as ragged as before and she praised God. Feeling his forehead, she could tell that there was still no fever.

  Fingers of morning light penetrated the closed shutters, brightening the room. Tirinus found Anna exactly as he had left her.

  “Bed for you,” he commanded, and Anna recognized the inflexible quality of his voice. “Beniah will sit with the young man while you sleep. We will call you if there is any change.”

  Anna rose reluctantly to her feet. She frowned at her father and he read her thoughts correctly.

  “You needn’t fear, there has been no sign of Amman. He is probably halfway to Jerusalem by now, if he knows what’s good for him. Still, Emnon or Cleopas will be with you at all times.”

  Cleopas followed Anna from the room and took his place as guard just outside her bedroom door. Anna partially closed the curtains around her bed and lay down. Sleep was a long time coming. Instead, her thoughts were in the other room, her prayers heaven bound.

  Her room was spacious, airy and cool. At one time she had thrilled over such material things as much as her father did now. But then Jesus had come into her life and shown her a different kind of love. A different way. All the riches in the world couldn’t compare with what she would one day receive in Heaven.

  She rolled to her back, laying a forearm across her forehead. If only she could make Barak believe. She respected his unyielding belief in the faith of his forefathers, but she hoped that he could be persuaded to search for the truth. If he lived that long.

  A prayer to that effect was the last thing on her mind when she finally drifted off to sleep.

  ❧

  When Anna awakened, she could tell by the shadows in her room that afternoon was well on the wane. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of her self-imposed fast.

  Climbing from the bed, she made her way across the room to her dressing alcove. She freshened herself with the water in the basin. Dropping her torn and dirty tunic to the floor, she chose another of bright blue, the color of the flax blossoms she had noticed earlier.

  She chose to leave the sandals off her feet and padded barefooted along the landing to the room where Barak was still being watched over.

  This time, her father brought the tray of food. “Eat,” he commanded, and she knew better than to disobey.

  He sat down beside her while she consumed the food with relish. There was a sparkle in her eyes.

  “He looks better, don’t you think? There’s more color in his face.”

  Tirinus let his gaze pass over Barak dubiously. The only color he could see was black and blue.

  “I’m sure you are right,” he agreed, loathe to disappoint her. “Anna, we need to talk.”

  “What about?”

  “About your inappropriate feelings for this young man.” There was a harshness in his voice she had never heard before.

  She raised surprised eyes to his face. “Why inappropriate?”

  He noted that she didn’t deny having any feelings for the Jew.

  “Anna. His people hate our people. There can be nothing but heartache for you in this matter.”

  “You would rather I fix my affections on someone like Amman?” she asked angrily.

  Tirinus had the grace to blush.

  “That this young man was willing to help you is a miracle in itself, but to think that there could ever be anything between you is foolish.”

  Anna turned her gaze back to Barak. His face was so swollen it was almost unrecognizable, but to her he was beautiful.

  “There is already something between us. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s there. We both have tried to fight it, but it’s. . .it’s there.”

  Tirinus shook his head. “It’s not like you to be so foolish. Would you wish Barak to give up everything for you? He would have to, you know, because his family would never accept you even if he did.”

  “With God, all things are possible.”

  He sighed. “You and that confounded faith of yours. Your aunt was a silly woman. How she could manage to persuade so many people is beyond me.”

  “Father, she talked with the Messiah. He told her how to find eternal life.”

  Tirinus fastened his look on Barak. “And have you told him about it?”

  Anna hesitated. “Yes.”

  “Ah.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Tirinus studied his daughter’s averted face. “So, he rejected you, did he?”

  Anna got to h
er feet, taking the bowl of water and throwing it from the balcony to the yard below. She poured more fresh water from the pitcher and began changing the compresses on Barak’s forehead. Although he had no fever, the cool water would help to comfort his body.

  Tirinus watched her a moment before rising to his feet. “I will leave you to play healer. I only hope you know what you’re doing.”

  ❧

  Days passed into a week, and still Barak resisted all efforts to awaken him.

  Sibbecai came and went periodically. His only reaction to the news was that Barak had suffered severe internal injuries and his body was concentrating on healing those first.

  Anna was far from satisfied with these answers.

  Three days later, Bithnia arrived. She and Tirinus locked themselves into a room for several hours. Normally, Anna would have been dying of curiosity, but as it was, she hardly gave it a thought.

  Bithnia came into the room, her eyes focused on her niece.

  “You’ve lost weight.”

  Anna smiled slightly. “What brings you here, Aunt Bithnia?”

  The look on her aunt’s face told Anna that something was wrong. “What is it?”

  “Micah was found dead in a wadi between here and Jerusalem a few days ago. Kasim was arrested for the crime. It seems that Kasim was helping to finance a Jewish sect of zealots who hoped to overthrow Rome, and Micah was one of them.”

  Anna shook her head sadly. “Poor Micah.”

  Bithnia pursed her lips. “Bad company.” She glanced at Barak before fixing her steady regard on Anna. “Your father has talked to me.”

  Twisting her mouth wryly, Anna shrugged her shoulders.

  “Anna,” Bithnia told her softly. “He is not of our faith.”

  “Aunt Bithnia, God has placed this love for Barak in my heart, and only God can remove it. If it is His will, then who am I to deny it?”

  There was no mistaking the warning in her aunt’s voice. “Don’t try to use the Lord to justify your own feelings.”

  Ashamed, Anna dropped her eyes.

  “Your father wants you to return to Jerusalem.” She glanced again at Barak. “But, he knows you won’t leave just now.”

  “He’s right.”

  Bithnia nodded. “I understand. When the time comes, let me know and I’ll come for you.” She kissed Anna’s cheek and went out.

  Perhaps it was awful of her to think it, but at least two of her would-be abductors were out of the way.

  Suddenly, she felt a great loss for the friend Micah had been. Now he was lost for eternity. She should have done more to reach him, but even her own father rejected the faith. She sighed. So far, she had done nothing toward leading anyone to Jesus, and she felt a great regret that this was so. She longed to be as impassioned as the apostles.

  Gentle Micah a zealot. It was hard to imagine. Had his zeal for his cause driven him to deny the friendship they had shared for years? At first she was hurt by the thought, then awed. Micah’s was the same kind of fervor she should have for Jesus, but whereas Micah would give up all for his crusade, Anna had given up nothing.

  Nothing, save Barak, a little voice seemed to whisper.

  A stirring from the bed brought her quickly to Barak’s side. He moved his head slightly, moaning in pain.

  “Quickly, Emnon. Send someone for Sibbecai.”

  Anna knelt beside him, stroking her fingers across his forehead. His eyes opened slowly and stared uncomprehendingly into hers. Those blank brown eyes brought a quick frown to Anna’s face.

  “Barak?”

  “Who are you?” he croaked, and Anna felt her heart go still.

  Before she could answer, Sibbecai came into the room and came to stand beside them. Anna rose to her feet.

  “He doesn’t know me,” she told the healer hollowly.

  Sibbecai moved her aside so he could examine his patient. “Who are you?” he asked as he lifted Barak’s eyelids to look inside.

  Barak frowned at him. “I. . .I don’t know.”

  Straightening, Sibbecai turned to Anna. “It’s to be expected. He had a savage blow to his head. More than one from the looks of it.”

  “Will he. . .will he ever remember?”

  Sibbecai shook his head. “Only time will tell. Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Tirinus came into the room followed by Bithnia. “What’s going on?”

  “Barak’s awake.”

  There was little joy in Anna’s voice. Her father glanced at her quickly before turning his gaze on Barak. “What’s wrong?”

  “What happened to me?” Even after a week, Barak’s face was still swollen and his voice came out obscured by the twisting of his lips.

  Sibbecai told them about Barak’s memory loss. Bithnia went and put her arm around Anna, hugging her close. They waited for someone to say something.

  Barak tried to rise, but Sibbecai pushed him back against the cushions. “You’re alive, young man, and if you want to stay that way, then be still.” He checked Barak’s injuries further, asking a few questions. It was clear his memory loss was only partial. He could remember some things, but others eluded him.

  Anna explained to Barak what had transpired on the road, leaving out his reasons for being there. She was saddened when he looked at her without recognition.

  He lay back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. Before long his eyelids drifted closed.

  Giving a tired sigh, Anna settled herself beside him. Sibbecai patted her shoulder.

  “At least he is alive, and that is something to praise Jehovah for, huh?”

  Anna nodded.

  “If it’s God’s will that he remember, he will,” the healer told her. “Leave it in His hands.”

  “All things work for the good. . .” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Anna watched everyone leave, her father and Sibbecai deep in discussion. Aunt Bithnia turned back at the door to give her a reassuring smile before she closed the door behind her.

  For the next several days Barak wakened for gradually longer periods of time. Anna refused to allow anyone else to tend to him except when her father insisted she get some much-needed sleep.

  Each day brought improvement in his health, but his mind still refused to remember. Anna fretted over him until one day he took her by the wrist, grinning.

  “You act like a wife.”

  It was more a question than a statement. Anna’s cheeks bloomed with color. She shook her head and he released her. “No. I’m. . .I’m just a friend,” she stammered.

  “My family?”

  “You have family in Jotapata.”

  A slight frown puckered his brow. “I. . .I can’t remember.” The eyes he lifted to her were full of frustration.

  “I know. It must be hard for you, but Sibbecai says there are signs that your memory loss is not permanent.”

  His eyes studied her face. She could see him trying to remember and she added her will to his.

  “The bruises are fading,” she told him happily, “but the broken ribs will take much longer. You’re fortunate that there was no serious injury to you inside.”

  Anna took the tray the servant brought her and prepared to feed him. His eyes darkened in irritation. Struggling to sit up, he told her, “I can feed myself.”

  She put her arm around his shoulders, trying to help him into a sitting position. They worked for some time before they had him adjusted to his satisfaction.

  Anna turned a smiling face to his, only inches from her own. His eyes narrowed when she hastily moved away.

  Barak took the tray from her, studying her face as he did so. He hadn’t been mistaken. Anna’s breathing had quickened and her pupils had darkened perceptibly. His own pulse had jumped in response.

  There was something going on here that he couldn’t understand, and wouldn’t understand, until he got back his memory. Something to do with Anna and himself. What made her so nervous when she was near him?

  Anna watch
ed anxiously as he slowly consumed his food. Periodically he would raise his eyes to hers, and she could see the questions there. She began to fidget with her tunic, twisting and untwisting the material. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes again.

  “My family in Jotapata. Is there a way to get a message to them?”

  Surprised, she told him, “I can send someone with your message.”

  “Are they expecting me?”

  Anna dropped her eyes. “I believe they were expecting you home a few days ago.”

  He leaned back against the pillows. “Send the message, if you will.”

  Anna took a deep breath. It was only right that she send the message and relieve his family of worry, but if she did, would they come for him angry that he was among Samaritans? Would it cause more trouble?

  Jesus had once told a story of a Samaritan helping a Jew. This was the same situation in reverse, except that in Jesus’ story the two were strangers. Barak and Anna were not.

  When Barak was ready to lie down again, Anna helped him as gently as possible. He winced in pain, but he didn’t complain.

  She leaned over to fix the covers and he wrapped one large hand around the back of her neck and drew her close. The intensity of his dark eyes made her almost afraid.

  “What am I to you?” he whispered.

  She almost blurted, “Only everything.” Instead, she answered him softly in return. “Someday your memory will return. We will discuss it then.”

  He held her captive with his eyes for a long moment, finally dropping his hand and turning away. “I look forward to that day.”

  As do I, she thought. But when that day came, would he walk away from her again before she had a chance to explain anything?

  Several days later Anna was helping Barak to get up from the bed for the first time since his attack. She giggled as she tried to hold up his immense body with her own frail strength.

  He smiled in return. “This is like a dove trying to hold up a bear.”

  She hid a grin. “And lately you’ve been acting like one, too.”

  Suddenly serious, he took her by the shoulders, searching her eyes with his own. “I have been. I’m sorry.”

  Barak recalled how he had snapped at her only that morning for trying to help him remember things from his past. He was frustrated that after so much time he still could not remember. Little things were beginning to come back to him, like knowing the month and the season, but not the important things like family and friends.