As if he sensed Eitan’s reticence, Eleazar asked Tal to retrieve his wife instead of pressing the issue. “Will you need a place to rest for the night?” he asked. “You both are welcome to stay here with my family.”
“No.” Eitan smiled, something I’d not seen for nearly a week. I drank in the sight like fresh, cool water. “My grandfather will be glad to have us.”
“Ah yes,” Eleazar said. “A good man, Ishai. His vineyard has nearly doubled its yield in the past few years. He and Ora will be thrilled to see you, I have no doubt.”
Tal reentered the room with an older woman beside him. She was dressed in a finely woven blue tunic and her gray hair intricately braided, and everything about her appearance spoke of elegance. I became conscious of the borrowed white tunic I wore, now stained with poisoned wine and dirt from the alley I’d taken refuge in. I knotted together the filthy, guilty hands that had nearly stolen her husband behind my back.
“Hadassah,” Eleazar said with an affectionate smile toward his wife, who seemed to be at least fifteen or twenty years his junior. “I’d like to speak to Eitan alone for a few moments, but Sofea may have need of fresh clothing and nourishment before these two head up the hill to Ishai’s vineyard.”
“Of course,” said Hadassah, concern pinching her wispy brows together and one arm outstretched toward me. “Come, dear, I will fetch you a warm mantle as well. The night is cool.”
Although I hesitated to leave the room, desperate as I was to hear more of the plan to retrieve my cousin, Eitan gave me a reassuring smile, so I complied with his silent request for privacy with Eleazar.
The priest’s wife fussed over me, clucking like a hen at my disheveled clothing and insisting that I accept one of her own fine tunics to wear. By the time Eitan emerged from the priest’s chambers, I was relatively clean and had been forced to eat some bread, cheese, and brined olives by the woman who exuded nearly as much unquestionable authority as her husband.
Eitan’s countenance was grim as we left the home of the priest. I could barely contain my curiosity; only the presence of Tal kept me from demanding that Eitan tell me something—anything—about what he had discussed with Eleazar in his chambers.
From what I gathered from the brief conversation between the two men as we walked through Shiloh, one on either side of me, Tal had received permission to accompany us back to Kedesh in the morning. The easy rhythm between Eitan and the man he’d shared such a long friendship with was fascinating. They were indeed much more like brothers, bantering back and forth as we climbed a narrow road that led up a nearby hill. Tal commented on the beauty of Eitan’s long hair, and Eitan returned the tease by ribbing him over the “exhausting” duties of polishing the Menorah and changing out the showbread on the table in the Mishkan.
The good-natured taunting made it plain that their bond went just as deep as blood and that they’d missed each other’s company. But even as they traded jests, unease hummed in my bones, and I longed for even a few moments to beg Eitan to reveal his thoughts to me—both about the chances for Prezi’s rescue, as well as about what had happened between the two of us.
His palpable relief when he’d seen me with Eleazar had seemed genuine, but had I misinterpreted that relief as love? And did that mean he had changed his mind about marriage? Or had this awful situation only widened the chasm between us? I feared the answer as much as I craved it, his last words to me still hovering in the void like a black-winged specter.
Navigating the night-shrouded path to the vineyard as if by memory alone, Eitan led us to a small one-level home tucked into the embrace of tall poplars that surrounded it on three sides. The dark, rich scent of earth and plant life filled my nostrils as the mellow hoot of an owl welcomed us to Ishai’s home.
The tiny sliver of a new moon hovering over us did nothing to light the vineyard that I knew surrounded us here, but still I envisioned Eitan as a child racing up and down rows of grapevines, chasing crows and grackles, his dark hair warm in the sunlight and the fullness of his freckles unhidden by the thick beard he now wore.
At Eitan’s third solid knock, the door to the mud-brick home opened wide, a flood of light revealing the anticipation on his face. An older man stood in the doorway, his height filling the space, the silver threads in his black hair highlighted by the oil lamp flickering in his hand. Even knowing who the man was, I was still shocked at the clear resemblance to his daughter. Egypt’s blood must run strong in this family.
“What can I do for you?” he said, his tone gruff.
Eitan swallowed hard, and when he spoke the word came out in a low rasp. “Grandfather?”
Ishai stared, openmouthed. “Eitan?”
Eitan nodded, seeming to suppress strong emotion behind the press of his lips. Moriyah’s father set the oil lamp on a stool near the threshold and then stepped forward to pull Eitan into a crushing embrace that was returned with equal fervor.
As they parted, Ishai reached up to clasp Eitan’s shoulders in a firm grip. “How are you here? And how are you taller than me?”
Eitan laughed, but I caught the distinctive sheen of tears in his eyes. “Ima feeds me fairly well.”
Moriyah’s father tilted his head back and let out a hearty guffaw. The jovial sound was a surprising balm to my frayed nerves, as was the affection he displayed for the orphaned boy who had been enfolded into his family through tragedy.
“I have little doubt of that!” He craned his neck, looking past Eitan’s shoulder out into the black night. “Is she . . . ?” The desperation in his question made it clear that it was his daughter he was searching for.
“No.” The humor dissipated from Eitan’s expression, and it was clear he regretted squelching his grandfather’s hopes of seeing the daughter who had been sent away so long ago. “She is still in Kedesh. I am only here for tonight.”
Ishai sighed, then squeezed Eitan’s shoulders again, disappointment giving way to curiosity. “It sounds as though you have a story to tell, my boy.”
“That we do.”
“We?” Ishai glanced around, finally catching sight of Tal and me three paces away. He’d been so focused on his grandson he’d not even noticed us. “Who are your friends?”
Eitan gestured for us to approach. Hesitantly I obeyed, my heart stuttering a wary beat. Who would he say that I was to him? His friend? His love? A stranger? To my surprise, he clasped my hand in his, his fingers weaving into mine as if they’d never left, as if he’d only just dropped the copper ring into my palm and I’d not nearly killed a man tonight.
“This—” he said. “This is my Sofea.”
The simple but obvious claim he laid on me curled around my heart in a warm embrace that brought tears to my eyes. His grandfather took notice of the declaration as well, his mouth spreading into an enormous smile. He beamed at me with a sparkle of glee in his dark eyes. “Welcome, Eitan’s Sofea.”
Eitan’s introduction of Tal was interrupted by a female voice behind Ishai. “Who is here, my love?” A beautiful woman with long dark hair braided over her shoulder appeared in the doorway. Although her face was directed toward us, her eyes roved about, as if she could not see us in the dark.
“Ora, it’s Eitan! Our boy is here!”
She gasped and pushed past Ishai, her arms reaching for Eitan. Releasing my hand, he stepped forward. Her palms fumbled over his chest and to his shoulders. “These are a man’s shoulders,” she exclaimed before skimming her hands up his neck and then placing them on his cheeks. “And you have a beard!” Her fingers wandered over his brows, his forehead, his nose, as if memorizing each of his features by touch. Her eyes were open and searching. This lovely woman was blind.
“That I do,” Eitan said with a laugh and then bent to kiss Ora’s forehead. “You, however, have only become lovelier in the last eleven years.”
She patted his cheek again with a saucy grin. “And you, young man, have become a flatterer, just like your grandfather.”
“Please,” said Ishai, p
icking up the oil lamp and gesturing for us to follow him inside, “do come in. We must hear how you came to be in Shiloh and all that has happened since we heard from Moriyah and Darek last.”
After introducing Tal and explaining that he’d been in Shiloh for over a year training among the kohanim, Eitan presented me to Ora, who nearly tripped over herself to embrace me and welcome me to her home. She also whispered an insistence into my ear that we find a few private moments so I could tell her all about myself as soon as possible.
The house was small—the entirety of it would fit within the main chamber of the inn at Kedesh—but hospitality exuded from every corner. A widemouthed clay oven lay at the center of the space, a low fire flickering in its center that fended off the late-harvest chill that threatened to seep in through the cracks. A low table nearby invited guests to seat themselves on the multicolored woven mats and embroidered pillows.
Once we were seated, Ishai produced bowls of stew, with apologies that it had gone cold, and cups of the sweetest, richest wine I’d ever tasted. I’d been fed by Hadassah only a short while ago, but not wanting to thwart their generosity, I nibbled at the stew as Eitan related the details of the last few days to the couple, who listened with rapt attention.
“We must leave as soon as possible tomorrow,” said Eitan. “There is no time to waste. We must rescue Sofea’s cousin. Although there is one thing I must attend to before we go.”
Another cloud of disappointment moved over Ishai’s expression, but he nodded in understanding. “As much as I wish you could stay for a few more days, that young woman’s life is not to be trifled with.”
“You all must be weary to your bones,” said Ora. “Sofea will sleep with me tonight, and you three can stretch out in here near the fire.”
I stifled a yawn at the thought of a warm bed. Nadir had asked Raviv to provide me a woolen mantle to wrap myself in, but we’d slept on the hard ground for the past three nights on the journey to Shiloh, and my joints ached at the thought of doing so again. But as much as my body screamed for rest, I needed answers about how Eitan planned to save my cousin. Had he sent a message on to Darek? Was the High Priest sending a contingent of men to escort us? Or perhaps he felt as though Prezi’s life was already forfeit and did not want to alarm me?
Feeling a rush of urgency, I leaned over to Eitan and nudged him with an elbow. “I speak with you? Alone?”
“We can talk in the morning,” he said, his eyes traveling over my face with concern. “You need rest.”
I shook my head. “Tonight.” My terse whisper made it clear that I would not be denied.
Reaching over to take my hand in his, he appraised me, his thumb absently stroking mine. The slight lift of his cheek told me that the force of my demand amused him. “All right. But then you will sleep.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
Eitan led me out of the house, then through the small enclosed courtyard, dodging two sleepy goats, and to a stairway around the corner that led to the rooftop. Then he gestured for me to go ahead of him and kept a steadying hand on the small of my back as I climbed the narrow steps.
Ascending into the black night was unnerving, like entering an unexplored cave without a lamp, so near the top of the stairs I paused, turning to ask whether we might instead walk through the vineyard.
Eitan’s face was directly in front of me, and even though only dim starlight highlighted the yearning in his expression, whatever question had been on my lips dissolved. His arms went around my waist and he pulled me to him, his desperate mouth on mine telling me in no uncertain terms that he regretted the words we’d parted on and that the days since my disappearance had been as torturous for him as they were for me.
Sliding my arms to his back, I clutched at his tunic, blissfully disoriented as I welcomed the kiss, all thought of sleep seared from my veins. This kind, strong, fiercely loyal man had left his home and his family to travel days to find me. I did not deserve him.
He pulled back, his breathing labored as he leaned his forehead against mine. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “What I said at the gate that day was a lie. I want nothing more than for you to be my wife. That is more than enough for me.”
“I am so glad of it. But, Eitan?” I pushed gently against his hard chest.
“Yes?” he murmured distractedly as he swept my curls behind my shoulder, his fingers warm on my skin as he continued his assault on every one of my senses.
“I do not like to fall.” I tilted my head toward the perilous drop only two handspans from my feet.
He chuckled. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation in a safer place.”
Once clear of the stairs, I peered into the darkness to take in the small flat rooftop, surrounded by a hip-high casement wall. As my eyes adjusted, I spotted a tattered sukkah leaning precariously nearby, the dried palm boughs drooping nearly to the ground.
Eitan found a wool blanket crumpled beneath the temporary shelter that had been built for the Feast of Tabernacles a couple of weeks ago, and after snapping a few brown leaves out of its folds, he spread it flat on the rooftop. After adding the three pillows he discovered jammed into a basket nearby, he gestured for me to sit.
A chilly breeze rustled through the poplar leaves as I gathered Hadassah’s woolen mantle tighter around my shoulders and sank down cross-legged onto the cool fabric.
He sat down in front of me, knees touching mine, and leaned back on his palms. “We will find her,” Eitan said, determination in the stony set of his jaw. “I will not give up until she is safe. Do not worry. I have a plan.”
Obviously, he had no intention of sharing those plans with me, and I had no choice but to trust him. If nothing else, I had faith in Eitan’s fierce need to protect. After all, his desire to fight for his people, even though his life was in jeopardy outside the walls of Kedesh, had been the reason he and Darek had quarreled the day Nadir stole Prezi and me away.
“She had no fear as I leave her,” I said, tilting my chin to take in the stars, which shone all the brighter for lack of moonlight. “She trusts your God to save her.” A wry laugh escaped my mouth. “On my island, I was the brave girl. Now Prezi is the fearless one.” Not only had living among the Hebrews brought her back to life, it somehow had imbued her with courage like I had never seen.
“Something my mother seems to inspire in those within her circle of influence.”
I agreed. The more time Prezi spent with Moriyah, the brighter she seemed to shine.
“Is your mother angry that you go?” I asked.
His brow furrowed. “Of course not. I was forced to sneak out of Kedesh, but she knows that I would do anything to protect you. She will forgive my impulsive decision.”
“And Darek?”
“It was Darek’s edict to Chaim that prevented me from getting to you earlier.” He frowned, his jaw twitching. Whatever had happened between the two was eating away at their already strained ties.
I leaned forward, placing my hand on his knee, wishing I could more easily express myself in his language. “He loves you.”
Eitan flinched at my assertion. “He loves my mother. I was simply bundled into the package.”
“No. He is proud. He looks at you like a son.” He glanced away, unbelief painted across his starlit features, but I continued. “I know this. My father did not have love.”
Determined to make him understand, even with my halting Hebrew words, I told him of all I had endured under the tyranny of my father, including his murderous ways and how I’d spent my childhood escaping into the sea to avoid his abuse and to wash away the pain.
Eitan moved closer as I spoke, his hands gripping mine and fury lining his dark expression. “It is fortunate the man is dead or I’d cross the sea to make it so.”
“But do you not see? I watch Darek when you do not know. If my father look at me with only a piece of this pride or a small bit of such love . . .” Choking on sorrow, I let the thought trail away.
With a sig
h, Eitan released my hands and then lay back on the blanket, hands beneath his head on a pillow. After a few quiet moments, I lay down next to him, our shoulders touching.
The shushing wind in the leaves entwined with the chirrup of a night bird and filled the empty spaces around us, wrapping us in dark beauty as we looked up at the heavens. Months ago, Prezi had told me that Moriyah said the gods did not reside in the sky as we’d been told, but that Yahweh the Creator had spoken each white jewel into existence. Sudden wonderment began to spread through every part of my body as the sheer magnitude of their numbers tangled with the words Eleazar had spoken: “The Almighty Creator spoke your being into existence. How could you be anything less than precious?” Did the God who breathed those stars into the sky actually know me by name?
Cutting through the haze of my curiosity, Eitan laced his long fingers into mine but continued looking skyward, his thumb tracing the curves of my copper ring. “Regardless of what I said that day, my decision to ask for your hand was not in any way impulsive. In fact—” he huffed a small laugh—“waiting for you to learn my language so I could beg you to marry me did more for my training in patience than anything Baz ever put me through.” He glanced over with a grin. “But don’t tell him that.”
Guilt crept in, overshadowing the contentment I’d felt since he’d kissed me. “I almost did this thing,” I whispered, my eyes latching onto a particularly bright star. “I almost killed Eleazar.”
He propped himself on his side and lifted his other hand to my face, skimming his warm palm down my cheekbone. “You saved Eleazar, Sofea. You spoke the truth even thinking that Prezi might not survive.”
“Will Nadir die?”
His fingers traced light circles on my forearm, which caused my skin to prickle with awareness. “If he is found guilty of the murder of his friend, he would be executed. I do not know whether it can be proven, since there seem to have been no witnesses to the truth that day, but I must trust Eleazar and the council of elders to do as they see fit with him. And ultimately the laws of Yahweh are righteous and perfect, even when men are not.”
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