“Slow down. This is completely impossible. I don’t understand any of this.”
“I speak of the daughters of Zelophehad. Tirtzah and her sisters. Here, you must not appear before Tirtzah like this. You must change your garments.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, counted to three, and opened them again. Same cave, same craziness. “This is straight out of The Lost World.”
“Do not feel troubled, Miriam. We are not lost.”
My breath came short and fast. “What have you done to me? Where are we exactly?”
“By the river, as I have said. But where you are or when you are is not of great importance. They form only a tiny dot in the olam, a spark in the universe. What matters most is who you are.”
Think! I rubbed my forehead. Maybe I fell asleep at the kitchen table. The business with the salmon cakes and the shawl never happened. None of this happened. This must be a dream. The girl who stood before me looked very much like the one I’d met at the temple. That made sense. Dreams can be very realistic.
Another voice echoed in the cave. “Serakh?”
“I am coming, Tirtzah,” she shouted. “Stay by the entrance.”
Serakh dumped the clothes in my lap and grabbed my shoulders. “Miriam, you must go to the back of the cave and change from your Port Land garments. Tirtzah cannot travel as I can. She does not know of your world. Do you wish to frighten her to death?” She left me and strode toward the light at the front of the cave.
Frighten Tirtzah? I was the one losing my mind.
I tried to analyze my situation. Florrie was wild and dramatic about things, but not me. What did I eat that was out of the ordinary today? The licorice. Yes, it was entirely possible that the licorice had been tainted with some powerful drug. The neighborhood by the depot was close to the saloons and immoral establishments along the waterfront.
Still, as dreams went, this one seemed harmless. I’d had much worse. This was bound to be over soon. No need to panic. And if changing clothes was part of my dream, then so be it. I rolled my shoulders and felt my jaw relax.
Gathering the robes, I retreated to the back of the cave. It was cooler there, with just enough light to see by. I took off my dress, socks, and petticoat and piled them on a flat rock. I kept on the rest for the sake of modesty. The woolen shift and robe made my back itch. They were quite ample, but short, revealing a bit more of my legs than my regular clothes. I could have sworn the shift had blue and ochre fringes when Serakh gave it to me, but now all the fringes were ochre and white. I couldn’t even keep my own dream straight.
It was a relief to unbuckle my shoes and ease my feet into soft leather sandals. I twisted the long, thin straps around my ankles and tied them in a bow. Then I crept closer to the cave’s entrance.
The bright sunlight contrasted so much with the cave’s dim interior that it was hard to see clearly. I squinted at a girl about my size stepping into and out of the light. I glimpsed her profile and a glint of gold. How could there be gold on her face? Definitely a dream.
I wrapped the shawl around me and inched forward. The girl stepped into the sunlight again. There was no doubt now. A gold ring clasped one side of her nose.
“Oh!” My surprise slipped out of my mouth before I could stop myself. The cave echoed. The girl turned in my direction.
I swallowed hard, draped my shawl over my shoulders, and walked toward her. “Pleased to meet you,” I managed to say. “My name—”
Serakh rushed in front of me. “We are blessed with the perfect messenger from another place and time. She is also of the line of Joseph. She brings news that you are on the right path.”
I do? The girl bowed deeply and kissed the hem of my robe. She was about my age and an inch taller than Serakh, with the same bronze skin. Her lips quivered. She looked at my feet, which were much smoother and whiter—and larger—than hers. This other dream-girl seemed even more frightened than I was. She retreated a few steps, squatted on the cave floor, and looked up at me with soft brown eyes.
“Blessed messenger, I am called Tirtzah, daughter of Zelophehad,” she said.
I nodded slowly, mesmerized by that gold band embracing her left nostril.
“Call me Miriam,” I said, before Serakh could stop me.
“Mir-yam?” Tirtzah frowned. Serakh crossed her arms over her chest and said nothing.
“Mi-ri-am,” I said. “Um…Miriam bat Julius.” My father’s daughter. What would Papa and Mama do if they found me sick from the licorice and slouched over the kitchen table dreaming?
Serakh murmured her approval. She touched Tirtzah’s head. “Arise, my brave one. Let us show our messenger the River Jordan.”
Instead of going toward the entrance, Serakh led us along a side passage of the cave. I crouched low to keep my head from touching the ceiling. The rock walls felt cool and slightly damp.
Serakh seemed to disappear for an instant, and then I realized she’d turned a sharp corner. Tirtzah and I followed. Sunlight greeted us. We stepped out onto the ledge together.
Far below, a vast desert stretched toward craggy mountains on the horizon. A wide river meandered through a thin swath of green. I shaded my eyes from the cloudless sky. It could have been eastern Oregon, on the other side of the Cascade Range. I remembered a trip we took to Crater Lake once, and I wondered if the lava beds I saw near there would appear in this make-believe landscape.
Serakh pointed to some low bushes about five yards down a small slope. “Tirtzah,” she said. “Please gather fuel for tonight. Take our messenger with you. Hold her hand, and do not be afraid.”
I wondered why I’d make up such a fantastical dream about fetching twigs. How dull is that? At least the characters in The Lost World discovered dinosaurs.
Tirtzah placed her palm against mine. Tiny cuts and scratches marked her skin. She shivered a moment and then covered my thumb with hers. We started toward the bushes. I slipped on loose stones once, and Tirtzah caught my arm to steady me. “You must watch where you place your feet. There are scorpions among the rocks.”
Scorpions? I clutched Tirtzah and walked with care. I hated when scorpions showed up in my dreams. Danny always followed the scorpions. Dream would decay into nightmare and I would wake cold and shaking.
When we got to the bushes, Tirtzah told me to hold out the front of my robe like a sack. “Your hands are soft,” she said. “I shall do the gathering. There are many thorns.”
As I watched her stoop and pluck, I wondered why I’d invented such a creature. She didn’t smell of goats the way Serakh did, but more like campfires, and, frankly, the way I smelled after a strenuous hike. Her long black braid peeked out from the wide scarf she’d draped over her head. I felt the sun searing my scalp and covered my frizz with my shawl.
After a few minutes, I said, “Serakh told you I was the perfect messenger. What sort of message am I supposed to tell you?”
Tirtzah paused and looked at me. She cocked her head. Silence.
Our hands brushed against each other as she commenced to fill my makeshift sack with bits of bark and bramble. I asked again. This time her eyes were wide with fear. She clasped my hand. “You do not know the message? Serakh made an oath. She vowed that you would help. She vowed that my sisters and I would be safe.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling foolish. “I don’t know anything about a vow. We’ll have to ask Serakh.”
Tirtzah gathered more kindling and then took my elbow to guide me up the path. As soon as we got to the ledge, she scooped the fuel from my robes to Serakh’s. She started to say something, but Serakh interrupted with, “First we must return to my sleeping quarters.”
I followed them back to the cave, and we three sat together on the rough woolen blanket. Again Tirtzah tried to talk, but Serakh stopped her.
“Miriam,” she said. “What did you and Tirtzah speak of while you gathered fuel?”
I licked my parched lips. “First we talked about scorpions and thorns. Then Tirtzah asked about a message I was
supposed to be bringing her, only I don’t know what the message is.”
Serakh beamed. She touched Tirtzah’s shoulder. “And you, my brave one, did you understand the words spoken to you by our messenger when you two were outside the cave?”
Tirtzah wrinkled her thick, black eyebrows. “Once, while I was gathering, our messenger uttered sounds in a strange tongue. But when we touched again, I understood.”
Serakh grabbed my hand and clasped Tirtzah’s as well. “Then let us give thanks to The One who has kept us in life and guided us to Miriam daughter of Julius.”
I looked at Tirtzah. It was hard to tell which of us was more confused.
CHAPTER NINE
Serakh released us and reached for my prayer shawl. She gave us a look that reminded me of Sister Margaret before a particularly important lecture.
“In another time and place, I gathered and preserved many blue threads for the fabric of generations that would arise from my uncle Joseph and his kin, including his kin through the line of Ishmael. Each thread has the power to carry a messenger across the olam. Tirtzah, this Miriam carries such a thread. I had to make sure she was the right messenger for you.”
My dream was getting crazier by the minute. “So you sent us out as a test of the blue thread? Didn’t you know I was the right messenger as soon as I met Tirtzah in your cave?”
“No, Miriam. I have a gift of languages, as is needed in my travels through the olam. You and I will always understand each other, as in your Port Land. I share this gift with guests in my cave while they are within its walls, though few come to visit. But you and Tirtzah left my cave to fetch kindling and still understood each other when your bodies touched.”
Tirtzah frowned. “Miriam is my messenger?”
“Indeed.”
“But she bears no message.”
Serakh patted Tirtzah’s leg. “How can Miriam inspire you if she does not know your plight?”
Tirtzah turned to me. “What do you want to know?”
What don’t I want to know? How about what was in that licorice and when am I going to wake up? I looked at the ceiling of the cave for a moment. “Well, I am curious about your nose ring.”
She smiled. “Then I shall start there. It is a betrothal gift. I am going to marry Gabi, son of Hezron, of the tribe of Reuben. Their portion is on this side of the river.”
“Their portion?”
Tirtzah glanced at Serakh.
“Miriam comes from another spot on the olam,” Serakh said. “You must explain.”
Tirtzah began again. “The portion is the land that The One has given to each tribe of those who were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. When it is time to cross the River Jordan, Gabi will help the other tribes to settle the land The One has promised to them on the other side. Then he will take me to be his wife, and I will settle here with the Reubenites.” She caressed the gold nose ring. “He has been generous.”
I thought of Mama’s plans to parade me in front of prospects in New York City. “Do you love him, Tirtzah?”
“Gabi is my life. I long to be by his side.” Tirtzah grasped the sleeve of my robe. “But, Miriam, when I am with him, who will care for my sisters? Who will pay the bride price for them? Our father is dead. We have no brothers. My mother is powerless. We have no one and nothing. I will not let my sisters be taken into servitude.”
“The bride price? Servitude?”
“Many women who do not have men to care for them have no property,” Serakh explained. “They can become the property of someone else. That is why you are here.” Before I could reply, she added, “You have done well, Tirtzah, as I knew you would. Miryam the prophetess would have been proud of you.”
“Miriam, my great-grandmother?” I asked.
Serakh smiled. “She is a fine woman, a messenger, too, as you are. But I speak of Miryam, the sister of Moshe, from this time and place.” She turned to Tirtzah. “Now you must return to your sisters.”
Tirtzah looked at me. “I fear Hoglah will whisper against me if I am away too long,” she said. I bobbed my head, feigning understanding, although nothing made sense. “Everything will turn out fine,” I said. Why not? It was my dream, and so far I liked most of what I’d conjured up. Who doesn’t like being told they are special?
Tirtzah kissed the hem of my robe once more. I wanted to tell her to stop doing that, but it seemed like second nature to her. She gave Serakh a questioning look.
“Miriam is right,” Serakh assured her. “Will you come again, Miriam, when it is time?”
“Certainly,” I said.
“Go in peace, Tirtzah,” Serakh said. “When I summon you, bring your sisters. You are on the right path.”
Tirtzah covered her head and part of her face with a long scarf. She bowed again and left.
“What’s next?” I asked Serakh. Maybe I was beginning to get my footing in this adventure in my mind.
She studied my face. “You do not believe any of this?”
“No, not really. Would you?”
“Come, let me show you something.”
I half expected Serakh to reach behind a rock and produce another suffrage article like the one she gave me at Temple Beth Israel. Instead, she linked arms with me and led me toward the entrance of the cave.
Squinting in the bright light, I barely managed to stay on my feet. Just outside the cave was a narrow ledge. Like the view along the side of the cave, the space beyond and below the ledge seemed enormous. But this time we were far from alone.
Tents. I saw hundreds of tents made from what looked like animal skins. And I saw thousands of people, dressed in flowing robes or in loincloths barely hiding their nakedness. And thousands and thousands of sheep and goats.
I braced myself against the entrance to the cave. Strong smells and strange noises drifted up from below. This dream was getting away from me. How could I have imagined this place?
My foot slipped, dislodging a stone. A scorpion skittered across my sandal. Tirtzah had warned me of scorpions. I should have listened to her. I should have woken up then—now it was too late! My mouth turned sour, and I was afraid I might retch.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I heard Serakh’s voice, quiet and calming. “Our people. See, Miriam? Finally we rest from our wanderings. During the famine of another time and place, I am among those my uncle Joseph brings into the land of the Mitzrayim, the place you call Egypt. Your blue thread comes from his many-colored tunic—I save it from destruction. Generations later, Moshe comes among us. I remember what my father has told me about a deliverer, and I convince the elders that Moshe is sent by The One. And when Moshe leads us out of Egypt, I alone know where my uncle Joseph is buried. Because I promised—”
“Stop. I want to wake up already!” I heard skittering again and flinched away from the unseen scorpions.
“Let us go back inside, Miriam.”
“I’m not moving.” I opened my eyes. I was still stuck in this dream. I hugged myself and rocked back and forth, back and forth. Please, no more scorpions.
Serakh withdrew a few paces. Despite my own words, I inched away from the dizzying heights and steadied myself against the wall barely inside the cave. I refused to sit.
“Allow me to start again with Joseph.” Serakh hummed softly. She stroked the end of her braid. “You have heard of Joseph?”
Joseph? It was Danny who haunted me. Just thinking his name made me afraid that he would appear. Danny—who was born under the sign of Scorpio and who died under that sign. I shuddered and rocked, and rocked… Oh, please, not another nightmare.
Serakh wrapped her arms around me. “Shhh, sweet Miriam, all will be well. I promise. I will protect you from harm.” She guided me to the floor and cradled me in her arms.
And slowly, gradually, I relaxed into the strength of my imagined Serakh. Danny stayed in my mind, but he was no longer fearsome. He was the Danny I once adored. I counted to ten under my breath.
“Let us start again. Surely you know of Joseph.”
> It was nine years since Danny died, nine years since I stopped going to Religious School. But I did remember the basic stories. “Do you mean Joseph from the Bible?”
“From Thabible? No, Miriam, this Joseph and his brothers come from Canaan.”
“Don’t tease me,” I said, even though she looked puzzled. “The Bible. Adam and Eve. Noah’s Ark. Moses and the Ten Commandments.”
“Do you mean Moshe who brought us the law?”
“Moshe? I guess so.”
Serakh’s look of confusion vanished. “Moses, yes—he is also called Moses. I know him well. Perhaps you will see him tomorrow.”
“How can I see Moses? He died thousands of years ago.”
“All the tribes of Israel are here with Moshe in the land of the Moabites, the children of Lot. The River Jordan is less than an hour’s march. We have camped for many weeks, waiting.”
The land of the Moabites? I never learned that in Religious School. I clasped the front of my prayer shawl, stroking its soft wool with my thumb. The shawl felt solid in my hands, as if attesting to the truth of Serakh’s words. I’d traveled halfway around the world and thousands of years into the past. It isn’t possible…and yet…
Serakh continued in her slow, even, lullaby voice. “The One guides me as I have been guided since the time of Joseph. Rarely am I mistaken.”
“The One?”
“Miriam, surely you must know this. The One. It is a name we say in place of the name we cannot utter. We also speak of Elohim, and sometimes we say El Elyon.”
I shook my head.
“Do you know Eloheinu—our Elohim? Or Adonai?”
Adonai Eloheinu. The words snapped something into place—part of a Hebrew prayer I recited during one of the rare times I went to services. I didn’t know what Adonai Eloheinu meant exactly, and the words weren’t quite as my congregation pronounced them, but the English translation of that prayer ended with “the Lord is One.” The One.
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