His cheeks dimpled. “Sunset can't come soon enough.”
Anticipation bright as a bouquet of flowers bloomed. “Tonight, then.”
He winked. “Look for me near the lightening-struck tree.” Then he strolled away, heading toward the other young stonecutters gathered around the new press.
Mary was more than half in love with Cephas, and nervous about confessing the truth.
CHAPTER 9
Mary knocked on Alexandra's bedchamber door. “Do you have a moment?”
“Come in, dear.” Alexandra's voice was a soft murmur.
Mary hurried to the bed. “Are you ill?”
Alexandra raised her hand to her forehead. “My head aches, but lying down helped.”
Mary gnawed her lip. “What can I do?”
“Sit and tell me what’s troubling you.”
“It's nothing.” Mary had hoped to discuss Cephas’s renewed proposal before bringing it up with her mother and Nathan, but didn’t want to burden Alexandra while she was feeling unwell.
Nathan strode through the door, crossed to the bed, knelt on one knee, and clasped Alexandra's fingers. “Rhoda said you weren't feeling well.”
Alexandra brightened like she always did in Nathan’s presence. “My feet are a bit swollen and my head aches. And I could hear Bartholomew's raised voice coming through the window.”
Nathan glanced back at Mary and winked. “A simple misunderstanding. You would have been proud of our Sweet Lamb.”
Mary's mother sailed into the room. “Good, you are both here. Mary needs to speak to you about Cephas.”
“Mother,” Mary complained.
Her mother scowled back. “Mary of Rumah, I see the excuses ready to jump off your tongue. I won't allow you to delay marrying. And Cephas is far from a beardless youth. His family will be anxious to have him choose a wife.”
Alexandra struggled to a sitting position. “You plan to accept Cephas's marriage proposal?”
Mary nodded. “Cephas is kind and makes me laugh.”
Nathan sat and encouraged Alexandra to rest her weight against him. “Cephas will be blessed to call you wife.”
Any couple sharing half the love Nathan and Alexandra did would have the happiest of marriages. Mary's heart told her she and Cephas were on their way to an equally loving and joyous union. She hugged her arms around her. “It would please me to have you and mother speak to Cephas and his father about marriage arrangements.
Her fretful mother cracked a rare smile. “Go put on your new white tunic.”
Mary reached for her mother's red-chapped hands. “I'm sorry for the worry I caused.”
The sound of a baby howling carried through the window.
A wave of uneasiness passed through Mary.
Alexandra sat up and turned ghostly white. “I'm going to be sick.”
Mary's mother grabbed an empty basket and held it under Alexandra's chin. Vomit spewed into the basket.
Brow furrowed in worry, Nathan patted Alexandra's back. “What can I do?”
Sweat dotting her forehead, Alexandra slumped against Nathan. “A wet cloth to wipe my mouth would be nice.”
Mary's mother rushed toward the door. “I will go find Gada.”
“I don't need the midwife,” Alexandra protested.
“Mary, why are you standing there like a frightened kitten?” her mother scolded. “Get Alexandra a cup of water and a wet rag.”
“Sorry,” Mary stammered, wringing her hands. What was wrong with her? Her mother was the worrier and hand-wringer. Something Mary had sworn she'd never do. She rushed to the washstand, poured water into a cup and wet a clean cloth. Hands shaking, she carried them to Alexandra. “I hate to see you unwell. What else can I do?”
Alexandra smiled. “I feel much better now.”
Mary went back to wringing her hands. “Is the baby coming?”
Alexandra rubbed her rounded belly. “Not yet. You should return to the fun of the harvest celebration.”
Dancing carefree while Alexandra was unwell was the last thing Mary wanted to do. “I want to stay with you.”
Nathan tucked Alexandra's disheveled hair behind her ear. “I'll stay with Lex.”
Mary knew her brother was more concerned than he was letting on. Lex was the endearment he used with Alexandra in private, or when he thought no one else was listening.
“I'll watch the boys,” Mary offered, uneasiness eating at her.
“Rhoda will take care of Achan and Raziel,” Nathan said.
Mary raised her chin. “Mother will be busy with the feast.”
Nathan frowned. “But you'll miss the dance in the orchard with the other maidens.”
“I couldn't join in now.”
“But you have dreamed of this day since you were a girl,” Alexandra protested.
Ashamed by the memories of her dreamy, younger self, blissfully unaware of the deadly fate awaiting her dear friends, Mary clutched her stomach. “I'm grown now. And our Maidens’ Dance is modest compared to the one in Jerusalem.”
Her mother hurried back into the bedchamber with the midwife Gada in tow.
“Mary, go put on your new tunic for the dance,” her mother said, breathless. “I laid it out on your bed. Hurry now. Cephas will be waiting for you in the orchard.”
Mary slipped out of the room. Cephas. What was she going to do about Cephas? The walls of the hallway closed around her. Her heart pounded double-time. Why did the idea of marriage make her want to run and run and run?
CHAPTER 10
An hour later Mary walked across the deserted yard. Ahead, the orchard was alive with music and lamplight. Behind, the house was quiet and still. Alexandra was resting comfortably with Nathan watching over her. Her mother was putting Achan and Raziel to bed. And Mary was out of excuses to hide from Cephas.
A frigid gust ruffled her pristine white tunic, threatening rain. She rubbed her chilled arms. Why was she acting like a coward? It wasn't like her. She wanted to marry Cephas. Now all she had to do was to proclaim it to the world by smiling at Cephas while she danced through the orchard. What could be simpler?
The merry song of the Maidens’ Dance drifted through the dark, calling her into the orchard’s embrace. She tip-toed past the ancient gnarled trees her father had lovingly cared for. Her father would approve of Cephas, and would not have stopped smiling while he watched her weave through the trees with the other maidens.
Her heart squeezed tight. She stumbled into the small clearing, emerging near the band of musicians. Parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, brothers, and sisters who had gathered to watch the Maidens’ Dance turned and stared.
The blasts of the horns grew louder, and a line of girls sailed toward Mary. A hand clasped hers and tugged. “Join us, Mary,” a young girl enthused. “You always dance beautifully.” Mary allowed herself to be towed along by the chain of girls.
All wearing, stiff, shiny white tunics like hers, the line of girls wove through the trees, skipping and leaping and laughing.
A leafy branch swished past Mary's face, making her flinch and trip on a knobby root. Her limbs felt heavy as the ancient tree trunks. This was her fifth year of dancing through the orchard. Though not the tallest, she was the oldest participant. Her friends had long since married.
The line barreled past a knot of lookers. Bartholomew glowered at her, his meaty jowls quivering with indignation. Was he angry with her for joining in the merriment so soon after Tabitha's death?
Fat raindrops fell from the starless sky. The faces of her dear friends filled her vision. Tabitha and Alya. Dead, while she danced.
Worry for Alexandra flooded in. Mary's pulse quickened.
Someone squeezed her hand. “Cephas is waiting for you.”
Mary glanced wildly about. “Where?”
Someone pointed. “He is beside the lightning-struck tree.”
Trees, people, and glowing oil lamps went by in a blur. Mary had promised Cephas she would smile at him when she danced past. She ha
d imagined this moment countless times, but in her dreams the stars twinkled overhead, and she moved graceful as a deer, and her heart was merry, and everything was wonderful and perfect.
But she’d made a promise. She forced a smile to her lips and searched for Cephas. She spotted him. His brow creased and he stepped away from the blackened remains of the tree.
The music swelled to frantic heights. The line of girls sped up, tugging Mary through a screen of saplings. Her throat tightened. Was that disappointment she'd seen on Cephas's face? She must have looked appealing as a bleating goat. She would do better the next circuit.
“Mary,” Cephas called, bounding through the saplings, racing after her. He held out his hand. “Come with me.”
She broke free from the maidens’ caravan and gripped Cephas's strong, wide palm. He led her deeper into the orchard, not stopping until the noisy celebration faded to blessed silence.
The cluster of craggy olives trees and canopy of oval leaves overhead made a cozy shelter. Cephas gathered her in his arms. His brow creased. “What's wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“I won't judge you.”
A cool gust swirled, rattling the leaves. She moved closer to Cephas's warmth.
His warm breath filled her ear. “Trust me, Sweet Mary.”
She rested her cheek on his broad chest. “Everything is wrong.”
Strong hands stroked her back. “Tell me.”
“I miss Tabitha and my father. I wish they were here. And I’m worried for Alexandra. And I promised I would smile when I danced by you, But…” Spent, she sniffed and scuffed her fingernail over his tunic. She hated appearing weak in his eyes. “I know I should be strong—”
“Shh...There’s no need to apologize. Of course, you are sad and afraid.”
She pulled back. “I'm not a worrier. My mother's the worrier.”
A smile lurked behind his eyes. “That's not what I said.”
She clasped his face and pulled him close. “I want to marry you, Cephas the Stonecutter. Do you hear me?”
His soft laugh purled down her neck. “I want to kiss you, Sweet Mary.”
She pecked his cheek. “Will that do?”
He grinned. “If I was your grandmother, maybe.”
Eager to be distracted, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his wide, smiling mouth. Instinct took over, she deepened the kiss, then nipped his bottom lip, and pulled back. “Was that better?”
His eyes darkened. “Now it's my turn.”
Her toes curled against her sandals. “I'm ready.”
“We are going to have a happy marriage.”
“Stop talking.”
“You are beautiful when you’re riled.”
“Are you going to kiss me or not?”
His mouth captured hers, and his laughter-fizzed kiss was intoxicating. Their lips turned hungry. Mouths and tongues slipped and slid in a duet as lovely and thrilling as the Maidens’ Dance.
Cephas broke away. “Someone's calling for you.”
She couldn't hear anything past their heaving breaths, then Timothy burst through trees. “Mary...come quickly. Alexandra's time is upon her. Mother needs your help.”
A fist of dread squeezed the air from her lungs. Alexandra would be fine. Please Lord, let Alexandra be fine.
CHAPTER 11
Mary approached Alexandra's bedchamber with fear and trepidation. A loud moan stopped her. Mary didn't remember feeling this afraid when she'd attended Achan and Raziel's births. What was wrong with her?
Cephas touched her elbow. “You don't have to do this. Go watch over your nephews. Allow me to find someone else to assist your mother and the midwife.”
Mary wanted to run to her room and hide her head under the blankets until the baby was born, and Alexandra was safe and well. Tongue and mouth dry as ash, she swallowed. “Alexandra needs me. I can't let her down.”
Cephas stroked her arm. “I'll be here all night.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
Another whimpering moan raised the hair on the back of her neck. I can do this, she told herself.
The door swung open and her mother hurried out of the room. “Cephas, we need more water,” she said, mopping her brow.
Cephas squeezed Mary's hand and hurried away.
Her mother shooed Mary into the room. “We can't allow Gada to do all the work.”
Her sandals heavy as blocks, Mary crept into the darkened bedchamber. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and herbal remedies. Gada, the midwife who had assisted at Tabitha’s time of trouble, moved about quietly at the foot of the bed. Jars of oils and salts, and sea sponges, and swaddling clothes, and strips of linen stood ready.
Sweat beading her brow, Alexandra supported herself on her elbows, straining against a wave of pain.
Mary rushed to her side, grabbed a soft cloth from a basin of water, and dabbed Alexandra's forehead. “Think of your beautiful baby,” Mary said, amazed her voice sounded steady.
Alexandra exhaled a ragged breath, slumped back against the pillow, and clasped Mary's hand. “Did Achan and Raziel go back to sleep for their father?”
Mary shook her head. “Nathan is feeding them cooked apples and reciting their favorite stories…and doing a terrible job of pretending he's not worried.”
“He wanted to stay, but Gada and Rhoda threatened to hit him over the head with a pruning hook.”
Mary smiled, but dread sat heavy in the pit of her stomach.
The next hour dragged as Alexandra's pains grew stronger and stronger.
Gada and Mary's mother took turns rubbing purified olive oil over Alexandra's distended belly. Mary offered small words of encouragement and cooled Alexandra's brow with fresh well water.
Alexandra sat up and leaned forward. A look of distress crossed her face. “I don't feel well.”
Mary's heart sped up.
“It is time to move to the birthing stool,” Gada announced.
Mary took a deep breath and helped Alexandra to the edge of the bed. “Take your time standing,” Mary said.
Alexandra answered, but her words were slurred. Then her eyes rolled up and she flopped over on her side.
Terror paralyzed Mary.
“She's fainted,” Mary heard Gada say through a thick fog.
“Bring Gada the strong herbs, Mary,” her mother said. “I'll get Nathan.”
Mary forced her trembling legs into action. Hands shaking, she fumbled through the jars until she found the foul concoction. She handed the jar to Gada.
Nathan burst through the door and rushed to Alexandra's side.
Gada waved the strong herbs under Alexandra's nose. Alexandra blinked awake.
“Mary,” a deep voice said.
She turned.
Cephas hovered in the doorway, his face ashen. “Can I help?”
Mary shook her head.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
Tears threatened. If anything happened to Alexandra...She wanted to run far as she could from the room. “Pray for Alexandra.”
“I will pray for all of you.”
“The baby is coming,” Gada said, sounding calm and competent.
Her mother rushed around the foot of the bed. “Mary, we need more oil.”
Mary cast a last glance at Cephas.
He nodded encouragingly. “You are braver than you think.” Then he snapped the door shut.
CHAPTER 12
A short time later, Alexandra and Nathan's tiny but perfect daughter entered the world. Though her face was very pale, Alexandra recovered quickly.
Hands shaking now the trouble was past, Mary fisted her hands in her tunic. “Can I get you anything else?”
Resting against Nathan's chest, Alexandra smiled and cradled baby Anna closer. “Thank you for comforting me amid my pains. I drew on your strength.”
Still weak-kneed, Mary hadn’t felt strong at all. “Are you sure you are well?”
Nathan brushed a hand through Alexandra's dark hair. “You heard Gada assure us Alexandra would improve and feel better now the babe has come.” Eyes bright with joy, Nathan traced his finger over Anna's cheek. “She is beautiful as her mother, don't you think?”
She’d been so terrified for Alexandra's life, Mary hadn't paid much attention to the baby. Anna's delicate fingers cupped her tiny chin. “She looks sweet.”
Nathan grinned. “That's it. We shall call her Sweet Anna.” Then he winked at Mary. “You won't mind giving up the endearment, seeing you have outgrown it?”
Alexandra jabbed Nathan lightly. “Stop teasing. Mary's had a long night.” Alexandra turned her smile on Mary. “Go get some rest, dear. We will be fine.”
Uneasy, Mary fingered the seam of her tunic. “Call for me if you start to feel ill again.”
“I will,” Alexandra promised.
Mary slipped out the room, eager to escape to the privacy of her own bedchamber.
Seated on the cold stone floor opposite the door, Cephas jumped to his feet. “How are you?” He asked, crowding her.
The darkened walls and floor of the long narrow hall closed around her. Chest tight, she sidestepped Cephas and fled in the direction of her room.
“Wait,” he called. Catching up with her outside her bedchamber, he grabbed her wrist. “Talk to me.”
She pulled her arm free and whirled on him. She felt fragile and vulnerable to the point of breaking. “Don't touch me!”
Cephas backed up a step. Confusion filled his eyes. “Don't be angry. I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you weren't upset or afraid.”
Her heart pulsed lightning-fast. The shadows swallowed her labored breaths. Sweat beaded her forehead. One thought pounded through her mind, insistent and urgent. “I can't marry,” she said on a gasp.
Cephas's brow furrowed. “We can wait.”
“No, you don't understand, I can't marry...ever.”
Cephas advanced on her. “You don't mean that.”
Cornered, she pressed against the solid wooden door and warded Cephas off with outstretched arms. “I don't want to marry.”
The Stonecutter: A Herod Chronicles Novella Page 4