by Janette Oke
Ananias said, “The Lord Jesus came to me in a vision.”
“When?”
“This very morning.”
A sudden press of bodies forced Jacob up against the synagogue’s wall. But he could still see and hear this man, Ananias.
Now the questions were coming from all sides.
“You are sure it was the Lord?”
“There is no question in my mind or heart. I did question it at first, because I too have heard of this man. But I obeyed – ”
“And the Lord told you what exactly?”
“To come here. That Saul had seen my arrival in a vision and was waiting for me.”
“And what happened?”
“I did as the Lord commanded. I laid my hands upon him. I prayed.”
“For him you prayed? What did you say in your prayer, maybe that lightning should strike?”
“I prayed for his sight to return.”
A sound like a groan erupted from the crowd.
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“Shah! Let him speak!”
The voice of Ananias was filled with the same awe that illuminated his features. “He says the scales fell from his eyes.”
“So now he sees again! What does he do?”
“He eats. He drinks. He regains his strength.”
“And what – ”
“Look! There he is!”
The bearded figure of the Pharisee appeared in the doorway. One of the Temple guards spoke to him, clearly warning Saul of the crowd’s mood. He gave no sign he even heard the man, though he obviously could see.
The man slowly crossed the road and entered through the synagogue’s front gates while the crowd parted before him. Saul’s features had an ethereal quality.
All who could forced themselves into the synagogue behind Saul. Others jostled for position by the open doors and windows. Together they watched as Saul stepped forward and paused before the elders. They bowed and backed away, granting him access to the dais. Saul stepped onto the platform and turned to the crowd.
In a voice that carried through the synagogue portals and out through the gates, Saul said, “I have been wrong in my thoughts and deeds. But God in his great mercy has given me light. Light through blindness. I now stand here to proclaim that Jesus is the Messiah, the risen Lord, the Son of God. He is come to save man from his sins. He is the gateway to heaven! Accept him as your Savior, and receive God’s forgiving grace!”
After a stunned silence, a clamor of voices filled the air. Had this man just said what they thought they heard? The murderer, Saul of Tarsus, proclaiming Jesus Christ as the Messiah?
The questions once more turned to an uproar. Already people were choosing sides. Some whispered amen. Others muttered, “Blasphemy.” And still others thought he was a liar.
Jacob thought it best to leave before the crowd erupted into a riot. He pushed his way through and headed for the door.
As Jacob finally made it to the outer portal a man beside him said to another, “Saul! After all we have suffered from this man, and now this! Do you believe him?”
His companion shook his head and shrugged. “Only time holds the answer,” he said. “Only time will tell.”
CHAPTER
FORTY-FIVE
The Megiddo Crossroads
Early Spring
After hours in the sun’s heat and the commotion of the busy market stall, Martha had sent Abigail home. She had hurried off to prepare a special meal. Linux had returned from another patrol through the nearby hills. And of course Dorcas had begged to see him again. When he had ridden into the crossroads market earlier that day, he had looked particularly weary. The thought of him returning to the crude quarters he called home and a cold meal served by a surly servant did not sound very pleasant, so Abigail and Martha had invited him to join the three of them at their evening table. He had smiled his thanks and returned the hug of his excited little friend. Abigail had then spent hours wishing she could be home making preparations instead of bartering with customers. Sensing that, Martha told her to go, promising to take care of the customers until closing time.
Abigail wanted the meal to be enjoyable but would not have the time to prepare as she would have wished. She had ordered a chicken from a neighbor. She set to work, plucking and cleaning, then seasoned it with herbs and began roasting it over the open fire. The savory meat, joined by root vegetables from Martha’s little garden, looked as good as it smelled. Abigail set up their table on the front portico so they might enjoy the last rays of sun while they ate.
A meal seemed a small thing to offer the exhausted man, but Abigail hoped in this simple way to be able to provide a relaxing time for him. Dorcas was good at that, with her constant chatter and her easy laughter. Abigail had often thought she could see the fatigue drop from the man’s shoulders as he and the child laughed and played happily together. It was very clear that Dorcas loved Linux – and that Linux returned the love in full measure.
With one last check of the chicken Abigail turned to welcome their guest. She noted the appreciative smile that lit his face as he stepped up onto the porch and Dorcas enthusiastically patted a seat at the table beside her, even though the meal was yet to be served.
As Abigail picked up serving dishes, Dorcas began bringing Linux up to date on all the household’s activities. “Aunt Martha worked too hard at the stall today. But she drank her special tea to make her knees stop hurting, and now she is sleeping. Mama took her some broth and bread. But Mama thinks she will come to the table later. Today I fell down and bumped my arm. See? I only cried a little bit. That funny man Simon – he doesn’t scare me anymore when he comes to the market.”
Abigail set the platters on the table. Dorcas continued. “Did you know Mama had to take all the feathers off this chicken?” She wrinkled her nose and made a face. “And she took all the insides – ”
“Dorcas. Please hush. We are going to eat now.” Abigail took her seat and nodded to Linux, offering a smile she hoped would bring a sense of serenity to the meal. “Will you pray please before we eat?”
His prayer was brief and heartfelt, including his thankfulness for being able to partake of a meal with those he loved. And that, Abigail was sure, was what prompted Dorcas to ask a question as soon as she raised her head.
“Mama, do you love Uncle Linux?”
Abigail felt her cheeks burn. The question hung awkwardly in the air.
“Do you?”
“Your . . . your Uncle Linux is . . . is a very good friend – of many years,” Abigail said, her heart pounding. She hoped her stammering rush of words would end the embarrassing scene. She tried to return her attention to the food on her plate.
“Do you love him?” persisted Dorcas.
Abigail heard, more than saw, Linux lay down his fork and place both elbows on the table as though waiting patiently for her response. If only she could jump up from the table and escape the difficult moment, but both pairs of eyes held her to her chair.
Thoughts scrambled through her mind, tripping over one another in their hurry to be discovered. More and more of late she had felt her heart opening up to a certain feeling – familiar but new. Was it love that made her feel safer, more complete in his presence? Could she deny this was love and be truthful? Even when she secretly wished he never had to head out on another patrol? Was it love that made her count the days until she saw him again? That breathed a deep-felt prayer of thanks to God each time he returned safely?
She stirred restlessly, not daring to even lift her eyes. She was sure Dorcas would continue to probe until she felt satisfied with the answer. But it was Linux who spoke softly.
“That is the question that I have ached to ask, my little Dorcas – but I have felt so constrained.”
There was momentary silence as Dorcas pondered the meaning of his words.
Abigail forced herself to raise her eyes. Linux was looking at her with such tenderness that she found herself blinking away tears. Then
a hand reached across the table toward her, and she found herself responding, placing her own in the grasp of the strong, travel-hardened hand of a Roman officer.
“Do you, Mama?” came the small voice.
Abigail swallowed, then nodded slowly, her eyes finally meeting those of Linux across the table. “Yes,” she said in no more than a whisper. “Yes.”
Dorcas seemed to take the admission as happy news, yet totally expected and in keeping with the way things should be. After all, who could not love her dear uncle Linux? She smiled and gave a nod, then turned her attention to her food.
But for Abigail and Linux the moment was the culmination of what seemed a lifetime of fears and dreams, heartache and happiness, now transformed by the one simple word. Abigail felt the warmth in the hand that held hers and saw the light that had come to his eyes. Could it be tears that made them glisten in the glow from the setting sun?
She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand.
A whole new world had just opened before them.
The hour was late and Abigail had already worked for many hours serving customers from two caravans that had crossed paths, requiring both provisions and wares. She had left her own shop in the care of Martha and Dorcas and gone to help Yelban serve the crowd of hungry guests. She was more than happy when both caravans moved on, leaving them with not only cleanup duties but more coins in their coffers.
She had mixed feelings about that day being so packed with activities. Glad because it kept her stomach from churning with nervousness, and sorrowful because her busy hands and hurried steps left her no time to savor the joy that already had replaced her intense loneliness.
Tomorrow she would be wed. Linux had been so patient. So endearing. It still seemed like a dream, but she had Dorcas to continually remind her of what was coming.
“Mama, only ten more days,” she would say.
“Mama, only five more days.”
“Mama, only two more days.” On and on she went, ticking the time off on small fingers. The child’s delight always brought a smile to Abigail’s face. She would have a husband, and Dorcas would finally have the father she had so long desired. They would be family. That truth often brought tears to accompany the smiles.
And now Dorcas slept peacefully. Her happiness had not kept her awake. For Abigail, though, in spite of her weariness, sleep seemed far away.
She finally rose and crossed to the room’s one small window to sweep aside the heavy woven covering. A placid moon looked down upon the sleeping village, causing dark shadows to gather in the hidden places. Nothing seemed to be stirring. The heat of the day had subsided, leaving the hint of fragrant garden herbs in the silent air. And on the hill to the west, the small dwelling Linux called home was just visible through the branches of a cypress tree. She wondered if he slept, or if he too was restless.
Suddenly Abigail knew she wanted to pray. Tomorrow would open the door to a whole new journey – but one she would not travel alone. From henceforth she would be the wife of a Roman officer. Once she would have scorned such a possibility. But Linux had changed all that. Linux, and the God he served. Her God. It was faith that securely bound them together. Perhaps the faith was even stronger than the love that they felt for each other. Abigail knew that even though the wedding tomorrow made her pulse race and her heart fill to overflowing, the future held many uncertainties. Even a Roman had no promise of immunity should the angry fingers of religious persecution reach again beyond the walls of Jerusalem.
Yet even with her awareness that their way was unsure, she knew she was in God’s hands. They were in God’s hands. He knew the future, and that their main desire was to serve and honor him. Abigail lifted her face to the wide breadth of sky that swept cloudless over the sleeping village.
“Thank you, Father,” she breathed with deep humility and gratitude. “You have never left me to struggle alone but have always been with me. Have always placed loving and caring people at my side. Even in the darkest hours I have been blessed. Thank you.”
But the short prayer, though sincere, was not enough. Abigail let the curtain fall back into place and crossed to the pallet where Dorcas lay sleeping. It seemed right that Dorcas would be included in this prayer. Abigail reached out and took the small hand in her own, studying her daughter’s face in the faint light from the candle that still burned.
Dorcas did not stir but Abigail felt that the fingers curled a bit more tightly about her own.
“Father, my God and my salvation . . .” She paused. Where could she start? How could she hope to share the deep feelings of her heart?
She took a full breath and went on. “I . . . I never thought that the words my husband would ever pass my lips again. But . . . but you have provided another miracle, and I thank you. Both for the companion I have longed for and for the father for my little one. You know what she said to me when I tucked her in tonight, Lord – she said, ‘After tomorrow I will never have to say Uncle Linux again. I will have a papa – like my friends,’ and she clapped her hands with happiness. Thank you, Lord.”
Another pause as Abigail tried to sort out her feelings. Tears fell through the fingers of the hand she lifted to her face. “And, God, I do not know how things work in your heaven. I only know that Stephen is there – with you. Can he see me, Lord? Does he know my happiness? It has been so long, but I am finally able to journey on. I know that this would bring him much joy. He would not wish to see me crippled by loneliness and fear. Yet I have been, Lord. Stephen thought my faith was strong, but I stumbled along far too often. Please, God, if you could just let him know that we are going to be okay again. He was such a wise, gentle husband in our short time together. He saw the goodness in Linux long before I did – and even asked him to take care of me. And now he will, Lord. Dorcas and me.”
Abigail wiped her cheeks with a trembling hand. She had addressed feelings of the past – it was now time to think of the future. “And, God, please help me to be a good wife for Linux. He deserves happiness, Lord. May I be sensitive and loving – the kind of helpmate that I can be only with your presence in my life. May our journey together teach us much of faith. May we join our hearts and hands in service to you, and to your people. Show us the way, Lord. Teach us to follow where you lead. May our love for you, and for one another, continue to grow with each passing day. May we . . .”
Dorcas stirred. Abigail lifted her head to find the child’s eyes wide open, studying her mother’s face. Abigail raised a hand again to brush at her cheeks. She did not want to upset Dorcas with tears.
But it was a smile that greeted her. “Mama, is it morning?”
Abigail shook her head. “No, dear one. The night has hardly begun.”
Dorcas squirmed and rolled over to her side. “Then I am going back to sleep. I want morning to come fast. I can hardly wait to have a real papa. Right, Mama?”
“Right,” answered Abigail with a catch in her voice. “You are so right, my dear.”
And suddenly everything seemed so right. So in proper order. Her churning stomach calmed, her anxious feelings left her. For the first time in many months – years – Abigail felt perfectly at peace. She reached out to brush the curls back from the face of the child whose eyes were already closing. Stephen’s eyes. She blinked back tears, whether from sorrow or happiness, she did not know, nor would she seek the answer. It had been a long day. She needed her rest. She felt ready for sleep now. Dorcas was right. Morning would come much more quickly if she lost herself in slumber.
She smiled and leaned forward to kiss the cheek of the little girl who would soon have a real papa.
DAVIS BUNN has been a professional novelist for twenty years. His books have sold in excess of six million copies in sixteen languages, appearing on numerous national bestseller lists.
Davis is known for the diversity of his writing talent, from gentle gift books like The Quilt to high-powered thrillers like The Great Divide. He has also enjoyed great success in his collaborations with Janette
Oke, with whom he has coauthored a series of ground-breaking historical novels.
In developing his work, Davis draws on a rich background of international experience. Raised in North Carolina, he completed his undergraduate studies at Wake Forest University. He then traveled to London to earn a master’s degree in international economics and finance before embarking on a distinguished business career that took him to more than thirty countries in Europe, Africa, and the Middle East.
Davis has received numerous literary accolades, including three Christy Awards for excellence in fiction. He currently serves as Writer-in-Residence at Regent’s Park College, Oxford University, and is a sought-after lecturer on the craft of writing.
JANETTE OKE was born in Champion, Alberta, to a Canadian prairie farmer and his wife, and she grew up in a large family full of laughter and love. She is a graduate of Mountain View Bible College in Alberta, where she met her husband, Edward, and they were married in May of 1957. After pastoring churches in Indiana and Canada, the Okes spent some years in Calgary, where Edward served in several positions on college faculties while Janette continued her writing. She has written forty-eight novels for adults and another sixteen for children, and her book sales total nearly thirty million copies.
The Okes have three sons and one daughter, all married, and are enjoying their fifteen grandchildren. Edward and Janette are active in their local church and make their home near Didsbury, Alberta.
Books by Janette Oke and Davis Bunn
Return to Harmony • Another Homecoming
ACTS OF FAITH
The Centurion’s Wife • The Hidden Flame
The Damascus Way
SONG OF ACADIA
The Meeting Place • The Sacred Shore
The Birthright • The Distant Beacon
The Beloved Land