Worthy of Rain

by Elizaveta Fehr

  “I’ll come back,” the waiter finally added awkwardly, passing back through the doors.

  My dad eyed me. “Gen, why are you acting so weird?”

  I widened my eyes. “Who? Me? I’m not acting weird. Who says I’m acting weird?”

  “Well, for one thing, you are talking a million miles a minute.”

  I swallowed and tried to slow my words down unnoticeably. “No, I really just wanted to sit on the deck.”

  Dad raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “Anything for my favorite daughter.”

  I laughed. “Not like you have that many to choose from.”

  He grabbed his glass of water. All of the glasses were in the shape of a mason jar and had a lemon hanging off the lip.

  “To your fifteenth and many more birthdays to come.”

  We clinked glasses together and I took a sip.

  “I just think it’s such a nice night. The deck would be fantastic.”

  I froze, mason jar midair, to the sound of Mrs. Anthony’s voice floating across the deck.

  “Is this table okay? It’s the biggest one we have left to fit all of you.” Our tall waiter was pointing straight at the biggest table on the deck.

  The one that was right next to ours.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I said out loud.

  The Anthonys gathered around the table, pulling out the chairs to get themselves seated. It was only a matter of moments before…

  “Genesis.” Jace paused, halfway seated. His entire family looked over at our table.

  “Hey,” I answered back awkwardly. My cheeks blushed pink. My dad twisted around in his chair.

  “Dad, this is Jace Anth—”

  My dad’s face suddenly turned dark. “I know who he is.”

  “Mr. Amelyst.” Mrs. Anthony peered up at my father who had already stood up. Her voice came out in a nervous whisper.

  I frowned. Wait, what? My dad knew the Anthonys?

  “Genesis, we’re leaving,” my dad said abruptly. He scraped his chair viciously against the deck to tuck it back under the table.

  “Wha-what?” I stammered. “Why?”

  “Stop asking questions,” he replied gruffly. “Meet me in the car, now.”

  Aware that Jace’s whole family was watching, I tucked my chair back under the table. I quickly hurried past them, the sound of Jace’s little sister whispering, “Why are they leaving, Mommy?” as I exited through the doors.

  I followed my Dad to the car, confusion spinning in my head like an iridescent spinning top. I shut the door and climbed in.

  “Dad, what—”

  “I don’t want to see you near that boy, do you understand me?”

  I bit my lip. “But I don’t understand why. Why did we have to leave like that?”

  “It’s not important. I just don’t want to see you near him, got it?”

  I nodded, buckling my seatbelt carefully.

  “Pizza Ranch takeout?” my dad asked me, softer this time. I nodded, the bottom of my dress waving in the wind of the open window as we drove off.

  With the hot pizza box on my lap and a basket of bread sticks, we pulled into our driveway, the full moon casting a glow on the house. During that whole drive, only one thought had crossed my mind and continued to replay itself over and over and over.

  Jace did ruin my night. But not in the way I thought he would.

  It was my dad’s skin he had crawled under.

  Chapter Twenty

  I was five, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

  I remember white balloons, the kind that were clear so that you could see the pink sparkles on the inside.

  I remember cheap paper streamers hanging from every door frame in the house.

  I remember the punch that tasted like Sour Patch candies.

  I remember the presents hidden in the cupboard because I’d found them there the night before.

  I remember waking up to my parents swarming my bed, bright smiles on their faces.

  I remember our old dog, Charlie, already asleep in his spot below the kitchen table even before dinner had started.

  I remember chicken fingers and ketchup.

  I remember Tinker Bell themed cups with Blue’s Clues playing on the TV in the background.

  I remember getting a splinter from our playset outside.

  I remember eating spaghetti for dinner and getting sauce all over my pink skirt.

  I remember my mom kissing me on the cheek.

  But I don’t remember the cake.

  I don’t remember the cake because I never actually saw what it looked like.

  I never saw what it looked like because it was my mom who had gone to get it.

  And it was my mom who had gone to get it the night she died.

  The night she died.

  On my birthday.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “He said to them, ‘Listen to the dream I had.’”

  Genesis 37:6 NIV

  I left the pizza untouched on my plate, a familiar knot growing in my stomach. My dress was now crumpled and sticking to my sweaty thighs.

  My dad reappeared in the kitchen, a paper plate in his hand. He leaned against the counter and crossed one leg over the other.

  “I’m sorry about Hemingway’s, hon. We can go another night, I promise.”

  “It’s not really Hemingway’s that is bothering me, Dad.” I answered quietly.

  He paused. “I know.”

  “Are you still not going to tell me what happened back there?”

  “Just…remember what I said, okay? That’s all that is important.” He dropped the paper plate into the garbage can. “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.” He disappeared down the steps to the basement where his office was.

  I stood up and dumped the pizza slices back in the box. I was beyond wanting to eat at this point. But there was something that might help. Help distract me from the world I already lived in.

  I grabbed my book bag from where I’d left it in the corner of the kitchen and opened the door to the attic. Closing it behind me, I climbed the steep stairs to the library room and set the bag down on the floor. I opened the biggest pocket to pull out the Bible that had been tucked in deep. I leaned against the bookcase, rifling through the pages.

  Well, here we go.

  I flipped the book open near the front and read the heading. As soon as I started to read the first words, the room around me began to spin. I closed my eyes.

  Daylight shone behind my eyelids and I blinked them open. The grass waved peacefully in the summer breeze, rolling over the rises and dips of the ground. Even with the slight wind, the air was dry. The hills stretched out far over the horizon, the dark shadows of low mountains hovering in the distance. I looked up, the boughs of a tree cutting across the bright sunrise that was reaching its fingers over the sky. The land seemed empty—a patchwork of grassy terrain and untouched wildlife.

  This place was different from before. There wasn’t a forest or a city in sight. I stood up, brushing off the tunic that had replaced my clothes, and looked around at my surroundings, searching for any sign of human life.

  The tree was set on a small hill, so I spotted the herd of sheep right away. They were moving lazily in flocks, grazing on the meadow. I started to make my way down the hill. Where there were sheep, there probably was a shepherd.

  I stopped short, nearly stumbling over a figure on the ground.

  All around me, eleven sleeping figures lay under the tree. Most of them slept straight on the grass with their folded arms as makeshift pillows for their heads. Each had a shepherd’s staff lying next to them.

  The figure I’d almost stepped on stirred. I panicked and dropped to the ground, hoping to blend in as another one of the sleeping figures. I wasn’t exactly sure if these humans were as hostile as the ones from the city or if they were more like Noah and his family.

  Better to be safe than sorry.

  The man lifted his head and frowned, peering in the direction w
here the sun was just beginning to rise. A figure was hurriedly moving across the field, a pail of water sloshing against his side. The figure came into sight, and I heard some of the men snicker as they sat up. The first man nudged the sleeping body next to him.

  “Here comes Joseph,” he said disdainfully.

  The figure came into view. It was a young man, much younger than the other men waking up. He was good-looking, and his eyes were bright as he spoke.

  “You’ll never believe the dream I had,” Joseph exclaimed.

  “Oh, believe me, we’ve heard enough of your dreams,” one of the men said under his breath.

  Joseph didn’t hear him. “I was floating in the deep sky. The sky past the blue one we know of. One far off in the distance that is blacker and darker than any sky I’ve ever seen. And I was floating there, watching the sun, bright and golden and flaming, and the ivory moon and shining stars. They all bowed to me, circling around me like an honored king.”

  He set the pail down. “It was spectacular, brothers. I’d never felt or seen anything like it before.”

  All of the brothers were up by now, rubbing their eyes and scowling at the younger man standing excitedly above them.

  “Can’t you see that we don’t care about your stupid dreams, Joseph?” one of the brothers growled.

  “You have a big head on your shoulders. What was it the last time? Bundles of oats?” the first said.

  “Grain,” another one scowled.

  Joseph’s eyes widened. “I don’t think it’s like that. I really feel like God is trying to show me the future.”

  “A shepherd from Canaan? A king?” one of the brothers scoffed. “It’s just a dream.”

  One of the men who had not been laughing with the others stared at the young man. “What does it mean, Joseph?”

  The first man spat on the ground. “Reuben, it is just like the last one! He expects us to bow down to him.”

  “Over my dead body,” one of the men growled, glaring. He stood up, hands clenched at his sides.

  “Daddy’s favorite son!” one brother sang.

  “Oh, and he even gave you colorful present to show how much he loves you!” another brother cooed.

  I lifted my head just enough to catch the rainbow robe Joseph had draped over his shoulders. It was intricately threaded with colorful tiny beads and thin yarn dyed with rich hues. He touched his coat uncomfortably, like he didn’t like wearing it in the first place.

  “I think it means everything I said before,” Joseph said calmly to Reuben.

  Reuben didn’t answer as the rest of them erupted.

  “I brought you water.” He set the wooden pail down, ignoring the comments flying at him. I watched as he walked away, his rainbow coat bright in the climbing sun.

  “We should get rid of him. Kill him. Say he was killed by a wild animal.” The first brother stood up and paced, casting angry glances at Joseph’s retreating figure. Rainbow boy had stopped at the sheep herd, stroking one sheep’s head gently.

  The men nodded. “Let’s show him who’ll be bowing now. He’s not even our full brother anyway.”

  “No blood lost.”

  My mind whirled. I was right in the middle of a murder plan.

  Reuben’s voice rose above the murmur. “Let’s not kill him.” The rest of the men stopped and turned to him.

  Reuben swallowed, stammering under their gazes. “Th-th-there’s a well with no water in it near here. We should throw him in it instead.”

  The brothers seemed to consider the idea. “At least, then, it won’t be his blood on our hands,” one of them said.

  The first brother, who seemed to be the leader of them all, narrowed his eyes at Reuben.

  “He’s always been your favorite. Are you sure you are with us and not him?”

  Reuben adjusted his stance. “Of course, I’m with you.”

  The first brother shifted his jaw. “Alright, then. The next time he comes back in a few weeks, we’ll know what to do.”

  The next moment I blinked my eyes open, the sun was already high.

  The tang of fresh blood filled my nostrils. I leapt to my feet.

  Joseph, by the looks of it, was struggling against five of his brothers. His nose was bleeding and he had a cut across his upper lip.

  It was already happening.

  I stepped forward, kicking something at my feet. Joseph’s shawl lay torn apart on the ground; a once intricate coat was now a shredded piece of fabric. His blood stained the front of it, nearly blending in with the dark red dye. My heart sank to my stomach.

  Ahead, the brothers dragged Joseph to a cistern dug into the ground. Joseph yelled, kicking and punching whatever body part came in contact. One of the brothers let go and swore, shaking his hand. He grabbed him harder and kicked him in the stomach.

  I winced. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do, but I had to stop it.

  There was no one else who would.

  The heat was unforgiving as I pounded down the slope. Joseph had stopped struggling, lying limp in their hands.

  Was he unconscious? I ran harder.

  I stopped short at the bottom. There were so many of them. I didn’t stand a chance against full grown men. In my moment of doubt, I ducked behind a scraggly set of bushes and watched through the branches.

  Joseph’s nose continued to bleed, but his eyes were wide open. He gazed calmly at his brothers. The brothers paused, thrown off by Joseph’s steadiness.

  “Now!”

  I shut my eyes as they swung Joseph over the ledge. He disappeared into the blackness. I held my hand over my mouth, trying not to make a sound. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

  The brothers, taking one last look over the edge, left without a glance back. They disappeared back the way they came over the hill.

  I waited a few minutes to make sure they were gone before scrambling to the edge. I wiped my wet eyes and tucked my hair behind my ears to help me see.

  Joseph lay motionless at the bottom of the cistern. It was too dark to see much of anything, but I searched for any sign of movement. Was he breathing? My heart pounded at the thought of him actually being dead.

  No, he couldn’t be dead. Unless he broke his neck, he had to be okay.

  The sound of rock crumbling erupted into my ears. The edge of the cistern gave way below me before I could think, and I plunged into the hole feet first. I reached my arm back, hoping to grab the sides, but the rock scraped my skin and left no crevices to hold on to. My knees buckled as I hit the dried mud at the bottom. I coughed up dirt and dust, wincing at the scrapes along my arms. They were red and angry, and they stung.

  I wrapped my tunic gingerly around my arm and looked up. The rounded stone walls towered above me, about fifteen feet high. I shielded my eyes from the hot sun.

  I reached over and felt along the wall. My heart sank. The cistern walls were smooth and plastered over. I knew it was a common practice used to keep water inside for dry days. But it also meant there was no way of getting out of here.

  Joseph still lay unconscious near the wall. I ran over to him, placing two fingers on his wrist. He had a pulse. I breathed a sigh of relief. I leaned against the wall next to him to get my bearings. At least, the cistern wasn’t halfway full. Then we’d be swimming in water with no exit point.

  I tried to not let panic set in. I was inside the book, right? Nothing could really happen to me.

  I glanced down at the scrapes along my arms.

  Or maybe it could.

  I stood up. Wait a minute. I had some control of being here, didn’t I? I chose this part of the Bible to read. Maybe there was a way I could get myself out of here.

  And leave Joseph?

  I couldn’t leave him here by himself. There was no way his brothers were coming back for him. He’d die in a matter of days. I crouched next to Joseph and laid my hand on his shoulder.

  I wouldn’t leave him. Not that I knew if I could.

  Underneath my touch, Joseph stirred. I jumped
backwards, startled. Joseph sat up slowly and wrapped his hand around the back of his head. He peered up at the top of the cistern with squinted eyes, the sun shooting hot rays into the bottom where we stood.

  “Lord,” he began with a raspy voice, “I know you are there, and I know I will live through this. Please forgive them. Just please, forgive them.”

  I stared at him from my spot by the wall. Who was he talking to?

  “Please,” Joseph begged. He was on his knees. “Help me live through this. Help me forgive them.”

  Joseph collapsed in exhaustion, his head hanging.

  “Hello?” I said quietly.

  Joseph’s head shot up at the sound of my voice. He looked around and his eyes connected with mine.

  “Who are you?”

  I paused. “Genesis.”

  He hesitated. “I may be a little crazy, but last thing I remember is there wasn’t anyone down here with me.” He smiled at me good-naturedly.

  “I kind of fell in…I saw what your brothers did to you.”

  Joseph gazed up at the clouds. “Nothing’s worse than when your family is against you.”

  We were in silence for a moment.

  “Who were you speaking to?” I asked after some time.

  “What do you mean?”

  “A little earlier. You were…talking to someone.”

  Joseph leaned back against the wall. “I was speaking to God. He’s the one who answers all of my prayers.”

  “But…why do you want Him to forgive them? After what they did to you?”

  “Everyone deserves forgiveness,” Joseph insisted. “I know I’m meant to be here. It’s all part of God’s plan for me.”

  I took a look around the cistern pointedly. “You were meant to be…here? Left to die in a hole in the ground?”

  Joseph grabbed on to the wall to help him stand up. He approached me carefully, his hands relaxed in front of him as he searched his brain for words.

  “I know it sounds crazy,” he began, and his eyes were as bright as they were when he spoke about his dreams. He was on fire. Passionate and blazing for something amazing. “But I know God is with me just as much as I know there are trees and birds and a sun and a sky. And I know there’s something ahead He wants me to be a part of. He wouldn’t show me those dreams if there wasn’t. That’s why I ask Him to help me forgive them. I can’t do it on my own.”