by Misty Moncur
As we sat quietly, letting the water slowly numb my foot, I thought again of water being like God’s love. Would there ever be a time, could there ever be a time, when God’s love did not instantly balm the wounded heart? When the pain was so intense that the cooling relief could not soothe it immediately?
My mind went to Kalem. He had sought the balm of the love of God for years. He had suffered grief and pain so deeply that it took time for the love to seep to all the hurt places.
I looked at Zeke who knelt near me rummaging through his satchel, the only gear he had left which Lib was not carrying for him, searching for a bandage with which to wrap my ankle. Would God heal his heart? Would Zeke let love seep to all the parts of him I had hurt, or would he shun it? Because, even though he sat by me now, even though he had carried me and sought to serve me, I knew that he did not trust me with his heart. And I knew that since the day Zeke had shaken the moonflower from my hand, he had tried with everything in him to extinguish any love he felt for me.
He made a satisfied sound and pulled out a folded length of bandage. “This should do. Let me see your foot.”
I pulled my foot from the water, but held it away from him.
“Try to find some algae,” I said indicating the water before us.
He eyed me curiously as he passed me the bandage to hold.
“One of Mother’s tricks,” I assured him. “I’ve seen it work miracles.”
Chapter 6
When my ankle was wrapped tight, Zeke helped me to my feet. “Steady?” he asked with his hands at my waist.
I nodded as I balanced on one leg and the toes of my injured foot.
He bent and swept me effortlessly into his arms. He was stronger than I remembered, and his leg had healed well. The silence between us as he walked saddened my heart.
When we were nearly to camp, he cleared his throat. “I should talk to Lib about increasing your rations. You don’t weigh anything.”
I didn’t tell him I had been cutting my own rations and mixing them in with the food for the rest of my unit. I didn’t say anything at all, just rested my head on his shoulder and let him carry me, and I pretended everything was good between us.
My unit treated me like a queen when Zeke set me down near our cook fire. They had already set up my tent and prepared a meal for me. They wouldn’t let me get up for anything, though Zachariah brought me a walking stick he found for me among the trees.
“I can see you’re in good hands,” said Zeke who stood with his arms folded over his chest and looked around at all the men in my unit. I had to give him credit for not letting his eyes pause on Gideon.
“Thanks,” I said. “For the ride.”
He nodded, picked up the gear Lib had carried for him, and left.
Gideon watched him go and then met my eye. He took a deep breath and looked away.
That night we had fish from the headwaters of the Sidon River courtesy of our fishermen, Corban, Cyrus, and Mathoni. The simple meal was hearty and satisfying. Helaman had given us permission to forage what we could from the forest and hunt during the march, and my unit had tremendous luck. In addition to the fish, we ate sweet berries, wild roots, and fresh rabbit.
In the past, I had eaten rabbit so much that it had become quite mundane, but that night it was so delicious it made my mouth water.
After Lib and Ethanim brought me back from the forest, Gideon approached Lib and rested a hand on his shoulder. A look passed between them, as if perhaps they had already spoken. Lib gave a slight nod and left me alone with Gideon.
Since the battle at Cumeni, Gideon had been making himself scarce around camp. I didn’t think it had much to do with me and how he had seen me cry for Zeke, but at times, when he wouldn’t meet my eyes, it felt that way.
Helaman called on him more and more and had begun to rely on Gideon’s gut instincts about the enemy. He had a head for matters of war and for stratagem. It all made sense to Gideon. He could see the big picture in his mind, and his skills did not go unnoticed by our great commander.
“Did Lib make you schedule an appointment to talk to me?”
He shook his head, not even smiling at my private joke. “I wish I’d known about your ankle today.”
“Micah took care of me,” I said.
“And Zeke.”
I closed my eyes. I’d already had this conversation once with Zeke, and I didn’t have the energy to do it again, notwithstanding the excellent meal.
“And Zeke and Lib and three of Micah’s men,” I pointed out irritably.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
“No one has let me try.”
He stepped to the cook fire and retrieved my walking stick. It was really more of a crutch, and I was able to walk if I leaned heavily on it.
“Come on, I’ll walk you down to soak your ankle in the cold water again,” he offered.
“I don’t know why we had to travel that rocky road anyway,” I mumbled as I hobbled along beside him and envied his strong, easy stride.
He looked down at me. “It was part of the plan,” he said.
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true. Helaman will lead his men into the wilderness on a small road that winds through it, hopefully luring the bulk of the Lamanite army away. The first chance he gets, probably after nightfall, he will lead the column back to Manti over part of this trail. We travelled it today so the men would become familiar with it. They will probably have to do it in the dark next time. You’re lucky you got to do it in the light of day.”
I stopped walking and stared at him.
“There was a road?” I exclaimed.
He laughed.
“It’s not funny! This is not funny!” I said, holding my injured foot out.
“No, it’s not,” he agreed. “But you are. And it’s not often little rabbits are so easy to snare!” He bent, swept me up, and threw me over his shoulder.
“Gideon!” I cried as my crutch clattered to the ground and he took off through the trees toward the river.
I stopped struggling when I realized he was not going to put me down until we reached the river.
“You plan to carry me off as the Lamanites do?”
“Maybe.”
I scoffed.
“Maybe I’ll take you to Zarahemla and keep you locked in the fortress there.”
I scoffed again. “It would be more difficult to convince the Nephites to imprison a woman there than it was to convince them to let one into their army.”
“Probably,” he admitted.
He took a few more steps before he pulled me around and cradled me against his chest in his arms.
I resisted as long as I could, but he held me so close it was impossible not to slip my arms around him in return, which was probably his aim.
“I want to go home,” I said into his neck. I hadn’t planned to tell anyone yet, but it felt good to say it to Gideon. “It’s time.”
He didn’t answer right away. Did I imagine his arms tighten? I waited, but he kept moving toward the river, and he did not answer me at all. I wondered briefly if he had heard me, but I knew he had.
I could hear the water before I could see it. As we approached, Gideon surveyed the area and set his course for a place that swirled into a small pool. He settled me on my feet and pushed a flat stone up to the edge of the water for me to sit on.
I unwound the bandage Zeke and I had placed over the wound and inspected the damage I had done.
“It’s not that bad,” Gideon said after inspecting it himself.
I glanced up at him. “No,” I agreed. “And the throbbing has stopped.”
He shifted and knelt next to me. “Does this hurt?” he asked as he fingered my ankle and moved it into different positions.
“No,” I said with each movement, though the movements were tender. “I’ll be able to walk on it by tomorrow.”
“Nah. We can carry you tomorrow. Rest it another day so it will be strong for the battle.”
“There will be fighting. Any guards left at Manti are not going to give up the city without a fight, especially when they see our small number. But yes, Helaman’s men should be able to avoid a battle if they march quickly. I do not think the Lamanite army, even with its vast numbers, will come against us once we control the stronghold.”
“I’d rather fight than walk over that trail again.”
“You’ve roamed the forest all your life. I know you love it. What made that trail so difficult?”
I shrugged as I idly dipped my heel in and out of the water.
“Did you have your mind on something else?”
How like Gideon to see things the way they were. I was having a hard time keeping my mind on the war, focusing on what I must do to vanquish the enemy. That was one of the reasons I was planning to go home. It was time for me to focus on other things.
“Maybe,” I conceded.
Gideon went to his heels next to me. He sat perfectly still, staring across the water.
I wanted to reach over and touch the scar at his brow. I wanted to ask him if he ever thought about those nights above Antiparah. Instead, I asked, “How would you react if your brother fell in love with me?”
He raised both eyebrows. “Jashon or Lamech?”
I had only been thinking of Lamech. “Either, I guess. Does it matter?”
“Well, if Jashon fell in love with you, I would yield to him.”
“But not if Lamech did?”
“Why? Has Lamech said something?” he asked as he tossed a stone into the water.
“No, Lamech doesn’t even like me, so I think you’re safe on that front. But if he did, you wouldn’t consider his feelings?”
He thought for long moments with a slight frown on his lips. The breeze ruffled our hair, and when several long strands broke free of my braid and moved across my neck, I shivered. It reminded me of the day I had met Gideon.
“Well?” I asked after a while.
“Of course I would consider his feelings, but they wouldn’t be my main concern. There would be many things to consider.”
“What would be your main consideration?” I pressed.
“My feelings. Keturah, why are you asking this if Lamech has said nothing to provoke it?”
I shrugged. “Why would you yield to Jashon and not to Lamech?”
“Jashon is my elder brother, and I respect him. If he had not yet taken a wife, the choice would be his. I would not dishonor my brother, even for love.”
“You would not feel he had dishonored you? If he knew of your feelings, that is.”
That was a hard question, and I didn’t blame him when he didn’t answer.
This talk about his brothers and his reaction was all hypothetical anyway, since Gideon would be going to Zarahemla without me, despite his threats to take me there and lock me up.
I threw a pebble into the water and changed the subject. “How will leading the column on that back trail do any good? It leads to Cumeni.”
He gave me a strange look. “Not only weren’t you watching the ground, you weren’t watching the sky. That path circles around and meets the road. There are all kinds of intersecting trails up on that mountain, and the Lamanites will never suspect that we’ve attempted to take an entire column over them. Where were your thoughts today?”
I frowned. “I guess I really wasn’t paying attention.” My foot had been numb for a while, so I withdrew it from the cool water and set it on a rock to dry.
As I got a bandage from my satchel, Gideon said, “Our unit will carry you tomorrow. Zeke can stay with his fifty.”
I did not miss the emphasis he put on Zeke’s name. “I can walk,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I could walk the entire distance that remained to Manti, especially if the terrain didn’t even out. I took a breath. “And if you will not speak for me, Gideon, you can have no decision on who does.”
I saw his eyes flash with temper, something he nearly always kept in check. Gideon did not let his emotions rule him.
But his voice was a hard growl when he said, “Keturah, do you not think my logic tells me to stay with you? To speak for you and claim you as my own beautiful, vivacious wife? Everything in me screams for me to do so!”
My eyes shot to his at the sudden fierceness in his words.
He sighed. Taking my hand in his, he gentled his voice. “Everything except for one still, small voice. The one voice I cannot ignore.”
I had no breath. I did not want to have this conversation. Not with Gideon. Not then. Not ever.
He got to his feet and paced away. “Just because you are not mine does not mean I enjoy the thought of you with another man,” he ground out. “Loving him and living your life with him.”
I tried to make my voice strong when I spoke, but I didn’t succeed. “You can’t have it both ways.”
“Neither can you,” he shot back, but then he said, “Oh, Kanina,” and he put both hands into his hair. “I just want to keep you with me for as long as possible. I’m jealous and selfish, and I’m sorry.”
I didn’t say anything for several minutes, though I knew what must be said. Finally I took in a shallow, shaky breath and stood. He came to me, and I went into his arms.
“I won’t keep you from your duty,” I said. My voice was muffled in his chest and my tears wet his tunic.
“I know,” he sighed. “That is the thing I love most about you. I could never love a girl who did not have your fierce warrior spirit.”
I didn’t have a response to his beautiful confession.
“You know, it’s funny,” he said after a time. “I’d rather you married Lamech than Zeke.”
I drew back and looked up into his face.
“It’s your love for Zeke that pains me. I saw the way you looked at him, on the battlefield, when he was wounded.”
“You don’t want me to be with someone I love?”
He smiled ruefully and shook his head. “It’s hard to explain.”
But I understood, except it wasn’t the thought of Gideon falling in love with another girl that I dreaded. He would simply not allow it of himself. It was the thought of Zeke falling in love with another girl that kept me awake nights. Despite his loyalty to me, he was smart and self-preserving, and I feared he would realize at last how different I was from what he truly wanted and give up on me entirely.
I couldn’t change who I was, not even for Zeke. Perhaps God could change me, a small voice whispered in my heart, but another voice whispered that I shouldn’t have to change.
When my ankle was wrapped, Gideon carried me back toward camp. Halfway back I pointed to my walking stick where it had clattered to the ground, and he lowered me so I could pick it up, but he continued to carry me. When we reached camp he knelt and placed me inside my tent. He looked at me plaintively for a moment and then cast a glance at the other boys in camp. They seemed to be ignoring us, so he crawled into the tent after me. I moved to make room for him.
Tender moments did not come easily for Gideon, but when we were inside the tent, the tenor of his voice changed, as if perhaps he had rehearsed the words many times inside his head. Maybe I had known there was something he wanted to say and hadn’t yet said. Maybe I had known it at the river. Maybe that was why I had turned our conversation to his brothers.
“You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I had not tracked you that first day. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be in this situation with Zeke. It has caused you much heartache.” He took a breath. “I have caused you much heartache.”
I hated that he thought so and that he felt guilt for it.
“My situation with Zeke is not your fault,” I said as I pulled the strap of my satchel over my head. I set the satchel aside. “And if it wasn’t you, it would be someone else.”
He studied me, his brows knit together.
Then he said with sudden realization, “It’s not Lamech. It’s Jarom.”
I shrugged.
“Keturah.” His voice bore sympathy. “I think that might be worse on Zeke than if you loved me.”
The way he said it was almost a question. Was it possible he did not know how I felt about him?
“If I felt the way about Jarom I feel about you, maybe.”
But he was right—it was bad. I wanted to hurt Jarom about as much as I wanted to hurt Zeke, and that was about as much as I wanted to chop off my hand with my axe.
He nodded slowly.
The sun was setting outside. The light inside the tent was soft and beautiful but getting dimmer.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
I sighed and rubbed at my tired eyes. “Hurt someone.”
“Kanina.” Apology filled his tone. “I will not be the one to ask that of you—to ask you to go against something that was as good as done long ago.”
Was it as good as done? Did I have a choice? Micah had said he would accept Gideon. But Gideon was too noble, too honorable. He was stepping down. Yielding.
Or he was simply freeing himself so he could become Chief Captain of the Nephite armies.
“I’m not the right man, Kanina.” He turned to look at me with the deepest regret in his black eyes. “Zeke is the one.”
I closed my eyes and turned my face away. “That is not your choice to make.”
His voice was resolute when he said, “I have made my choice.” He took ahold of my chin and turned my face back to his. He held my chin until I opened my eyes. Then he looked into my face and didn’t flinch from the pain he saw there. “Helaman has offered me a place in his personal guard after the wars are done, and I have accepted it.”
I held his gaze, but I had never felt such a knot in my throat. “Then I accept it too.”
I leaned up on my knees and kissed him lightly but with a growing desperation that embarrassed me and a finality that broke my heart. I lingered over his lips longer than I should have, my hands on his biceps, my thoughts going wild. I could not be without him. But he would not stay with me.
In a sudden wash of heat, a balm soothed the rent between the pieces of my heart. A sweet feeling of love emanated from us and filled my tent. Was it telling me that what Gideon said was true, that he was not the right choice for me?