Adah found some room off to the side of the platform where her mother wouldn’t be jostled. With every man, woman, and child rising to their feet, or pressing forward as Ezra began to speak, the tardiness of the household of Shallum went without notice.
Ezra scanned the crowd. He raised his arms toward a vibrant blue sky that looked like it rested on top of Jerusalem’s wall.
“Praise the Lord. Rejoice in His deliverance. The Lord is near.” Ezra stretched out his body as if to pull the heavens into his chest. “Rejoice in His commands.”
“Amen,” shouted a nobleman.
“Amen,” echoed the crowd.
Amen!
“God has chosen to restore the city of His servant David. He has shown His faithfulness to His people and thwarted our enemies. First with the rebuilding of His temple.” Ezra gestured toward the holy place. “And now with the wall. Let us listen to his commands so we can continue in His favor.”
Adah pressed her lips together. Her temples pulsed as Ezra continued to read the Law. Bring our people back, Lord, to You and to this city.
After Ezra’s reading of God’s commands, the Levites explained every word.
When Adah’s heart was filled with God’s promises, she dropped to her knees and worshipped the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Packed soil warmed her skin, but she would not complain about the heat or the dust, for from the sweat and labor of her people, her city had risen. The wall was a gift bestowed by her God. A reminder of His faithfulness to His people in hard times and good times. A reminder of His faithfulness to her and her vow. Selah, Adonai!
Nehemiah and Ezra began to recite the Shema.
“Hear O Israel,” Nehemiah began.
“The Lord is our God, the Lord alone.” Ezra closed his eyes like he knelt by himself in an inner chamber. “Love the Lord your God, with all your heart...”
“With all your soul.” Judith wept.
Adah’s throat throbbed and ached as she kept in song with those kneeling beside her. “And with all your might.” She squeezed her mother’s hand, for Elisheba, wife of Shallum, was the mightiest woman she knew.
“Do not be filled with sorrow for your past transgressions,” Nehemiah shouted over the huddled mass of people. “The joy of the Lord is our strength. Today we shall not mourn. Today we will delight in our God.”
Sitting up, Adah fixed her gaze on her governor. He had petitioned the king knowing that his life might be taken from him. But God had called Nehemiah to restore the wall, and God was with Nehemiah as he spoke with Artaxerxes. And God had been with her as she fought raiders and a prophetess.
Judith’s sobs cinched Adah’s heart.
“Lord, Your work is not done,” Adah mumbled. “The men we love are outside this wall.”
“Do you hear that?” her mother asked.
Adah stood. “Yes, we are to rejoice this day.”
“Listen, my daughter.” Her mother fumbled for Adah’s sleeve. “Do you hear it?”
Pushing the veil from her ear, Adah listened. Far off in the distance, a rumble groaned.
It can’t be. Not after all this time.
Her mother sniffed the air and called out, “God is sending the rain. I can smell the dampness.”
People nearby stared as if her mother were mad.
“I’m sure it will come soon.” Adah smoothed a hand down her mother’s arm.
“What are you gawking at?” Judith snapped at a grim-faced woman.
Arms whipping toward the cloudless sky, her mother shrieked, “It is almost here. God’s blessing.”
People shuffled away. Sensing a wider berth, her mother swayed, arms floating in the air and keeping rhythm with the wind.
The wind? A breeze blew by Adah cooling her flaming cheeks. She looked up, past Ezra, higher than the gate. A droplet splattered on her nose. Rain!
Adah gripped her mother’s hand. “Grab the other,” she said to Judith.
Exaggerating the motion of her mother’s sway, Adah hopped side to side. Humming a psalm, she danced.
Water fell from the sky and hit the dry ground. Drops vanished in tiny puffs of smoke.
Another lick of rain touched Adah’s cheek. “God hears our praise. He sent the rain.” She flapped her arm as if to fly to her God.
“It is not enough for a weed,” a man uttered. “We will need more than this sprinkle.”
Leah stepped forward and latched onto Adah’s free hand. Beulah followed her daughter’s lead. Their neighbor’s belly took prominence in the center of the circle of women.
Wait one more day for a birth, Lord.
The disgruntled man scowled at their folly. Adah flashed him a bared-teeth smile.
“Rejoice,” she sang. “We do not need a flood. God will hear our prayers tomorrow.”
And she would pray tomorrow, tonight, and forever, for a soaking rain and the return of Othniel and Telem.
Though at this moment, she would praise the Lord, with her mother and sister at her side. For seeing Judith delighting in God’s blessed rain was a lavender balm on Adah’s battered heart.
34
Adah balanced a jug of olive oil on her shoulder and hurried to her storeroom. Three Sabbaths had passed since the king’s procession had entered Jerusalem. She had filled the crafted jars with her original perfume and had sent them to the palace with the official messenger. She had mixed the additional scent Zipporah recommended for the queen’s noblewomen. A hint of vanilla added to violet buds and moss made the new fragrance almost as intoxicating as her initial gift. One more batch and her work would be done. Another envoy would be on their way to the royal residence.
Rephaiah and his overbearing son Gershom sauntered toward her on the opposite side of the street. She shifted the oil jug to her other shoulder and averted her eyes, feigning interest in a basket weaver seated outside an alley. A few more steps and she would be two dwellings away from her sanctuary.
“Daughter of Shallum?” An urgency rushed Rephaiah’s summons.
Her muscles knotted. She did not have time for a confrontation. If only she could scramble out of the ruler’s sight, but his loud voice had passersby glancing her direction. Even the weaver halted her craft. She turned slowly, digging deep into her belly to force an almost-smile, an act of respect to make her mother and father proud.
“Ruler.” She ignored his son. “This oil is heavy.” True. “And I am in a hurry to finish a fragrance.” Another truth.
“Of course.” He scurried closer. “That is what I have need of?”
“Sir?” She shifted the jug again so Rephaiah could not pluck it from her shoulder.
“My wife is frantic for one of your perfumes. There is talk all over the city of your skill.” He untied a pouch from his braided belt. “What do I owe you for a small jar?”
She stared at the gold coins pinched between his fingers. Her mouth soured. Straightening, she stepped backward as if the coins were diseased. Heat flushed her cheeks. This was the man who showed no mercy to Othniel’s family? Did he believe the hardship he caused was forgiven?
“Well?” Rephaiah rubbed the coins together.
The scritch of his money did not entice her. “I don’t know.”
“You must,” Gershom said. “My father is making a generous offer.”
Adah pressed her lips together lest she give a harsh rebuke. Rephaiah and Gershom were responsible for withholding the news of the governor’s arrival from her father. They meant to shame him and her family. Surely still, Gershom coveted her father’s position.
Adonai give me wisdom.
Balancing the jug on her shoulder, she rubbed the gemstone Nehemiah had given her. Didn’t it belong to King Solomon, David’s son? The wisest king of all.
Her bones felt as light as the morning trade winds. What Rephaiah meant for evil, God meant for good. She would not have offered a new perfume to the queen had her father had time to purchase embroidered garments or artisan jewelry for Nehemiah.
Toda raba, Adonai. Her heart
softened. She blinked, smiling as smooth and regal as a fresh-bloomed lily. “I truly do not know the answer to your question. Zipporah handles the sale of my perfumes.” And the price may double. “I believe she is in the marketplace as we speak. You are well acquainted, I believe.”
“Of course,” Rephaiah grumbled.
“Come, Father.” Gershom strutted a few steps. “I told you she wouldn’t know about trade.”
I’ve just become wiser. “Shalom.” Adah stifled a giggle as she continued on her way.
Bumping the door to her storeroom open with her hip, she placed the jug on her work table and halted mid-step. Perched in her war-battered window was a lizard. “Go away,” she yelled. She couldn’t risk a skink traipsing over her shelves making her leaves and buds unclean. She tossed a small root at the wall.
Was it dead? She inched closer and readied another root to fling. “Go away.”
The lizard remained motionless. It wasn’t alive. It was worn wood with nubbed feet and dirt eyes. Her skin tingled.
“Go away?” the deep, familiar voice echoed. “I just arrived.”
Adah stifled a scream and whipped around.
There he stood in the corner. Her friend. Her love. Her Othniel. Knees weak and spirit soaring, she practically flew into his arms.
35
Othniel wrapped her in an embrace, not too tight, but with enough pressure that she could feel the boom of his heart.
She nestled her face into his dark curls. His skin was warm and he smelled of sunny days and afternoon breezes. To leave his arms would be torture, but with an open window and a door ajar, she eased enough to separate their bodies. For now.
She stroked his beard. He was truly here, in her storeroom, and not in a dream. “I prayed God would watch over you and bring you back to Jerusalem.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Truthfully, I prayed He would bring you back to me.” She blinked back the wetness threatening to spill. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“You were always with me.” He slid his hand down her side and rested it upon her hip, holding her close. “Every time I unearthed a root or found a new flower, I hid it away for when I returned.” He drew her wrist to his face and inhaled against her skin. “Mmm, violets. You’re my blossom.” His voice was but a soft rumble. “I had to come back.”
His breath rushed by her cheek and caressed every bone in her body.
Reaching for his hand, she lifted it from her waist to her lips, and kissed it. “God did not forsake us.”
“No, He did not.” His smile lit up the corner like a freshly oiled lamp. “And I hear your perfumes are sought by all of Persia.”
“Did you hear that on the street, or did you call on your mother?” A hint of disappointment choked her words. She wanted to be the first woman he sought.
“I saw her briefly.” He swept a finger across her lower lip.
How could she complain about his visit home when his gaze beheld her like an angelic vision and her lips begged for another touch?
“My mother is busy bartering again because of you.” He let go of her hands and stepped backward into the shadows.
No!
But then he took both of her hands and drew her close once again.
Yes!
Othniel leaned in, his expression serious. “Telem came and arranged for my release.”
“Telem?” An excited shiver chilled her flesh. Could her joy be more complete? “Did he return with you? Is he in the city?”
“He’s here, and I believe he’s seeking your father.” He raised his eyebrows as if what he was going to reveal was well known between them. “About Judith.”
She squeezed Othniel’s hands. “Oh, to see Judith so happy. How did he find you?”
“I don’t know.” Othniel caressed her skin with his calloused fingers.
The pattern he branded into her hand with his firm hold and wandering thumb caused her mind to lose all thought.
“Telem helped me prepare my master’s fields so I could leave. He paid the price for my freedom.”
Master? She stiffened. Thank you, Lord, for freeing my Othniel. “I will have to thank Telem for returning you to me.”
“Then it will be mutual.” Othniel sobered. “For I believe he is grateful we sought him to leave his cave and return to the city.” A teasing grin burst forth. “Never once in Kadesh-Barnea did he ever call me ‘boy.’”
She rocked forward in awe of how God was working in her life. God had not forsaken His servants. “I believe Telem is in love with my sister.”
“I know about love.” Othniel slipped a finger underneath her necklace. Every rotation of a bead sent a flutter through her chest.
“From what I saw and heard on the path home, Telem intends to be your brother-in-law.” He stilled his hand. “As for me…” His breath, soft as a petal, bathed her chin. “I intend to be your husband. If you’ll have me.”
Selah! “Yes,” she blurted out with a slight hop that pinned him in the corner. His declaration almost buckled her knees, but she held fast, for there was no other place she wanted to be than here with her Othniel. “I would be honored to be your wife.”
He steadied himself. “I don’t have much to offer you. I’m the fifth son of a man with parched lands.”
“I’ve known that fifth son all of my life. He led me through the darkest cave.” She matched his stunning smile, but even in all her happiness, thoughts raced through her mind of time and place and orders. She bit her lip.
“What is that frown?” His grip tightened as if he expected her to slip away.
“I have several orders to fill—”
“And I know where to find everything you need.” With a glance toward the door, he pulled her closer. “Make all the fragrances you want. When we wed, your buyers will have to wait.”
Her stomach jumped and twirled at the image of a marriage bed. “For how long?”
“Until we are ready.” And like the day he arrived at Zipporah’s storeroom and found her the pearl bottle, he bent forward and bestowed upon her something she needed. Needed desperately. A long and tender kiss. The kind of kiss she had desired while he was away.
When she caught her breath, she paid him back in abundance.
36
Adah rushed past the temple courtyard. Beads of perspiration formed on her brow as the afternoon sun baked her head covering. More orders needed filling.
She kept her betrothed busy bartering in the marketplace with the help of his mother. Praise be, Othniel agreed to live under her father’s roof once they were married. Her storeroom was only a saunter from the front door, a convenience if she was late getting out of bed. My Othniel. A blush warmed her cheeks. No one would notice with the sun so high.
Telem had purchased a dwelling not far from her home. No one knew where he got the coins. What do you find in a cave to trade? It didn’t matter as long as Judith was happy and lived nearby.
“Woman,” a deep voice called.
Adah turned. She would know that summons anywhere.
“Shalom, Governor.”
Nehemiah strode closer in an alabaster and indigo robe free of dust and sweat. His expression was as smooth as a newly budded leaf. He held a scroll aloft like a king holds a scepter.
“I’m glad I saw you.” He nodded. “Shalom.”.
She bobbed her head in a show of respect. “I am fleeing the crowd in the marketplace.”
“I hear a request came from Egypt.”
“It’s true. Several orders were delivered by messenger.” She smiled boldly. “Ever since Telem has been assisting my father, nothing stays quiet.”
“What a blessing it is to finally be informed.” He winked and then bent forward and began unrolling the scroll. “I thought you might like to read this before it is presented to the officials. I had to pry it out of a scribe’s hand.” Holding open a page, he grinned as if the squabble with the priest was notable.
Squinting at the perfect script, she read locations around Jerusalem and familiar na
mes. Half-way down the page, she saw it. She saw her father’s name listed among the names of other men.
“Shallum son of Hallohesh,” she read aloud. “Ruler of a half-district of Jerusalem.” Pressure built behind her eyes. She would not cry. Woe to any tear that spilled on this most important scroll. “Repaired.” Her voice faltered, but her chest nearly burst open with pride. “With the help of his daughters.”
Adah stepped back and swiped a tear from her cheek. Her vow was complete, and her father’s name was recorded for all to see. Now and forevermore.
“You know what I regret?” Nehemiah carefully rolled the scroll. “That the priests did not record what I remember most.” He paused and swallowed hard. “That a young girl standing on these rocks challenged grown men to be strong and courageous for their God.”
Her spirit took flight. She tried to smile but her lips just quivered. “You forget where I would be without a cupbearer to the king who taught me that my strength and joy come from God.”
Nehemiah’s eyes glistened. He kissed the parchment listing the laborers. “It would seem, Daughter of Shallum, that when God spoke to our hearts, we both listened.”
“And heard,” Adah whispered. “Selah.”
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Jerusalem Rising Page 18