“No, I’m not,” David cried. “I’m a worm. I don’t deserve you. Oh, dear LORD, don’t take Abi from me.”
I passed the wet cloth over Abigail’s face and held her hand. “Abi, I love you, my friend, don’t go.” Tears dripped down my face as I kissed her.
Ahinoam held her legs. “My sister, my sister. Abi. My sister, my love. Oh, dear Abi.”
Abigail’s face shone. She stared a thousand miles away. “Chileab, my boy. Eemah, Abba. I’m coming, dear LORD.”
She half-sat on her bed, her eyes wide, mouth open. She didn’t seem to see or hear us. Her face glowing with rapture, she breathed one last sigh and fell to the pillow. David closed her eyes.
The three of us fell on her bed and screamed to the heavens. “Abi, can you hear us? Hear us? Hear us?”
The threefold cord forged in the wilderness had been cut. I left David and Ahinoam to work out their grief.
Haggith feared she would pay next. Obsessed with Adonijah’s safety, she worried endlessly, went to the tabernacle to offer sacrifices every week and frequented every fortune teller in Jerusalem.
Abital had a sweet, innocent trust in the LORD. She shadowed me, played with her new bird, and asked me to tell her stories. She believed the LORD protected Shephatiah simply because she believed it and asked it of him. Such simple faith. I loved her.
* * *
“I have a surprise for you.” David’s hands covered my eyes. I startled and swallowed a hopeful flutter. These days we’d settled into a dull routine. Early morning prayer at the tabernacle, walk hand-in-hand in the garden, then sunrise on the wall while breaking our fast.
He maneuvered me behind a set of heavy curtains and removed his hand, but not before kissing the back of my neck. Holy Jerusalem! A gold-plated structure shone in the lamplight. I backed into David’s warm chest. His breath sent a flurry of tingles down my spine.
“It’s my vision of how the Temple would be built,” he said.
I blinked at the intricate detail. Each gold plate was fashioned to cover the entire wall and roof. Narrow windows were cut into the wall, and fluted columns stood outside to support the tiered roof.
David touched the top of one wall and flipped it open. “Here is the inner sanctuary.”
The fresh, spicy scent of cedar greeted me. The entire interior was covered with carved, polished wood inlayed with open flowers and decorative almond branches. The carved miniatures of pillars and palm trees held winged cherubim. A curtain of golden chains hid a chamber toward the back.
“I can’t show you the Holiest place,” David said. “But the Ark of the Covenant will rest there.” He picked up a cherub of olivewood with majestic outstretched wings. The boyish exuberance on his face twisted my heart with the old, familiar ache—that of wanting, yet not having.
“It’s beautiful.” My words stuck to the top of my throat. “Thank you for showing me.”
He led me back to his bedchamber and picked up his harp. Heat flashed through my body and flushed my face as he strummed and sang. The intensity of his gaze ignited my heart. He sang of God’s glory, His promises, and the Redeemer. And his voice captivated and transported me back in time, to the day I first met him—a time of innocence, of hope, and of blessing. My spirit soared with his song, and I hid my quivering lips behind my fan.
He put his harp down. A wistful smile remained on his face. “I have peace with God. I’ve cast all my sins under His feet. He is truly merciful and forgiving.”
A chord strummed my heart. He had been forgiven. Perhaps he could… I’d make my plea and cast it at his feet.
“David, can you forgive me and restore me to be your wife again?”
He stood behind me and stroked my hair, running his fingers through the waves. “I’ve already forgiven you of those sins you’ve confessed to me.”
“God has forgiven all of my sins, why can’t you?”
He pressed my shoulders. “You have kept something from me.”
“You know I’m all yours, don’t you?”
“I don’t believe so. Am I the only man in your heart?”
I knew who he referred to. I had locked him deep, reduced to a tiny arrowhead, hard and dense, in the core of my soul. I glanced at the silver box and slapped my fan on the table. “He means nothing to me.”
“That’s what you tell yourself.” He traced his finger around my eyes, pressing and smoothing my face. “You decide.”
I dug my fingernails into my palms. Why had I been such a fool to want his attention? Wasn’t he the murderer of Uriah? And even though he assured me Ittai and my sons were healthy when he last saw them, could I trust him not to lie? The man who plotted his most loyal friend’s death? I stood to leave.
“Wait.” David caught my arm. His eyes focused on the rolled-up rug. It sat there, a testimony to my misguided attempt at reconciliation, rolled up all these years. We never mentioned it, stepping over it as if it were not there. Bathsheba had complained and urged him to throw it out. But in the end, the rug stayed, a sleeping dragon at the foot of David’s bed.
Slowly, he unfurled it. The flaming scarlet shimmered like fire, burning the tree of life in its midst. David held out his hand. “Come, Michal. Lie down with me.”
I swayed transfixed as an asp in front of her charmer. His gaze intently on me, he pulled me down on the rug.
He took my shoulders and spread me like an exquisite piece of tapestry. “Keep your eyes open, Michal.”
Running his hands over my body, he studied me, arranged my limbs, so that my arms were spread straight out from my sides like branches, and my legs were joined together, straight as the trunk of the tree.
“You were meant to be my tree of life, bear fruit and surround me with children, like arrows in the quiver of a mighty man. You failed me.” His words tolled like the final chords of a dirge.
My face simmered. “I gave you two—”
“No!” His hand slapped the rug. “Do you not see the irony? You gave me sons I could not claim. And the ones I could claim could possibly be Amalekites.”
“Amalekites?” I lurched to sit, but he pressed me down, his breath hot on my cheek.
“Amnon and Chileab. And now both dead.”
“But… Chileab is the image of you… when I first met you…”
David shook his head. “The LORD works in strange ways. If you hadn’t been with Phalti, Joshua and Beraiah would be my heirs.”
Anger coursed through my veins like a heated plume. “And if you hadn’t sent me back to Israel—”
“You would have been raped along with them,” he shouted. “Don’t you see my sacrifice? Or do you still blame me?”
My lips quivered, my stomach contracted, and I remained still.
His mouth closed into a thin line. “Look at you. Fine lines frame your eyes. Your hair sprinkled with grey. Oh, you’re still beautiful, bewitching even. Supple breasts full like the moon, your body toned, oiled, and perfumed.”
He inhaled my jasmine scent and pressed his lips to mine, tasted me and drew back. “You have not lived up to your promise. Do you remember what you promised me on our wedding day?”
Tears welled in my eyes despite my vow to keep cool.
“You said you would love only me, Michal. You have not cleansed your heart of him. Do you have anything to say?” His voice sharpened to a tone that clutched and clawed at my heart.
Tears streamed down the corners of my eyes. Pangs of agony shot through my chest and radiated out both arms and down to my toes. When I opened my mouth, my parched throat trapped my words, swallowing them into the depths of my guilt.
He glared at me. “Keep your eyes open. Keep them on mine, and I will divine whether I should forgive you or not.”
He peeled open my dress, sat me up and flipped it over my shoulders. Removing my combs, my bracelets, my necklaces, my earrings, and my ornaments, he laid me down naked on the tree. He stripped himself, placed his crown on the floor, and removed his ring, Jonathan’s ring. He pried my legs a
part with his knee.
He massaged me with his lips and fingers, exploring every sensitive zone on my body. I determined to stay stiff, resist, and give nothing away. But my body trembled, and my throat moaned, and my head flailed from side to side. I closed my eyes as he brought me closer to the warm glow, the heat rising like a kindled fire.
“Open your eyes,” he barked. “You left me, Michal. You left your first love. You’re thinking about him.”
A cold sweat broke over my body, and my excitement retreated. “No, no. I wasn’t.”
“Keep your eyes open where I can see them.” From where his face was, I didn’t see how he could tell, but I stretched my eyes wide open and stared at the ceiling.
David resumed his ministrations, but I stopped responding. His accusations hurt me, and images of Ittai came to me, unbidden but delightful. I recalled his cocky grin, his leonine eyebrows, his gleaming white teeth. I felt his hands on me, quivered under his kisses and caresses, and moaned with lust when he rubbed my breasts. He lifted my knees over his elbows, entered me, hard and urgent. I had dreamed of his strong, lean body and imagined what he could do to me. I saw his grin, his black hair as a curtain, his hawkish nose, and I screamed with my eyes wide open.
Chapter 45
Jeremiah 3:10 And yet for all this her treacherous sister Judah hath not turned unto me with her whole heart, but feignedly, saith the LORD.
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David sat with Michal on top of the palace wall. The sun peeked over the eastern vale, the morning mists rising like steam over a hot bath. Twin hawks glided in intersecting circles, riding in harmony on the currents of the wind.
He never mentioned the rug again and neither did she. Not that he cared. She was his past. He had Absalom, now the eldest—the legitimate heir his kingdom recognized. A hale and handsome man, a leader that men rallied around, he reminded David of his youth.
It was time to bring him back and prepare him to be the next king.
David walked with Michal hand in hand through the garden. The lush, damp scent of the morning earth mingled the flowery overtones of honeysuckle and lilac with spicy punches of bay leaves and myrtle trees. Her presence comforted him despite their distance.
He stretched in the soft rays of the morning sun. “God has forgiven me my sins. He remembers them no more, according to His mercy and goodness. I’ve slept blissfully ever since.”
Michal smiled faintly and tipped her nose up. She picked a sprig of honeysuckle and twirled it around her fingers.
“Today, I will see Absalom,” he said. “It’s time to forgive him.”
“Yes, my lord. If that is what you wish. Absalom was only avenging his sister.”
“But I had to put him aside because I’m the king. Everyone is watching me. If I took him back too soon, they would not respect me. They won’t follow a weakling.”
“No, they won’t.”
He drew Michal’s face to him. “And what about you? Would you follow a weakling?”
The brown flecks in her green eyes flickered as she swept aside her veil. She pursed her lips. “I’m here, aren’t I? Veiled, obedient, submissive.”
David sighed. “I cannot restore you and appear weak, not in front of my men.”
She threw the honeysuckle vine at his face. “I no longer wish to be restored. Not to a weakling. You have your queen. You even killed for her.”
She turned on her heels and glided to the steps. David flung the vine her direction and punched the stone wall, bruising his knuckles.
* * *
Four years passed in peace. David withdrew from the audience chamber. He handed his judgments and decisions to Ahithophel, his senior counselor, to train Absalom for the throne. Since Ahithophel was also Bathsheba’s grandfather, he allowed Bathsheba to attend all the ceremonies and assemblies in his place.
David retreated to his study to dedicate himself for the building of the LORD’s Temple. Even though God had denied him the privilege of building it, he devoted himself to the study of Scripture, writing psalms, and securing the building materials.
He approached Abigail’s old house with a servant pulling a wagonload of scrolls.
“Michal,” he called. “More songbooks for you to prepare.”
She opened the door. Her face radiant in the morning light, she stepped out and poked him in the belly. “My father forgot to tell me being a king’s wife was such hard work. I’d say you’re using me as slave labor.”
David grabbed her wrist and rubbed her fingers. “Such beautiful script should be put to God’s use. But how’s your book coming along? Will you let me read it yet?”
A side of her lip curved into a smile. “You know it’s too personal.”
“Even for me?”
“Especially for you, my lord.”
Arik and the servant deposited the scrolls and departed after picking up the pile Michal had finished.
David stepped into the room. He sighed every time he spied Abigail’s rose-colored robe hanging on the divider. Michal had left Abi’s room exactly the same as the day she died.
He unrolled a thick scroll on Michal’s desk.
“Stop that.” She tugged his arm, her face reddening.
“Why can’t I see? Are you writing bad things about me?”
She sniffed. “Arrogant, aren’t we? What makes you think you’re even mentioned?”
He spun her into his arms. “Well, if I’m not mentioned, I’ll have to do something to rectify it.” Pulling her face to his, he kissed her.
She tried to turn away.
“You’d deny the king? I could order you back to my bed.”
“You could.”
He could stare into those eyes forever. “The nightmares are back.”
Michal touched his cheek, tracing the scar her father cut. “Is that all I’m good for? Scrolls and nightmares?”
“No, you’re much more than that. I wish…”
“You wish you were strong enough to be the actual king.”
David stiffened. “Sarcasm does not flatter you.”
“Nor does weakness. You don’t see what’s going on? Absalom, Bathsheba and Ahithophel control your kingdom. You while away your time taking walks with me to the tabernacle and singing praises to the LORD. Consider your nightmares a warning from God.”
A red tide boiled in his chest. He clapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her into a chokehold. “You’re moving back to the tower. I’ll show you how strong I am.”
He flung her over his shoulder and stalked out of Abigail’s house, deliberately ignoring the stares of his other wives and their children.
Quite out of breath, he stomped up the stairs of his tower and threw her on his bed.
Michal laughed. “You’re really getting too old for this, my lord.”
“I’m never too old to make you miserable.” He flicked his tongue on her long, elegant neck and caressed her full breasts. She responded with a faint indrawn breath.
Since she did not struggle, he found her lips and deepened the tempo of his kiss. A moan escaped her when his fingers probed between her thighs. Her scent, a mixture of jasmine and wild thyme, excited him, and the pulse of his arousal pounded in his heart.
“Michal, I want you. All of you.” He tore the front of her dress.
The door pounded with heavy and insistent knocking.
“King David.” Arik’s voice sounded urgent.
David pulled a blanket over his wife and straightened his clothes. Outside, the sounds of clamoring and outrage filled the courtyard. The door opened to the sight of guards in full body armor.
“Absalom has declared himself king in Hebron and amassed a large force,” Arik said. “They are on their way now to take Jerusalem. All of Israel supports him.”
David’s heart sunk to his knees, and his strength flagged. He ran to the window. Panicked residents of Jerusalem scurried below, packing their belongings. How had this happened? Absalom? His own son?
“We must remove all your wives and
children for their safety.” Arik marched in and grabbed Michal who still clutched a blanket.
“Wait!” David ordered. “Take my wives. Leave the concubines to keep house.”
“My lord,” Arik said. “The queen is in Hebron with her grandfather.”
“Then rescue her. And hide all my sons, lest Absalom slaughter them.” He pried Michal from Arik’s hands. “I’ll take her. Now go and fetch Bathsheba before it’s too late. Take as many men as you need.”
* * *
His face lined with weariness and worry, David kissed me half-heartedly and mumbled, “Go help my other wives. I can’t be seen with you in public. But remember me.”
“Yes, I will behave.”
He lingered and gave me one last squeeze. “You know how I feel about you.”
I packed a small bag of clothes and went with the guards to the women’s quarters.
The guards knocked on all the doors. “Quickly, pack your things and meet us at stables. We must leave Jerusalem.”
“What’s happened?”
“Where are we going?”
“There is no time,” I said. “Absalom has declared himself king and is marching toward Jerusalem with a huge host of warriors. We must escape right now.”
We did not have enough animals and provisions to bring our maids. I had set Naomi free long ago, but she stayed because of our friendship. I bade her farewell, pressed some jewels into her hands and wrote a note to Abigail’s family to take her in. She would be safer there.
David’s younger children were loaded into wagons with their mothers or nurses. The rest of us went on foot: Ahinoam, Maacah, Haggith, and Abital.
We followed David out of the Eastern Gate. He walked unshod, raising his hands to the sky, begging the LORD for mercy. He descended the steep Valley of Kidron, barefoot over the hot jagged rocks. He waded over the Brook Kidron and staggered up the Mount of Olives, winding his way between the old, gnarly trees. He stepped over sharp flint, olive pits, twigs and branches.
I followed his bloody trail. He was not a weak man. I’d follow him anywhere. I should have told him. I should have loved him more, and I should have submitted to him.
Michal's Window Page 45