He poked my belly and wiggled his fingers under my smaller ribs where I was most ticklish.
I laughed and slapped his hand. “Stop it.”
“I’m not going to stop until you tell me what you wished for.”
“You never give up, do you?”
“No, and I’ll haunt you.”
“Is that a promise?” I chuckled, and he kept tickling me.
“You know you can’t stop thinking about me.” He circled his tongue around his lips and smacked them.
“My wish won’t come true because I crushed the leaf and blew it into the wind.”
He wagged a long finger at me. “The tree keeps her promise, whether you threw the leaf away or not. My leaf crumbled long ago.”
I pulled a long face. “Oh my, so it looks like neither of us will get our wish. You can tell me now. What did you wish for?”
He snickered and pointed to the tree. “I’ll tell you if we climb that tree.”
“You can’t be serious.”
His face cracked into a wolfish grin. “Have you ever known me to be serious?”
He hoisted me onto the low branch of the nearby oak and climbed beside me. “Do you want to go higher?”
I poked his ribs. “No more delaying.”
He put an arm around me. “Well, it might feel better if we share a kiss, I mean, of course, a brotherly-sisterly kiss.”
I pouted and turned my chin away. “Is this your new rendition of the chaste and pious kiss?”
He pulled my veil aside. “How did you guess?”
Licking his upper lip in a highly ornamented fashion, he tongued my mouth lightly.
“Eww… that’s a puppy dog kiss.”
“Fine, here’s a kitty cat kiss.” He purred and brushed his mustache across my lips.
“Your delaying tactics are too obvious, Prince Ittai.”
He caressed my face. “You’re smiling, Princess Michal, and your tongue is still sharp and yummy.”
Our lips tangled, and I kissed him, roping, and tugging, wrestling with my fate, and screaming inside, knowing it would be the last time.
“You’re making it harder.” My voice balled in my throat.
“I never said I was an easy man. Okay, I’ll tell you now. My wish for you is a husband who loves and cherishes you, and only you.”
I rubbed his shadowy beard. “I had that for a while. With you and with Phalti.”
“Yes, like I said, the tree had loopholes. I forgot to specify the time. I should have said one man for your entire lifetime.” He kissed my lips. “Your turn.”
“I wished the same for you.”
“No!” He pushed me. “A husband for me? Are you crazy?”
“I meant a woman, a wife.”
“The wording is important. Your exact words, please.”
I flicked my veil shut. “Oh, I can’t remember. It was a long time ago.”
“Stop teasing. You promised to tell me.” He squeezed me until I could hardly breathe.
I patted him to loosen his hold, caught my breath, and stared into his soulful eyes. “I wished for you to have your very own woman—who never loved anyone before, whose heart is solely and purely yours.” I lowered my face. “It meant I could never be that woman.”
Ittai tilted my chin. “Why did you wish that for me? I’m an old man now. Where am I going to find a woman who has never loved before? Whose heart had never known the seed of love?”
I jumped off the branch, sending jolts of pain through my feet. “It means you better start looking and not waste any more time.”
“I happen to prefer more mature women. You’ve set me an impossible task.” He swung his legs to tap me with his sandals.
I exhaled slowly. “So long, Prince Ittai.”
He did not reply. His pensive eyes stared at me, unblinking. I left him on the branch, swinging his legs. I adjusted my veil and turned toward my mule.
“Hey, Princess, you’re going the wrong way. I hear the beaches of Gaza are nice this time of year.”
A dart pierced my heart, and I ran. The ache expanded with each step I took. I passed Phalti, Rizpah and Anna in a blur. I would see them later for the New Moon Feast.
I stumbled over the rocks near the burial cave and skinned my palms and knees. Oh, God, it’s so hard to do right. Examine my heart and cleanse it. And let my wish for Ittai be fulfilled.
David pulled me from the gravel. He tucked my face in his neck and hugged me. “Where do you want to go?”
“Home. I want to go home.” I sobbed without control. David held me with no trace of anger, just tenderness and caring.
“Where?”
“Jerusalem. Abigail’s house.” With you, my lord.
Chapter 53
Luke 7:47 Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.
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We dismounted. David dismissed his contingent and handed the mules to a servant. He touched my elbow and placed his fringed shawl over my head. All around us, the rain sprinkled the thirsty ground with the fresh scent of hope.
One more lie stood between us.
I followed him to his tower. He asked for refreshments and bid me to sit across from him. He gave thanks for the food and looked at me. The once confident face of youth was lined with years of worry and exhaustion. But the boyish tilt was still there in his jaw, and the spark in his eyes had not died.
He broke bread and handed me a piece, slipping a crust in his mouth, chewing deliberately. He looked at the wedge in my hand. I rolled it between my fingers. Even simple things, such as eating, felt strange. I swallowed and peeked at him. He tilted his chin and ate another piece. Slowly I brought the crust to my lips and took a small bite. His eyes clutched my heart with their intensity, but he did not smile.
He poured wine into two golden goblets and pushed one to me, brushing my hand with his fingertips. He swirled his goblet and brought it to his lips. Peering over the rim, he waited for me. He dropped his eyelids briefly before holding my gaze again. Taking a deep breath, I touched the goblet to my lips. He sipped and nodded. My hands shook, and I tilted the goblet too fast. Wine spilled down my chin.
A lopsided grin crept on his face. He held a grape and touched it to my mouth. I took it from his hand, and he caressed my face as I chewed and swallowed it. I plucked a grape and touched his lips. He made a kissing motion and sucked it from my hand.
I stared, entranced, into his luminous eyes. The old sensation quickened deep inside of me, taking my breath hostage. He dipped his fingers into the honey-pot, his eyes glittering with mischief and tickled my tongue. Licking, tasting, imbibing, I recalled the first time I laid eyes on him. I interlaced his fingers with mine and held his gaze.
Like desert wildflowers after the rain, my heart bloomed. The familiar ache rolled back the heavy, sealed stone. The young red-headed harpist sat in front of me. He spread my fingers like harp strings and stroked them one by one.
“Why did you lie to me?” His tone was gentle, without bitterness.
Words and emotions jangled in my heart, jostling for the truth. I wanted to spare him the pain of knowing. Yet I had replaced it with a more horrendous burden. I studied his strong fingers, the square palm, his sturdy wrist. Why had I lied? Could he forgive me? His liquid amber eyes beckoned for an answer.
“Samuel died.”
David’s face crinkled, puzzled. “And?”
His fingers tightened around mine, waiting.
“Not the prophet, but our… real… son, Samuel.”
His sharp gasp was followed by a heartrending groan. “How?”
“He… never opened his eyes… He died as he was born. I never heard him cry.”
David came around the table and knelt by my side, holding my waist, his head resting on my chest.
“And when I pulled Beraiah out of my sister’s dying womb, I wished so much… I wanted it to be true.”
“You don’t h
ave to explain. I forgive you.” He crushed my breasts with his face and shuddered. “My son, Samuel. I would have loved you so.”
The splatter of rain mirrored the tears from our faces. I drank in the cool, damp air and the sizzling freshness of lightning. Thunder rumbled as sheets of blessed water washed the dust from our window. David stood behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist. Life giving water, showers of blessings, joy, and peace.
A bolt of lightning crackled in multiple directions, followed by a majestic shake of thunder. David pulled me from the window, took a step forward and back. He moved in a circle holding me. I followed. Another step and he turned and twirled me completely around, wrapping my arms with his around my waist. I leaned against his hard body, still muscular after all these years. He caught my sigh and swayed me, his hot breath in my ear, his beard nuzzling the back of my neck.
Without warning, he turned and lifted me off my feet and lunged. I lost my breath and balance as he bent me backward until my hair touched the ground, his strong arms wrapped securely around the small of my back. Blood rushed to my head, and the room spun with dazzling stars.
He pulled me up as ripples of laughter trickled from my lips. He spun me until I didn’t know up from down. His deep, rumbling laughter in my ear lightened my heart, leaving me breathless, heady with the excitement of a young girl.
“You’re dancing, Eglah. Do you still think me a base and vain fellow?”
I tangled my fingers in his hair. “Of the basest sort, and you can be as vile to me as you please, and I shall honor you.”
He unrolled our rug and laid me on top of the tree of life. “Eglah, you are my tree of life. Without you, life would not be worth living.” He spread my arms out to the sides and ran his hands over my body, down my legs, straight as the trunk. “You have borne the fruit of love, peace, and faith. You have captured my heart.”
His gaze roved over my body. “You are beautiful, a woman who fears the LORD, a woman who comforts my bones, and a woman who sings to my soul.”
I parted my lips and received his kiss, tasting and inhaling all of him, my husband, my David.
He caressed the dress off me, removed my combs, earrings and ornaments, stripping everything from my body except for my garnet necklace and matching bracelet. Red drops of blood embraced in gold. He took off his crown, his rings and his clothing.
He lay over me, bare skin on bare skin. His hands formed and fashioned my desires and stroked my innermost passions. Like the fullness of pregnant rain clouds, a torrent of wanting flooded me head to toe. David responded and filled my emptiness. The pent up emotions heightened the pressure channeling deep inside of me. A swell of sweet pleasure inundated my body, drenching me with complete surrender to my rightful husband, my lord, my life.
Wrapped around each other, our damp bodies cleaved to the rug, embraced by the crisp scent of lightning and the balmy, moist air of renewal. The LORD had brought me back to him, the man of my heart, my David.
* * *
The haunting fragrance of jasmine and sandalwood drifted among the willow trees. David held Michal’s hand as the keepers rolled back the stone. They had traveled the two-day journey to Abel-Meholah to retrieve Samuel’s bones. Phaltiel and Rizpah stepped in behind them, followed by Machir and Anna. The dank, slimy air and the tang of cold stone, dust and old bones trickled a chill down David’s spine.
Phaltiel pointed to a tiny skeleton wrapped in strips. A woven fringe of red and gold, dancing lions for the tribe of Judah, encircled the collar and shoulder bones. All was silent except for the muffled sniffling of the women and the croak of a persistent toad.
David clutched Michal’s shoulders and stared at the remains of his son, his firstborn son. His heart tightened as he handed her a linen sack.
Michal reached, but faltered. With a choked sound, she gave the bag to Phaltiel. Instead of picking up the bones, he lifted the tiny slab on which the baby lay. Reverently he took it out of the cave and placed it in the covered cart.
David hugged Michal tightly. She leaned on him for several long moments. He couldn’t find words for the sorrow they shared, so he closed his eyes and inhaled her breath and allowed the steady beat of his heart to comfort her.
No one made a sound. Michal led him among the markers until she found her sister. She stared for a long time. She stroked a gauzy piece of cloth over the ribcage.
“Are you ready to go?” David asked softly.
“Not yet, my lord. I wish to pay respect to my mother.”
Phaltiel guided her toward the back of the cavern. Michal knelt and knocked her head on the ground. “Mother, I understand now. You used to tell me about Barzillai. How huge his farm was: the well-watered land, the meadows full of sheep, vineyards that rolled for miles and miles, olive trees and fruit trees. You told me how you used to play together as children and how Barzillai’s parents liked you best. You never told me he loved you. Mother, I forgive you, and I love you.”
David caught his breath. Barzillai, his loyal friend, had died shortly after his three grandsons were hung. No, five grandsons. Had he known about Joshua and Beraiah?
Michal moved to the freshly wrapped body next to her mother’s. David’s heart smote him. Oh, my friend Barzillai. Forgive me for taking your grandsons. You have sacrificed much for my kingdom’s sake. May God richly reward you and bless your descendants.
David took Michal’s hand and led her out of the burial cave. The sorrowful drizzle misted over the tears on his beard, and the chill seeped deep into his bones. He wrapped Michal in his cloak and lifted her into the cart with Samuel’s remains.
* * *
The wind whipped through my hair and tickled my face. I leaned back in David’s arms as we rode to Gibeah. We bypassed the killing field and headed to the market square. The heavy winter rains had revived the meadows. Trees budded and the scent of spring and fresh earth and the sweet fragrance of grape blossoms filled the air with promises of God’s bountiful blessing.
David pointed to a part of a broken wall jutting between the stalls of two vendors. “Can you picture the old guard shack?”
We dismounted and walked around the pottery, fruit and vegetables. David placed his hand on mine, and we touched the rough stones, tracing the mortar, looking up to our special place.
I leaned against his broad chest. “Yes. I can hear you coming up the steps. Feel you behind me.”
He held me closer, oblivious to the sounds of the marketplace. “I fell in love with you up there.”
Winding our way between the hawking merchants, we came to the wizened olive tree, its fragrance still pungent and peppery. It stood in the center of a square where the villagers gathered. Children darted around, and little boys climbed its gnarly branches, its silvery green leaves dancing in the breeze.
We stepped into the canopy. David held my hands and drew me close to him. “Will you marry me, Princess?”
We kissed, deep and lingering. The air hushed, even the birds stopped chirping, replaced by the strains of many harps, a train of heavenly chords.
* * *
I sat with David in the garden, holding his hand, my head on his shoulders. A couple of years had passed since the famine, and the warm summer air lulled me. Israel was finally at peace, the wars had ended—David’s dream fulfilled, my bride price paid.
“Eglah, are you happy now?” he whispered.
“Yes, I’m happy, very happy.”
“Is there anything you regret? Anything I can make up to you?”
“No, nothing. You’ve given me everything I desire. I just wanted you to love me. Nothing more.”
“Are you sure?”
My heart squeezed around a small pit of pain. “We don’t have a surviving child.”
I stared at the pool; the sun reflected golden waves, beckoning.
He traced a finger in the water, breaking our reflections. “You have something better than a physical heir.”
“How is that?” I turned to look in his liquid eyes.
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br /> “You were meant to have my love for always, not only in this world but the next. Our souls knit together forever, is that not better than our bloodlines?” He spoke the truth, although I still would have wanted both.
“I love you,” he said. “I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. And I never want it to end.”
A flame of joy anointed my chest and I sang:
Our love tried by fire, and purged of the dross,
Melted together as pure as fine gold.
God tried our hearts, and revealed His plan.
In darkness of spirit, He comforts us still.
And we shall rejoice in the LORD and sing Him a song.
And follow His Word, in His steps we will trust.
When it is time, to lay down to rest, we will appear as Him.
David smiled broadly. “That was beautiful. Seems I’m not the only psalmist in Israel.”
We walked to the scroll room. David pointed to a tiny scroll on the top shelf. He brought it down and blew off the dust. “My wife, you shall dwell with me in the House of our LORD forever.”
Our marriage covenant. He unrolled it and smoothed it on the table. We read the words together. “David, son of Jesse of Bethlehem is hereby joined in marriage to Michal, daughter of Saul of Gibeah, in front of the LORD God. Presided over by Elihu, the Priest of the LORD. Witnessed by Saul, son of Kish and Jonathan, son of Saul.”
He pointed to the tear mark and kissed it. Holding my hand, he led me to our bedchamber where we dwelt the rest of the day as lovers, a man and a woman.
* * *
The pestilence raged three days. David held her, praying, begging, entreating the LORD for mercy.
“David, my love, meet me at the window,” she whispered as her spirit departed.
The sword fell and pierced straight through David’s heart. His sin. He had numbered the people against God’s will. Always his sin. Seventy thousand people died. Not a family in Israel escaped grief.
Peace I leave with you.
Her maid handed him three boxes, sandalwood, silver and jade, and three items, a cloak, a thick scroll, and a shepherd’s harp. He opened the jade box. A single moss green river stone lay inside. He kissed the stone and placed it in her hand.
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