by Katie Clark
Rachel looked Skye up and down, and sighed. “Why does he always bring me the skinny ones?” She motioned for Skye to follow and then began walking and mumbling.
Philip couldn’t let Skye go without saying something, so he grabbed her arm.
She paused, surprise on her face.
“I’ll see you later.”
She smiled nervously, nodded, and then hurried after Rachel.
When Philip turned back to Pistorious, the man was frowning once again. But he kept quiet. They made their way to the barn inside the cave, where he, Skye, and Leah had first stayed in Ezekiel’s cart. “Do you know animals?” Pistorious asked.
Philip gulped. “No, sir.”
Pistorious sighed as if he couldn’t believe Ezekiel had saddled him with such an imbecile. “So be it. You can be trained.” He led him around the stable-cave, pointing out tools used to clean the stalls and to groom the animals. The list went on forever, and for the first time, Philip wished he hadn’t been living such an easy life. It would be useful to have knowledge about the working world.
Sure, his life was hard in a first-world-problem kind of way—he had mounds of homework to do every day, college to worry about, and relationships to maintain. But had he ever done a day’s hard labor? No. Did he know anything about an actual trade, like building something, running something, or taking care of something? Definitely not.
He ground his teeth as he followed Pistorious around. He was practically useless in this world and the modern world. What good would he do anyone if he were tossed out on the street back home? The answer was ugly. He wouldn’t be good for anything. Dad had taught him a few things. Traits on how to be a shrewd businessman—or in Dad’s case, how to cheat someone. But Philip needed more. This was his chance.
“For today, you will start with the empty stalls.” Pistorious spoke in a slow, labored voice, as if it hurt him to get the words out. “We have purchased four new horse mules, and we need their stalls prepared. You can do this?”
Philip swallowed hard. “Yes. I can do this.” But it felt more as if he was trying to convince himself than his new, temporary master.
Pistorious nodded. “Good. We break to sup soon. I will call for you when the work day ends.” He left without another word, and Philip went to work.
He started with a crude, straw broom, and when he’d finished sweeping the stalls he found a bucket and carried it to the well. By the time he’d lowered the bucket, filled it, and pulled it back up, the sun was biting into the skin on his neck. No wonder these people wore head coverings all the time. The sweat was bad, but the sun was worse.
Next, he found a brush and scrubbed. He scrubbed the stone walls, the troughs, and the floors. He scrubbed until every bone in his body ached.
A shuffling sound came from outside the stall just as Philip’s stomach growled. He glanced up and met Pistorious’s eye. “You have worked hard.”
“Yeah, you said we needed to get these ready for the new mules.”
Pistorious cracked a smile—the first one Philip had seen from him. “By the end of the week, yes. You have worked into the evening hours. Come. Return to the house and sup.”
Philip held in his groan as he stood from the place he’d just finished scrubbing. He’d done all of this in one afternoon, when he’d had all week? Well, hopefully not all week. Hopefully he’d be out of here by this time tomorrow. But it felt good to have done something. Accomplished something. He couldn’t help checking the stalls one last time before he left, and they looked good. If clay stone could sparkle, the stalls would be glittering.
Philip had a dozen questions, but he was too tired to ask them. Besides, Pistorious might have smiled at him, but they were nowhere near a comfortable relationship. Still, his mind wandered. Would he be eating with Skye again? What had she done all day? What time was it, and how did they tell time in this ancient place?
But Pistorious didn’t lead him directly to the servants’ quarters. They meandered down a new path, one Philip hadn’t seen so far. It went past the shed where Ezekiel had spoken to them at first, to a wide stream that was a few yards down from the shed.
“You must wash here before preparing to sup. Ezekiel is very meticulous about such things.”
Happily. The cool water washed away the grime he’d picked up in the stable, and it made him forget how much he’d sweated over the last few hours. It had been twice as hot to wear his modern clothes under his robes, but what choice did he have?
When he finished, Pistorious was waiting. With every step they took closer to the servants’ quarters, Philip’s stomach tightened.
Something bothered him, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Ezekiel? No, he was pretty sure he’d read him right—that being the only skill Dad had taught him. Maybe it was the fact that Seth hadn’t turned them in. Was he planning something? That could be it, but he doubted it. Skye had trusted him.
Then what?
They entered the house in the common room, and short tables had been set up. Women scurried around, laying out bread and steaming pots of what he assumed was a stew. He smelled potatoes, and chicken. His stomach growled even louder.
Skye breezed into the room with Leah, carrying a pot. She placed it on the wooden table, smiling at Leah, and laughing.
Philip forgot about his stomach. He’d hardly ever seen her laugh over the last few years. His stomach tightened again, but for a different reason. Then again, maybe it wasn’t so different after all. Maybe it was because he’d actually had a good day. And it looked as though Skye had, too.
She glanced up then, and their gazes met. She smiled at him, her eyes alight.
Without waiting for Pistorious’s guidance, Philip strode to her. “You look as if you’ve had a good day.”
“I’ve had a great day,” she said quietly. “The women in the house were so kind to me. It felt good to do work.” She paused and gave him a wry smile. “Kind of funny that I’d wanted to help the poor around London, but I ended up serving the rich in Sumer instead.”
“Funny probably isn’t the right word.”
She grinned. “Agreed.”
Someone grunted loudly behind him, and Philip spun around.
Pistorious stood, eyebrows drawn. “No fraternizing with the females. We went over this, did we not?”
Philip refused to let it get him down. He turned to Skye. “Right. See you later.”
She nodded and smiled again, and his stomach knotted tighter. He practically stomped to the other end of the table where the other menservants gathered. Being here wasn’t horrible. Not in Ezekiel’s house anyway. It was nothing like the nightmare of being trapped under Saul’s roof.
Everyone made their way in and sat. Men at one large table, women at another. The volume level was loud and boisterous, but the people seemed happy.
Pistorious called everyone’s attention from the front of the table, and without being prompted, the people bowed their heads. Pistorious worded some kind of prayer. It sounded like any Christian prayer he’d hear back home. Ezekiel must not worship the gods Saul worshipped.
After the prayer, the people dug in. Philip joined them. He actually felt OK. Some of the other men included him in their conversations, asking him where he’d come from and what he’d done for the day.
“You left the city to come here?” one asked in a deep voice. He’d said his name was Rueben, and he had thick, hairy arms like a bear.
Philip wasn’t sure what to say. “I saw the place, and knew I had to stay.”
Rueben frowned. “You say it as if you chose it.”
Philip’s hand froze halfway to his mouth. “Yes?” He’d tried to come off as though he knew what he was talking about, but maybe he wasn’t doing such a good job.
Rueben’s frown darkened. “Then you are a true servant? Not a slave?”
Cold fear worked its way into Philip’s stomach. These people were slaves? He hadn’t considered the possibility, but it made sense once he thought about it. “Not a
slave,” he finally confirmed. At least his voice hadn’t cracked.
Rueben stared hard, but then he laughed and smacked Philip on the shoulder.
Philip almost splattered into his soup bowl, but he caught himself in time.
“Good for you, then,” Rueben boomed. “May we all share your fate in time.”
Philip shook himself, trying to keep from staring in shock. He shoveled another bite into his mouth to hide his shaking hands. He’d thought he was about to be hamburger meat. He continued eating and talking, and generally enjoying himself, but his gaze and his mind were never too far from the other side of the room. From Skye.
21
Skye laughed with the women. Joked with the women. Worked with the women.
It felt as though she was back home, serving in the soup kitchen near Mrs. Garrison’s house. Except that in this world, she had Philip with her.
Philip. She peeked at him across the room. He was speaking to the big, hairy guy beside him. He sat tall, confident, almost at ease. But wasn’t that what drew so many people to him at school? The fact that he got along with everyone? Anyone?
She bit her lip. He’d been a jerk to her in the past, but not since they’d been here. Not since they’d been in London, really. In fact, she’d go so far as to say they’d almost become friends again. What would happen when they got home? Would he go back to being a jerk? She didn’t think so. He seemed to have changed. Had she?
He glanced her way and caught her staring, but she didn’t look away. That would only make her look guilty. Instead, she smiled and waved. He smiled back, and her heart sped up.
At home, things might go back to normal. But here? They got along here—were figuring things out. A crazy, illogical thought raced through her mind, and she looked to her bowl and frowned.
They could not stay in Sumer. She still couldn’t believe this was happening, but her mind was always on getting home. What was happening in the present? What about Mom? Philip’s dad? Did they know their kids were missing? Had they called the police?
Did Mom have…regrets?
The meal ended, and the women and men split up for the evening. It felt crazy calling the people men and women, since most of them were Skye’s age or even younger. Of course, there were a few people around Mom’s age, but most of them were young. Why? Where were their families?
She sighed and went along with the other women as they made their way to a stream in the distance. The gurgling water in the clear evening air calmed her, and her muscles relaxed. The other women dipped their feet into the water or crouched at the stream’s edge to wash their faces. A few small trees lined the stream, but none were big and towering like the trees back home. These were the types of trees that must grow in hot, desert weather. Even their color was muted a faded green instead of the deep, vibrant greens from the trees in America or London.
Skye watched the others interact. The women helped each other. Seemed to get along—even though there was no way they were all best buds. But it was different here. Calmer, slower, kinder.
Again, she almost wondered if she’d fit in better here than at home. Here, feeding the hungry or helping the poor was the normal thing to do. At home? Most people were in it for themselves, at least in her experience.
“Not getting wet?” Leah called to her. She smiled at Skye, and splashed a light arc of water Skye’s way. Being back on Leah’s good side was nice, and her mother Rachel was very kind. She’d introduced Skye to the others in the house. The way Rachel carried on made Skye feel at home. She worked hard and griped constantly, but she seemed more like a mother hen than a boss.
Skye glanced at the water and then back to Leah.
The water did look nice. She pushed herself off the rock she’d sat on. “You talked me into it.”
Leah smiled shyly and skipped ahead, and Skye trailed after her.
Rachel knelt at the water’s edge. She waved Leah toward her, so Skye followed along.
“I cannot believe I have my Leah back,” Rachel said. She pulled Leah close to her, and Leah wobbled on her feet before falling to her rear end with a giggle.
Rachel cut a glance at Skye. “You came with her, I know.” Then she lowered her voice. “Leah told me what transpired. I will keep your secret, so long as it does not put my Leah in danger.”
“I will have to go back, Mawmaw.” Leah’s shaky voice was so low Skye barely heard her.
“Why would you have to go back?” Skye asked.
Someone screamed behind them, and Skye spun around. A few of the women laughed, chasing others with muddy moss.
Rachel chuckled and began washing Leah’s face with a soft, wet cloth. “Where is your mother from?” she asked Skye.
What to say? Leah must not have explained everything—or maybe she hadn’t understood everything.
“She is very far away.”
“But you are hoping to get back to her?” Rachel asked. “You were taken against your will?”
Skye nodded. She had no idea how to answer Rachel’s questions. They were so foreign from anything she would be asked at home, and yet Rachel was so at ease asking them.
Rachel shook her head and blew out a long breath as she finished cleaning Leah’s arms and hands. Leah sat obediently, allowing her mother to work. “I cannot fathom how you ended up in the hands of Master Saul. And as an honored guest. Leah tells me she served you, but you were very kind.”
Skye gulped and nodded again.
Tears shimmered in Rachel’s eyes, and she pushed to her feet and took Skye’s hands. Her grip was strong. “Thank you for your kindness. You did not have to be kind, but you chose to be.”
What other choice did she have? She couldn’t run over people—not like Mom—and even Philip—had done to her. The memory of Philip’s betrayal three years ago stung, but she was beginning to believe it could be different. She could move past it.
They could build a new relationship, a better, stronger one.
She managed a smile for Rachel. “Leah is very sweet and kind. How could I mistreat her?”
Rachel smiled again and then returned her attention to Leah.
Leah smiled at her mother, and they went back to washing.
Skye dipped her toe in the water, but her mind went back to her thoughts from a moment ago. If she could forgive Philip, what about Mom and Dad? Philip was working to gain her trust—Mom and Dad weren’t. So did they still deserve her forgiveness? The thoughts hurt, and she didn’t know how to feel.
Leah and Rachel laughed and smiled constantly, and Rachel couldn’t keep her hands off her child. A hug here, a pat there. How many years had they been working apart? But there was no bitterness. They were happy to have each other.
Skye’s insides churned. She wanted a relationship like that with Mom. Could she forgive Mom for working so much, even if Mom wasn’t sorry for doing it? She left her feet in the water as she brushed cool water over her face, her arms, and her legs. Life was so much less complicated here than back home. So what if she liked it?
The relaxing lasted until dusk, when the sun was no longer visible on the horizon, and pale pink light spilled into the sky.
Skye walked silently beside Leah and Rachel as they headed back to the servants’ quarters. Every step took her closer to reality—the reality that the council should be gathering by this time tomorrow, and figuring out a way for her to return home. Skye couldn’t deny the truth. She was nervous to go back to London. She didn’t know how time was passing back in the present day. Had days passed as they had here? Or were they in some kind of time warp?
What if Mom had noticed she had been gone? How would Mom feel? Skye’s first instinct was that Mom would sweep it under the rug and never say a word about missing Skye. Then again, what if Mom hadn’t noticed Skye’s absence? That would be so much worse.
After witnessing Leah and Rachel together, Skye hoped Mom had missed her. She wanted Mom’s approval. Her love. Maybe she’d been too hard on Mom. Dad had left her to be a single mother,
after all. That had to be hard.
Skye had done her best to do whatever Mom said, but maybe she should have been honest with Mom. Told her how she felt about Mom working so much and Dad blowing her off.
At the servants’ house, Skye followed the line of women into the large sleeping room. She fell onto her scratchy, straw mattress with a sigh of satisfaction. She had worked hard today. Accomplished something. Saul was far away, and tomorrow she would likely find her way home. Things were good. Rolling onto her side, she scanned the room as the others readied for bed.
They obviously weren’t as exhausted as she was—they were used to this type of work—and they lounged on others’ beds, laughing and talking. They were friends, and knew each other.
Her only friend—besides Leah and now Rachel—was Philip. It felt weird to be away from him, but she knew he was safe.
Her eyes slid closed without her meaning for them to. The morning would bring a new day, with new adventures and information. Tomorrow she would know if getting home was possible, and what she would do with herself if it wasn’t.
The sobering thoughts stilled her sleepy mind, at least for a moment. Being stuck here wouldn’t be as romantic as she’d been thinking earlier. Where would she and Philip live? Would they honestly stay on as servants in someone else’s home? It wasn’t as though they could save up their paychecks and start their own life. Things didn’t work that way in ancient civilizations.
Besides that, there was Leah to think of. Skye had never gotten an answer as to what Leah meant when she’d said she’d have to go back to Saul.
Maybe Ezekiel would hire Leah. Anything had to be better than working for Saul. And Ezekiel was kind; his people happy. Leah would be happy here with her mom. So would Skye and Philip, if worst came to worst.
Skye drifted to sleep, dreaming of working for Ezekiel for the rest of her life.
Slowly, the dream shifted. Skye was surrounded by sand again. Spinning sand. She wasn’t alone, but this time she could finally see who was with her. Philip! It’d been him all along, she just hadn’t recognized him.