The Esther Paradigm (A Contemporary Christian Romance)

by Sarah Monzon

  “I think the three-day journey to Mount Moriah were ones of misery.” Mom picked up when my silence stretched too long. “How he must have pleaded in prayer for Allah to make another way.”

  I smiled my thanks to Mom for saving me and refocused my thoughts. “Alone, Ibrahim took his son away from the others in order to sacrifice him. But the son was observant and questioned his father about the lack of a lamb for slaughter.”

  “God will provide himself a lamb for the burnt offering,” Radina said slowly.

  I could see her mind working to sift out the meaning there.

  “The Qur’an says Ibrahim’s son was ransomed with a momentous sacrifice.”

  My heart lifted in gratitude, as it always did upon reflection of the greatest sacrifice of all. “Momentous indeed. The ram caught in the thicket that saved Ibrahim’s son pointed forward to the greatest sacrifice. The one whom Allah would send to be a sin offering for us all.” I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “You see, Ibrahim’s son represented all of humanity. We all deserve to die for our sins. But like Ibrahim’s son, we were spared the sacrifice of another in our stead. Allah’s own son, Isa al-Masih, died so that we might live eternally.”

  A twig snapped outside the tent, causing the blood in my veins to freeze. By the wide, doe-like eyes of the other women, the sound hadn’t come from my imagination. My heart pounded in my ears. I strained to hear past it, to discern any other noise beyond our tight circle.

  A horse whinnied from the pasture, and another answered. Karim’s prized Arabian equines holding a conversation in the interim of ours. But nothing else. No footsteps. No voices. Nothing that signaled we’d been overheard.

  Yet twigs did not snap on their own.

  Radina rose, her gaze pointed. “I think this year’s date harvest will rival even that of last year’s.”

  Qitarah looked at the sheikh’s wife with a question in her eyes, but Bahia understood.

  “Allah is abundant with his blessings.” Radina nodded and stepped lightly to the door flap, Bahia continuing on the conversation as if all that went on within the moveable walls was a gathering of women on a social visit. “There may even be enough surplus to sell in the markets.”

  Slowly Radina lifted the flap and stared out into the night. I prayed for the fullness of the moon to shine brighter. If we’d been overheard, our fates were nearly sealed.

  The flap settled back into place. Radina turned, relief evident in the slackness of her jaw.

  “Nothing?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “None that I saw. Perhaps it was but a mouse on the run from a hunting predator.”

  Better a mouse be prey than us.

  Chapter 25

  Karim

  It felt good to stretch my legs, even if the guilt of doing so chewed on my insides like a dog with a bone. Only two places I should be—at the hospital with my mother, and if not there, then at camp with Hannah, overseeing my family’s contribution to the date harvest and managing the tribe. Not to mention keeping an eye on my wife so she didn’t fall into danger. And yet here I was, on a stroll through the city streets as if a tourist without care.

  A man and woman smiled brightly as I passed them, staring into the phone the man held out at arm’s length.

  I rolled my eyes and glanced up at the sky. The sun had barely moved on its course.

  I would not be welcomed back at the hospital. Neither by Mother or Ethan. Both had insisted I get out for fresh air for my benefit. More so for them to get a break from my hovering and foul mood.

  But the cloudless blue sky nor the gentle breeze had managed to lift my sour disposition. I stomped down the dusty street, the muscles tight in my face. Not even the men who passed met my gaze. The scowl drawing my brows down enough of a deterrent for even a polite greeting.

  A domed roof topped with a crescent, four spires jutting to the sky in a square around the central arch, drew my attention. Prayers in a mosque. I should be elated to worship Allah with others faithful to him, but my spirit protested. I was not in the right frame of mind. Distracted and foul, I would not come before the great creator with so unworthy a heart.

  I turned aside and strode down a narrow alley that emptied into a large court. More people littered the outer meeting area lined with brightly colored urns filled with tall potted plants. From the garments alone I deduced I’d stumbled onto a main tourist attraction. Fellow countrymen, their pristine white thawbs testifying the wealth and power within their possession stood beside men clad in business suits as well as those so immodest as to wear clothing that showed hairy calves and scrawny arms. My lips curled at the women who disrespected our culture and went with head bare and too much skin showing.

  My mood darkened even further, the blackness of which sought to steal completely the light.

  Light of the world…follow Him and never walk in darkness. Like a whisper in my ear, the strains of one of Hannah’s songs she’d sung while I’d held her in my arms on Jamal through the heart of the desert came to me in her sweet voice. The lyrics washed away before I could catch them in my grasp, but the memory lingered, turning the black to gray. Even just a shadow of her brightened my life, but how I ached for her nearness like I never thought possible. For the feel of her to again rest against my chest. To cover her body with my own. For our souls to unite in beautiful harmony. To hear her voice and see her smile.

  In comparison, my life had again become the dull and colorless existence it had been before her. I needed her beside me to blow away the thick layer of drudgery and reveal the vibrant colors life could be.

  I let my head fall to my chest. Lifted a hand up beneath my keffiyeh and pulled against the tightness in the back of my neck. Self-pity tasted bitter in my mouth and rotted my thoughts like a too-ripe piece of fruit.

  If I dug deep enough, the roots that tenaciously held and sprouted my temper had little to do with the circumstances and trials that surrounded me like bandits and more to do with the lack of control I had over them. No matter what I did, the Pratts continued to be threatened, the sheep refused to get well, my mother continued to age and weaken.

  The warrior and leader in me demanded action. To protect, to guide, to strengthen. And yet all my fighting was as good as chaff in the wind.

  It couldn’t last much longer, though, could it? Because the truth was we, as a people, would not last much longer. Soon we’d succumb to the change of time, and the history and culture we’d preserved through generations would also blow away until not a trace of it could be found anywhere.

  My fist slammed against my thigh as anger rose. I refused. Refused to give up and surrender like a coward. With every breath in my lungs and every ounce of blood in my veins, I would defend all I held dear.

  Who is the stronghold of defense in your absence? My thoughts provoked. Fight drained from me, but not all. Daher was worthy to the task, though I should have set a man from my own tribe in charge of things until I returned. Samlil. It should have been my friend who was more like a brother to me. Though too sympathetic to extremists, he would stand against any threat to our people and way of life and had a commanding presence that the men respected and would follow.

  But for now, despite the fact I longed to be in another place, felt the urgency of responsibility upon me, I stood where I needed to stand—supporting my mother who had long supported me. Which meant I needed to shed every vestige of the darkness and be the light she needed in order to heal.

  Raising my head, my gaze collided with the building on the opposite side of the courtyard, the same that had drawn the crowds milling around me. Against a backdrop of a city carved out of sandstone, here stood a masterpiece of color and architecture. It drew me to it, that darkness that had more than hovered around me since entering the city, now retreating in the brilliance of the light bouncing off the glass mosaic tiles.

  A wall of arches invited all within her shelter. I accepted the invitation of sanctuary and stepped through, my gaze traveling up the len
gth of the hall and down the layers of symmetric curves that reached points all along the ceiling. Pieces of tile of varying shape, size, and color adorned the walls and ceiling in a beautiful pattern that reflected the artistic eye of the architect who had erected such a masterpiece. Hues of blue that captured the palette of the sky set the backdrop with thin veins of brilliant yellow and small clusters of white. The pattern repeated, beckoning the eye to follow its movement.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  I turned to the voice at my side. A businessman in a suit, his arms loosely folded across his chest, regarded the ceiling of undulating arches.

  “Hard to believe that millions of tiny, inconsequential pieces, when put together to form something bigger than themselves, could result in something so magnificent.”

  I looked again at the walls, zeroed in on a specific section, and scanned piece by piece. Individually, the tiles were not remarkable. Some simple squares still intact, others broken with jagged, raw edges. Only by widening my range of focus could I see the pieces and how they worked together.

  “It’s all about perspective, isn’t it?” The stranger smiled and let his arms drop, his lips puckered to form the whistle that accompanied him as he strode away.

  Was my perspective askew? I looked again, tried to fit the metaphorical pieces to those of reality. My gaze traveled from the base of an arch line and followed it to the top of its apex. And held.

  The keystone. The piece that held it all together. Without it, all would crumble and fall.

  For my people, I was the keystone. I led. I counseled. I provided. I protected. Which meant I alone bore the weight of all upon my shoulders so their load could be less troublesome.

  My inspection continued past the ceilings until it stalled on the far wall. Another arch, but this one different. Instead of a wedged keystone at its apex, it led the eye up to the very top, where it ended in a high point, directing its viewer to continue his inspection all the way up to the heavens. This keystone did not look down upon itself and its own strength. It pointed up to the Strongest of All.

  Without shame, I fell to my knees and pressed my forehead down to the cool ground. Forgive my presumption. Fill me with wisdom.

  Rising to my feet, I felt lighter. Though Allah had set me in a position of leadership, all did not rise and fall with me. A firmer foundation held us together.

  Hawkers from the street over shouted above the din of the tourists in the courtyard. My stomach rumbled, reminding me breakfast had been many hours ago. Ethan would enjoy the succulent street fare over what he’d lately consumed. Mother as well, if the doctor could be persuaded.

  Makeshift booths had been erected along the narrow roads, wares ranging from dried goods and fresh foods to household items and souvenirs. A small cart with steam rising from the side stood ahead of me. I picked my way through the crowd toward it. Unlike other sellers who specialized in one or two preparations, the closer I came the more my mouth watered at the smorgasbord of offerings.

  Manakeesh, a round bread and my mother’s favorite when prepared with cheese and herbs. Tabbouleh packed with parsley, mint, tomatoes, and onions. I’d often seen Ethan partake of the bulgur wheat salad at mealtimes. Ah, and my favorite. Kofta. Succulent balls of minced lamb dripping in a spicy sauce and easily eaten off the skewer while on the go.

  I placed my order and waited as the man filled containers with each and set them in again for me to carry. After paying the man, I browsed the booths on my way back to the main thoroughfare to return to the hospital.

  A booth of flowers caught my attention, and I stopped for a bunch of jasmine. If the manakeesh did not soften my mother up to forgive me for my mood, these delicate white flowers, her favorite, would aid me in my quest for pardon.

  Chapter 26

  Hannah

  How had I missed it all yesterday? I could only blame it on the wonder, on the stage lights igniting my memories and bringing them into focus. My childlike delight coming back to me at watching a barefoot man scale to the top of a tree more than a dozen feet into the air in a matter of seconds. But now the edges of my focus faded, and I could take in what I’d not observed yesterday—the life in the midst of the lifeless.

  Beyond the people, life thrived here.

  Wading in the cool pool of water up to its knobby knees, his head cocked back causing his neck to form a Z shape, stood a heron, lazy after catching his breakfast—a nice-sized fish he’d gulped down. Around him flew small birds, their green feathers reflecting the rays of the morning sun as they twisted and turned in an aerial game of chase. Their song filled the air, and I imagined them taunting each other that they couldn’t be caught, then protesting when their playmate did just that.

  A green-backed, round, fat toad, mostly submerged under the water, let out a loud croak.

  And if I looked harder, I’d see more. An entire food chain nourished themselves at these waters, from the tiniest insect to the most cunning mammal.

  The rushes along the edge of the water brushed against each other with a gust of breeze, the sound happy, as if they took delight in the little songbird’s game. I smiled and watched as I bent down and let my fingers graze the surface in lazy strokes.

  “‘God, you are my God. I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water.’

  “Psalm 63:1,” I whispered to myself.

  Could anyone ever understand a parched land with no water better than I? Had not my mantra a few days ago been water, water, water? And yet David declared he thirsted for God in such a way.

  Change my mantra to “my God, my God, my God.”

  Maybe if I thirsted only for Him, my mind wouldn’t stray to self. I wouldn’t loathe my thoughts that hovered around self-pity, doubt, and insecurities.

  Because I wouldn’t have them, so filled I would be of Him.

  Even though I drank from His Word, my human vessel bore a crack, and I leaked out the worth He poured in.

  Like a dog that returns to its vomit, I couldn’t stop thinking about Maleka. How she might have looked—beautiful, no doubt. How she must have acted—with proper decorum that no one could find fault with. But the train-wrecked thoughts revolved around Karim with her.

  “I thought I might find you here.”

  I turned and smiled at Radina. “Just taking a moment to soak in the beauty before heading to the school to prepare for today’s lessons.”

  She waved a hand. “No need to explain. I often find myself by the shore in reflection.”

  She knelt beside me, content to watch the resting heron and the playful songbirds. After a few moments, she turned to me. “What troubles you? Please, if I can help, I would like to.”

  Dare I share? She’d only think less of me for my weakness. And yet I longed to know more about my husband’s previous wife. “Did you know, Maleka? Karim’s first wife.”

  She studied me for a moment before nodding slowly. “Maleka came from our tribe. I knew her well.”

  I swallowed down my misgivings and gathered my courage about me. “What…what was she like?”

  Radina settled into the short grass and leaned back, her elbow resting on the ground. “You and Maleka are night and day.”

  A comparison of differences as drastic as the other.

  “Maleka was like the moon, obedient and submissive to first her father and then her husband, like the moon is obedient in its orbit around the earth. She shone, though not with brilliance, and her moods waned and waxed.”

  Without a beat, she continued. “You, Hannah, are the sun. You shine your light upon all you see, igniting their lives with rays of color. And unlike the moon who orbits the earth, the earth orbits the sun, ever turning his face toward it.”

  She sat up and rested a hand on my arm. “I have never seen Karim look at another woman the way he gazes at you. Love shines in his eyes for you.” She stood up and brushed off her backside, then looked at me pointedly. “The sun should never wish to be the moon, nor b
e jealous of it. Now”—she clapped her hands—“do you know where our water comes from?”

  I was taken aback by the quick turn in conversation, still trying to process all she’d revealed. Gathering my thoughts and her words, I tucked them aside for later inspection, and then caught up to the new topic she presented.

  “About eight kilometers from here, deep within the mountain, resides a dam hundreds of years old. A heart of water. Our ancestors carved a canal through the rock and the land, veins in which the heart pumps its life-giving liquid.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Do you see my husband there?”

  I looked and nodded. Daher stood beside a tall pole, a trio of men rounding him. Their faces turned to the sky, then around in a circle.

  “Daher is the keeper of the water. Rocks cemented into the ground surround that pole, telling Daher the times in which to share. When the shadow passes a rock, he releases the stopper to a canal that leads to one of those men’s farms. When the shadow reaches the next rock, his time for water is up. Fifteen minutes afforded to each farm a day. Fifteen minutes of water that has been held in the mountain’s belly for centuries.”

  “That’s incredible.”

  “It is. To think of rain that fell in the days of my great-grandparents is the water that sustains us now is a wonderful thought indeed.” She turned back to me with a smile. “Now, can I escort our esteemed teacher back to the school?”

  Friendship and love for this woman filled my heart. I hooked my arm through hers. “I’d like nothing better.”

  As we left those still working to cut down the dates from the trees, worry began to gnaw at me. Farid’s children would not return for more lessons, but would the man be content with that, or would he return to cause more disruption?

  “If you’re afraid of Farid, then settle your mind,” Radina said. “My husband spoke with that man after I reported all he’d done. You have no cause to fear him.”