The Prescience

by Lorilyn Roberts

  I watched absent-mindedly as Shira’s hand waved the dove through the air. “Is this near where Yeshua spoke to the woman at the well?”

  Martha shrugged. “Seems like I heard a story like that, where Yeshua proclaimed he was the Messiah to a Samaritan woman. The Jews took offense to that, you know.”

  Suddenly, Shira cried out, “I dropped my bird.”

  Before I could say anything, the dove flew into the sky, transforming itself from a wooden sculpture into a magnificent white bird. Soon it grew into the size of a breathtaking eagle. The bird’s powerful wings beat the air as it lifted its body upwards, soaring overhead. He circled against the blue firmament in ever-widening circles.

  Shira pointed.

  Martha gasped.

  “I am the bread of life,” the transformed dove said. “He that comes to me shall never hunger, and he that believes on me shall never thirst.”

  The words filled my ears, but Shira and Martha didn’t have the gift of animal speak. Soon the eagle flew over the beggars and circled them. As we passed, I saw their cups overflowing with nourishment.

  I pointed. “Look, Shira.”

  She squealed.

  Martha shook her head. “That’s impossible. It’s almost like the bird—is supernatural.”

  Then I noticed the vultures leaving—that had gathered near the beggars. The eagle flew ahead, passing Shechem. I heard Shira exclaim, “I hear singing, Auntie. The angels are singing.”

  I couldn’t hear it, but I was convinced Shira did. I glanced up but didn’t see anything.

  The shadows became longer as we passed through several small towns before arriving on the outskirts of Jerusalem.

  Martha said excitedly, “We’re almost home.”

  When we crested a mountaintop, Jerusalem spread out before us. An impressive wall surrounded the city. My heart raced. The temple rose up higher than the walls surrounding it. Its golden columns reflected the reds and yellows of the setting sun. The ornateness of the most beautiful building in America couldn’t compare.

  I watched, breathless, as pilgrims descended onto Jerusalem. Music from the flutists reached us as we made the final leg of our journey. We passed dozens of oxen decorated with gilded horns and olive wreaths accompanying the travelers on foot. The rolling green valleys and hills disappeared as we approached the dusty, overcrowded city.

  The eagle again filled the cups of the beggars along the route as we approached the gates. I noticed a few travelers offered them handfuls of grapes and figs—unlike in Samaria. I remembered the prejudices in my century—even here it existed. The Jews hated the Samaritans.

  I said to Martha, “I didn’t expect the city to be so packed. Is it always like this?”

  Martha shook her head. “It’s because of Shavuot. Many from outside Jerusalem have come to celebrate.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “The Feast of Weeks—Shavuot, to celebrate the first fruits from the barley and wheat harvests. It occurs forty-nine days after the first day of Passover and commemorates the giving of the Ten Commandments to Moses.”

  I remembered reading the Book of Acts. Shavuot must be the same as Pentecost, the name with which I was more familiar. No wonder everyone was coming to Jerusalem to bring offerings.

  Most of the visitors wore traditional clothing like us. Others were dressed in fine linens. Some of the women’s baskets, balanced precariously on their heads, were woven together in threads of gold and silver that shone brilliantly in the sun. Others who were poor carried their foodstuff in plain wicker baskets. I caught glimpses of wheat, dates, and olives. I felt naked not having a basket on my head.

  As we got closer, I could see the Roman soldiers in their armored skirts and cuirasses everywhere along the wall. They seemed especially zealous to keep order. If another riot happened so soon after the crucifixion of Jesus and the mysterious disappearance of his body, I could only imagine the unrest it would ignite—and one more smear on Pontius Pilate’s ineptitude as governor.

  Fruit carts in the hundreds congregated at the crowded gate, slowing things down. The Roman soldiers inspected everything. Once inside the gate, most visitors headed towards the temple. I caught a glimpse of the outer court of the temple as we passed. The flutists led groups of pilgrims into the temple courtyard as the Levites sang, “I will exalt you, Oh, God, for you have saved me and you have not rejoiced in my enemies before me.”

  We passed the lofty temple courtyard and trudged through the Upper City. Contingents of Roman soldiers stood guard on every corner. Their presence reminded the Jews they were a subjugated people. The Romans ruled the world.

  The eagle led the way as Martha and I needled our way through the horde of people. In our dimension, I knew Daniel’s mother lived close to the temple, but did she live in the same area in the seventh dimension?

  Suddenly the eagle arced in a large circle overhead. A soft call that sounded like a lament pierced the air. “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans.” His wings made a sharp whistling sound, and then he disappeared beneath the setting sun.

  Shira let out a cry.

  I tried to comfort her. “You set him free, Shira. Maybe he’ll come back.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she sniffled uncontrollably.

  Martha put her arms around her. “We’re almost home. Are you hungry?”

  Shira nodded, rubbing her red eyes. “My bird was so beautiful.”

  CHAPTER 24

  WE APPROACHED SOME yellowed limestone buildings reminiscent of the apartments in the Old City of Jerusalem. Dozens of children played along the cobblestone street. Martha parked her horse in front of a dwelling and dismounted. Then she set Shira on the ground and turned to me. “Do you need any help?”

  I shook my head. I slid down as gracefully as I could, and Shira ran up to me. I crouched down to her eye level. “Did you enjoy your horse ride?”

  She nodded and dug her head into my chest. Now that we were here, trepidation pierced my heart. Had Daniel heard anything about his father? And could his mother be so sick she might die? As I held Shira close, I whispered, “Can you be very quiet while we’re inside?”

  “I will, Auntie. Can I play?”

  I wasn’t going to let her out of my sight after her near kidnapping. “Maybe tomorrow—it’s too late today.”

  She looked disappointed. I lifted her face to mine and kissed her on the cheek. “You must be tired.”

  She rubbed one of her eyes. “I’m not tired, Auntie.”

  I held Shira’s hand to keep her close.

  “Let me go in first,” Martha said.

  Martha climbed the steep steps and disappeared inside. Shira and I sat on a bench and watched children playing. I felt guilty that I didn’t have the energy to take her over and introduce her. A couple of minutes passed and Martha reemerged, waving for us to come.

  I patted Shira on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  We climbed the steps, and when we entered, the stale air wreaked of death. My eyes caught Daniel’s as he sat next to his mother, Kitty. If only I could read his mind, but a look of surprise told me he wasn’t expecting me.

  Nidal sat off to the side by himself. Some other women occupied anther corner, and a couple of men stood near Daniel. The darkness of the room added to my depression. I wasn’t sure what to do.

  I took a deep breath and decided to sit with the women.

  Kitty’s friends acknowledged Shira and me but remained silent. Daniel stood as Martha rushed over and sat in the chair next to their mother.

  He came over and sat beside me.

  “How is she?” I asked.

  Daniel bit his lip. “I don’t think she’s going to make it. Her condition hasn’t changed much in the few days we’ve been here.”

  Daniel glanced at Nidal. “I think he’s getting impatient.”

  “Did you know before you came that your mother was so ill?”

  Daniel shook his head.

  I glanced back a
t Martha, feeling her pain.

  Daniel whispered, “She’s saying goodbye.”

  “Is it that imminent?”

  Daniel nodded.

  “Do you know what’s wrong with her?”

  Daniel rubbed his eyes. “Can people die of a broken heart?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “She is depressed, has been for a long time. Of course, my father was kidnapped or murdered. But there is something else bothering her. She has yet to say what it is.”

  “What could it be?” I asked.

  Daniel bowed his head. “I know. I read her mind.”

  At that instant, Martha approached, motioning to Daniel.

  “Let’s go,” Daniel said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Bring Shira with you,” he said.

  Daniel, Martha, Shira, and I gathered around Kitty. She looked half the size of her counterpart in our dimension. She must have lost a lot of weight.

  Daniel’s mother glanced at Shira and her eyes teared up. “Mari?” she asked. “Is that you?”

  I glanced at Daniel.

  “I’ll explain later,” he whispered.

  Kitty smiled. “You’re beautiful. Come close.”

  Shira edged up closer. For a brief moment, she appeared at peace. Then she closed her eyes and said, “Daniel, the necklace is on the table.”

  He walked over and picked it up, fingering it before clasping it in his hand.

  Martha leaned over and kissed her mother as Daniel said a Jewish prayer. Then he returned alongside me, and I squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  My betrothed held up the necklace in the light from the doorway. I recognized the necklace from the photo beside his mother’s bed. Daniel closed his fingers around it, but said nothing. I wished I knew its significance.

  Martha came over to us. “She’s very feverish, but at least she’s resting comfortably now.”

  Daniel and Martha exchanged a few words, and then Daniel turned to me. “I need to talk to Nidal. He’s been very patient. We haven’t had a chance to go to the temple or even have much conversation since we arrived.”

  I sighed. That probably meant he still didn’t know about his father.

  “I’m hungry,” Shira said.

  I brushed her hair back from her face. “Can you wait a few more minutes and we’ll get something to eat?”

  She nodded.

  Daniel filled me in on plans. “Tomorrow is Shavuot. In Jewish tradition, it commemorates the giving of the Torah.” Daniel turned his eyes towards his mother. I hope she doesn’t die in the next day. Otherwise it will delay her burial.”

  “She might still recover,” I offered. “Doctor Luke said he would come if we needed him.”

  Daniel shook his head. “I don’t want to bother the doctor. Only a miracle could keep her alive. The family has a burial plot near the Mount of Olives.”

  “I’m so sorry, Daniel.”

  He steepled his fingers. “Tomorrow, I want to take Nidal to the Temple. He has agreed to come, before he returns to Caesarea.”

  “Chariot racing?”

  “Yes.”

  I leaned into Daniel. “I want to come with you. Please—let me come with you.”

  “Martha said she will stay with Mother tomorrow, or as long as is necessary,” Daniel said.

  “Perhaps Shira can stay here with her,” I suggested. “If Martha is willing, can I go with you?”

  “You really want to go?”

  “Yes.”

  He stood. “Let me ask.”

  Daniel returned a few minutes later. “Martha said she could take care of Shira.”

  I thanked God. “By the way, Martha brought Shira and me new tunics.”

  Daniel inspected me more closely. “I didn’t think I recognized it.”

  I changed the subject. “Why did your mother think Shira was Mari, and what is the secret she’s hiding?”

  Daniel grew quiet for a moment. “She never forgave herself for her sin. Her high fever has affected her. She thought Shira was Mari. Guilt has consumed her.”

  Neither of us said anything for a minute. I broke the silence. “You think she had a baby out of wedlock?”

  Daniel nodded. “The baby was adopted by Theophilus and his wife.”

  I stared at the floor. “She never forgave herself, did she?”

  Daniel ran his hand through his hair and diverted his teary eyes from me.

  I tried to make eye contact. “Daniel, with Jesus, there is forgiveness. You must tell her before it’s too late.” I leaned in closer. “And I don’t think Martha believes in Jesus either.”

  “I did share with Mother that Jesus is the Messiah, but I don’t know if she believed.”

  I rested my head on Daniel’s shoulder. “Daniel, why is it so difficult for Jews to believe Jesus is the Messiah?”

  CHAPTER 25

  THE NEXT MORNING, I awoke early. Disturbing dreams left me feeling exhausted. I glanced at the ceiling.

  In my dream, blood dripped through the rafters, mixed with vapors of smoke. Before the bloody fire reached me, I ran out of the house gasping for air. The sun had turned black, and the blood moon, inflated hundreds of times its normal size, ripped the ground in every direction. Mountains shot up where they didn’t belong.

  I wasn’t sure if it was day or night or summer or winter. Time was an illusion, and the seasons were out of kilter. Was it from nuclear fallout or the eruption of Yellowstone? Could there be a solar eclipse and lunar eclipse at the same time?

  I rubbed my eyes as I tried to erase the memory. I felt alone—utterly alone. And I was waiting for something, but I couldn’t remember why I was waiting.

  The dream faded as I thought about Daniel. I needed to talk to him privately. The mourners the night before had made that impossible.

  I studied Shira who lay asleep next to me. Her angelic face portrayed a remarkable innocence despite the heartache she had endured. How happy she would be to stay behind and play while we visited the temple.

  I bowed my head. “Dear heavenly Father, I never knew mothering a three-year-old could be so exhausting. Help me to be more loving, more patient, and more kind.”

  A break from my role as surrogate mom would refresh me, and I longed for God to give me time with Daniel.

  Soon I heard Martha’s voice speaking to Kitty. Thankfully, Daniel’s mother had survived the night. After a few more feeble attempts to pray, I heard knocking on the front door and jumped up to open it. I was expecting Daniel any moment. Blinding sunlight poured into the darkness as the door swung wide.

  Daniel gave me a quick hug. “Did you sleep well?”

  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “As well as can be expected.” That was the truth, although I wished we were alone so I could elaborate.

  Nidal bowed, and I acknowledged him politely.

  Daniel must have awakened Shira as I heard her swift footsteps pitter-patter into the kitchen. Soon Martha, holding Shira in her arms, joined us. “Are you ready to leave?” she asked.

  Daniel leaned over and kissed Shira on the forehead. “I think so. You look beautiful, Princess.”

  Shira smiled. “Aunt Martha said I could play today.”

  Martha stroked Shira’s hair. “She’ll have a good time while you’re gone.” She set Shira down. “Daniel, I have something to give to you.”

  Martha hurried into the kitchen and returned with fruit baskets—“for Shavuot.”

  Daniel’s face lit up. “Thank you.” He glanced into the adjoining room. “How is she?”

  Martha dropped her eyes. “No change, about the same. I offered her some food, but she wasn’t hungry. She wants to sleep.”

  Daniel wrestled with her response. “I don’t want to disturb her.”

  I grabbed Daniel’s hand. “Can I talk to you for a minute, privately?”

  Daniel tilted his head. “Sure.”

  I squatted down in front of Shira. “Sweetie, can you help Aunt Martha in the kitchen?”


  Martha smiled, taking her by the hand and leading her off.

  Daniel turned to Nidal. “I’m sure Martha has some fresh bread. Help yourself. We’ll leave shortly.”

  Nidal’s eyes brightened at the mention of food, and he trailed Martha into the kitchen.

  I leaned into Daniel. “I wanted to tell you this yesterday, but I couldn’t. You need to know, after you left, a man from the future came to the inn and attacked me.”

  Daniel’s eyes stared in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

  I pulled him closer. “The man said the computer chip had been activated. He was looking for Nidal. When he couldn’t find him, he attacked me. Thank God your brother Jacob came. He tried to catch the intruder. When the man got away, Jacob sent a guard. I gave Jacob the chip.”

  Daniel stroked his chin. “I never would have left you behind had I thought that was even a remote possibility.”

  I glanced into the kitchen to make sure Nidal wasn’t listening, and then cupped my fingers around Daniel’s ear. “Nidal must have known somebody would come after the chip. He should have told you. I don’t trust him.”

  Daniel traced me with his eyes. “You weren’t hurt, were you? Or Shira?”

  I shook my head. “No, just scared.”

  Daniel pounded his palm with a fist. “I thought I could trust him. Thank God you weren’t hurt.”

  “Daniel, you know Muslims have no respect for Christians or Jews—or women.”

  “Come on, Shale, that sounds so prejudicial.”

  “If he truly wanted to repay your kindness, he’d tell you about your father. Has he done that? No. You’re too trusting—like your father!”

  Daniel stiffened. “You can criticize me, but please don’t criticize my father.”

  A twinge of guilt convicted me. “Sorry.”

  Neither of us said anything for a moment. I had made my point, but I wished I’d not mentioned his father.

  “Are you sure you want to go?” Daniel asked. “Can you give Nidal the benefit of the doubt?

  I bit my lip.