8

Days later, Adah perched atop a stone as the sun sank below the distant hills leaving a haze of muted scarlet at the sky’s edge. Without Telem, a shoulder-high column erected with a few squared stones was all her family had managed to build. Her palms ached like she cradled the setting sun. Every finger had a blister at its base. Did she have the strength to struggle through another day?

“God, where are You in my need? My body is weary. What strength do I have compared to a man?” A warmth tingled behind her eyes. “Was it a mistake to step forward and heed the governor’s call?”

The shuffling sound of sandals grew closer. Was one more gawker coming to laugh at the daughter of Jacob? A woman foolish enough to do a man’s work.

“It is getting late.” Othniel climbed onto her rock, balancing with one arm as he steadied a basket with the other. “Your mother is worried. She sent me with some bread and oil.”

Adah took the food while Othniel settled next to her. “I told her I would be along, but I believe my feet are baked onto these boulders. I cannot take one more step.”

She uncapped the bottle of oil and breathed in the aroma of lavender and iris with a hint of bay leaf. The sweet, herbal scent renewed her spirit. She handed the small jar to Othniel, rose from her seat, and walked to a vessel of water to clean her hands. “Blessings upon my mother for sending a soothing balm. She must be concerned.”

Othniel turned toward her. He waved the bottle under his nose and breathed in the fragrance. “Your family saw how hard you worked.”

Adah dried her hands on a cloth and returned to her spot next to Othniel. “Yet everyone has completed double of what we have done.”

“Is this a race?” Othniel broke off a piece of bread and offered it to her.

“I wish it were, so it would be over by now.” She bit into it. A rush of rosemary and garlic awakened her tongue. “Judith has added some herbs.”

Othniel grinned at her with a face scrubbed clean of the day’s dirt. “Your sister blends spices I have never heard of before, but then I have never been to the palace in Susa or eaten of the governor’s provisions.”

The seasoned bread became a lump of dough in her stomach. She could not remember a time when Othniel had eaten at her family’s table. So many people suffered from hunger and debt. How could she complain about a few calluses? Look around you.

While she ate, Othniel surveyed the scattered stones and told her which ones would be best for the base of the wall. His words grew in eagerness as her heart grew in sadness. Would Othniel’s reputation be sullied for working with her? Would his brothers tease him when the height of the woman’s wall lagged behind all others? Was it fair of her to hold him to his pledge? Later she would deliver meat and spices from her father’s rations to Othniel’s household to ward off any grumbling from his brothers.

A bite of bread stuck in her throat. She coughed and forced a subdued enthusiasm. “Have you checked on your family’s progress?”

He shook his head. A few unruly curls strayed from beneath his clean turban. “I work for you.”

“You mean you work with me. I paid you with my father’s coins.”

“But I took them from your hand, and we will honor our commitment to the governor and to God. Speaking of hands.” He took hold of her right one. “Where is that oil?”

She tried to pull free from his grasp but his grip did not lessen. Another quick tug. “What are you doing?”

“Healing these blisters.”

Othniel held onto her hand, but he managed to uncork the balm. Her insides rolled as if they were swept upon a wave, for his touch was firm yet gentle enough not to irritate her sores.

“My skin is accustomed to tilling hard soil.” He cocked his head. “When was the last time you farmed?”

Wiggling her toes, she tried to concentrate on another part of her body other than the one Othniel stroked. “I don’t believe I have ever tilled a field…unless digging a root is counted.”

He laughed. “It isn’t.”

She let him turn her palm toward the darkening sky. A drop of oil stung her raw flesh ever so slightly, but it was a good sting like one that would end in healing. Othniel’s thumb caressed the joints in her hand, round and round, weaving a pattern across her skin. If the wind blew her off this rock she wouldn’t even care, for the aroma of sweet lavender and Othniel’s careful touch had caged her will to fight his closeness.

“You shouldn’t be doing this.” Her wisp of discouragement fell on mute ears, for when he reached for her other hand she gave it freely.

“I know what I am doing.” His gaze held her attention like an enchanter’s spell. “I’m applying a balm to a fellow laborer’s hand. Who is going to challenge me?”

“I am.”

Adah gasped, pulled her hand from Othniel, and slid from the rock to face the rebuker. Her heart fluttered to her throat, banishing her moment’s rest. The basket of bread tumbled to the ground as Othniel drew to her side.

“Telem?” Her voice rasped with disbelief. The recluse stared at her, a donkey at his side. His hair was tied at his neck with only a hint of the bushiness remaining. His twisted yarn of a beard had been cut short. Telem’s woven tunic showed no signs of wear and he was flanked on each side by young men of some means who carried thick satchels. If she didn’t recognize his deep boom of a voice, she would have strolled right by him on the street. “What are you doing here?”

Telem clicked his tongue. “Did you not summon me to restore your section of the wall, or was your arrival in my cave a dream? Oh no, it couldn’t have been, for I remember the foreigners traipsing through my home.” He hooked a thumb in his corded belt. “Though you seem to have forgotten the threat, for we strolled right through Jerusalem’s gates.”

A surge of energy almost lifted Adah off the ground. How dare Telem toss her through a hole in the ground and pretend he was the one who was wronged.

“We did tell Nehemiah about the scouts in the hills,” she said. “The governor has letters of travel from the king and showed them throughout Hauran and Samaria for safe passage. Our city officials believed the men to be curious, but not a threat. No one has ventured into the city.”

“Hah.” Telem’s outburst sent his donkey into a backward side-step. “Since when did a piece of parchment keep the enemies of Judah from conspiring against us?”

She squeezed the handle of her basket with such fervor, her palm flamed. She contemplated tossing the woven carrier at Telem. “Are you questioning my father’s judgment?”

“Someone should.” Telem regarded Othniel. “Do not tell me you trust half-breed Ammonites and Samaritans?”

Othniel kicked at the ground with his sandal. He cast a glance her direction. “We are under the king’s protection.”

“And which one of our corpses is going to alert Artaxerxes about a surprise raid?” Telem nudged one of his companions for affirmation.

Did Telem think she was ignorant of the threats Jerusalem faced? Had she not heard stories of Nebuchadnezzar’s siege? Seen the rubble from the destruction of her city? Heard of the scattering of her people?

She wrapped her arms around her waist to keep her hands from trembling. “Jerusalem has enough rulers to see to her safety. Meshullam’s daughter would have sent word if her father-in-law was bringing soldiers from beyond the Jordan to wage war on Jerusalem. Meshullam is restoring our city’s wall not far from our site. He is loyal to Nehemiah.”

Telem threw up his hands. “Who discusses battle plans with a woman?” His gaze darted between her and Othniel. “Seek out Nehemiah again. That is all I ask.”

“And what about your masonry skills?” She threw her shoulders back. A dull ache greeted her straightened posture. “My task has not changed. I mean to restore a section of this wall so no enemy will be too great for my city.”

“So you said in the cave.” Telem grabbed a sack from atop his donkey. The two men accompanying the builder looked like they had been struck dumb. “There is no need to repeat your request. We have come to aid you.”

Adah breathed out the angst of the past days. She now had a skilled mason to guide her family and more helpers with strong backs. Selah! God had not abandoned her in her pledge.

She nodded toward Telem and his men and tried to subdue her exuberant spirit. Perhaps with expert workers, her section would rise past the others. “Then we welcome you.”

Othniel positioned himself at her side. “Greetings my brother, even though your assistance comes later than we expected.”

Telem splayed an arm over his packed donkey. “How could I run off without my belongings or my tools?”

Telem gave orders to start a fire. One of his men grabbed a shovel and headed toward the stones upon which she and Othniel had been sitting.

Othniel took hold of the donkey’s bridle. “It’s almost dark. We have finished for now.”

While inspecting their wall, Telem paused. “You may work the middle of the night or the middle of the day. Your choice. But this work is not done.”

“Of course not.” Adah followed Telem outside the wall. “It has only been a few days since we visited you in the catacombs.”

“The cornerstone is too small.” Telem pointed to the cut stone they laid. “Do you want an easy breech?” He kicked at the next boulder. “Who leveled the ground? I can pound a foot under here.”

Othniel scaled over the stones waiting to be placed. “What are you saying?”

“He’s saying we need to start anew.” Adah’s throat tightened. She barely had the energy to remain upright, but she had pledged to complete a section of the wall, and finish this section she would.

Flames erupted from a fire pit near where she and Othniel had sat. How foolish they were to be content with their own unskilled labors.

She glanced up at the graying sky. A few stars shone overhead. One hovered so close above the temple, it appeared a priest could touch it on his tip-toes. Breathing in the scent of the campfire, she closed her eyes and imagined what Jerusalem would look like with a barrier enclosing its homes, markets, and streets. Streets where King David danced and warriors died.

When she opened her eyes, she turned toward Telem. “Find our cornerstone, mason. Let’s make Jerusalem a fortress once again.”