14

Blinking into the star-lit shadows, Adah scanned the surrounding rocks and bushes for movement. Would Sanballat and Tobiah attack after burning the fields? Surely, they knew Nehemiah would not change course when he believed God had called him to the city for this purpose. She would not change course either, for she desired to see her city restored to its greatness.

Adah strolled a short distance to the south where most of the wall had been torn down by Babylonian soldiers many years ago. With a two-brick-high foundation, this section of the wall could be easily breeched. Leaning against a single formation of shoulder-high rock, she could barely make out the form of her sister plodding north.

Spread out campfires inside the city sent an eerie glow into the night as if the wall itself was the guardian between light and darkness. She did her job and methodically watched the wilderness for any sign of peril. Hebrew chatter and stone scraping made hearing an intruder’s advance difficult. Occasionally, she ambled closer to the next group of workers. Their sentry gave her a nod. If only he knew she wasn’t Jehu.

After hours of pacing, her feet ached at the slightest scuff of her sandals. She stationed herself against the lonely tower of stones and lifted a knee to rest her throbbing toes.

Someone leapt over the ruins.

She gasped. Her hand whipped to her sword. Still as a stone, she waited to see if the person was Hebrew or half-breed. Wild drumming in her ears drowned out the clinks and thumps of the distant masons. A well-placed lunge of an enemy sword and these tall stones would mark her corpse. Licking her lips, she prepared to growl out a warning and then fight for her life.

“Adah?” The summons was too friendly to be a foe.

Her chest practically sunk to her knees as she blew out a pent up breath. “Othniel?” she whispered. “I could have called men down on you.” Would he have blamed her for that confrontation too?

He closed the gap between them. “A spy wouldn’t know your name.” He spoke as if they sauntered to find another root or bud for her oils. “And he wouldn’t call out to a woman.”

Surveying any tree or trench in the vicinity, she kept her gaze from his face. Why did he have to always make sense? “So, you have spoken to Telem.” She peered over her shoulder. Friend, or not, Othniel was a distraction from her duty. And he had not made amends for humiliating her in front of his family. “Does he know you are here?”

She stepped around her visitor and headed farther south. Being trapped between rocks and Othniel’s chest made her belly rise and plummet like an ocean’s wave.

“Yes, he does.” He fell in beside her, matching her footfalls.

Silence reigned, but she could smell the jasmine and sage his mother Zipporah must have mixed in with her lye to wrest the soot from his tunic. The aroma of Othniel in the starlight made her forget some of the injustice she had suffered earlier.

Their lack of words haunted her. She searched for a topic to banter about and settled on their mystery mason.

“Our Telem is the son of a priest. You were not here when Ezra praised Telem’s father for helping rebuild the temple.”

Othniel slowed his steps. “Then why was he in a cave and not helping with temple duties?”

She shrugged. “That is something to ponder for I do not know of any wife who desires to live in a rock?”

“Perhaps she never did?” Othniel breathed deep and stopped walking altogether. “I smell clove oil.” His gaze rested on her bandage. “You’re hurt.”

She pressed her lips together and stifled a grin. He had deciphered the scent of her healing oil. Her mother had taught their escort well. Keeping her stare fixed on a sprawling acacia tree, she flexed her hand. A stinging burn shot up her arm and ignited a tingling sensation behind her eyes. She crinkled her nose and adjusted her grip on her sword. “It’s a tiny cut.”

“I knew you were wounded in the uproar.” His tone praised his miraculous knowledge while chastising her courage.

“I was hurt by a trellis.” And by you. “Not by the raider.” She edged farther from the wall and into the darker shadows, far enough from the laborers so they wouldn’t notice her companion.

He followed and bent low to invade the privacy her cloak gave to her face. “My mother said you threw a rod at that heathen.”

Warmth prickled from her neck into her cheeks. This was her Othniel. Excited about her victory. A woman’s victory. “Everything happened so fast. I did what I could to stay alive. But I did not tell my mother or my family that I faced a rider.”

“Why not? You saved half my vineyard.”

His acknowledgement filled her with enough energy to race around the city, but remembering the enemy’s snarled mouth and bloodthirsty eyes sent a chill through her veins. She shivered even though she was covered by a mound of cloth. “I don’t like to ponder what would have happened if you and your brothers had not arrived.”

“You would have run to safety.” He sounded like he truly believed in her well-being.

She shook her head. “I’m not as sure as you. His sword was within my reach.”

“Is that why you are out here? For revenge?”

“I don’t want to take a life.” Her cheeks flamed. How could she make him understand her intentions? “I believe building this wall means something to Nehemiah, and it means something for our people. I cannot lift as much as a man can, but I want to do my part. Small as it may be.”

Othniel brushed a hand through his dark hair. “I wish I had your faith that helping Nehemiah would lift the hardship from our people and end the drought and strife.” Even under a black sky, his eyes caught the starlight and brightened as though tiny torches flamed inside each brown orb. The embers from his eyes warmed her soul. “I will assist you, Adah, as much as I can for as long as I can.”

Her belly fluttered as if someone had released a pent up dove.

He stepped closer. Too close. But then who would notice? “I should never have doubted you in the vineyard.” His hand caressed the top of hers, but he did not inspect her wound. “We sang about strength and courage, and when you faced…” his words swept into the night. He lifted her hand, all the while stroking her skin with the softest touch she’d ever experienced. “Please forgive me.”

Acceptance caught in her throat. She threw back her shoulders and stood a little straighter, trying to look more girl than guard. The sensations created by the stroke of his hand ricocheted from her arm to her toes. “There were times I believed God had forgotten us. But I don’t believe that now.” She met his piercing gaze. “I forgive you, Othniel.”

His face lit up as though he had found a pouch of gold coins. “Toda raba.” He stepped backward, but his hand stayed wrapped around hers. “I’d better return before Telem notices I have been gone too long for one drink. Stay alert this night, my brave Adah.”

Her feet begged to follow him back inside the city, but she stood her post. “I will.”

Hesitating, he closed the gap between them and branded her temple with a kiss.

She would have sworn legions of armies shook the ground beneath her feet. Mouth gaping, she was unable to fumble a response.

Without another word, Othniel turned, ran, and then leapt over a low section of the wall.

Her pulse pounded a deafening rhythm between her ears. A raider could have galloped a horse straight toward her and she would have been none the wiser.

She whirled and beheld the outskirts, scanning the closest bushes, boulders, and trees. One thing was for certain. On this night, she gave the illusion of being a man, a fierce guard of the city, but inside her body, from her feet rooted to the ground to the tips of her curls touching the hood of Jehu’s cloak, a sensation awakened—an inner-knowledge that whether guarding, fighting, or building, she wanted Othniel at her side.