16

“I tried, Adah. Truly, I tried to keep my son.” Zipporah rocked back and forth. Her daughters-in-law did little to still her movements. “Without the rain, there were no grapes to make into wine and no olives to press into oil. What can I sell? My storeroom is empty of wares.”

Adah perched on her knees, willing Zipporah to answer her question. “Where is he now?” Faster and faster her heart raced. She desired to know more, needed to know more. With every delay, Othniel traveled farther from the city.

The tearful mother reached out and grasped Adah’s hands. “We had no more money to give. My husband waited as long as he could.”

“For what?” Pressure in Adah’s chest felt as though it would burst her lungs.

“Othniel is to labor so we have silver to pay our taxes.” Zipporah’s fervent grip pained Adah’s injured palm. “We have to keep our land.”

“The deal has been struck,” a daughter-in-law confirmed.

“No!” Adah’s denial came out harsh as a lash. She drew back. Othniel was gone to settle a debt? “This cannot be. He is building with my family. Here in Jerusalem.” Her gaze swiveled from mother to daughters-in-law, but their expressions remained steadfast. “I must go to him. Tell me where he is.”

“He is gone. He cannot return.” Zipporah’s countenance sobered. Her marketplace prowess overshadowed her mourning. “My husband arranged for an early payment so Rephaiah cannot threaten our lands. Our taxes are paid for the time being.”

Would Zipporah sell another son? There had to be a better way. Nehemiah came to rebuild the city and call her people home. Not send them away. Reasoning raced through Adah’s mind. “Your son escorted my mother and I all over these lands. Why didn’t you seek out me or my father?”

“Who has your father helped?” Zipporah’s face wrinkled with accusation. “Has Shallum forgiven payments?”

Heat flashed from Adah’s chest into her cheeks. “My father is a righteous man.”

Zipporah wiggled free from her daughters-in-law. “So is my husband. We have the same number of sons and daughters to feed with half our land and a meager harvest. The officials are not blind to our struggles, but their hearts are as hard as the soil.”

“May it not be so?” Adah’s knees became like chaff. She had witnessed the distress of the landowners, but only God could send rain—not an official. “This drought has caused many good people to suffer.”

“Some more than others.” Whether she meant them to or not, Zipporah’s words cast judgment.

Adah’s temples throbbed. Had her own mother’s blindness distracted her family? When she met Zipporah’s stare, Adah’s heart pinched. “Please forgive me if I have caused you pain. But tell me where your son has gone, for I did not say my Shalom and I have brought him food I had promised for his labors. May he not go hungry again.”

Shaking her head, Zipporah pressed her lips together. “You are an official’s daughter. I will not be responsible for sending you out of the city after the encounter we had with the rider.”

“I am going with or without your assistance.” She did not turn her face from Zipporah but inwardly willed the mother’s heart to soften. “Do not make me search in vain. For I will not stop until I find him.”

“Girl, there is nothing you can do.” Tears threatened to spill anew from Zipporah’s eyes. “The money is gone. My son must repay it with the labor of his hands.”

“I can show him I care. That I am not blind to his hardship.” She met his mother’s swollen-eyed gaze. “Or yours.”

Zipporah nodded. “My son…” a sob swallowed her response. “He traveled through the east gate, into the valley.”

Blowing out a gale-wind breath, Adah leaned forward and kissed the grieving woman’s veil. She recognized a familiar yet faint aroma of dust and ash. “Toda raba, my friend.”

“Take our mule.” The offer was uttered like a final plea. Zipporah struggled to rise. “He has been fed.”

But not your son? Adah remembered the indentations under Othniel’s ribs. She rallied compassion for Zipporah, but every muscle tensed. Othniel’s parents had sold him like a slave. Could she forgive them? Could she forgive herself for standing around and watching his undoing? God give me wisdom. How do I make this right? Her stomach soured. What if she couldn’t?

Micaiah marched to Adah’s side. “I will harness the mule and go with you.”

She cast a glance at his mother for approval.

“He may go. He was asleep when his brother left.” Zipporah wiped the wetness from her face. “At least I can say I provided an escort if your father challenges my discretion.”

Basket grabbed and two feet from the door, Adah said, “I will pray for you and your household. You have suffered more than most. Now pray Othniel is weary of foot and my mule is fleet of hoof.”