19

She didn’t know how long she stood in place watching Telem toil against the weight of a boulder. She did not care to move. An anchor may as well have chained her to this spot.

Where should she go after such a humiliating encounter with her father? A confrontation witnessed by the governor of Judah. Should she go out to search for Jehu and relieve him as a guard? Should she stay and help her mason? Part of her wanted to run to her storeroom and mix perfumes, leaving this project of Nehemiah’s to the men. She could easily lift a jug of oil or chop henna blossoms. Fitting rock and securing cornerstones were foreign skills. But she had answered the governor’s call before the priests and her neighbors, and ultimately before God. Tongues would gossip about her absence after the commotion on the steps. Several people had not only seen but also heard her father’s slap.

Generations would know that Shallum and his daughters built this section of the wall. Did she and Judith not seek out Telem? Did they not labor where they could? They would finish this task they had begun, even if neighbors watched and whispered, their glances betraying their distaste of women working alongside men of no relation.

Adah lifted her face toward the afternoon sun and sighed. So much had changed in the previous hours. With Othniel. With her father. Within her. She did not want to share these emotions of betrayal, embarrassment, and love, but she owed her mason an explanation as to where his workers had gone, so she put her feelings in an imaginary jar and capped it with poplar wood.

When her breathing calmed, she spoke. “My father is meeting with the governor. And Othniel.” She swallowed hard to keep her emotions from warbling her words. “He will not be returning to help us.” Biting the fleshy inside of her cheek, she battled the tingle of tears demanding to reappear.

Telem crouched and inspected the wall for gaps. “I gathered as much.”

She shook her head. “What do you mean?” Othniel had only left this morning.

“The boy’s father came by while you were guarding the rubble. They argued.”

“You listened?”

“I heard.” Telem stood. “I am all over this area.” He indicated his tools scattered about.

Frustration pulsed through her temples. “You could have warned me.”

“It was not my place.”

“He worked with you!”

“And he worked for you.” Telem studied her with a gaze so dark and deep she could have jumped in and disappeared. “You are not a fool, Adah. He worked for more than a debt.”

“I believe I was a fool. For I never thought he would be taken away.” Pressure pounded behind her eyes. “Not in the way he was. Sent to serve in a foreign land.” She picked up a stick to stir the pitch pot. “Selling our people is against the Law.”

“I know the Law. And when I departed from it, I suffered.” He shuffled closer. “When I lived in the cave, I didn’t have to see people in need. Now, it seems, there is need all around us.”

She halted her stirring stick and leaned upon it. “My conscience is clear. I told the governor and all the rulers about Othniel…and of another sold for taxes and food.”

“That is the meeting your father attends?” Telem burst forth in a laugh and sent a raven soaring from a scraggly tree. “The faster you receive Jehu’s cloak and blend in with the rocks, the better.” He stilled her stirring. “Remember, God sees everything. He sees our sins, but he also sees our offerings.” Pulling the stick from her clutch, he said, “The One True God knows our hearts, and you have a good heart, daughter of Shallum. Now go relieve Jehu and keep us safe.”

“Toda raba. Your praise is like a balm on my wounds.” She glanced around to see if her sister neared. “What about Judith?”

“She took your mother to wash, and I believe they will return with a meal.” Telem’s lips pressed together as if he withheld a smile. “Do not worry. I will take care of her.”

“And you will take care of the food she brings.” Adah would not have believed Telem had a carefree demeanor unless she had witnessed it with her own eyes. Was returning to Jerusalem healing his old wounds? She had all night to ponder such things. If only Othniel was around to hear her thoughts.

“Off with you.” Telem’s voice awakened her from her daydream. He stalked toward the water jar. “Find Jehu and relieve him from his post. I need another man to labor.”

If only it were the last time she heard that sentiment. “As you wish.”

She turned toward the length of the wall that ran south and bordered the Valley Gate. She knew the length by memory after one night of walking back and forth from her father’s section to the priests’ section. But somehow this night felt different, as if she was a lone tower of bricks and her scaffolding had been removed before the work was finished. Keeping Jerusalem safe meant something to her, as it did to Nehemiah and Othniel. Although, one of them would not be here to rejoice when the work was complete. Her conscience ached with that knowledge.

As the setting sun left a haze of simmering scarlet flames, it revealed the silhouette of low lying segments of the wall that lagged in repair behind other areas of the city. She found Jehu leaning against a tower of bricks that Telem had mortared. His cloak lay folded near his post.

Jehu shaded his eyes. “You are early. I can still see your face.”

“Not for long, and Telem needs you more than he does me.”

“I am not so sure about that.” He handed her his cloak. “I do not envy you. The priests squabble like hens. Hanun has been shouting all afternoon. May they take a rest and allow you some peace.”

They cannot give me peace. She held up his garment. “Shalom. I will tie my veil around my ears.”

Jehu nodded and trudged off to seek Telem.

“Stars, come swiftly,” she prayed.

She found a small gap in the wall and peered at the outskirts of the city. A light breeze cooled her swathed body. Palms and tamarisk trees rebuffed the wind, their fronds and branches barely moving.

“Are you happy, God?” She breathed in the scent of fire pit smoke. Usually the aroma of burning oak and acacia ash soothed her soul, but this night, she stood restless. “This is what You wanted. A renewed fortress. A fortified city. A new Jerusalem.”

When the rocks at her side made impressions in her arm, she shifted. Star-lit shadows blanketed the brush. Thankfully, the moon held court over the city, easing the strain on her eyes. A faint odor of clove oil reminded her of her healing palm, but mostly the aroma reminded her of Othniel’s caress. Take care of him, Lord.

A sentry further down sauntered toward the Valley Gate.

She waited and glanced toward his spot a time or three.

Stepping outside her post, she shuffled over uneven dirt and up an embankment to glimpse the length of the southern wall. Where had the sentry gone? Priests labored on the frame of the gate. She even heard a song of praise to God.

Farther south, on a path to the Dung Gate, donkeys labored to pull two wagons. Tarps covered the wagon beds and tented over the load. Were these wagons dumping dung at the far gate? Or were they delayed merchants rounding the city for an eastern gate?

A torch held by a companion of the lead driver served as a bright beacon to the wagon in the rear. Was this a family and the torchbearer a wife? Wrapped like a Bedouin in a dust storm, the wife of the front merchant hunched forward and pulled back the hood of her cloak.

And spit. Was that a beard shadowing her face?

A chill cascaded down Adah’s back. That wife was no woman. Adah would know, for she was not a man.