27

The twenty-fifth day of Elul

“The Lord deserves to be praised,” her father said. “We have rebuilt the ruins. Once the doors are reinforced, the gates can be shut, and we will be a fortress.”

They stood where they had labored for fifty-two days. They stood as a family of laborers with Telem and the brothers joining her family for afternoon prayer. Adah, her mother, and Judith had prayed with the women, rejoicing that Jerusalem would be the grand city of Judah once more.

In all her rejoicing, Adah did not forget those still suffering in servitude, for a very round Beulah and her daughter walking arm and arm down the street were a constant reminder. If only Othniel were by her side, filled to the brim with pride at what his hands had accomplished.

She admired the fit of the stones, the color, the height. No more could she glimpse low-lying bushes and trees. Did King David touch one of these rocks? When the Babylonians attacked the city and destroyed the wall, did someone take their last breath under one of these boulders? Her people had suffered, were suffering, but now, just maybe, God was giving them a new beginning.

Telem crossed his arms without a flinch. “Our section is the best.”

Truly. “I can’t believe you made me dust it with a rag.”

Judith bumped her shoulder. “I think it was a jest, but you did it anyway. You do like orders.”

Adah pursed her lips at her sister while the brothers laughed. “I like order not orders.” She cast a glance at Telem. And yes, she had already counted the stones in their section.

Her mother tilted her face towards the sky. “It is too bad Othniel isn’t here to see this. I never heard a complaint from his lips.”

Agreement came from the small gathering.

“Mm-hm.” Adah’s composure crumbled. She rested her cheek on her mother’s shoulder and clasped her mother’s hand. Today was a day to celebrate. Adah had fulfilled her vow to her father and to her God. Her entire family had faithfully served the One True God. Her heart should have been pressed down with pride, but a piece of it remained with the man who had never doubted her courage.

Her father’s name rang out from one of the alleys.

“Shallum.” The frantic call grew louder.

Adah blew out a frustrated breath. Couldn’t her father have a rest from his duties?

Her father faced the abandoned dwelling with the crumbling corner, his expression as undone as the pile of rubble.

A young man slid to a stop before her father.

“Sir, you must come at once. The prophetess has returned with an army.”

Adah gasped.

Her mother trembled beneath Adah’s hold.

Her father stumbled in his attempt to follow the messenger.

The young man steadied her father’s arm. “You must bring your daughter as well. Rephaiah ordered it be so.”

Adah shivered, growing colder with every dark thought. Telem’s wall of perfectly fitted rocks caught her sight. Would the abandoned stones be used against her? Did the officials blame her for this show of force? And for the return of the prophetess?

Tears welled in her mother’s eyes.

“You can’t go,” Judith stammered. “It is a trick.”

Telem offered her sister a drink from a waterskin. His stare, normally condescending or challenging, was as stoic as a glazed jar in her cupboard.

She shook her head. “God will not forsake me or father. We did His work.” Nestling close to her mother’s ear, she whispered, “Do not fret. Judith will be by your side.”

With a glance toward Judith’s stricken face, Adah followed after the messenger and her father, and left behind her family, friends, and fellow laborers.

Telem and the brothers headed after her, blades strapped to their belts.

She fumbled the beads on her restored necklace, stroking the stone the governor had given her as a gift.

Help me Lord.