“Something’s happened,” Miriam said in an emotion-choked voice as she nervously tucked loose strands of dirty, sweat-saturated hair behind each ear. “I just know it has.”
“Everything is fine,” Samara replied, but the words were hollow and without conviction.
Miriam fired an intense gaze at Samara. “Everything is not fine! My sons and daughter are not here with me. Something’s happened.”
Samara cowered, shocked at the intensity in Miriam’s reply. “You’re right, everything is not fine.” And after a long pause, she added forcefully, “I don’t know if my father and mother are dead or alive; I watched my younger brother get bludgeoned to death; my older sister, my brother-in-law, and my young nieces and nephews were herded like animals down a street, and I don’t know what’s become of them; and I know nothing of Hanan. So you’re right, everything is not fine.”
The intensity drained from Miriam’s face as she listened to Samara, and suddenly she felt very ashamed. Rising to her feet, she quietly walked over to where Samara was leaning against a rock and hugged the girl tightly. “I am so sorry. Please forgive my selfishness. I’ve been so caught up with my own troubles I didn’t stop to think about you.”
Samara gave an understanding smile but said nothing; she let her head drop against Miriam’s shoulder and began sobbing uncontrollably. Miriam reached up, gently wiping the tears from the girl’s cheek and smoothing Samara’s matted and tangled hair. Over and over, Miriam repeated the motion while quietly cooing words of comfort.
As the tears slowed and then stopped, Samara lifted her head and wiped her dripping nose with the sleeve of her once-white robe. “Thank you, Miriam,” she said. Her gaze fell on the large wet spot her tears had made on Miriam’s robe. Then with a slight chuckle, she said, “I think your shoulder’s wet.”
For some unknown reason, the remark sparked a sense of relief, and Miriam gave a warm smile and pulled at the sides of her robe. “I wanted to wash this old rag today, but I just haven’t had a chance.” Both women smiled and instinctively reached out to give each other a gentle hug.
“What do you think we should do?” Samara asked with slightly renewed confidence.
Miriam let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Do you think Gili, Hanan, and Caleb were captured?”
“I don’t know,” Miriam said shaking her head. “But something has gone wrong or they would have returned long before now.”
Looking down at the shaft in the ground, Samara asked, “Do you think there’s any possibility the soldiers could find their way up here?”
A startled look spread across Miriam’s face. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about that.” She too looked over at the narrow opening in the ground. Then almost on impulse, she walked over to the rope that was hanging down the shaft and pulled it up. Looking over at Samara, she wiped her hands back and forth against each other and said, “There. If they do manage to find their way, there isn’t any way they can get up.”
“But what if Hanan and the others come?” Samara asked.
Looking up at the sun in the sky, she said with resignation, “It’s getting late, and it’ll be getting dark soon. Would you be agreeable to staying here tonight? If they are able to make their way to the shaft, they would certainly call out, and we can drop the rope to them.”
“Yes, we can do that, but can we find the little stream and get a drink? I’m very thirsty.”
The stream was, in reality, little more than a tiny trickle of water, but they each found a place where the water had pooled, allowing them a few swallows of clean water. As the sun slipped behind the towering edges of the ravine, the scorching heat of the day released its grip, and the cool evening air brought a sense of relaxation to the two women. They sat with their backs against a flat rock, idly letting the fine gray dirt trickle between their fingers. As dusk turned to night, a thousand stars peppered the black sky, and the air turned uncomfortably cold. “Snuggle up next to me,” Miriam said as she wrapped her arm around Samara’s shoulder. “Maybe by being close, we’ll at least have a little warmth.”
After some time in the darkness, Miriam felt Samara’s body relax as sleep overtook her. Miriam closed her own eyes, not in sleep but in prayer. “Please, God,” she begged, “keep my children safe.” And then later, much later, after quiet tears had been shed for Gideon, sleep blissfully came to Miriam.
* * *
It was the warmth of the sun on her face that first caused Samara to stir. Slowly her eyes opened. The fog lifted from her brain, and she remembered where she was. It was then that she sat up with a start and looked around her. She was alone. “Miriam,” she shouted. “Miriam, where are you?” Jumping to her feet, she ran to the shaft and saw the rope was again hanging down inside.
“Samara,” she heard a voice call from below, “I’m down here, but I’m coming up.”
Samara watched as Miriam slowly inched her way up the rope. “I didn’t know where you were!” Samara exclaimed in a panicked voice.
“You were right. It is too dark and difficult to see without a lamp. I think I managed to find my way to where the split opens into the main cavern, but it’s too dark so I came back.”
Samara let out a deep sigh of relief but said nothing as her heart returned to a normal pace.
“I had to try, Samara. I couldn’t leave here without at least trying to find out if my children were still there.”
Samara nodded her head. “I understand. But what do we do now?”
“We go.”
“Where?”
“Up the ravine, just as Caleb instructed us. We’ll do exactly as he said until we find our way home.”