36. Who are we, if not Israel?

Yashar doubted he would find the captain, once at Jezreel. Why he had even come? But, on a brilliant day, the inviting smell of baked bread and roasted pigeon hung in the air, so he and Juttah remained in town to tour the market. Everywhere they strolled among the kiosks, people took notice of them and provided ample room. It had been years since Juttah had mauled his last Jezreelite but his reputation had lived on.

Zach had paid Yashar wages when he could and Yashar had held on to much of Sara’s stash, so Yashar thought to buy cakes to treat Nurit’s boys. As he looked for a baker’s stand Juttah bolted away. Yashar soon found him in the market standing beside a rugged looking fellow with a bald brown head.

No mistaking it, the man was wearing Elijah’s robe.

“What are you staring at?” someone asked, a big fellow dressed like a plowman.

“That is my dog,” Yashar said, pointing.

“It is my master, your dog pesters,” the fellow said. “Call the filthy animal away.”

Despite countless humbling experiences, Yashar often struggled with pride. He stepped nose-to-nose with the man and answered, “My animal goes where he likes, sir.” He sniffed the air at the stranger’s shoulder and added, “and I will bet you my sandals he’s much cleaner than you.”

The fellow raised a fist then, an extremely poor decision, given that Juttah, Yashar’s devoted protector, had caught him in the act.

*

How long had it been since Yashar and Juttah were last arrested and hauled to Jezreel’s tower? On this visit they were detained in the gatehouse, not the elders’ chambers, and Yashar found the occasion much less sad, if not enjoyable. Bidkar arrived not long afterward, grinning yet perturbed, and he spoke to the tower guards at length about what had happened.

“Do you know who it is that you humiliated?” the captain asked Yashar afterward. “His name is Gehazi. He serves the prophet, Elisha.”

“The man in Elijah’s mantel?”

“Yes, an anointed man.”

That same Elisha stepped into the room just then and spoke to the sergeant at arms. Gehazi had not been injured, Elisha explained, and suffered only from wounded pride. After settling with the sergeant, Elisha acknowledged Bidkar with a nod and left quickly. Bidkar arranged Yashar’s release, retrieved his horse and then headed back to Shunem with Yashar, who explained more of what had happened while on their way.

“The fellow, Gehazi, raised his fist in anger,” Yashar said, “with very little provocation, I swear. Juttah noticed his doing so, Captain, and so lunged at him, first knocking him against a fruit cart then flat upon the ground.”

Bidkar grunted, “Go on.”

“Captain, I tell you that I have never before seen the particular brand of anger that Juttah demonstrated this morning. He shot close beside the man and spread his front legs…” Yashar stretched his arms out side-to-side to demonstrate. “…lowering himself, growling like a wild thing, you know how he does, and he arranged his bare teeth so close to the poor fellow’s face that slobber ran from Juttah’s mouth into one of Gehazi’s ears. The light was very good, Captain. I saw it all plainly. Then, as the poor man lay quivering and terrified…”

“Enough,” Bidkar said. “There’s no need for more detail. But I must say something good came of this foolishness. Thanks to your misadventure, the prophet Elisha and I talked for quite a while. He spoke like they all do, of course, unending challenges, riddles and references, but I learned many things.”

“That, then, was Juttah’s and my purpose in coming to Jezreel!” Yashar said. “To create the havoc after which you and the prophet would meet.”

“I would prefer,” the captain said, “that you kept yourself out of trouble.”

Story told, they arrived at the turn-off to Shunem. Bidkar stopped there to head back to Jezreel, a victim of a sudden change of heart. Sara’s recent coldness toward him, he admitted, had discouraged him terribly.

*

Zach died the following spring after the lentil gathering. Though they had never discussed it, Sara, Nurit and Yashar had anticipated his passing and considered it a mercy. But Sara fell apart so completely that her life seemed threatened too. Naboth’s family gathered in Shunem for Zach’s burial, even Avi came, but Sara screamed at him, mean things she would later regret, and so Avi started away.

Avi looked pale and thin. He had begun to braid his hair in the manner of the Baal priests. His nose and ears were newly pierced and ink marks seemed to cover every inch of his flesh. When he turned to go, Yashar caught him at the gate. “You’re much taller and stronger than me now,” Avi said, “do you seek to repay me for the beating I once gave you?”

“I’ve often dreamed of pounding you silly,” Yashar admitted, “but I am past it. I ask only that you forgive your mother.”

“But she will never forgive me.”

“Likely so,” Yashar sighed, “no one nurtures a grudge like a natural Israelite.”

Juttah came up and sat panting at Yashar’s feet. Avi laughed when he saw him. “Look how this beast’s muzzle has turned white,” Avi said.

It was true, Juttah had aged considerably. How had Yashar not noticed?

“What now for you, Avi?” Yashar asked.

“It is springtime,” Avi said, “I’ll celebrate with my people.”

“Your people are here in Shunem, mourning your brother,” Yashar said and, when Avi ignored his words and turned to go, Yashar added, “I forgive you for everything that has happened between us and I apologize for however I may have offended you.” He extended his hand but Avi kicked dust at his feet. Yashar was not upset; he had not spoken for Avi’s benefit, but his own.

*

Nurit and her boys mourned with Sara for seven days. The captain, hoping to be a comfort, got past his hurt feelings and visited them every evening but Sara refused to speak. By day, Yashar tended the fields alone. By night, he and Bidkar chatted quietly beside the fire so not to disturb the women. The captain had turned his mind again toward war. “Things have not worked out as I hoped here,” he sighed. “It’s noble of you to stay, Yashar, but surely you see that your time here in Shunem, as it was in the vineyard, is temporary.”

“You are right,” Yashar said. “All things begin and end. The time has come to go. Some nine years ago, I followed Elijah down the coast into Israel. It has been thirteen years since he saved me from a fever in my home.”

“We once planned to leave here together,” Bidkar sighed, “but it seems that will not be.”

They shook hands then pounded each other’s backs at the gate before Bidkar mounted up and rode away.

*

After their mourning, Sara and Nurit returned to work in the fields. Yashar worked beside them. Days came and passed as the three grunted and complained side-by-side every day for hours. Though he thought of it constantly, Yashar never found the right time to leave. There was still much to do at Shunem and the women were truly needy. When each day ended, Yashar no longer built a fire but took Nurit’s boys for walks while the women bathed. They rarely sat and talked together as they had while Zach lived. When, from time to time, they tried, their words seemed hollow.

Something had to change. Nurit, who had always behaved so pleasantly in the past, had not looked into Yashar’s eyes since poor Zach passed away. One evening at mealtime, the captain arrived at the gate unexpectedly. Sara dropped her plate and hurried into the cottage. “Come out, please, ma’am,” Bidkar called out from the gate. “This will not take long.”

After several more requests, Sara came out and faced him. Even Nurit’s boys stopped to watch the two, facing each other at arm’s length, as the captain summoned the courage to speak. Like the good soldier he was, Bidkar straightened up and spoke plainly looking directly into Sara’s eyes. “I have waited for a better moment,” he told her, “but I am now convinced that none will come. So I will simply say it, Sara. I am a lonely man. Will you marry me? Will you be my wife?”

Nurit caught her breath and grabbed Yashar’s hand.

“Have you lost your mind, sir?” Sara asked.

The boys, because of Sara’s sudden angry energy, began to laugh.

“Perhaps I have,” Bidkar said, “to love someone as stubborn as you.”

“I’ve lost a husband and two grown sons,” Sara said. “This poor girl…” She pointed toward Nurit, “…sits widowed with small boys. Can you not see it? I am old, beaten up and terribly sour. No room remains in my heart for love.”

“You think your pain is unique?” Bidkar asked. “That it somehow makes you special? I too have been crushed by events. The question remains, Sara, will we allow our pain to prove us cowards? I say marry me. I will love and defend you. We will honor God and comfort each other in our old age.”

Sara began to cry. The boys ran to Nurit and Yashar and each climbed into a lap.

“Surely my affection is no surprise,” the captain added. “We’ll go north with Yashar and leave this nation’s curse behind. We’ll live at Zarephath with him and make wine.”

“Zarephath?” Nurit gasped, withdrawing her hand.

“You are leaving us?” Sara turned and asked Yashar.

“You didn’t tell them?” Bidkar said.

“I never found the moment,” Yashar explained.

“It’s a wonderful plan, Sara,” Bidkar said. “This family will flourish in the north, out of the paths of Assur and Aram before the calamity sure to come.

“You are speaking crazy,” Sara said.

“According to the prophets,” the captain answered, “Israel is doomed.”

“How could you leave us,” Nurit asked Yashar tearfully, “when we love you so?”

It was too much. Yashar, once certain he would never confess his feelings, remembered Elijah’s words—one day a single honest sentence shall change your life. Maybe this was that day. He took Nurit’s hand in his and said, “I love you too Nurit, but, forgive me, I do not love you as a sister or a friend, but as a woman.”

Both ladies’ eyes popped opened round, as if Yashar had burst into flames before their eyes.

“And I could not continue breathing,” he added, “without saying it to your face.”

“For shame,” Sara gasped.

“True enough,” Yashar sighed, empty, humiliated and, as Sara had demanded, ashamed.

“Yes, shame,” Nurit said, turning to face her mother-in-law, “for neither do I love Yashar like a brother.”

The captain’s shoulders drooped.

“Poor Zach’s body is barely cold,” Sara said. “What am I to think?”

“You are surprised about these two?” the captain said. “Woman, listen, I’m clearly no expert on affection but their regard for one another has been plain to me for months.”

Sara buried her face in her hands.

“You are not making things easier, sir,” Yashar told the captain.

“Everybody loves everybody,” Bidkar said, “but decisions must be made.”

Nurit and the boys draped their arms around Yashar and murmured, “Do not leave us, Yashar. Please stay. Do not go.”

“Oh, stop!” Sara said, dabbing her eyes. “My Zach loved you both, you know that. There is no braver or truer soul on all the earth than you, Yashar…” She stopped to choose her words. “…and so, I suppose, it may be proper after enough time has passed, mind you…” She stepped to where they were sitting, kneeled and wrapped them in a hug. “You’ve been a wonderful daughter, Nurit, a good wife and mother too. You cared for Zach day and night.” She wiped Nurit’s tears with the cuff of her sleeve then set a hand upon Yashar’s shoulder. “I could not ask for a better man to raise my grandsons or to protect this sweet girl. May God bless you both.”

“Marry me, Sara,” the captain repeated. “I’ll quit the military. We’ll all make new lives.”

Juttah rose from his spot in the dirt beside Yashar and settled at Bidkar’s feet.

“And what,” Sara asked, “will you do if I refuse?”

“I’ll go to Moab or Gilead,” Bidkar said, “there will always be another war.”

Sara stepped close to him, rose to her toes and gently kissed his cheek. “I have grieved enough, Captain,” she said. “No matter what you might promise, God knows as I do that you are a soldier first. As you said, there will be no lack of war.”

“When and whether I go to war again is up to God alone,” Bidkar said, “but Sara, I’ve given you my solemn word.”

Giving the captain no answer, Sara stepped back into the cottage and left him standing by the gate, choosing not to come out again until he had ridden away.

*

Some days are more memorable than others. Sara had rejected the captain’s love. Yashar and Nurit had confessed theirs. To celebrate his good fortune, Yashar built a fire like those they had enjoyed when Zach lived. No one would sleep that night anyway. But as Yashar and the women sat beside it, having positioned themselves as always around the fire, there seemed to be nothing to say. Leave it to children. Nurit’s boys each grabbed one of Yashar’s hands and tugged him up from his place on the far side of the flames to sit beside their mom.

“These little beggars understand more than we think,” Sara sniffed.

For some reason they all began to laugh. Of course they cried after, Sara the longest and strongest. Maybe she had already begun to regret having sent the captain away.

*

After Nurit put the boys down to bed, she, Sara and Yashar stayed outside, together, under the stars for several more hours. Their world had changed forever. Kings had died, Zach had passed, Elisha, a new prophet, had appeared. Yashar had found the love of his life, a widow with two sons. But the three caught up with one another after many days of sadness by discussing little things—their gardens, the weather, how the boys had grown—until, eventually, they grew too sleepy to continue.

“When we eventually do go north…” Sara said as they rose to retire.

“You will do it then?” Yashar asked, pleased and surprised beyond his hopes. “You will leave here, Sara, so that we all might live together?”

“Though I well-know the time and effort required to make a proper vineyard, Yashar,” Sara said, “you must offer no excuses; this sweet girl and my grandbabies will not sleep without a roof over their heads for more than thirty days, agreed?”

Yashar squeezed Nurit and nodded.

“And in time,” Sara said, “you must also build a separate room for me. It must be made of proper wood, tight against the wind, and I would like a latticed window.”

“I will build your room, Sara,” Yashar said, “big enough for two, with two such windows.”

“You and Nurit will not marry until after I approve, and it will happen only when all the family is able to attend. Do you also agree?”

Yashar could not help himself. He stood and lifted Nurit in his arms then spun her around, laughing and careless until Sara said, “Enough!” She stood and joined them, smiling through her tears. “Widows, lost souls, strangers and orphans,” she sighed with her arms wrapped around them. “Who are we, if not Israel?”