I walked over the ridge and down a path toward the terraced vineyards. I was glad for the landmark of my father’s watchtower, for his vineyard had looked quite different the last time I picked grapes there. Now there were big gaps in the rows. New vines had been planted where the Aramean army had trampled and burned the old ones, but the little vines were barely noticeable. They would not start to bear fruit for another year or so.
The first person I came to was a girl of about five. I almost passed her by without noticing her, because she was sitting under a vine. She held a half-eaten bunch of grapes, and the front of her tunic was stained purple.
At first I did not recognize her. Then I cried, “Lila, little sister!” I stooped and held out my arms. “You are so big now.”
Lila’s eyes grew larger and rounder. She did not answer me or move toward me. “Auntie!” she called over her shoulder. “A strange lady is here.”
“Lila! I am Adara.” I pulled off my headscarf. “Do you not know me?”
“Adara?” Hannah’s mild face appeared at the end of the row. Carrying a young child on her hip, she hurried toward us. “Adara! Great Mother!” She said to Lila, “Go tell Imma, Adara is back.” She went on as she hugged me, “Husband’s sister, we thought you had drowned in the well! Whatever happened to you?”
“What happened to me?” Why did she not know? “Did not the shepherd Ezra tell — Merchant Huram said — did not Father tell you — “
“Have you been in Damascus all this time? Merchant Huram told Father-in-law that you were not in Damascus, after all.”
As we gazed at each other, baffled, Galya came through the vines toward us. Over her shoulder she said, “Go back to the tent, Lila. See if Guri is awake yet.”
I started to hold out my arms to Galya, but she folded hers. Looking me up and down, she said, “So, Adara. I wondered if you might be in Damascus, after all. You have done well for yourself.”
“God has been good to me,” I began. Then my face turned warm, as I understood what Galya must think. “I did not journey from Damascus to visit you, Stepmother. I came for B’rinna. Is she at the tent?”
Galya shook her head. She wants me to go, I thought. A bit of worry crept into my mind — would B’rinna be willing to come to Damascus with me, especially if the family begged her to stay? But I was determined not to go without seeing B’rinna. At least my foster mother would welcome me.
“Where is B’rinna?” I asked Hannah.
“Oh, Adara.” Glancing unhappily at Galya, Hannah shifted the child to her other hip. “A fever went through the town last winter, and B’rinna — B’rinna — “
“B’rinna is dead,” said Galya.
I did not want to cry in front of my stepmother, but I could not help myself. As I pressed my headscarf to my face, I felt Hannah’s arm around my shoulders.
“B’rinna asked for you at the end,” she whispered. “She said, ‘Adara has a good heart, no matter what they say. I give her my blessing, wherever she is.’”
“So, Adara,” said a man’s voice. I dropped my hands from my face and choked down my sobs. My father stood before me. Yes, it was my father, although he did not look nearly as large and powerful as the man I used to imagine rescuing me. His beard was grayer than it had been two years ago, and there were new lines in his forehead.
“So, Father.” My tears dried up. I fastened my headscarf over my hair again. Then I untied the bag of silver from my sash. “Sir, I am sorry that I caused you so much worry. I did wrong to go off by myself on the day of the battle. But at least you will not lose my bride price.”
My father took the bag, but he looked at it doubtfully. I added, “I earned this money honestly. It is my reward for telling General Naaman of the holy man who healed him.”
My father looked more puzzled than before, but he said, “I am not a harsh man. It is well that you have replaced the bride price.” Ignoring Galya’s anxious look, he went on, “I am a fair man. There is a place for you in my household.”
I thought of B’rinna. I gave a sigh that was also one last sob. “No. My place is in another household now. Shalom, Father. Shalom, Hannah.” I turned and walked back through the rows of grapevines.
By the time I reached the caravan, my thoughts had turned toward Damascus. It would be good to see Sima again. I missed her. Now that B’rinna was gone, Sima was my closest friend in the world.
Sima! I stopped at the edge of the road, dazzled by a thought lighting up my mind. I could give my friend something more precious than a dozen bags of silver. I could ask the general for her freedom.
My heart lifted as I pictured Sima’s thin face softening with joy. B’rinna seemed to rejoice with us, and so did Elisha.
God gives the solitary a home and brings forth prisoners into freedom,
I chanted, and I twirled in the steps of a dance.
One of the officers gave me a baffled look. He must still be struggling to understand how a slave girl had brought about the healing of his mighty Lord General Naaman. Laughing, I mounted my donkey. Harness bells jingled and hooves stamped as the caravan got under way again. For the second time in my life, I left my father’s vineyard for the northbound road.