Esther was sweeping the courtyard when Yehuda and Joseph walked in. It had been a week since Joseph had promised to negotiate Shimon’s release. Her smile faded when she saw their grim expressions. Yehuda refused to meet her gaze. His lips disappeared into a thin line. Joseph walked a step behind him, his eyes fixed in a glassy stare.
Esther covered her mouth with her hand. No, it couldn’t be. Shimon had flitted in and out of trouble his whole life, but he’d always found his way back to safety.
Sarah covered her ears. “Don’t tell me! Don’t say it,” she said as she walked in circles, her hands clutching her head.
Joseph spoke. “The women are preparing the body for its final journey. It will be here soon.”
“The body?” Hanan said. “You mean my son?” He collapsed into Yehuda’s arms. “My boy! Where’s my boy?”
“You must have made a mistake,” Esther insisted. “Did you see him?”
Yehuda’s face clouded. His drawn eyes and sagging shoulders suggested a man much older than twenty-six.
Miriam, returning from the rain cistern, saw everyone and froze. She dropped the jug of water and looked from one person to another. Her eyes grew larger as she scanned their faces.
“No,” she mouthed. She continued to say “no,” each time louder and louder until she was screaming. “I want Shimon! I want my husband!” She ran to Yehuda and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Where is he?” she demanded. His gaze remained lowered.
She ran to Joseph. “You know where he is,” she shouted. “You’re hiding him from me! You’re trying to trick me!”
Miriam wobbled. Esther rushed over and held her steady. Matti covered his face.
Two slaves, their faces red and dripping with sweat, walked into the courtyard carrying a wooden bier on their shoulders. As they put it down, the corpse almost slid off. Miriam screamed when she saw the shrouded form.
Shimon’s body was wrapped in linen. Esther detected the scent of myrrh and aloe. In the presence of death, her senses were more alive than ever before. She could see everything around her in the finest detail: the dirt on the slaves’ feet, the oil stains on the shroud, the brown spots on her mother’s hands. She could hear Matti’s quiet sobs, her mother’s incoherent babbling, and Miriam’s howls. She could even hear that which was not spoken: Shimon begging Esther to comfort Miriam, to take care of his dog, to forgive him. Time slowed.
Miriam tried to unwrap the cloth covering the body. Joseph and Yehuda grabbed her, but she swung her arms wildly, fighting back. “Let me go!”
“At least we have his body,” Yehuda said in the smooth, soft tone one would use to calm a nervous colt. “If he had been lost at sea or burned in a fire, he couldn’t be resurrected. But now he can. His flesh will melt and his sins will dissolve. We’ll have his bones, and he will live again. Just like my wife and son.”
Esther was sure Miriam hadn’t heard a word Yehuda had said, but she seemed calmed, nevertheless, by the soft rhythm of his words. She slumped to the ground with a dull look in her eyes.
Esther bounded up the ladder to her room. She paced around the small space, then sat on the bed. She wanted to scream, but bit her knuckles instead. She opened the drawer in her night table and frantically rummaged through it. Where is it? She pushed bird feathers, an old scarf, and Matti’s baby teeth to the side. Finally she found what she was looking for and clasped it in her fist. Mewling like a wounded animal, Esther rocked back and forth, the precious object pressed to her chest. She needed to move, to get away from the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She jumped, flinging herself up and down until her legs ached and her lungs burned and she collapsed on the floor. She banged the floor with her other hand, pounding until it stung. Then, finally, she lay still, panting. The storm passed and she was spent.
When she unclenched her hand, a small clay tile fell to the floor. Shimon’s ticket to the hippodrome with his seat number etched on the front. He had given it to her, solemnly and with much ceremony, one night after he’d returned from the chariot races. Flush, happy, and with coins in his pouch, he’d said he wanted to share his luck with her.